Strawberry Summer

by Melissa Brayden

  “There,” she said quietly.

  I watched her mouth as she said the word. It just wasn’t fair. She had such a good mouth. She was now using it to form words, but I had no idea what they were because I was focused on the way the tip of her tongue slid across her lower lip. I don’t know how or why, or whether it was the rain or the vanilla or my irritation, but I was moving to it, her mouth, drawn in by some sort of invisible force. We shared a breath for a moment as I hovered just shy of her lips, long enough for me to understand what was about to happen and feel the anticipation wash over me in a flood of delicious tingles. My gaze flicked to hers before it drifted down again to her full lips.

  I needed this badly. I wanted it.

  I kissed her.

  Hungrily. Wantonly. And she kissed me back. Her lips moved over mine urgently. The force of the kiss propelled me backward a step, but her arms were there to catch me, to steady me, to hold me there. I reveled in the feel of her lips pressed to mine, the taste I’d dreamt about for years. Overwhelmed by the sensation of wanting someone that much and of being wanted in return, things got a little hazy. My hands combed her body as I pulled in a breath, moving up her back and then down again. Hers were inside my jacket, my tongue inside her mouth.

  Alarm bells sounded. I ignored them. It was like I’d never been kissed before. Everything was new and wonderfully familiar at the same time. She kissed my neck, and I exposed it more. It was the one spot on my body that made my toes instantly curl. She knew that. Alarm bells, louder this time. Damn the bells. Damn them.

  I pulled her mouth back up to mine and sucked lightly on that lower lip.

  Sirens blared. The alarm bells were now sirens, obnoxious ones. For the love of all things holy.

  “Courtney. Wait. Wait. What are we doing?”

  “I think we’re winging it,” she said against my mouth and pulled me back in by the lapels of my jacket.

  I could get behind that.

  Sparks, sparks, and more sparks as she crushed her lips to mine for another searing kiss. The jacket fell to the floor moments later and I stood there in my bra. Courtney’s fingertips traced the skin from my shoulders down my body to my wrist, pulling a delicious shiver. Our mouths danced, and I was reminded how perfectly they fit together. I’d never been able to match that perfection, and I’d tried over the years.

  Thunder crashed and we jumped, separating, remembering ourselves. I stared at her, panting, searching for air. She put her hands on top of her head and took a couple steps back, relying heavily on the distance. Without it, there was no fighting what this was. None. The distance was a necessary evil.

  “Momentary lapse?” I offered weakly, feeling the need to justify my very reckless behavior.

  She nodded. “Totally. A lapse.”

  “We can’t do this,” I said, as much to myself as to her. “You know we shouldn’t do this.”

  She shook her head. “God, no. We’ve tried before. It didn’t work.”

  “And it won’t work now. I mean, it shouldn’t still be there. I shouldn’t still…”

  Ache for you like this.

  “Yeah, well, some things never change. I should probably go.” She gestured to the door behind her with her thumb. “I think I’ll brave the rain after all. Safer.”

  I understood her sentiment entirely. “Right. You go. I’ll be right behind you. Just gonna make sure I close up properly.” I glanced around the room, seeing it for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, Courtney!” She turned back. “Your jacket.” I scooped it up along with my shirt, which I held to my chest, feeling exposed now and foolish.

  “Keep it.”

  The door clicked shut behind her and I drew in an unsteady breath and let it out slowly, struggling to regain what I could of my equilibrium. When it came to Courtney, it seemed my mind and body were at war, and it was one for the record books.

  I didn’t know how I was going to survive it.

  Chapter Twenty

  There was something wet and warm accosting my face, and I found it hard to breathe. I blinked, coming to on Saturday morning to find myself staring up at sixty pounds of gray. Ernie was apparently ready to get his weekend started early and thought the best way to do that was to rouse me with his tongue across my cheek and two big paws on my chest.

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” I managed to say, despite the collapsed lungs. Another swipe of the tongue. “You, large, excited fella, have to work on your morning etiquette,” I told him, and pushed him off me gently.

