by Tess Oliver
Her laughter sounded like music as I grabbed her and pressed her up against the shower wall. "I was going to invite you in but you were sleeping so soundly and you looked so cute, I didn't want to wake you."
Soapy water slipped between us and hot steam curled around our naked bodies.
"I'm never too sleepy for you," I muttered just before pressing my mouth over hers.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and I cupped her ass in my hands and lifted her so that her legs could curl around me. She groaned quietly as I slipped inside of her.
I lifted my face and looked at her. "Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Just a little sore from last night."
"Should I stop?"
"Never." She kissed me again and I rocked against her, filling her with my cock over and over. My legs shook with fatigue from the long night of sex, but it was a good kind of tired. I drove into her, clutching her ass in my hands as I braced her against the shower wall. Her head lolled back and her eyes drifted shut as she absorbed each thrust with her already tender pussy. Her long, lean body writhed between my body and the wall as she pushed her pussy against me, wanting more. I held her with one hand, using the wall even more to hold her and I reached between our bodies to massage her clit. My thumb slipped through the folds of her pussy and her moan rolled through the steam as I made contact with her sweet spot. She moved against my thumb as her legs tightened around me.
"Oh, Luke, I love the way you fuck." Her words drifted off as she came, her pussy milking my cock to orgasm right along with her.
The shower seemed hotter than ever, and I reached over and turned the temperature down some. It felt good on our flushed skin.
Denni lowered her feet to the ground but stayed locked in my arms. She kissed me lightly on the lips. "Glad you woke up."
"Me too."
How would I ever walk away from this girl without leaving a piece of my heart behind?
Seven
The diner was typical, red vinyl booths, dusty glass pendants hanging over the laminate tables and servers wearing fifties style skirts. There was even a help wanted sign in the door as if it was a requirement, whether they were looking for help or not. Even the food was the usual fare, big plates of pancakes and eggs, pots of coffee and the obligatory glass dome over donuts that looked well past their prime. The only thing not typical about the diner breakfast was the woman sitting across from me.
Denni's hair had dried into long, loose curls. She'd pulled on the same ripped jeans but had opted for a faded green t-shirt with a Grateful Dead logo on the front. She slipped her foot out of her shoe, stretched her leg across and slipped her toes under my pant leg. Just that little gesture with her toes sent shockwaves through my entire body.
She put yet another packet of sugar in her coffee and stirred it. "Are you sure it's all right for me to tag along with you to the cabin? I don't want to get in the way of your memorial for your dad."
"It's more than all right. In fact, my dad would have gotten a big kick out of you. He would of liked you."
She smiled and rested her forearms on the table. "Yeah, you think?"
"Absolutely." She didn't seem to understand just how easy it was to adore her. She was like no one else I'd ever met.
The server, a pinch faced lady who didn't seem to be enjoying her morning at work, carried over our tray of food. She lowered the omelet, hash browns, toast and bacon in front of Denni and placed my bacon and eggs in front of me, before walking away with the same pinched face.
I couldn't hold back a smile. "You have a big appetite for such a skinny person."
Denni surveyed the mosaic of breakfast food in front of her. "Why, does this seem like a lot?"
"Nope, not at all. For a sumo wrestler."
She pressed her arm against her stomach. "I'm extra hungry from a long night of activity." She winked at me and picked up her fork. "Remember what I said, I'm paying the tab for this." Denni picked up a strip of bacon and chewed off a piece.
"No, you don't have to. I've got it covered."
"No really. I've got money." She patted the front of her backpack resting on the seat next to her. It seemed she had her entire life in that faded satchel. Denni took a big bite and washed it down with orange juice. "I snatched a wad of Zeke's money from the glove box before I took off. That's why he was so mad. It wasn't out of love for me, or worry that I was gone from his life forever. It was because I took the cash."
