Always Yours Baby

  Always Yours, Baby

  By Airicka Phoenix

  Always Yours, Baby ©2015 by Airicka Phoenix

  All rights reserved.

  www.AirickaPhoenix.com

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover Designer: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

  Interior Design: Airicka Phoenix

  Editor & Formatter: Kris Atkinson

  Beta Readers: Kimberly Schaaf

  ISBN-13: 978-1492367321

  ISBN-10: 149236732X

  Published by Airicka Phoenix

  Also available in eBook and paperback publication

  Also by Airicka Phoenix

  Games of Fire

  Betraying Innocence

  TOUCH SAGA

  Touching Smoke

  Touching Fire

  Touching Eternity

  THE LOST GIRL SERIES

  Finding Kia

  Revealing Kia

  REGENERATION SERIES

  When Night Falls

  THE BABY SAGA

  Forever His Baby

  Bye-Bye Baby

  Be My Baby

  IN THE DARK SERIES

  My Soul For You

  Kissing Trouble

  SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA

  Octavian’s Undoing

  Gideon’s Promise

  STANDALONE

  The Voyeur Next Door

  ANTHOLOGY

  Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology

  Midnight Surrender Anthology

  Dedication

  For the lovers of Willa & Damon.

  And the lovers of my books.

  Always Yours, Baby

  Chapter One ~ Damon

  “When are you going to tell her?”

  In the process of checking his watch, Damon paused. His fingers rapped once on the rough grain of the picnic table in irritation before curling into a loose fist next to his elbow. Loose wisps of autumn wind swept through the clearing, pushing locks of dark hair into his eyes that were impatiently swept back.

  “Whenever I feel like it,” he muttered into the phone. “She’s not ready.”

  The she in question stood several yards away, surrounded by a field of knee-high grass and wild flowers. The late afternoon sun glittered through her unbound hair, turning the sleek strands a deep, rich gold that lifted around her thin shoulders with every crisp breeze. She hadn’t moved in the last ten minutes. Every so often, Damon could just hear the quiet snap of camera shutters and the whir of gears as the device clutched to her face captured the setting sun clamped between two jagged points in the distance.

  “I think you should just do it.”

  Annoyance twisted lines between his eyebrows as he fought not to just hang up on his friend. Since getting married and starting a family, Jared Dumont had inexplicably grown a vagina. Suddenly, it was inexcusable for anyone to be single. Like he wasn’t happy unless the world was as perfectly matched as he was. His wife, Calla, was no better. It had gotten to the point where Damon didn’t even want to answer his phone. They were relentless and he had no patience to be lectured about something he already knew.

  “I think you two should mind your own damn business,” he muttered in return before hitting the off button and stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

  Sensing his mood shift the way only Willa could, she turned. Twigs snapped beneath the heels of her boots. The light glittered off the surface of her blue eyes and shimmered like sunlight bouncing off clear, tropical waters. Pale strands drifted over pinkened cheeks and were absently brushed aside with a gloved hand. Her head went to the side even as her lips bowed into a sheepish smile that wrenched his heart.

  “I’m sorry.” She started towards him, long legs devouring the distance between them effortlessly. “You should have told me I was taking so long.”

  Damon rose as she reached the weather worn table positioned precociously beneath a twisted and bare tree that had seen better days. Part of one bench was snapped off and the rest was still upright out of sheer grit. But it had been a welcome companion in the last several hours.

  “You weren’t.”

  With a soft laugh that held traces of the disbelief furrowing her brows, Willa shook her head. “We’ve been here five hours.”

  He knew it. His ass had been asleep for most of it. But for her, he shrugged.

  “Didn’t notice.”

  Smiling with a brilliance that overruled all the wrongs of the world, she went to him. Her camera was set gently on the table and she put her arms around his shoulders. It was always awkward. She was so small. Her embraces pulled his back into a curve. But it was worth it to feel her in his arms, to feel her warmth and be surrounded by the sweet scent of her.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised, tickling the side of his neck with her cool breath. She drew back and peered into his face. “I’ll pay for dinner.”

  She always offered.

  “Deal.”

  He always agreed, but he’d never let her.

  Still smiling, she released him and went about gathering her equipment. Damon watched her and marveled at her captivating grace; she moved the way dancers took the stage, with elegance and purpose. Watching her always reminded him of some elaborate ballet that spoke to his soul.

  “Ready,” she said, swinging her camera case over one shoulder.

  He beat her to it before she could grab the rest. She packed for work the way most women packed to go for a month long cruise around the world. He had talked her into leaving most of her stuff behind once and regretted it when she got to the place she was photographing and realized she needed a lot of it. She hadn’t said as much, but he had known she was upset. The only problem with that was she hadn’t been upset with him for talking her into leaving the stuff in the first place; she’d been upset with herself and that always killed him.

  “Thank you for coming with me,” she said as they started the fifteen minute walk back to the highway and his Jeep.