  He followed me around the cottage as I turned the coffee machine on, checked the morning headlines, and to his delight, set down his breakfast.

  While Ernie rode the train to chow town, I showered quickly and put on cutoffs and a T-shirt. I added a plaid button-up that I left untucked and open, just to cut the morning chill. “Wanna walk?” I asked Ernie, sending the big lug into a jumping frenzy. When Ernie went vertical I loved it, and when he threw his head back and howled, I couldn’t resist joining him. I’d trained him to walk with me off leash, which was how he spent his entire life, with free rein of the property. However, there was nothing Ernie enjoyed more than walking by my side, and the sentiment was mutual. We set out to roam the farm, him bounding ahead and then running back to me, the process on repeat. When we finally circled around to the big house, I found my mom sitting on the front steps.

  “Well, hello, little granddog,” she said to Ernie, who promptly bounded the steps and placed two paws unceremoniously in her lap. “Is your mama taking you for a stroll today?” A lick. She recoiled in laughter.

  “Sorry,” I told her. “His manners are a work in progress.”

  “I don’t mind Ernie.” She looked up at me. “Time for coffee?”

  “I would love some. Thanks.”

  My mother disappeared inside and returned with two steaming mugs and a dog biscuit for Ernie. I took a deep inhale from my mug, the way I sometimes did when I pretended to star in a coffee commercial. I felt like Ernie and I would make an excellent casting choice.

  It hadn’t escaped my notice that my mother had a faraway look in her eye, so I decided to check in. “You doing okay?”

  She smiled, but it faltered. “Just thinking about things.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?” But I knew the look.

  “Clay would be thirty later this year. I can’t help but wonder what he’d be up to these days.” I smiled, imagining all the trouble he’d have gotten into, only to be completely forgiven because he was Clay. But the concept that he’d never be thirty still sliced deep. I’d done a ton of healing over the past few years, as had the rest of my family, but the loss of someone that special never really goes away. The pain changes and shifts, but it’s always there.

  I gestured with my chin out at the farmland. “He’d be really proud of all the work Travis and Dad have done on this place.”

  “That he would.” She took a sip of her coffee. “What about you?” she asked.

  I scratched Ernie behind his ears. “What about me?”

  “What do you want to be doing by the time you’re thirty? It’s not so far off anymore.”

  “If I could visit all the major Beatles monuments, I’d be thrilled.” I was deflecting, but that felt a whole lot more comfortable than asking myself those daunting long-term questions.

  She rubbed the back of my neck affectionately. “In addition to that.”

  I sucked in some air. “I think I’m just trying to play it all by ear.”

  She met my eyes. “See, I wonder about that philosophy. I wonder a lot.”

  “And what do you wonder, Mom?” I felt some sort of lecture coming on and wondered if maybe I had forgotten an important get-together I could conveniently dash off to.

  “I can’t help but worry if ‘I’ll play it by ear’ is just a cop-out for ‘I’ll let life pass me by.’”

  “Gasp. Are you implying I have no life? That I’m boring and pathetic?”

  She moved her head from side to side. “Not
exactly.”

  “So a little bit you’re implying that I have no life and am boring and pathetic? It’s okay. You can say it. There’s no pretense necessary.”

  “Maybe a tad.”

  My jaw dropped. “When your own mother tells you you’re boring, it really strikes a chord.” And it did. Ouch. This was unfortunate.

  “I saw your photo on Facebook last week, however.” A smile crept onto her lips. “It made me happy. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  I sent her a look. “Mom, you know that villainous Facebook page lies. It’s the TMZ of Tanner Peak and needs to be shut down for good. Melanie’s involved somehow. Rene, too. It’s a whole racket.”

  She ignored my theory entirely. “Maybe the page lies and maybe it doesn’t. She’s divorced, you know.”

  I covered my eyes. “Not you, too. Mom.” I groaned. “You need to know that that ship has sailed. Many years ago.”