I blinked at her over my toast. "So, what you're saying is we're technically on the lam for theft and hiding out from a very large man with an explosive temper. Maybe Bonnie and Clyde works after all."
"Technically, he stole from me, so the money was mine." She jammed her knife in the bowl of butter and spread it on her pancakes.
"Good point. I'll be sure to raise that with Zeke just before he chokes the life out of me."
"He'll never find us. He's a complete idiot." She shook her head. "I had just latched onto him to get away from another idiot in a long parade of idiots. Something that is extra clear to me now that I'm hanging out with someone who is clearly not an idiot."
"Thanks. I think."
My phone rang, startling me from the conversation. I didn't need to look at it. I knew it was Emma.
"It's her, isn't it?" Denni asked.
I nodded.
"She sounds angry."
"That's the ringtone. It sounds the same for every call. But you're right. It sounds kind of angry."
"Go ahead and answer it. I don't mind. I'll take my pancakes to the counter and eat so you can talk to your girlfriend in private."
A cold, heavy feeling pushed on my chest at her words. For her, I was just an adventure on her journey to whatever life held for her. I was just a guy to fill in some time between other guys. I was such a fool to think that there was something more between us than just a good time. Still, the last person I wanted to talk to at the moment was Emma. And it wasn't from guilt or worry that I wouldn't know what to say. I just didn't want to talk to her.
I shook my head and swirled my fork around in my eggs.
"It's all right," Denni prodded.
"I don't want to answer it," I said far more sharply than I'd intended. Denni stared wide eyed at me with those hazel eyes that I'd already made part of my long term memory. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I can't talk to her right now."
Denni didn't answer and focused on her breakfast. She grew unusually quiet. I knew I'd hurt her with my curt response.
"Look, Denni, I'm sorry. It's just being with you—" I started and then reminded myself not to confess my true feelings or risk looking like a total love-struck fool. But that wasn't really why I was angry. I was definitely feeling hurt by the sudden realization that I was just part of Denni's adventure, but I wasn't angry . . . at least not at her. I was pissed at myself for being in a relationship where I didn't want to answer the phone, where just seeing the name on my screen made my stomach twist into a knot. I'd taken this trip to fulfill Dad's final wishes, but somehow, along the way, I'd figured out that I was doing everything wrong. I wasn't living the life I wanted. And Denni, with her bright smile and enthusiastic love for life, even when that life was handing her one shit deal after another, had helped me come to that conclusion.
I looked down at my plate for a second and then lifted my face. She was wearing a concerned smile as she waited for me to finish. "Thank you," I said. "You've helped me find my way, and I hadn't even realized I'd lost it. My dad, even when his books were barely making him enough to live on, never gave up on his stories. He insisted he had to tell them, that he was born to write and he never stopped. Even when my mom finally had had enough, he stuck to his dream, his plan to write a bestseller."
Denni licked maple syrup off her fingertip. "I'm glad I could help you find your way. I've never done that before, but now I can check it off my bucket list." She drew a check in the air. "Help a friend find his way." She drew another quick check. "Forgot to mark off the bat cave ex
perience."
I added a check in the air for my bat cave experience. "You know what else you might want to add to your list?"
"What's that?"
"Call Mom."
Her mouth pursed into a rose shape. She seemed to be considering my suggestion. Or she was holding back the words 'mind your own business'.
I picked up my fork. "Just a thought."
The server walked over and placed the check on the table. "You can pay at the register."
Denni lunged for it before I could get my hand over it. She held it up in victory. "I told you, my treat." She pulled money out of the front pocket of her backpack. "I'll be right back."
I watched her slim hips sway back and forth as she walked to the counter. She was fun to watch from every damn angle.
My phone beeped letting me know I had a voicemail. I could only imagine Emma's tirade after hanging up on her abruptly and then ignoring her calls. Yep, we needed to have a talk once I got home. It would mean the end of my job with her dad, but that was just fine with me. I was going to follow my dad's advice and start living a true life, my own life. Not one prescribed by others.
