Full Hart, page 16
Brock had plans tonight, and they most definitely involved peeling his wife out of those pants that taunted him so.
“Stop drooling,” Rayma teased him, elbowing him in the side, though much more gently than Krista had elbowed him.
“She’s my wife. I’ll drool all I damn well want.” He stepped back so that everyone else could board, but he made sure to keep a close eye on Grant. He didn’t trust the man an inch and wanted to make sure he wasn’t casting his male gaze on any of the women.
So far, he’d only smiled and kept his eyes on people’s faces.
Brock was as equally pleased as he was pissed.
“Where’s Joy?” Grant asked, directing his question to Heath, who was last to board before Brock.
“Mum’s just inside the house. She had the kids come over early and bake cookies with her for the tour, and they weren’t quite ready.”
At that, the door to their mother’s house creaked open, then closed. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Brock’s mother called as she jogged down the path, then the driveway, and toward them on the sidewalk. She was carrying a big red-lidded Tupperware container in one hand and her coat in the other. “Sorry, everyone. The cookies took forever to cool and then ice.”
“You iced them?” Brock asked, giving his mother a look.
She gave him a look right back. “Yes, you buffoon. I iced them. My grandbabies can’t have gingerbread cookies without icing, faces, and buttons. What kind of sadist do you think I am?”
Brock rolled his eyes.
His mother responded with her own eye roll and a mini sneer, but when she turned to face Grant, her eyes lit up and her smile went wide enough to nearly touch her ears. “Thanks for waiting for me,” she said with a slight giggle to her voice.
Who the hell was this woman?
Brock had never heard his mother add a giggle to her voice or speak in that girlie tone before in his life.
“I’ll wait for you for as long as you need,” Grant said, which only made Brock’s mother giggle and smile even more.
What the fuck was going on?
Brock glanced between Grant and his mother. They were looking at each other and smiling like … well … buffoons.
Had he slipped on some ice, bashed his head on the sidewalk, and was now in the hospital in a coma? Because this woman was not his mother. Joy Hart did not swoon. She did not giggle like a teenager, and she most certainly didn’t get all moony-eyed over … anyone.
“All right, little lady,” Grant said, which only made Brock’s mother giggle again, “find yourself a seat so we can get this party wagon on the road and see some Christmas lights.”
“Christmas lights! Christmas lights!” the children chanted.
Brock still hadn’t boarded the bus.
“You comin’?” Grant asked, eyeing Brock, his hand on the lever to close the door.
Brock glanced into the bus through the windows and saw all the happy smiling people he loved.
He didn’t want to miss this tradition with his kids, even though Grant was hijacking the way they did it and putting his own stupid spin on it.
He only had so many Christmases with his kids where their wide-eyed wonder and excitement was so real it was practically tangible. And since he’d missed out on a lot of Christmases with his own dad, he wanted to make up for it all with his kids.
With a grumble, a grunt and a glare at Grant, Brock climbed the three steps up into the bus.
Everyone stared up at him, including his wife and children.
“Daddy, you can sit up at the front,” Zoe said, beautifully innocent and unaware of the stick of dynamite she’d just tossed into the raging wildfire. “There is a seat behind Grant.”
Brock glanced down at the empty seat.
Motherfucker.
Why wasn’t his mother sitting there if she was so infatuated with Grant?
Because his mother was sitting next to Zoe, that was why. Zoe had announced to everyone very early on that evening that she was sitting with Nana and nobody was allowed to argue with her.
Nobody dared argue with Brock’s redheaded women. Not Krista or Zoe. They all knew better. Battles were picked sparingly and wisely, and this was one hill nobody wanted to die on.
Even though there were empty seats way at the back, he wasn’t keen on being stuck there, away from his kids. If he sat behind Grant, at least he’d be close to Zane and Zoe and get to see the excitement on their faces. At the back of the bus like a reject, he wouldn’t see any of it.
“Daddy, sit down so we can get going. People will start turning off their lights soon,” Zoe ordered.