  Their combined footsteps echoed through the patch of clearing surrounded by a jagged terrain of piercing mountains and trees. He had no idea how she found the place, but it was an hour out of town, in the middle of nowhere. Damn straight he was going with her.

  “I wasn’t doing anything today,” he said. “Besides, I like watching you work.”

  Beaming, she slid her arm through his and hugged it to her chest. “I know it’s boring for you.” Her head pillowed on his shoulder. “But I like having you with me.”

  Neither spoke as they followed the winding path through the wilderness towards the main highway. Leaves shivered above them, filling the silence with their quiet rustle. A few tore away from their branches and drifted to earth where they lay abandoned with all the others in a damp carpet of rot. Beside him, Willa sneezed into the crook of her elbow. Her sniffles drew his attention down to the redness of her nose and the slight shiver that passed through her.

  “Where’s your coat?” he demanded, stopping and glancing back in the direction they’d come from, wondering if they’d left it behind.

  Rubbing the sleeve of her sweater beneath her nose, Willa sighed. “I left it in the car. I didn’t think it would be this cold,” she
explained when he frowned at her.

  “It’s October,” he reminded her as he gently set her things down at their feet. “What did you think it would be like?”

  Undoing the zipper of his coat, he shrugged out of the heavy wool and swung it around her hunched shoulders, ignoring her protest.

  “Put your arms through,” he ordered.

  “But you’re going to get sick!” she complained.

  “I’m fine. Now do it!”

  Reluctantly, she slid her hands through the sleeves. He zipped it up all the way to her button nose, then reached into the collar to fish out her hair.

  Willa yelped and scurried forward, away from his touch and deeper into the circle of his arms.

  “So cold!” she hissed, bouncing on the spot.

  “Hold still,” he muttered, biting back his grin as he reached for her again, this time careful not to let his fingers brush the back of her neck.

  Her hair slipped through his fingers like fine silk threads. They tumbled down her back and over her shoulders in a downy sheet that framed her perfectly oval features and the wide dominance of her blue eyes. Still careful not to touch skin, he combed the strands back from her temples and tucked them behind her ears. The late afternoon light sparked off the tiny gold hoops in each earlobe.

  She seemed so delicate with her head tipped back to his and her eyes filled with too much trust. He doubted it even crossed her mind that he could do just about anything to her and no one would ever know; she hadn’t told anyone where they were going, or when they would be back, or that they were even heading out of town. They were completely isolated and surrounded by miles of wilderness.

  But she had never seen him as a threat. All their lives, she had been the one steady force in his life, the singular thing holding him steady when his world had spun wildly out of control. She had been the only person to take one look at him and immediately love him without ever asking for anything in return. And he loved her. God, how he loved her.

  “Better?” At her nod, he hoisted up her equipment cases, waited for her to hook her arm through the crook of his and began walking. “Good. Let’s go. Someone promised me pie.”

  Willa laughed and snuggled closer into his side. “You hate pie.”

  “What kind of crazy person hates pie?” he mused.

  “You!” She poked him lightly in the ribs with a slim finger barely visible beneath the cuff of his sleeve. “You say it’s wrong to bake perfectly good fruit.”

  Damon wrinkled his nose. “I do say that, don’t I?” He exhaled heavily. “Well, I stand by my moral outrage.”

  Chuckling, she laid her head on his shoulder once more and inhaled deeply. “I can’t wait until winter.”

  “I can,” he grumbled. “Hate winter.”

  “I know, but I love it. Everything is so beautiful when it snows.” A smile turned up her lips, exposing small, white teeth that were only slightly uneven where her canines came out too far. “Remember that year you created icicles on our roof?”

  Damon winced. “Vividly.”

  Her laugh rippled through the trees. “I was so scared Dad was going to kill you.”

  “It was close,” he agreed, remembering that winter morning all too well.

  It had been his first Christmas back from school and he’d been broke thanks to the insane number of textbooks he’d had to get for the semester. He hadn’t told anyone, but he hadn’t wanted to come home that year, simply because it meant not being able to give Willa anything Christmas morning. The year before, he’d gotten her a camera and the pure adoration on her face had been a thing of magic. He had wanted that again. He had wanted to be the person who gave her exactly what she wanted, and photography equipment wasn’t cheap.

  Willa was only sixteen, but even then, she’d had the artistic eye like her mother; everything she captured in her lens became a piece of beauty. The whole town loved her work; it was showcased everywhere. She had a gift, one that brought people joy and she deserved the best to keep doing it.

  That year, the thing she had wanted was icicles. Not the small ones that dangled from windowsills, but long, jagged ones that looked like monster teeth. He’d helped her look everywhere for even one with no avail. Come the night before Christmas, he’d climbed up on her roof with a hose and sprayed water all down one side of the house. He’d almost frozen to death, but come dawn, icicles had rained from the gutters and dangled just over her bedroom window in a jagged sheet of spikes.

