He did this while muttering, “I’ll get you a tee.”

This surprised me.

It was one o’clock Sunday afternoon on a weekend when he had his kids. Mike was making sure they knew I was in his life, thus theirs. He was also slowly introducing them to PDA, beginning to give me lip touches, pulling me into him if we were watching TV on the couch, running his fingers along my waist or hip if we were both in the kitchen. But the depth of our intimacy he didn’t share in any way. No tongues. No making out. No stand up or sit down close cuddles.

So me in a tee with his kids in town and technically “at home” even though in reality they weren’t was surprising.

I headed to the bathroom, calling out my question, “So I take it the kids aren’t home for a while.”

“Rees is back at five for dinner. No is having pizza with his buds,” Mike called back in answer. “No won’t be home until at least seven,” he concluded.

Lots of time.

Excellent.

I cleaned up and wandered to my undies. I pulled them up and when I straightened, Mike was there with his tee. He had on a pair of jeans, all but the top button done up. When I yanked the tee on and he took my hand and led me to the closed doors, I realized he wasn’t just not done finishing his buttons, he didn’t intend to finish. Nor did he intend to don a tee.

Something about that was seriously hot. Then again, that was how Mike tended to be.

Out we went and once we’d cleared the door we had Layla jumping around us and whining. Then, possibly sensing our destination with doggie acuity, her excitement increased. Mike didn’t disappoint. When we hit the kitchen, he hit the cupboard and pulled out a long, thin, twisted rawhide. He tossed it into the hall and Layla scrambled after it. But once retrieved, she returned to the kitchen, settled in and started gnawing.

Double duty, Layla got a treat and Layla got busy not under our feet.

Mike went to the fridge, opened it and assumed the Universal Man Pose of standing and staring in it. Considering my experience with The Pose was that it went on for a while, I went to the counter and pulled myself up to sitting on it.

“Roast beef, chicken, turkey, swiss, munster, cheddar, mayo, horseradish, American mustard, dijon mustard, white and rye,” he called it down, finishing, “Or, peanut butter and jelly and I think we’ve got tuna.”

“Definitely the fridge of a family,” I muttered, grinning and he turned his head, his eyes coming to me.

“Pardon?”

“At home in Texas, I hit lunch, I hit crisis. Daily. You’d think I’d learn. Stock up. Especially since it happens every freaking day. I don’t. Lunchtime hits, I wander in from the shed knowing I’m on a fool’s errand. My choices are usually microwave popcorn or crackers and cheese.”

He grinned at me, “Nothin’ wrong with those.”

“Roast beef and swiss on rye with mayo and horseradish is better.”

His grin became a smile and he muttered, “Right.”

Then, as I intended, he turned back to the fridge and got out the roast beef, swiss, mayo, horseradish and rye.

He dumped it on the counter and I offered, “You want help?”

He didn’t look up when he declined with a murmured, “Yeah. Keep sittin’ there close, lookin’ pretty and smellin’ good.”

It was a simple compliment, murmured, throwaway but meant and it struck straight through to the heart of me. Straight to the heart. Piercing deep.

“Mike,” I called softly.

“Yeah,” he answered the bread he was arranging on the counter.

“Thanks for the flowers.” I was still talking softly.

I saw his small grin but he didn’t look up when he replied, “Called me and told me that when you got them, Dusty.”

“Mike,” I called again.

“Yeah,” he answered, opening up the mayo jar.

“Thanks for the flowers.”

His hands froze, his head came up and his eyes came to me. Then they moved over my face.

“They’re beautiful. Still. Perfect,” I went on quietly.

“Jesus,” he whispered and the way he did I knew he read my face and my tone. It helped that his eyes stopped roaming, locked on mine, looked deep and his were burning.

“Thank you,” I repeated on a whisper.

“You’re welcome, honey,” he whispered back.

We held each other’s eyes and I liked the look in his and I hoped like hell he liked the one he was getting from me.

Finally, since I was hungry and Mike made it clear the sex zone was in his bedroom so jumping him amidst bread and mayo in the kitchen was not an option, I decided to end it.

Unfortunately.

“I’d offer to kiss you all over but I did that half an hour ago,” I teased and his lips twitched.

“Darlin’, you didn’t kiss me. You licked me,” he reminded me, looking back down to the counter and reaching to open a drawer to get a knife.

I did and that roast beef looked great but I bet Mike tasted better.

“Oh yeah, right,” I mumbled.

“Before you sucked me off,” he paused then finished, “nearly.”

“So kissing you all over is still open?” I asked.

“Angel, you need to let me get some sustenance and give me some recuperation time and then you got until five to do whatever you want to me.”

 “Deal,” I muttered and he grinned at the sandwiches.

Something to look forward to.

But now it was time to connect with Mike without physically connecting with him.

“So, since we’re in the kitchen and out of the sex zone, maybe we can –”

His head shot up, his eyes hit me, they were dancing with amusement and he interrupted. “What?”

“What what?” I asked back, confused.

“The sex zone?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” I replied. “The kitchen is not part of the sex zone at Mike Haines’s house. The sex zone includes your bed, the floor beside your bed that one time we rolled off and the shower. Couch, kitchen, stairs, etc. are out of the zone.”

He stared at me, his eyes still dancing and then his body started shaking then he burst out laughing.

Now I was more confused.

“What?” I asked through his hilarity.

Still chuckling he looked down at the bread he was spreading mayo on, muttering, “Sex zone. Fuck me.”

“What?” I asked again, louder this time.

