by L. B. Dunbar
We decide on something we don’t readily have in Blue Ridge—Chinese food. When she starts reading off the names with moos and choos and I don’t even know what, I just tell her lots of meat and vegetables are good enough for me.
“How do you feel about football?”
I chuckle. Is this a woman after my heart? “College or pro?”
“It’s Saturday, so it has to be college tonight.”
I toss myself on her couch and kick my feet up on her coffee table. “Game on.”
She curls up next to me while we mindlessly watch Georgia play Alabama. It’s comfortable like this and reminds me of similar moments with Clara when we were young. Of course, I spent months away from her, and once I permanently returned, we didn’t cuddle anymore. I had my chair. She had her corner of the couch. For a moment, I’m saddened by the memory.
Letty is so different from Clara. Her laughter. Her smile. The things she lets me do to her. The things she does to me, like absentmindedly stroking down my chest with the game on the TV. I can hardly concentrate as another part of me is turned on.
The food arrives, and my arousal needs to be put on hold. Letty drinks wine while she offers me more locally brewed beer.
“This is nice,” I finally say as we lounge on her couch with full bellies. We’re both drowsy from a day of cool, fresh air and alcohol. She leans up and presses her lips to my neck. “That feels nice, too.”
I chuckle until her tongue licks at the skin just under my beard, and then her mouth sucks on the section. She lies on her side, her back to the couch cushions while I lie on my back. Her leg hitches over my lap as she continues her sipping kisses. I cup the back of her thigh and close my eyes, mellowing under her attention. A sigh escapes, letting her know one more time how nice she feels. I like her mouth on me. I like how she looks at me. I even like how much she can chatter.
She continues to kiss me, moving her body over my legs and sucking at my skin. Her fingers begin unbuttoning my shirt. Last night, we made love—slow and soft—and I enjoyed every second of it, but I want her a little wild again. The tender moments are almost too much. Too close. Too intense. I don’t think we should go there with the distance between us. I came here to give her an apology. I think I’m going to leave here without my heart.
She tugs at my shirt, loosening it from my pants. I quickly sit up and remove both my flannel and my T-shirt with one tug. Then she presses me back to the sofa, returning to cover me with the tip of her tongue and openmouthed kisses.
“Whatcha doing, Cricket?” She doesn’t answer me, but hums against the dusting of hair at my waistline. She works at unbuckling my belt and unzipping my zipper. Within seconds, she has my briefs and pants off, and she stares down at me from where she stands next to the couch. The only light in the room is the glow of the television, and she mutes the sound. Then she tugs her sweater over her head. Jeans lower next. Slowly, she removes her bra, watching me as I watch her. I’m enjoying the strip tease act as she wiggles her hips to remove her undies.
Finally, she straddles me, flipping her hair over one shoulder.
“Cricket?” I question as she remains silent. I have no doubt about what she’s doing, but there’s an intensity to her gaze. The way she’s soaking in my body with her eyes. I twitch between her thighs. My hand palms up her side, reaching for a breast and squeezing her nipple. My other hand remains behind my head, casual and calm, which isn’t what I feel. My heart races. My dick strains. Just looking at her makes me hard, and then she settles on my length, coating me with the wetness soaking her.
“You drunk, sweetheart?” I chuckle under her as she rides my length, not yet inside her, but slicking over me all the same.
“Just feels good,” she hums, her eyes closing, and I kind of like that she’s getting off by being on me.
“Whatcha need, honey?”
“I want to ride you.”
Jesus. “Yes, please.”
She lifts a little to set my tip at her entrance. Her hands brace on my chest. “Ready?” she exhales, and before I can answer, she slams down on me.