Eight
The trail was showered in sunlight, but the early signs of falls were all around us. Withered leaves clung to their branches for their last few moments of life and their scattered peers littered the soil, having already cut loose from the perch to return to the earth. A recent rainfall had carved long, thin trenches in the dirt trail. Some real ankle twisters.
I carried Denni's backpack and my duffle, where I'd tucked Dad safely inside between my sweatshirt and socks. She had tromped ahead of me taking in the scenery and stopping to examine every pinecone and fallen leaf. My motives for walking behind her had been purely dirty. It was fun as hell to watch her strut along the path with her long legs and perfectly pert ass.
I imagined briefly what it would have been like to hike the trail to the cabin with Emma. She would have whined and complained the entire time. But I'd never bothered to ask her along because I knew she'd have no appreciation for my dad's little cabin in the woods.
I could see the dark green metal roof and tattered brick chimney beyond the tree canopy. "It's just up ahead," I called to Denni.
"I can see it," she called over her shoulder. "Ahh! I love it. It reminds me of a hobbit's house. You didn't tell me it had an arched door and round windows."
I caught up to her.
"He bought it from guy who was a set designer for Disney studios. He wanted the place to be whimsical."
Denni threw her arms around my neck. "Thank you for letting me tag along. I'm having a blast."
"I'm glad.”
Dad hadn't been to the cabin in the six months before his death because he had been too weak to make the hike. Forest litter carpeted the gray stepping stones leading up to the front door. It took some coaxing to get the key to turn in the lock, but the door popped open.
I paused before going in.
Denni took hold of my arm and squeezed it. "This is the first time you've been here without him, isn't it?"
My throat tightened like it always did when I thought too hard about how much I missed him. "Yeah." It was the only word I could choke out.
I stood for a moment longer and then pushed open the door. It was all still the same, the dark blue blanket covering the faded little couch, a thrift store find, the lamp that had a cheesy resin eagle holding up the light bulb in its beak and the laptop on the wobbly wooden desk sitting at the back window, a window that looked out over the deck and the forest. I don't know why I thought it would have changed since our last trip. Maybe only because it didn't seem right that everything looked normal as if nothing had happened, as if Dad hadn't died.
I dropped the bags on the worn green rug sitting in the center of the small room. I took a deep breath, thinking somehow I might catch a scent of his aftershave or the spearmint gum he chewed after the doctor told him to quit smoking or else. Unfortunately, the gum habit started too long after the or else.
I walked over to the laptop and ran my fingers over the smooth metal case. "He was about a third of the way through a book when he decided he just couldn't write anymore. He said the chemotherapy clouded his mind and erased his creativity. I found some of his notes and an outline in his desk at home. It was a political thriller. Ironically, he'd waited his whole life to write a blockbuster, and I think this just might have been it."
I felt the warmth of Denni's body as she stood right behind me. "Well, then, there's only one thing for you to do."
I looked back at her.
"You need to finish your dad's blockbuster."
I laughed off the idea, but her eyes held that passion I'd seen so many times in the short time I'd known her. "I'm serious, Luke. It was meant to be."
I shrugged it off again, but the idea was now firmly planted in my head. I doubted anything would sprout from it, but it was there now. Thanks to Denni.
I needed to shake off the melancholy that had swept over me, or spreading ashes was going to be even harder. "Hey, I think there's a can of coffee in the cupboard. Dad was a big coffee drinker. Would you like a cup? Then I can start a fire. The canopy of trees blocks the sunlight, so this cabin tends to stay cold no matter what the weather."
"I will make the coffee if you start the fire."
"Sounds like a plan." I pointed toward the kitchen. "Second cupboard from the right, top shelf."
