Jordy army, p.27
Jordyn's Army, page 27
“In the car. Bye, Dad.” She hops off her stool and rushes out to the garage.
“Bye, Dad,” Lilah says, mimicking her older sister. She climbs down off the stool, her legs not quite long enough to do otherwise. She really is just like her momma.
“Not so fast, missy,” Saylor calls after her. “Come here and clean up.” Saylor already has a wet towel in her grip and helps her wipe her face and hands. Lilah moans and complains the entire time.
“Bye, Dad,” she says again, and rushes out to the garage.
“Finally,” I say dramatically, pulling my wife into my arms. “I thought they would never leave.” I press my lips against hers.
“When has that ever stopped you?” She laughs against my lips.
“Oh, Short Stack,” I tease. “Don’t you know by now that nothing will stop me when it comes to you?” My tongue slides past her lips as I pull her closer, fusing her body with mine. My hand slides behind her neck, angling her mouth to deepen the kiss. Leisurely, I stroke my tongue against hers, relishing the feel of her in my arms.
“Gross,” Gracie says, breaking the haze that we’re in. It’s been sixteen years, and this woman still brings me to my knees. “Mom.” She huffs. “We’re going to be late.”
Saylor and I laugh as we pull apart. Glancing over my wife’s shoulder, I see our firstborn daughter looking so much like a young woman that I want to lock her in this house and throw away the key. “What if it was one of the others?” she asks, her arms crossing over her chest and a firm expression on her face.
“I have no shame in anyone seeing how much I love your mother,” I tell her.
“And you wonder why when I have friends over we stay in the basement,” she mutters.
“Come here.” I keep one arm around my wife and hold the other out for Gracie. She rolls her brown eyes, the deep orbs that mirror my own, and takes one step then another until I have her and her mother both in my arms. “Love you,” I tell them.
“Love you too,” they chorus.
“Mom, we’re going to be late,” Gracie says, pulling out of my hold.
“I’ll be right there.” Saylor turns to me. “Have a good day, Whiskey.” Going on her tiptoes, she presses a quick kiss to my lips. Once she pulls away, she grabs her purse and phone, and follows Gracie out to the garage. The house is suddenly quiet. Too damn quiet without the chatter of my family. I finish cleaning up the kitchen and start the dishwasher before heading off to work.
2
Saylor
“What took so long?” I hear Number Four ask as I enter the garage.
“I’ll give you one guess,” Gracie says, exasperated.
“I thought all that… stuff went away once you were married?” he asks.
“Not if you marry the right one,” I say, climbing into my SUV.
“How do you know?” Gracie asks from the passenger seat.
I don’t take my eyes off the road; instead, I think about her question. Something Rhett and I always vowed to be was honest, even with our kids. They ask tough questions sometimes, and we always give them honest answers, no matter how tough or how uncomfortable that might be. Gracie is fifteen, and she’s growing more interested in relationships. She’s had a few boyfriends, and I say that word lightly. Group get-togethers, movie nights here at our place, but nothing serious. She’s getting to that age that one day soon, some boy is going to come into her life and sweep her off her feet.
“For me, I think it was when I realized that your dad was going to be by my side no matter what happened. He didn’t care that it was just me, that I literally only had myself to give. He loved me, regardless of my background. He treated me with respect and gave me a voice.” My mind drifts back to our wedding in Vegas, our divorce that neither of us really wanted, and the wedding we did the right way.
“What do you mean, a voice?” Number Four asks from the back seat.
“Our first wedding,” I tell him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see him nod. We’ve never kept anything from our kids. It’s our history, and how they came to be, a product of the love Rhett and I have for one another.
“How many weddings?” Lilah speaks up from her seat in the third row.
“Just two.”
“I still don’t understand why you got divorced just to get married again,” Gracie says.
“That was your dad. He wanted me to choose to be married to him. He wanted to ask me, and for me to say yes. That never really happened the first time. I mean, it did, but not without the alcohol.” I cringe as I admit that to my young, impressionable babies. No matter how old they get, they will always be my babies.
“Your voice,” Nora says.
For a ten-year-old, she’s very observant of those around her. She soaks up information like a sponge. I hope that this all sinks in for all of them. Even my son. I want him to find a woman who treats him with respect and is with him for him, not what he can give her. I worry about each and every one of them dating in this world today. It’s scary as hell. Maybe that’s just the momma bear coming out in me.
“My voice,” I finally confirm as I pull into the day camp. “Have a great day. I’ll be back at four to pick you up.”
“Can we have friends over?” my son asks.
“Sure, we won’t be home from practices until around seven,” I remind them.
“Thanks, Mom,” he says, leaning forward next to the seat and kissing my cheek. “Love you.”
At thirteen, he’s not embarrassed to show affection, at least not toward me. I hope it always stays that way.
“Love you,” Gracie and Nora call as they climb out of my SUV.
“Love you too,” I call after them.
“Love you too!” Lilah yells.
I find her eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s just you and me kiddo.”
“What are we doing?”
“Well, I have to go to the store, and I need a big helper. You think you’re up for the job?” I ask.