I grunt and buck upward. She groans in response. We fall together, and then I lift my hips. She yelps, sitting upright. Her hands go behind her head, and she raises her hair. She presses up on her knees and then drops down on me again. My eyes roll back until I see her hands slipping down to tease her own breasts. She’s putting on a little show for me, and I grip her hips, forcing her up and down, listening to the slick sound of her swallowing me while she teases her nipples. Her fingers eventually lower, and I watch as she touches herself while I disappear inside her. Her movements are wild. She’s riding me as requested. Hips roll. Tits bounce. Her hair falls over her shoulders. I love how she’s taking what she wants. She’s giving me everything I need.
I love her.
The thought hits me hard, and I thrust upward, determined to fill her with all of me. She hums louder, and I want to bottle that sound and take it with me to listen to on repeat. Then she settles, slowing her ride as she clenches around me. Her lids lower as she rocks over me, her orgasm lingering. My fingertips press into her skin.
“I’m comin’, sweetheart,” I warn before I jet off deep within her. I’d love to give her the baby she wants. The baby she so lovingly deserves. But I can’t.
If only we’d met earlier in life...
The ridiculous thought escapes me as she falls over my chest, spent and breathing heavily into my neck. I wrap my arms around her, holding her to me while she holds me inside her.
I don’t want to let her go. Not yet.
+ + +
Sunday, we head to brunch. It’s what she does with friends, she says, only today she wants me to herself. We window-shop as we walk back to her place. The temperature has dropped.
“Hang around for a bit, it will change again.” She laughs about the Midwest weather, but there’s something deeper in her comment.
Could I stay here?
I can’t. I have too many responsibilities back in Georgia.
Could she leave?
She can’t. She’s waiting on a baby.
I don’t like the odds of hopeless, so I smile through clenched teeth as we make our way through the morning with my departure weighing heavily between us.
When we return to her place, time becomes awkward. It’s almost as if we know I need to leave too soon.
“I can’t thank you enough for coming to the wedding.” It was only the reception and not long enough, but I lean forward and press my forehead to hers as we stand in her living room. “It was the best of surprises.”
“Why do I feel like this is goodbye?”
“Isn’t it?” she softly asks, and her voice cracks. I pull back to find a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Cricket, what’s this?” I tenderly swipe at the tear, holding her face in my hands.
“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” Another tear falls.
“Do you want to see me again?” I weakly smile with hope.
“Yes.” Her enthusiastic nod brings a quiet chuckle from me.
“Then let’s work this out, okay? In two weeks, the pub hosts an Oktoberfest. Can you come back to Georgia?”
“I think so. Let me check my calendar.” She pauses, another tear slipping from her eye. “I’ll make it work.”
“There’s my Cricket. She never gives up.” I lean in for her mouth, and we kiss through her salty tears before I have to tear myself away and head back to Georgia.
20
Home visits
[Letty]
Giant wants to pick me up in Atlanta, and I can’t contain myself when I see him. I leap for him when he greets me at the airport. I pepper his face with kisses, locking my legs around his waist although I’m certain I’m too heavy for him. He’s laughing until his mouth catches mine, and then he holds me in place, kissing me hard before pulling free.
“That’s better than any homecoming, and I’m already home.” Giant doesn’t talk much about his mil
itary experiences, but over the past two weeks, we’ve talked every night on the phone and sent sexy texts throughout the day.
“I’ve missed you,” I blurt, not shy of my feelings at the moment. I’m so happy to see him, and his expression matches mine. He grabs my bag and my hand, and then we head to his truck. It’s a beautiful day as we climb the mountain, and he tells me more about Oktoberfest.
“The event is Billy’s grand idea to draw people into the pub and celebrate our beer. It’s worked. He’s been surprisingly successful.” I have all the Harringtons straight in my head, but I’m nervous to meet them. It’s obvious from our nightly conversations that his siblings are close minus James, and even there, Giant misses the brother below him in birth order. Their parents—Elaina and George—are still important to them, too. I want to make a good impression, a lasting one, even if I don’t know how long Giant and I will last.