  She pulled me into a hug. “I’m just saying that sometimes those sailed ships come home for a reason.”

  My phone buzzed. She released me and I checked the readout, shaking my head at what I saw. Courtney. “It’s like you conjured her up.”

  “Well, well. Looks like your ship’s come in.”

  “Stop that,” I said, though I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at her utter persistence. Standing, I pointed to Ernie, who lay on the porch, all four feet in the air. “Can this circus dog stay with you? I think I’m about to close a deal on a house at long last. Courtney’s finally ready to sign.”

  “For a real estate deal, we will certainly entertain our granddog. And, Margaret, I want you to think about what I said.”

  “Don’t be boring at thirty. Got it.”

  “You don’t want to be my age and still on your own.”

  “Mom!” The jabs kept coming. My mother thought I was an old, boring spinster.

  “Come on, Ernie,” she said. “Let’s see what Granddad is doing in the barn. At this rate, you might be the only grandchild we get.”

  I placed my hand over my heart to brace against the twisting of the knife.

  As I drove to Carrington’s in response to Courtney’s message, I heard that horrible sentence from the conversation with my mother invade my thoughts over and over again.

  Don’t be boring at thirty. Don’t be boring at thirty. Don’t be boring at thirty.

  Gah!

  “Yeah, well, boring isn’t so bad,” I argued to myself in the rearview mirror, only half believing it. “I have a perfectly wonderful dog. And a job I like. And once a month I go to book club.” Hearing it out loud was only confirmation of my lonely, old lady existence. I should probably take up quilting and humming and cat collecting. Though I did like cats. That part wouldn’t be so horrible.

  Feeling utterly boring, I marched through Carrington’s, passing stylish mannequins (probably with torrid mannequin sex lives), upscale-looking sales people (probably with exciting Saturday-night plans), and said with purpose to the administrative assistant (who was way more put together than I was), “I’m here to see Courtney Carrington. I’m her real estate agent.”

  “One moment, please. I’ll let Ms. Carrington know you’re here.”

  I took a seat on the expensive-looking leather love seat. After just a few moments, a large oak door opened and Courtney smiled at me. “You’re incredibly fast.”

  “You’ve said that to me twice in one week.” I owned it as I walked past her into her office with purpose. I was feeling a mixture of insecurity over my boring status and celebration over finishing up my real estate duties to Courtney. “When a client says they’re ready to sign, you don’t give them time to overthink.”

  “One of the secrets of the trade, I take it.”

  I winced. “I probably shouldn’t have revealed that. So which house are we offering on? Oh.” I paused to look around. “Your office is large and intimidating.”

  “I can agree with both assessments. It used to be my father’s before he headed back east. I’m trying to put some softer touches in place, but it’s slow going.” The spacious room came with dark walls and heavy maroon draperies. In the center stood a large oak desk that I imagined weighed hundreds of pounds.

  “You have a desk like Mr. Blankenship’s!” I said, pointing.

  She laughed. “I never really looked at it that way, but you’re kind of right.”

  “Well, why would you put too much effort into changing much when you’re only here until the wind changes?”

  “Right. There is that.” Silence.

  “So, the rental?”

  “Yes,” she said, springing into action and moving farther into the room. “Let’s go with the first house.”

  I balked. “The first house?”

  “Right. The first. I loved it. Six-month lease if we have to, but three months is better. If they try to force a year, we walk.”

  “Got it. A girl who knows what she wants,” I said, jotting a note.

  She laughed sardonically at the comment and lost herself in something on her screen.

  Okay, then. “Give me a few minutes to talk with the agent and we’ll see if we can’t get the paperwork signed today.”

  “I guess you’re ready to be done with me,” she said, eyes still never leaving the screen.

  I looked back at her from my spot at the door. The truth fell from my lips. “Not at all. That’s the problem.” Her lips parted and her gaze flew to mine. Damn it. I left her there, fleeing the scene to place the call, my heart beating fast and furious. But she was ready for me when I returned.