“No, they won’t,” Brock countered, immediately regretting arguing with his tiny ginger tyrant. Oh well, he was on the battlefield now. “It’s six-thirty, ZoZo. We have several hours before people turn out their lights for the night.”
Zoe’s brows pinched, and she plopped her hands on her hips, staring him down like her mother so often did. “Sit, Daddy.”
Guffaws and snorts of laughter echoed around the bus.
Zoe wasn’t blinking.
Rolling his eyes, Brock eased himself down into the cramped single seat behind Grant. The rest of them were in two-person bench seats facing forward, while Brock was forced to squeeze his frame into a one-person sideways-facing seat directly behind the driver.
“Everybody buckled in?” Grant asked.
“Aye-aye, Captain Driver Man Grant,” Zoe said, giving Grant a salute.
“I like your enthusiasm, Zoe,” Grant said, putting the bus in gear, throwing on his indicator light, then pulling out into traffic. “And away we go!”
Chapter 17
Brock & Krista
“… Down in hiiiiisssstooooooooryyyyyyyyyy!” The children sang at the top of their lungs, competing with the music Grant was playing at a reasonable level over the bus stereo.
“No more Tim Bits for you kids,” Krista said, glancing at Stacey with an eye roll. Her sister-in-law was already using a baby wipe from her purse to tidy up Thea’s face.
“Cookies, then!” Connor said, shoving his index finger into the air like he’d just reinvented the wheel.
“No. More. Sugar,” Chase said before ducking behind the seat to pop another Tim Bit in his mouth.
“Hey, pass those back,” Heath said. “I think I saw some Old Fashioneds in there. Those are my fave.”
“Why eat a donut when you can have a fresh gingerbread man?” Rayma added. She dramatically took a bite right between her gingerbread man’s legs. “And that’s about as much action as I’ll be getting from what dangles between a man’s legs this holiday season.”
Pasha snorted and glanced at her sister. “Impressionable ears.”
Rayma rolled her gold-flecked brown eyes and took another bite of her cookie, speaking through her chews. “Those ears are crammed full of sugar and Christmas music. They didn’t hear a thing.”
Krista accepted the package of baby wipes from Stacey and handed one to Joy. “Please wipe my daughter’s face and hands. And no more sweets, Nana. Unless you’d like to be the one to put them to bed.”
Joy glanced behind her at Krista and accepted the baby wipe. “I—”
“Have other plans that I’m sure you don’t want cockblocked by sugar-demon children.” Krista’s mouth stretched into a teasing smile.
Joy’s complexion went the color of a holly berry, and a playful smile tugged one corner of her mouth.
Oh yeah, Nana Joy was getting her groove back and then some.
Krista smiled knowingly at her mother-in-law. “That’s what I thought.”
“What’s cockblocked, Mama?” Zoe asked as she allowed Joy to wipe her face and hands. Krista was sitting with Zane and was busy wiping his hands and face. How the kid managed to get donut jelly up his nose, Krista would never know.
“Yeah, Mama, what’s cockblocked?” Joy repeated, turning back around to look at Krista, a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes.
“Uhhh.” Krista glanced at her husband for help. He was staring at his phone with a scowl on his face.
“Cock is a boy chicken, right, Mama?” Zoe asked. “So does it mean that a big boy chicken is blocking your path? Like he won’t let the lady chickens get into the coop. He’s cockblocking.”
Out of the mouths of brilliant-brained babes.
“That’s pretty much what it means, honey,” Krista said quickly. “Yep.”
Zoe seemed pleased with herself for figuring it out, but that glee didn’t last long. Her nose wrinkled, and her brow furrowed. “But we don’t have any chickens. Neither does Nana. How can she get cockblocked if she doesn’t have any chickens? Do you mean like the chicken meat we eat? Is there a bunch of chicken boobs blocking her path?”
“Chicken breasts, honey. Breasts. We use the proper terminology for things, remember?”
Zoe merely shrugged.
Snorts and titters emanated from the back of the bus.
“Walked into that one there, Krista,” Heath said with a chuckle. “You might need to buy some chickens and have ol’ Brocky build you a coop now.”