We plan to stay at his home. He has some obligations to Oktoberfest the following morning, but he promises me they won’t take long. His house is on the edge of town, and it’s closer than the cabin. I’ll miss the mountain, but I’m excited to see where he lives. I’m also anxious. This will be the home he shared with his deceased wife, so I worry there will be hundreds of reminders of her.
I’m gently surprised when there isn’t. The living room is masculine with a bright red plaid couch and two brown leather chairs, one well-worn from a big body. A large stone fireplace is the focal point, whitewashed with a built-in bookshelf on one side. The dining area is behind the couch with the kitchen next to it. It’s one great room. The space is neat and minimal, and all male minus any sign of his deceased wife.
“Did you…do you have pictures of her?”
He stops where he’s walking, sets down my bag, and turns to face me. “I used to keep pictures of her everywhere until one day I just couldn’t look any longer. So I boxed them all up. I keep one in my room, but I put it away.” His eyes drift to the floor, sheepish of his decision.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide her. You were married, happily, and she died. It’s okay.” I wish to reassure him, but I don’t know how. I don’t have experience with a man who has already been married, who has already loved another. He isn’t comfortable discussing her with me, but I know he’ll tell me anything I ask about her.
I just feel like I’m betraying her and hurting you when we talk about her.
I can respect his feelings.
“I feel better with the picture down,” he says. I step up to him and cup his face.
“I’m honored to be here.” He glances up and over my shoulder.
“It’s much different than it was. I changed everything after a year. Furniture, paint colors, even tweaked the layout.” The house looks like a sprawling ranch from the outside with false dormers, but there’s a second floor below us, hidden in the cliff. A porch the length of the back of the house is half screened in and half open, and my eyes are drawn to it.
“Want a complete tour?”
“I do.” I nod with a grin, and Giant leads me through all the rooms. On the lower level, a pool table centers a room with another fireplace. A hot tub in a screened-in porch is off this man cave. We climb the stairs again, and I notice a glass-paned door leading to a second floor.
“What’s up there?” I ask.
“Nothing of consequence,” he answers. It’s a vague answer, but I let it slide as he leads me to his room. When we step inside, he tackles me to the bed. “Too soon to have sex with you?”
I chuckle beneath him. “Nope.”
+ + +
The strange thing about sex in his bedroom is it didn’t feel right. I mean, it felt amazing, but something was off, and I just chalked it up to the distance and reacclimating ourselves to one another. I’d never had a long-distance relationship, and we’re still so new to each another. I’m excited to be here and learn more about his life, but we weren’t the same people we’ve been in his bedroom.
After sex, he makes me dinner. This time, it’s on a grill on his deck instead of a campfire.
“I bought the house to keep Clara in one place.” He smiles weakly. “She didn’t want to continue traveling everywhere with me, and some places weren’t meant for her. I was career military but didn’t make it a full twenty like I planned.” He’s quiet for a moment. I don’t want him to be shy about talking about her, but the hesitation he had during sex is present again. He pours me more wine and opens a second beer for himself while our steaks cook. He continues to tell me minimal details of his military time but emphasizes the distance. “I went for long spans without seeing Clara. It was difficult at times.”
I don’t know what he’s telling me, but I listen all the same.
When he serves dinner, we switch topics to the adoption process. I haven’t heard anything more.
“And there’s a time constraint, you said? You’d have to petition to remove the baby from the state for any reason.” Once I have a child, the finalization process could take a year. I wouldn’t be able to leave Illinois without permission from my adoption liaison. Again, I’m not sure where he’s going with his line of questions.
Finally, we shift to an easier subject—Oktoberfest and his family.
“You’ll meet the whole crew tomorrow.” He shakes his head. “I hope they don’t scare you away.”
“I’m not easily frightened,” I say.
“Oh, I’ve noticed. Although they might be worse than bears.”
The night is cool, but a fire pit near the table keeps us warm. Candles scattered around the deck give off a romantic atmosphere. The backdrop of the mountains is reminiscent of our time on a higher ridge. Soft music plays through an outdoor speaker, and Giant reaches for my hand, gently tugging at my fingers. “Dance with me.”