She nods eagerly. “I can push the cart,” she says, and I smile. Lilah loves to push the cart, but she’s tiny for six and can barely see where she’s going. What would have been maybe an hour trip will surely turn into two. If not more. I’d rather be anywhere but at the grocery store, but time with her is precious. She’s the youngest and, just like her siblings, she’s growing up way too fast.
“Done. And we can even sneak in some ice cream,” I tell her. “It will be our little secret.”
“Oh,” she says excitedly. “I’m good at keeping secrets. Just ask Daddy. I’m keeping his secret about taking you away for your versary,” she says, so damn proud of herself. I bite my lip to hide my laugh. She has no idea she just spilled the beans and this “secret” that I already knew about.
“Wow, you are good.” No point in ruining our day scolding her for something I already knew about. Rhett and I have been planning this trip for a few months now.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, Lilah and I are through the checkout line and pushing our overflowing cart to the parking lot. Tomorrow is our anniversary, and I got everything to make homemade pizza, something I know the kids love to do, and enough for a triple batch of my no-bake cookies. Between my husband and the kids, they don’t last long in our house.
I get the groceries put away with Lilah’s help. She reminds me no less than ten times, if not more, that she’s my special helper. I’ve loved having this time with her, with all of our kids. Being a stay-at-home mom has filled my soul.
“All right, kiddo. We have some more errands to run. Let’s go grab some lunch, finish our errands, and we should have just enough time to swing by and grab some ice cream before picking your brother and sisters up from camp.”
“Mommy, won’t they want ice cream?” she asks.
My Lilah girl has such a sweet, kind heart. “You know what, that sounds like a great idea.” I glance at the clock, mentally calculating the time for everything we have left to do today. We need to get a move on. “Ready?” I ask.
“Shotgun!” she yells, racing to the garage.
I can’t stop the laughter that flows freely. She has no idea what shotgun even means, but she hears her siblings yell it as they rush to the car. The innocence of a child is something to cherish.
“What’s for dinner? I’m starving,” our son asks as he climbs into the back seat after karate practice.
“It’s a takeout kind of night,” I tell him. All four of them cheer. You’d think my cooking was complete shit by their reaction. However, I know it has more to do with the fact that we rarely eat out. I try to make sure they have balanced homecooked meals. It’s more than just that. I want the family dinners. I want our kids to experience everything I didn’t growing up. I want the loud dinner table as they tell us about their days. All six of us. It’s a tradition, and I very rarely stray from it. We’re making memories even if they don’t realize it.
“Can we get Chinese?” Gracie asks.
“What do you think, guys? You feeling like Chinese?” I ask them. Rhett and I love it, and I know they do too. A chorus of yeses and their favorite orders are called out. After grabbing my phone from the cup holder, I call in our order, making sure to get extra of everything, knowing that it will get eaten. “Everyone buckled up?” I ask. After checking in the mirror and beside me to make sure we’re all buckled in, I head toward the Chinese restaurant.
“Honey, we’re home,” Nora calls as we enter the kitchen from the garage.
“Hey.” Rhett greets us with a smile. “How was camp and practice?” he asks. He listens intently as the older kids tell them about their day. We all work together to unbag the food on the dining room table. Once we’re seated, Rhett gives his attention to Lilah, who has been quiet since we got home. “Lilah bug,” he says. “How was your day with Mommy?” He winks at her.
“So fun, Daddy, and I didn’t tell Mommy your surprise,” she says, taking a huge bite of her sweet and sour chicken.
I bite down on my bottom lip and look down at my plate to keep from laughing. The others do the same. My husband somehow keeps a straight face.
“That’s great, baby girl,” he tells her. “I’m thinking family movie night after dinner,” he suggests, and all the kids are in agreement. Even Gracie and Number Four, who are now teenagers and should prefer to do anything but hang out with their parents.
Chatter happens between the kids as they discuss which movie we’re going to watch. I find my husband’s eyes from the other end of the table, and he winks at me. It’s not just me physically that smiles at him, but my heart and my soul do as well. This life we created, the one I’ve always dreamed of, is happening around us. There is nothing greater than that.
3
Rhett
Baxter family movie night was a success. Not only are our kids passed out on the floor and on the sofa, but the empty popcorn bowls are another indication.
“We should start waking them up,” Saylor says, stretching her arms above her head.
Have I mentioned that my wife is more beautiful today than the day we first met? Leaning over, I slide my hand behind her neck and pull her lips to mine. “Yeah,” I say against her lips. “Daddy needs some Mommy time.”
She chuckles softly. “Whiskey, no way in hell am I going to start calling you Daddy when we’re having s-e-x,” she whispers.
That has me grinning. One, the thought never crossed my mind, and two, our kids can spell. All of them. Lilah might not be there yet, but the others, they can, and I’m sure even Nora, at the age of ten, knows what s-e-x means. At least in some context.
“They can spell,” I say, my lips next to her ear. She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “You take the little.” She points to Lilah. “I’ll get the others.”
I watch her as she wakes each of our older children and tells them she loves them and that it’s time for bed. I stand as well, hugging and kissing them goodnight. Bending, I lift Lilah from the chair she fell asleep in, and hold her close to my chest.
