Crazy Ride

by Nancy Warren

  Her climax started deep and she rode it, letting it build until everything, every part of her, every nerve ending, every emotion, all of it concentrated in that one central spot, and then exploded.

  Her legs were wrapped around his neck and she was thrusting against his mouth; he was loving her, taking her impossibly high and even as she cried out, Yes, somewhere in her a voice panicked and cried, No!

  Even when the climax subsided, she felt empty, achingly empty and without a word he grabbed a condom, unzipped his jeans and yanked them down then crawled on top of her and plunged inside.

  He was kissing her, thrusting inside her, loving her; she tasted her own passion, felt the gorgeous hardness of his ready-to-burst arousal, and sensed that the pounding of his heart matched the rhythm of her own.

  The buttons of his shirt scratched her, but she still pressed him closer; she felt the waistband of his jeans and the swinging belt when she wrapped her legs around him, she grabbed his naked butt with one hand, reached for his balls with the other, wanting all of him.

  His breathing was loud in her ear, or maybe that was hers. Impossible to tell where one of them left off and the other began.

  He stroked hard and deep until the empty, needy places in her filled to overflowing and she cried out again, clenching him to her everywhere.

  His body stiffened and the world seemed to stop for a second, then he spilled into her.

  She closed her eyes against a rush of tenderness so intense it frightened her. “Joe, I…” She opened her eyes, feeling like she needed to be open everywhere so she could say the words that burned in her throat like tears.

  But when she opened her eyes she started to laugh.

  Joe pulled his head off her shoulder long enough to stare down at her in some indignation. “What is so damned funny?”

  She couldn’t even speak, she could only point. He turned and staring back at him were the two horses, their brown eyes big and unblinking. Lucky was chewing and had a hunk of green grass hanging out of her mouth, but Bruiser just stared, obviously wondering what all the noise was.

  He turned back and the laughter died. They looked into each other’s eyes and she saw more than she was ready to face.

  Just as she shifted her gaze, he said, “Em, I—”

  “I know, you’re starving,” she said overbrightly. “Roll your fine self off me and I’ll feed you.”

  For a second she thought he was going to resist, then he let it go and rolled off her. She put her clothes back on while he straightened himself up and led the horses back to the riverside.

  Joe loved her, and he’d been going to tell her, she knew it as well as she knew that she loved him.

  But what was the point torturing themselves and increasing each other’s inevitable pain?

  She slapped the wrapped sandwiches onto the blanket. The man couldn’t even sleep in the same room as her, he lived in New York, and he wanted to destroy the very life she loved.

  She hadn’t even seen it coming. One minute, he was this major sexy but hopeless workaholic and now he was the only man she’d ever loved.

  They ate, but there was so much they couldn’t talk about: the future of Beaverton, her future, his future, the fact that they loved each other and it was hopeless. It wasn’t like there was a single huge pink elephant in the middle of the picnic blanket that they were both trying to avoid mentioning, but a herd of the bloody things. All trumpeting and stamping around.

  Somehow, they got through lunch, but all she could think was that this was probably the one and only picnic they’d ever enjoy together.

  She didn’t even know when he was going back to New York. He’d had the all-clear from Gord, but he hadn’t said anything about leaving. Obviously he’d be there for the town meeting, then what? She wondered, as they folded the picnic blanket, when they were going to make love and she’d know that it was the last time.

  She ached at the thought.

  “Are you okay?” Joe asked suddenly, grabbing her shoulders while she hugged the folded blanket against her chest.

  No, she wanted to wail. I’m so far from okay I’ll need a road map and a guide to find my way back there.

  “Yes, of course.” She turned to pack their things back in the saddle bag, then she mounted Lucky.

  Joe talked softly to the large gelding he was about to mount and Emily wondered if he were apologizing that he were about to climb on the old horse’s back. Or maybe he was going to ask its permission first. She tried to stop herself from going weak at the knees but still her knee caps turned to jelly.

  The way home seemed a lot quicker than the way out and she suspected they’d both urged their horses on.

  When they’d returned to Amy’s, Joe helped put the horses away and Amy asked Emily, “well?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve tried to make him see how special this place is, but honestly, I think we’re in trouble.”

  “It’s not Beaverton I’m worried about, it’s you,” her friend said. “I’ve known you a long time. With this guy, it’s different.”

  “Maybe. But once he’s back in Manhattan, and I’m out here…” she shrugged.

  Amy looked as though she had more to say, then seemed to change her mind. “Anytime you want to come and talk, the kettle’s always on.”

  There wasn’t time for more. Joe was back. When they were settled in her car, he said, “How about we drive to the next town and I buy you dinner somewhere decent?”

  That’s when she knew. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “Day after tomorrow. I need to go to the town meeting tomorrow night, and then I’ve booked a flight out Friday.”

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat. Nodded. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Em, I can’t make any promises. I don’t know how to work this out, but you have to know I—”

  “Don’t say it,” she stopped him in a panic. “Please don’t say it.” She felt tears forming and she forced them back.