Fifteen minutes later, the cabin had come to life with the rich aroma of coffee and the astringent smoky scent of pine glowing in the hearth. Denni rested her head against my shoulder as we stood sipping coffee and watching the flames grow. I felt so at ease with her. So happy. As if I would never need another person in my life as long as I had Denni. I wanted badly to tell her, but the words stuck in my throat. I had no right to profess love for a woman I’d just met, a woman who had her own path in life, whatever that path was. I had no right when I was still bound to Emma, even if that connection seemed to be breaking with each passing day.
"I think I'm ready to spread out the ashes. A breeze always kicks up in the afternoon, not exactly ideal for spreading ashes."
Denni held her coffee with one hand and wrapped the fingers of her free hand around mine. "I'm here for you, buddy."
My throat thickened again. "I'm really glad you're here, buddy."
Denni took my coffee and returned the cups to the kitchen while I dug through my bag for the urn. We met at the sliding glass door, which was stuck shut as usual. I gave it a shake to loosen it.
The chilled scent of pine drifted over the deck. A squirrel had been nibbling a fallen pinecone on the railing. It spotted us and ran off with its treat.
Denni followed me out to the railing. Her arm pressed against mine, and I was glad to have her so close.
Evergreens of every shape and size stood around creating uneven shadows across the deck.
"My dad used to say the trees looked like obedient soldiers guarding his cabin." I pointed to one that was about six feet tall and full enough to moonlight as a Christmas tree in a bank or mall. "Dad planted that one when he first bought this place. It was a thin little twig with a few pine needles, but he took care of it and it flourished. He called it Harold."
Denni giggled and the lyrical sound fit perfectly into the picture postcard setting.
I lifted the urn and removed the cap. "Well, Dad, you're home." My voice wavered. Denni reached up, pushed my hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek. I took a deep breath and tossed the gray dust out over the landscape.
"I'm not too sure how I'll get along without you, Dad." I wiped discretely at my eye. "I'll miss you." I placed the urn on the railing and watched as the ashes floated in every different direction and around the bases of the trees.
I turned toward Denni. She threw her arms around me. I held her tightly.
Nine
The shadows had deepened outside. Along with the first signs of sunset, the birds and squirrels seemed to be gathering food for t
he long autumn night. I nibbled some of the crackers we'd brought with us as I read through the manuscript on Dad's computer. He'd always said that he got most of his writing done at the cabin because there was no internet to distract him. Still, it was hard not to get drawn away by the scenery outside.
The book was good. He'd told me about it many times, with great enthusiasm. 'I think this is the one, Lucas. I feel it in my bones'. Of course, what he didn't know was that a lot of what he was actually feeling in his bones was not the glimmer of a blockbuster but rather the disease that would take him long before he could finish his bestseller.
I sat back in the chair, his chair, with its familiar squeaks and sighs, and stared at the words on the monitor. I always considered myself a good writer. In between working hours at my real job, the soul-sucking one, I'd managed to write and sell a few stories to magazines. But I wasn't sure if I was ready to take on a full novel, let alone one that had originated in my dad's mind.
I closed the computer. Denni came in from the deck where she'd been feeding birds with crackers. She was wearing a smile that I'd already committed to memory. No matter what happened once I headed back home, I would never forget this weekend or the woman standing in front of me.
"So, are you going to finish it?" She walked over and leaned her bottom against the edge of the desk and faced me.
I took hold of her hand and ran my fingers over the beaded bracelet on her wrist. "Sure, just as soon as you make a call to your mom."
She stared down at her hand in mine for a second. "I will call just as soon as I have a phone. I promise. Guess that just leaves you to fulfill your half of the bargain."
"Guess it does." I picked my phone up off the desk and glanced at it before holding it up to her. "I've got three bars, so it'll work just fine."
Her long lashes fluttered in consideration as she looked at the phone on my palm. I waited for her to come up with an excuse or to walk away angry. But she didn't. She pushed off the desk and grabbed the phone quickly, afraid, it seemed, that if she thought about it too long, she'd change her mind.