  “Why did you say that? Before you left just now. That you weren’t done with me.”

  I sighed and realized that we were going to go there. It was probably for the best, because the situation needed to be addressed and handled in an adult fashion. Courtney and I weren’t teenagers anymore. “Because spending time with you since you’ve been back…has been tricky. That’s all I meant.”

  “Define tricky.”

  “Courtney.”

  “Humor me. Please.” She came around and sat on the corner of her desk, and my stomach clenched. I’d give this a shot.

  “Okay. You and I never had any shortages in the electricity department. I think we can both agree to that.”

  “I think that’s more than fair.” She bit her bottom lip, and I closed my eyes briefly because really?

  I pointed at her in frustration. “Okay, stop with the lip biting when I’m trying to have a serious conversation and not make out with you. That one mannerism is a perfect representation of the whole problem.”

  She stood and held up her hands palms up, frustrated now. “What, that you’re attracted to me?”

  “Yes, that I’m attracted to you!”

  “Well, I’m attracted to you, too!”

  “Fine!”

  “Great!”

  Don’t be boring at thirty. Don’t be boring at thirty. “Come to my place for dinner tonight. You can sign the lease, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  She took a moment, perhaps sensing the danger of that invitation. “Seven thirty?”

  “Done.”

  *

  The sun hung low in the California sky that warm July evening. I watched the brilliance of the pinks and oranges intermingling from my kitchen table as music played softly from a local Americana station on the radio. I asked myself what the hell I was doing.

  I had no answers.

  Restless, I pushed open the screen door of the cottage and sat on the steps in front. I spotted Ernie snoozing on his side about thirty yards from where I sat. His favorite things in life included chasing dragonflies, dinnertime, and sleeping outside. Inside, the dinner I’d made was set to warm. I’d sautéed a couple of chicken breasts, made a salad, and put some white wine on ice. Courtney and I could talk, and sign the lease, and—

  I heard the tires on the gravel before I saw the Mercedes, and then there it was, winding slowly up the drive. When Courtney exited the car, her eyes found mine, and I unde
rstood exactly what would happen. I knew that look and it had me undone.

  The chicken would have to wait.

  I stood from my spot on the porch and watched expectantly as she walked up the stairs, all confident and beautiful. Her gaze was on me, moving over my body. I literally felt it. That was all it took to send me into action. I reached for her hand and tugged softly, pulling her in. My eyes never left those charged blue ones.

  Neither one of us said anything. We didn’t have to.

  The sun slanted across our faces as she kissed me, deep and thorough. I lost track of everything when Courtney kissed me. Every. Time.

  I realized then that I’d never wanted someone so much in my entire life. It was everywhere, the wanting. In the air all around us. In the way that she kissed me. It beat in rhythm with my pounding heart.

  Her mouth moved to my jaw, then my neck, her hands equally busy, molding to my body beneath my T-shirt, across my cutoffs.

  “Inside,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” she said softly and pulled me inside.

  We kissed our way in the direction of the bedroom but got hung up in the hallway, needing more of each other, and now. My hands slid into her hair and gripped as I kissed, licked, and sucked on her neck. She moaned, and my response was visceral. I was wet and throbbing and more turned on than I imagined possible, but I wanted her first. I needed her like I needed air. I pulled her earlobe into my mouth and unbuttoned her jeans. The zipper was next. I skimmed a hand between her legs on the outside of her jeans and she strained against it.

  “Bedroom,” she said breathlessly. “Unless you’re planning to take me right here.”

  I considered it briefly before leading the way.

  She’d not been in the room in years, and in that time, much of it had changed. Gone was the drawing she’d done of us once upon a time, as well as the framed posters and bargain-basement bedspread. I’d upgraded to more mature paintings, metal art, matching curtains, and a white down comforter. I’d even painted the walls a dusty sage. Her eyes scanned the space and she nodded in approval before turning back into my arms.