When we stand, he pulls me into him, and we sway like teenagers pressed together.
“I’m not a good dancer,” he mutters. It’s more of a moving embrace, and I’m warm and comfortable in his arms.
“You’re just fine,” I say. “Quite charming actually.”
He huffs before speaking. “I should have danced with you under the stars.” The assumption of where is clear, and I tip my head back and gaze upward. There are plenty of stars to be seen here.
“This is pretty perfect,” I tell him, dropping my eyes back to him.
“Yes, you are.”
I smile. “See? Charming.”
“I don’t know about that. I think it’s more your doing. I don’t know how to be around you, yet I just be.”
My brows pinch. “You don’t have to be anyone special or someone different, honey. I love who you are.”
He stops moving and shifts to lean against the railing, putting his backside to it while he pulls me between his open legs. His hands loop around my lower back, and my palms rest on his chest.
“Is it strange being here?” Somehow, I know he doesn’t mean Georgia.
“Is it strange having me here?”
“Yes and no. I’m happy you’re here. More than happy. My home is my home, but I can’t shake this feeling…”
“Have you had many women here before?”
“Never.”
I’m shocked and honored to be the first, but it also explains his hesitation. “You don’t have to replace her.” His heart was full of her once. I know I can’t compare.
Giant sighs. “That’s just the thing. You have. It’s hard to explain. I…I need you. You’re good for me.”
My insides warm further. “You’re good for me, too.” I tip up to kiss him, and our mouths slowly move, drawing out each other’s lips—sucking, sipping, savoring. We stand under the aura of stars, within the candlelight and near the fire pit, and breathe in each other with only our mouths. It’s the most romantic moment of my life.
+ + +
We don’t make love that night, and I don’t complain. We kiss and kiss and kiss some more, and then we climb into his bed like an old married couple. Only he tugs me close to him,
breathing in my hair and smelling my neck as if taking his time to get used to me in this bed with him.
He wakes early to help his brother, promising me he’ll return soon, but by ten o’clock, I’m restless. He hasn’t returned my call, and he doesn’t have a second car. A quick GPS check confirms I’m eight miles from town. Feeling brave and overzealous, I decide I can walk to Blue Ridge. I haven’t really spent time in the small town, other than my one-stop shopping at Duncan’s for camping clothes.
By the time I reach a diner in the city’s center, I’m drenched in sweat and irritated with myself. I collapse into a booth.
“Hi honey, need some coffee?” A very pregnant woman with a Southern drawl, blond hair, and the bluest of eyes asks of me.
“That’d be great.”
“You passing through?” she asks, eyeing my sweat-stained shirt and workout leggings.
“Not exactly. I’m staying with a friend and took it upon myself to be ambitious. I walked into town from his place, but it was harder than I thought. The dips and climbs of the road made it seem a lot longer than eight miles.”
She lightly chuckles as she fills my cup. “Where you staying at?”
“George Harrington’s.”
Coffee dribbles over the edge of my cup, and she quickly pulls a rag from her old-fashioned diner uniform and swipes at the spill.
“Giant?” She gasps.
“Yes,” I say confidently, but my smile falters as she stares down at me.
“I can’t believe…I mean…that’s wonderful.” Her voice rises an octave. Another woman passes behind the enthusiastic waitress, and Blondie stops her. “Dolores, this here woman is staying with Giant.” Blondie turns back to me, and I read her name tag. Hollilyn. “What’s your name, honey?”
I should stop myself from offering too much information, but I can’t seem to help it. “Olivet Pierson. Letty.” I lift a hand to shake hers. Hollilyn shakes mine, and the other woman with piercing eyes stares at me.
“Welcome to Blue Ridge, Letty,” the brunette with sad blue eyes says. “I’m Dolores Chance.” Dolores of Dolores’s Diner. I surmise she is the owner.