  He touched her arm lightly. “Let’s have dinner tonight. A swanky night out like lovers do.”

  She smiled at him, loving him so much and wishing things could be different. “I can’t tonight. I’ve got guests checking in.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “I don’t know. A couple. Aunt Lydia took the booking yesterday when I was out.”

  “Well, their timing sucks. I want to take you for a night on the town.”

  “I’ll have to take a rain check.”

  “Come to New York,” he said suddenly.

  “Pardon?”

  “We’ll have our night on the town in New York, one of the best night-on-the-town cities in the world.”

  “You want me to come to New York for one night?”

  “No. Stay as long as you like.”

  “I can’t.”

  “That’s it? You can’t? Look, I’ll send you a ticket, pick you up at the airport, we’ll—“

  “We’ll only make it harder on ourselves. It’s best this way.”

  For a second he looked as though he was going to argue, then he simply pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard. “I am going to miss you like hell,” he said.

  She nodded. “Me, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Our new guests must be here,” she said as they pulled into the Shady Lady’s parking area and she noticed an unfamiliar rental car.

  She’d prepared the Yellow Room earlier for them. It was the second nicest after the Blue Room. This one also had a queen sized bed and a small balcony overlooking the garden, but there was no fireplace. She had hoped they’d arrive later in the afternoon. Olive and Lydia could check the new guests in – but they could be a bit of a surprise to the unwary.

  She hurried up the path and discovered that everything was not running as smoothly as she might have hoped. She heard a male voice raised in anger and broke into a trot. What on earth could have gone wrong already?

  Two men stood in the entrance foyer, and Aunt Olive was obviously
trying to calm them down. Her cheeks flamed with the color of a woman on high blood pressure medication. Emily had no idea what was going on but she was already feeling angry and defensive. Olive was an old woman. How dare they upset her? One of the men turned and glared at her as she entered. He was a big, barrel-chested guy with a lot of curly black hair and a humorless mouth.

  The other was skinny and balding.

  “Oh, Emily, thank God you’re here,” Aunt Olive said. “There seems to be a problem with the booking.”

  “I see.” She eased behind the counter and squeezed Olive’s shoulder. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  “We need two rooms. Preferably in a real hotel.”

  Oh, goodie.

  She plastered a cool smile on her lips. The sooner she could get rid of them the better. They wanted a real hotel? Great. Let them drive an hour and find it.

  “As you can see, The Shady Lady is a bed and breakfast. I’ll give you a map to the closest real hotel. It’s in the next town.”

  “How far is it?” the skinny guy asked her as though she might have personally moved the Hilton as far away from them as possible.

  “It’s about an hour’s drive. You’ll need to get back onto the highway and turn—”

  “That’s too far, Frank.”

  “Well, I’m not staying in this flop house.”

  She slapped her pen down on the desk, not even caring that it spat ink onto the antique surface. She was about to let them have it and good when Joe walked in. Both men turned around and stared.

  “Joe?”

  “We heard you were in hospital or something.”

  “I was. I’m out.”

  “You look healthy enough to return a damned phone call.”

  Joe shot a quick glance at Emily. “My phone’s … missing.”

  Her mood had plummeted when she found out Joe was leaving Friday, and she wouldn’t have thought it could go any lower, but apparently there was an emotional sub-basement she hadn’t even known she possessed. These guys had to be the mine people. And they didn’t look like there was a hope they could be dissuaded from destroying the town. They looked like the kind of guys who got a kick out of razing paradise for their own profit.

  “We came to see the place for ourselves.” The larger one spoke up. “You staying here?”

  “Yes.”

  A grunt. “We’d better stay here, too.”

  “Really, I think you’ll be more comfortable at the Hilton,” she broke in. “I could call for you.”

  “Obviously,” the obnoxious larger man said, as though she were stupid to have pointed that out. “But we’re staying here.”

  He turned back to Joe and his tone lightened a little. “Are you feeling well enough to have a meeting? We want to know what the hell you’ve been doing down here. What’s the progress?”

  Imperceptibly, she felt Joe changing back into the driven man she’d tried so hard to save. His eyes cooled to pewter, his jaw tightened. “Emily? Would it be all right if we took over your dining room for an hour or so?”

  She wanted to say No. Hell, no. But what was the point? “Yes, of course.”

  “Hey, Joe?” the skinny one said.

  “Yes?”

  “You might want to get the leaves out of your hair before we meet. Both you and the lady.”

  She felt her annoyance mount. She smiled at the two men. “Please don’t think rolling in the hay comes with your room rental. Joe is a special case.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence then the big guy guffawed and slapped Joe on the back. “Let’s see what else you’ve been doing down here.”

  “We’ll meet in half an hour.”

  She signed the two men in and escorted them to their rooms – she gave the skinny one that she liked least the room they usually saved for kids. It had twin beds and a doll house in the corner.

  Then, she slipped into the parlor.