“She’s getting way too big for that,” Saylor says softly.
“She’s the baby.” I’ll carry her to bed until I physically can’t. Just like I did with the first three. Saylor shuts off the lights and follows me upstairs. I take Lilah to her room and help her get changed into her pajamas.
“She ready?” Saylor asks from the doorway.
“She’s zonked.” I pull the covers up over our baby girl and place a kiss to her cheek. Finished, I walk to where Saylor stands in the doorway and wrap my arms around her waist. “You ready for bed, Short Stack?”
“Yes,” she says, covering a yawn.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to our bedroom. I push open the door and step back, letting her enter first. I hear a small gasp and know I’ve surprised her. Stepping in behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and settle my chin on the top of her head.
“When did you do this?” she asks.
“When I got home. I might have left the office a little early,” I confess. I take in the room before us and survey my handiwork. The soft glow of the battery-operated candles I purchased online set a romantic glow across the room. There’s a bouquet of roses on the table by the window. I don’t have to count them to know there are sixteen long-stem roses in the vase.
Saylor pulls out of my hold and goes straight for the bouquet. Her lips move as she counts each red rose. Done, she turns to me and smiles. “Sixteen,” she says in awe.
She didn’t need to count them either. I’ve given her one rose for every year of marriage since our first anniversary. I will continue to do so. Saylor didn’t have a lot of traditions growing up. In fact, until Elaine adopted her, there was not much of anything in her life. She always dreamed for a family of her own, and those traditions, so that’s what I’m giving her. This isn’t the only tradition we’ve made with our family, but it’s one I cherish. I love our children, but this one is ours. It’s just for us. Me and Short Stack.
“Happy Anniversary, baby,” I say, going to her and wrapping my arms around her waist. Her hands come up around my neck, and she pulls my lips to hers.
“I love you, Rhett Baxter.”
“Oh, Short Stack.” I grip her hips and lift her into my arms. She immediately wraps her legs around my waist and locks them tight. “I cherish you,” I whisper against her lips. Love doesn’t seem like a strong enough word when it comes to my wife. She’s the anchor of our family, and the air I breathe.
“Make love to me,” she says, taking my lips with hers once again.
Not needing to be told twice, I carry her to the door and flip the lock. Nothing kills the mood like one of your kids walking in and catching you in the act. Gracie was two when it happened, but I’m scarred for life. I carry her to the bed and gently set her on her feet. Piece by piece, I remove her clothing. My mouth goes dry from the sight of her standing before me with nothing against her creamy white skin. With extreme effort, I keep my hands to my sides, as I bend down and capture a pert nipple in my mouth. My tongue swipes at the swollen bud.
Her hands grip the back of my neck as she buries her hands in my hair. “Whiskey.” She pants.
“Yeah, baby?” I ask, releasing her nipple with an audible pop and moving on to the other.
“Too many clothes,” she says between moans. As if to prove her point, her hands move to the hem of my T-shirt, and she pulls.
“Off… oh, there,” she says as my teeth graze over her nipple, my tongue soothing the action, taking away the sting.
Pulling away from her, I stand to my full height and take a step back. My chest is rapidly rising and falling as I take her in.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I had this all planned out. I was going to take my time with you tonight. Show you that even now, sixteen years later, that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Then why are you all the way over there?”
“Because I want to fuck you,” I grit out.
“Then what are you waiting for, Whiskey?” she asks huskily.
“Saylor.” Her name is a warning. “I’m trying to make this romantic, but tonight… I can’t seem to do that. My need for you is at an all-time high.”
“Romance is more than just soft lovemaking, Rhett.”
“I had a plan,” I say again, my fists gripped so tightly beside me my nails cut into my skin.
“Plans change.” She stands from the bed and steps toward me. I don’t move. I can’t move. She drops to her knees in front of me. “Bet you didn’t plan for this,” she says.
I stand as still as a statue as I watch her pull my shorts down my legs, my underwear going with them. Before they’re even around my ankles, she has my cock in her hand and her wet hot mouth wrapped around me. “Fuck,” I grind out.
She works me, her hands and her mouth a team as she takes me deep, stroking me at the same time. “Saylor,” I say, my voice gravelly. “I’m close.” I place my hands on her shoulders and try to pull her away. My wife has other plans as she grips the backs of my thighs and bobs her head even faster. She takes me deep into the back of her throat, and I lose all control. My fist comes to my mouth, and I bite down to keep from crying out and waking up the kids. Pulse after pulse washes over me as I spill over into her mouth. She takes it all, licking me from root to tip, before standing and winking at me.
“How’s that for romance?” She smirks.
Slowly the fog of my orgasm begins to fade, and I remember what exactly it was I set out to do tonight. I want to seduce her. Romance her. Take my time to show her that she’s my everything. After all these years, my Short Stack still holds my heart in the palm of her hands.
4
Saylor
His eyes darken. I intently watch as he strips off his shirt and tosses it aside. “On the bed, baby.” His voice is deep and thick with desire.