“Sweetheart, I don’t have a sex zone. I have kids,” he explained to the bread.

“Right, I know. Which means there are sex boundaries.”

He started shaking his head and set the mayo aside, mumbling, “Sex boundaries.”

He thought something was funny, he wasn’t exactly sharing and thus I was getting peeved.

“Mike,” I cut his name sharp, “you wanna let me in on the joke?”

He clearly did and he also clearly wanted to let me on some other information too. I knew this when he dropped the knife, moved to me, jerked my legs open at my knees, stepped right in then with a hand at my lower back he yanked me so the outer regions of “Little Dusty” were pressed tight to his abs and the rest of me was pressed tight to him.

And thus the stringent boundaries of sex zone were obliterated.

“I know where my kids are right now,” he told me when he caught my surprised eyes. “I know they like where they are so I know they’re gonna stay where they are. When they’re at their Mom’s, except for their rooms, nothin’ is off-limits. But I’ve been a Dad long enough to know shit can happen and it does. Kids get sick. They get injured. My business, I could be anywhere. Audrey works in Indy. So something happens to my kids at school and time is of the essence, my next door neighbor gets first call from the school and she goes to get them and once they’re sorted, she calls me. I’m with you, my focus is you. I don’t wanna learn that that focus is so intense, one of my kids comes home, I’m fuckin’ you on the couch or eatin’ you on the kitchen table, their return doesn’t penetrate that until they see their Dad penetrating that. That would not be good for anybody. Upstairs, in my bed, behind closed doors, I’ll have warning and you’ll have an escape hatch. So there is no sex zone. That’s just bein’ smart and lookin’ out for you, my kids and me.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Oh,” Mike whispered back through a grin.

“But, the first weekend I was here, we didn’t explore.”

“The first weekend you were here was the first time I had you in my bed which was something I was lookin’ forward to a lot when I put your ass on a plane. Then I looked forward to it a lot more when I laid in that bed listenin’ to you get off, sometimes doin’ it while I was jackin’ off. So, when I finally got you there, I was enjoyin’ it. Next weekend, we’ll explore.”

That sounded nice.

So nice, against my will, my eyes drifted to the kitchen table.

Mike caught it and burst out laughing. This time it was better though since he did it with his arms locked tight around me, his face shoved in my neck and me in on the joke.

Yes. Much, much better.

I held him until he’d burned out his amusement and I let him go when he touched his smiling mouth to mine, let me go and stepped away.

He went back to his sandwiches. I decided again to change the subject so I wasn’t tempted to jump him.

“That’s all good to know but we still have more to discuss.”

He glanced at me and invited, “Shoot.”

“Actually, I was thinking you should shoot since something has been on your mind and it’s been on it since that scene with Debbie.”

I didn’t have his eyes but I saw his body get slightly tense even though he continued making sandwiches.

He also didn’t speak.

I didn’t think that was good.

“Mike?” I prompted and he sighed.

Then he gave me his eyes. “Bernie McGrath?” he asked weirdly and I felt my brows draw together.

“Sorry?”

“That guy who was with Debbie. The developer. Bernie McGrath.”

At the reminder, my body got tense, my memory opened up and I remembered that name being said.

“Yeah?” I asked.

Mike looked back down to the sandwiches. “Livin’ away for a while, comin’ back, probably it’s crystal that around The ‘Burg as well as throughout the county there’s been massive change. Thirty years the county went from mostly rural to mostly one vast suburban jungle attached to Indy.”

“Right,” I said when he stopped talking.

Mike flipped the top piece of bread on the sandwiches and looked at me. “Lots of developers. Lots of work done. But probably the primary developer is McGrath.”

“Okay,” I replied. “So?”

“So, a number of farms have fallen into McGrath’s hands.”

I was again confused. To build you needed land. And rural in Indiana was almost exclusively, at one point, farmland.

“Right,” I muttered then repeated, “So?”

“So, I don’t know. What I do know is that the fact I don’t know, I don’t like. Cops, we know shit. That’s our job. We pay attention. Or we know people who pay attention. Shit we don’t know or can’t find someone who does, we don’t like. No one knows shit about this guy. They just know he gets property no one else seems to be able to lay their hands on and develops it.”

I still didn’t understand.

“So…what? You’re thinking he’ll do what he has to do to back Debbie to get her quarter?”

Mike turned fully to me and rested a hip against the counter. “No,” he said quietly, carefully and the way he did, I braced. “I think Colt was right. I thought the same as he did before he said it. And the boys all agree. Debbie opened up the door, McGrath stepped through and he doesn’t want her quarter, he wants the Holliday Farm.”

“He can want it all he wants, babe. He’s not gonna get it,” I reminded him of something he had to know and his eyes went funny, guarded and alert.

I didn’t like that look.

“Mike,” I said softly, “I think you’re scaring me.”

“Lots of farms have fallen to Bernie McGrath, Dusty and I use that language purposefully.”

I pulled in breath.

Mike moved to me, leaning back into the counter, his hip also touching my knee, he slid a hand from belly to waist and his face got close.

“Like I said,” he carried on gently, “I do not know this guy. I don’t like shit goin’ down I don’t know especially if that shit involves you. Merry doesn’t know. Colt doesn’t know. Sully. No complaints have been made. Nothin’ overt. But some of it’s shady. Seeing as I don’t know, I didn’t know if I should alarm you. So I went about gettin’ in the know. Colt has an informant who also happens to be tight with Rocky’s man, Tanner Layne. He and I sat down. He’s gonna see what he can find out.”