“I’ll buy eggs,” Stacey said. “Farm-fresh and free-range are always better than store-bought.”
“Me too,” Rayma added. “And can I just point out how happy I am that it wasn’t me who instigated this brilliant explanation to the kids by saying cockblock around impressionable ears?”
“Could very well have been you,” Pasha admonished. “Last time it was you. And Krista and Brock had to explain to their children that there is no such thing as a ‘beast with two backs’ that will come scare them in the middle of the night.”
Rayma bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. “That was during a non-dry spell. A … wet spell?” She snorted. “Yeah, that’s what that was. A wet spell.” She sighed and glanced up wistfully. “And what a blissfully damp semester that had been.”
“Can we get back to the chickens, please?” Zoe asked. “I know there is no ‘beast with two backs.’ That’s just Aunt Rayma’s way of saying she wants to hug boys. That when you hug someone it looks like you’re one person but you have two backs. I don’t know why you need to call it a beast, though. That just makes it sound scary for no reason. But I’m glad Aunt Rayma likes making the beast with two backs with people. So do I. I made the beast with two backs with like three of my friends at school today, Anna, Rachel, and Emmie.”
The reactions in the bus were a mixture of chuckles, groans, and various murmured curses.
“Back to the chickens,” Zoe said innocently, not realizing the things she’d just said and how she’d said them.
God, Krista loved her daughter, but sometimes Zoe was too curious and observant for her own good. She’d be one hell of an adult, but as a child, she was a lot to deal with. “Yes, honey, back to the chickens.”
“How about Nana takes a stab at explaining this one?” Joy asked, offering Krista an olive branch with a knowing smile. “I think I can figure out how to explain it so you’re no longer confused.”
Zoe rolled her eyes and slammed the backs of her hands down on the bench seat. “Please, Nana, yes. Someone explain to me how you’re going to get cockblocked when you don’t have any chickens.”
As Krista’s mother-in-law attempted to explain the term “cockblocked” to Krista’s impressionable, brilliant child, the rest of the bus erupted into a chorus of oohs and aahs as Grant pulled the bus over to the curb beside a brilliantly bedazzled house.
It was closing in on burn-your-retinas bright, but it was beautiful—as long as you didn’t look directly at it, of course.
“Look!” Connor shouted and pointed, sitting up on his knees in his seat. “They have a giant blow-up dinosaur on the roof. The T. rex is in the sleigh, and he has a bunch of little triceratops pulling the sleigh. Like he’s Santa and the triceratops are his reindeer. That’s so cool.”
“Not sure how he’d effectively steer the sleigh and hold the reins with those puny arms,” Heath said with a chuckle as he ruffled Connor’s hair with his big, meaty palm.
Connor rolled his eyes and glanced behind him at his uncle. “It’s pretend, Uncle Heath. And dinosaurs are extinct.”
Heath’s lip twitched as he made eye contact with several of the adults. He fixed his gaze back on Connor. “You’re right, little man. My bad.”
“I like the cute display of Santa and Mrs. Claus sneaking a kiss behind the snowman,” Stacey said, glancing back at Chase with love in her eyes.
Two small robotic statues, one of Santa himself and the other one of his better half, stood slightly behind a big, fake, grinning snowman. The robots would bend at the hips and make it look like they were sneaking a smooch behind Frosty.
Krista glanced at her husband.
But Brock wasn’t paying attention to the light display outside or his children’s admiration and wonder over it. He was watching his mother and Grant whisper.
And if looks could kill, Grant would be six feet under and worm food by now.
Rolling her eyes, Krista leaned and pushed forward on one foot. She swatted her husband’s knee to get her attention. “Don’t ruin this,” she said with a hiss. “For them or your children.”
Brock barely glanced at her.
Joy had stepped away from where she was sitting with Zoe for a moment and was currently crouched down next to the driver’s seat where Grant was. The two had sparkles and love in their eyes and big smiles on their faces.