  Her great grandmother stared down at her with her usual expression, but Emily still felt her disapproval. Surely her great grandmother would never have given up so easily. But Em knew she was beaten. With Joe she had a fighting chance, with the boor brothers, she didn’t think so.

  With the ease of practice she opened the safe and removed Joe’s laptop, his cell phone and his iPad, then she took them to his room.

  She heard the shower running in his bathroom, so she left the things on the bed and slipped out again.

  She didn’t see him again that day. She heard male voices coming from the dining room when she came down later, after spending a good hour on her books upstairs in her room. With so much to depress her today, the state of the Shady Lady’s finances barely registered.

  The men went out to dinner, where she had no idea, so she and Olive and Lydia spent a quiet evening eating food from the gastric diet menu. Their conversation was desultory. Even the house felt different, as though an occupying army were staying with them against their will.

  “Did Doctor Hartnett give Joe a clean bill of health?” Olive asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “Yes. Yes, he did.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Oh, that reminds me, the doctor wanted to know if you remember whether Emmet Beaver used local water in his cordial?”

  Olive screwed up her face trying to remember. “I think it was the water from the hot springs. He swore by that stuff. Do you remember Lydia?”

  “I remember what it did for a body, not what went into making the stuff.” She sighed dreamily, and gazed off into the distance, an irritating habit she had developed recently.

  “I know everything he used was found locally. I’ll dig through his old papers and see what I can find,” said Olive. She’d become the unofficial guardian of Dr. Beaver’s papers since no one else had ever shown the least interest in the job.

  “Thanks, Olive.”

  “When’s Joe leaving?”

  “Friday.”

  Olive reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  She nodded.

  “You should go with him,” Lydia said.

  “I don’t think so.” She rose suddenly and excused herself. She loved the aunts but right now she felt too raw to discuss the Joe scenario.

  She felt too raw to do much of anything, so she washed dishes and cleaned her kitchen until it shone and then took herself up to her bedroom. A long bath helped the stiffness in her legs from the riding, and the herbal scent she’d thrown into the hot water soothed her a little.

  There had never been only Joe, she had to remember that. Always she’d known that he was merely the agent for a big company and that Beaverton and its odd collection of citizens might end up having to face corporate Goliath with a pretty feeble slingshot.

  Even though Joe had never slept all night in her bed, she still missed him. She hugged a pillow against her belly and wished things could have turned out differently. Still, she was a practical woman and she knew that even the pain of her first experience with love would ease over time.

  Keep busy, she reminded herself. And since she and her town were about to stage the fight of their lives, she didn’t think keeping busy was going to be a problem.

  She woke suddenly in the pitch black not certain what had woken her. She felt another presence in the room. Was it the cat?

  The bed shifted and it was too big a shift for the cat, then she turned her head and smelled him. The soap and skin scent of Joe, a scent that had her reaching for him blindly. She pulled him against her and noticed he was fully clothed. He kissed her, then put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “I’ve got an idea. I’ve convinced the Gellmans to come to the town meeting tomorrow night. I need you to take care of a few things beforehand.”

  “Do you think it will work?” she asked when he’d explained what he wanted her to do.

  “Yes.”

  “But what you’re planning is—”

  “I know. Shut up.”

  Then he kissed her, so she decided that shutting up wa
s a very good idea. She helped him undress in the dark, then stripped off her cotton night gown.

  They made love slowly, sweetly and she marveled that the sex got better each time. More intense, more emotional. Love would do that, she supposed.

  When he came, deep inside her body, she rose to meet him, clutching him to her. “I love you,” he cried out.

  “I love you, too,” she finally admitted aloud. The words were a little shaky, but they were there. “And you were right about me. I’m scared to death.” In her experience, men didn’t stay. Joe would be no different except it would hurt more when he left.

  “Don’t be,” he whispered in the dark. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Because she didn’t want him leaving her when they had so little time left, she said, “Let’s make love all night.”

  By way of a reply, he took one of her nipples into his mouth.

  Joe woke alone.

  Even before his eyes opened, he was reaching for Emily, only to receive a brrrrp of annoyance when he hit not warm, naked woman but the furry back of Mae West.

  “How did you get in here?” he asked the feline who was sitting on Emily’s bed regarding him through slitted green eyes. “And what did you do with my woman?”

  Mae West was staring him as though he were being very stupid. Something was different, he knew, but what?

  He stretched out and yawned, conscious that he’d had the best sleep he’d enjoyed in months and then his jaw locked in the wide open position as it hit him. He’d slept with Emily. Really, truly, slept in the bed of the woman he loved.

  Joe had a second shock when he checked the clock on Em’s bedside table. Eight thirty-five? No. Damn old place. Nothing worked efficiently, including the clocks. He picked up his Rolex. It was guaranteed accurate to the millisecond. It informed him, with Swiss precision, that the time was in fact eight thirty-five and twenty-three, no twenty-four seconds.

  Blinking stupidly at the thing for another three and three quarter seconds, he finally accepted that not only had he fallen asleep with a woman in his bed, but he’d slept much later than normal.