  She had been elated.

  Her dad … not so much.

  But Damon had always understood her love of winter. For her it was a time of fantasy, of glitter and make-believe as a child. For him, it was a reminder of nights he’d gone to bed hungry and so cold, he’d soiled himself for warmth. It was memories of dragging on every stitch of fabric in his closet with numb fingers to keep from dying in the night. It was lying in the dark and watching his breath shudder out of him in sharp, white pants. So, no, he had no love for winter.

  “Damon?” Willa’s quiet murmur drew him out of those days as it always did. It washed over him in a flood of warmth that chased away the icy tendrils of bile and hatred that curdled deep in his gut. “What are you thinking about?”

  She knew of his life before her aunt and uncle had adopted him. She had seen the wild, angry child he had been at six. But he had never told anyone the extent of what he’d gone through before Cole and Beth McClain stepped into his life. Not even Willa, whom he told everything to. That was a darkness he never wanted touching her, not even in thought.

  “Pie,” he muttered, putting a disgusted edge to his tone.

  Willa laughed and hugged his arm harder. “You’re so strange.”

  His beat up jeep sat exactly where he’d parked it earlier that morning. He moved to the passenger’s side door and yanked it open for her before rounding to the back and gingerly setting her cases into the hatch. The sky overhead rolled with dark, vengeful clouds and he knew they had an hour before they were hit, whether by snow or rain was still unclear.

  Slamming the back hatch closed, he circled around to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. Willa was already seated, belt in place, door closed, snapping pictures of the sky through the windshield.

  “I think it’s going to snow,” she predicted, making him wonder—not for the first time—if she really could read his mind.

  “Hope not.” He propelled the vehicle onto the road and headed towards home. “We have a move this Friday.”

  That was another reason he hated winters. Being a mover meant heaving heavy objects out of places in all manner of weather. Sun and rain weren’t so bad. Snow meant ice and nothing was more dangerous than balancing a three hundred pound piece of furniture down icy steps.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked the woman next to him.

  “A little, but I can wait.” She peered over at him, her camera in her lap. “I have to work tomorrow until seven.”

  “Want me to pick you up?”

  “No!” she said almost instantly, as though she knew he would offer. “You promised Jared and the boys you’d play poker with them tomorrow, remember?”

  He did, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go. He knew the moment he walked in through those doors, they’d start on him about Willa and when he’d man up and tell her how he felt. Hell if he knew why it was so important to them, but they had made it their life’s mission to get him laid, by any means necessary, and he just wasn’t like that. It didn’t matter to him how long he had to wait. He wasn’t in a hurry. Willa was his in all the ways that mattered most.

  “Who the hell sets up a poker game on a Thursday night?” he muttered grudgingly. “I can still swing by and—”

  “Don’t you dare!” she scolded him. “You need to spend time with your friends and I’ll be fine. Our apartment is two minutes away from the shop.”

  Ten minutes and eighteen seconds, to be exact. He knew because he had selected that particular apartment for that very reason—its proximity to
the studio and his peace of mind, especially after what had happened. That night still gave him nightmares. The fear was forever lodged deep in the recess of his subconscious, a bitter reminder of just how easily he could lose her if he wasn’t careful.

  It had been raining with a vengeance that had closed the entire town down. The roads were flooded in all directions and most of the houses were forced to evacuate. Willa had been on her way home for the weekend, despite Damon’s protest for her not to. The storm warning had been in effect. She even left early to try and avoid the worst of it. But the rain had hit her part way between home and town. Her car had swerved into a ditch and she’d hit her head on the steering wheel, blacking out. No one had known until the hospital had called Damon’s phone. He’d never been so scared in his life. Not ever. When school ended and she returned home, that fear would surge up every time she went to work and came home. It got to the point where he’d feel physically sick every time she left the house.

  He found the apartment in the local paper, a two bedroom suite not ten minutes from the studio. He brought the matter up before the entire family one weekend, stating his case and insisting it was the right thing. Her mother and Beth had agreed. Sloan had not. It was too far and he didn’t like Willa living on her own, even if she had been twenty two. That was when Willa had suggested Damon take the spare room he had initially picked to be a darkroom for her. She had insisted and he hadn’t argued. Neither had Sloan, to Damon’s surprise. One year later, they were still in the same place. He still went home to her every night, spent every free hour with her and, more times than not, got to hold her all night in his bed. The only thing missing in their relationship was sex, and while he wanted it desperately, he would wait for her to give him the green light that she wanted it too. That hadn’t happened yet.

  The sky was an ugly smear of dark gray by the time they rolled into Willow Creek. The roads were filled with people leaving work and heading home for the evening. Damon turned off the main road leading home and pulled into the parking spot across the street from Libellule, the studio/boutique Willa ran with her mother, aunt and sister. He parked and shut off the engine.