It warmed Krista’s heart no end to see her mother-in-law happy and in love. She deserved it. Joy had spent way too many years doting on her children and grandchildren to not have something else in her life. Something just for her. Or in this case someone.
“Let’s go to the next one!” Zoe cheered. “Nana, come back and sit with me.”
Joy glanced back at Zoe. “All right, honey, just a sec.” She turned back to Grant and said something under her breath that nobody else in the bus could hear—well, maybe Brock.
Oh shit, yes, definitely Brock.
A dark, stormy expression fell across Krista’s husband’s face—well, stormier than it already was—and his nostrils flared, reminding her of a bull in the ring, getting ready to impale the stupid fucking matador with his horns. But in this case—and only this case—she was actually rooting for the matador. She wanted Grant to get away unscathed by whatever verbal horns and hooves Brock was planning to impale and trample the man with.
Joy stood up, and Krista noticed that her fingers were laced with Grant’s.
Krista fought the urge to swoon over the sweetness.
Their fingers untangled, and Grant’s hand grazed Joy’s butt.
The air inside the bus grew warmer, and Krista knew it was because her husband was getting ready to explode like a volcano.
Joy moved back to her seat.
Brock’s lips parted like he was about to say something, but Krista cleared her throat loud enough to draw his attention.
She hoped her expression was fierce enough to convey what she was thinking. In no way was he to comment on Grant touching Joy’s butt.
It was none of Brock’s business, and his mother was happy. That should be the end of it.
Brock’s gaze flicked to Krista, his cheeks a ruddy color, steam practically billowing out of his ears.
She shook her head and mouthed, “Don’t you dare.”
She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but his expression grew even more threatening.
Joy settled back down in the seat next to Zoe and glanced back at Krista, a curious expression on her face. “Everything okay?” she asked. Her gaze bounced between Krista and Brock, and her brows slowly furrowed.
“Drive, please,” Zoe said. “We still have more to see.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Zoe,” Grant said with an exaggerated salute before putting the bus back into gear and pulling away from the curb when the road was clear.
“Is he angry Grant and I were talking?” Joy asked Krista, bringing her voice down to a whisper.
Krista shrugged. “I have no idea. He’s just being a miserable party pooper, and it’s starting to piss me off.”
Joy grunted and glanced back at her son. “Not anything really new, but the reasoning behind it is.” Eventually she sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Grant’s not going anywhere, and it would make it a whole lot easier on all of us if Brock just accepted that fact.”
“Agreed,” Krista said, matching Joy’s sigh. “He just always seems to need to have something to fret and be angry over. Like if he’s not pissed off, he will cease to exist.”
“He’s placed all our safety and happiness on his shoulders. Made them his responsibility. So in his mind, he doesn’t have time for his own happiness and to relax. Because when you relax, you let your guard down.”
Krista rested her hand on her mother-in-law’s that was gripping the back of the bus seat. “I know. I just wish there was something we could do to help take more of that burden from him.”
Joy linked their fingers together and gave Krista’s hand a squeeze. “Me too, honey. Me too.”
Another hour of driving around town to look at Christmas light displays and they were all yawning and eager to get into their own beds. Maeve, Zane and Raze had all fallen asleep, while little Eve had been in and out of naps the whole trip.
“But I want to see moooooooore,” Thea whined as Grant pulled the bus up to the curb in front of Joy’s house. “I know there are more.”
“We can go do a small drive around town as a family, just us four, tomorrow night to hit the ones we missed,” Stacey said to her precocious daughter as she smoothed some hair off Thea’s face. “But it’s getting late. Several of your cousins are already asleep. And it’s past your bedtime.”
Thea scrunched her face into a pout, crossed her arms over her chest and sat back into her seat with a huff.
Stacey merely rolled her eyes.
Grant turned off the engine. “End of the line, folks,” he said with a chuckle to his voice. He pulled the lever so the door opened before glancing back at Brock. “Hopefully you were able to enjoy at least some of the tour. Figured with me driving you’d be able to spend more time with your kiddos and not worry about traffic and parking.”
