by Sarah Hegger
“I’m sure of it,” Pippa said.
“All right, then.” Emily nodded and put her notebook away. “Do you organize your closet?”
“Like a boss.” Pippa grinned. “By item and then by color.”
“No.” Mom’s eyes widened. “Short-sleeved shirts first.”
“Then long-sleeved.” Pippa nodded. “Followed by pants, skirts, short dresses, and then long dresses.”
“Outerwear, coats and jackets at the end.” Her mother laughed.
Pippa grinned back at her. “Because you put those on last.”
“And one never hangs one’s knits.”
“Never.”
Mom went silent, fiddling with the seam of her jeans. “How did I not know this about you, Pippa?”
“I don’t know.” Pippa shrugged, but she did know why. Mom and Laura, the dynamic pair with Pippa on the outside. She didn’t want to fight and ruin this rare moment like all the other opportunities they’d let go winging past. “Maybe partly because I didn’t tell you.”
Mom nodded, an unguarded look of sadness pulling at her face. “But mostly because I never took the time to notice.” She grabbed Pippa’s hand in a clench and brought it to her cheek. “I can do better, Pippa. I can be more than this angry woman.”
“We all can.”
The nurse entered the waiting area. “We’re done.”
“Good,” Emily said. She took a deep breath and released Pippa’s hands. When she stood, Impenetrable Emily was back in place.
* * *
Phi woke up late into the evening. Her breathing hitched a couple of times, her eyelids flickered and then opened. She would have been disappointed in the lack of drama.
Her mother and Pippa pressed closer, grabbing Phi’s hands.
“Mother,” Emily said. “You’re in the hospital. You had a bad turn.”
Phi frowned at her. She closed her eyes, and opened them again. Her gaze darted from Emily to Pippa and around her.
“What am I doing in a hospital?” Her voice was croaky from the tubes and Pippa brought her a sip of water. She guided the straw to Phi’s mouth.
Phi’s eyes fixed on her face. “You look fatigued and as if you have been weeping. Was that for me?”
“You know it.” Pippa smiled and took the straw away.
Phi glanced at Emily. “Am I dying?”
“Not yet.” Emily touched Phi’s cheek. “But you scared the life out of me.”
Phi grunted and glanced around the room again. “How do I look?”
“Like a woman who’s had a brush with death,” Emily said.
“Good God.” Phi raised her hand to her temple, stopped, and stared at the drip. “Will you do something about that?”
She asked Emily and not Pippa, a strange vulnerability on her features.
Emily blinked rapidly. “Of course I will. Pippa brought you some things.”
“Darling.” Phi glanced at her and beamed. “You always did know what I would like.”
“I’m sure Pippa could help you.” Emily folded her hands in front of her and stepped back from the bed.
“Indeed she could,” Phi said. “But in times like these, a woman needs her daughter.”
Emily blinked. Her mouth dropped open and she shut it quickly.
Phi glanced at Pippa, a world of meaning in one brief flash of her eyes. Pippa wasn’t hurt, and she smiled back at Phi. Her grandmother wasn’t rejecting her. But this was a time she needed to be with her daughter, because her daughter desperately needed it to be so. “I’ll wait outside until you’re resplendent again.”
* * *
Pippa might have convinced herself nothing had happened to her grandmother.
In forty minutes, her mother had worked magic on Phi. How they persuaded the hospital to let them do it, Pippa was clueless. She shrugged it off. When you lived with Phi long enough, you got used to strange things happening around you.
Phi reclined in her hospital bed, resplendent as only a diva can be. Her hair was coiffed, her makeup flawless—well, flawless for Phi, which meant far too much glitter and color—and she was swathed in nasty green velvet. It seemed unkind to call it cat-vomit green, given the danger Phi had just faced, but cat vomit came closest to that ghastly color.
And her mother and Phi had their hands clasped.
Pippa had never seen her mother look so . . . peaceful. Her striking face lovely in its serenity.
“Everything okay?” Pippa glanced from one to the other of them. That must have been some makeover session they’d had.
“Everything’s fine.” Phi waved her hand. Not with quite as much energy as normal, but enough to warm the cold place in the pit of Pippa’s belly.
“What happened?” Pippa looked at her mother.
“We—”
“Never you mind.” Phi glared at her. “That is between Emily and me. Suffice it to say, we had a long overdue conversation.”
“You need to rest.” Emily stood and smoothed the covers. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Thank you, sweet girl.” Phi caught her daughter’s hand. “I do love you.”
Emily flushed a little and shifted her feet. “And I love you.”
“Mom.” A familiar voice intruded from the doorway.
Pippa snapped her head round. Laura, at long fucking last.
Her sister looked as composed as ever. Perfectly dressed in linen pants, a beautifully tailored blouse with just a pop of color in her shoes and accessories. “Is everything all right?”
“We left messages for you.” Emily’s mouth tightened.
It felt kind of good not to be on the receiving end of the disapproval for once. “Everything is fine.” Pippa took pity on her sister. “Phi seems to be making a miraculous recovery.”
“Good peasant stock.” Phi beamed from the bed. “None of this interbreeding to weaken the genes.”
In fact, Phi looked altogether too well and too pleased with herself. Maybe Pippa would take that young doctor aside and ask him some more questions.
Laura frowned slightly as she glanced at Pippa. “What happened? The messages were hard to decipher. One minute she’s collapsed, then she’s had a stroke.”
“Stroke.” Phi snorted. “I had an episode. It is to be expected from one of my artistic temperament.”
Ah, hell yeah. A little heart-to-heart with Baby Doctor was definitely in the cards. “They’re not sure,” Pippa said. “All her tests came back fine, but she was definitely unconscious when the paramedics found her.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Laura tossed her purse onto the sole chair beside the door. “I thought she was dying.”
“She is right here,” Phi sang out. “And she does not like to be referred to in the third person.”
Laura wedged her skinny hips in next to her purse. “I got such a fucking fright.”
“Laura!” Emily blinked at her oldest daughter.
“Well, I did.” Laura raised a shaking hand to push back a strand of hair. “All those messages.”
That had to be bad. Pippa wasn’t sure what hers had said, but she’d been in shock at the time and not exactly minding her words. “Where were you?”
“At the spa.” Laura straightened her spine. “I make it a point to do something for me, once a month. Patrick insists on it.” She glared at Pippa as if daring her to contradict her statement.
Pippa was all for women taking the time out to treat themselves. She shrugged and turned back to her mother. “Matt’s waiting outside to take us home, do you want to stay a bit longer? Now that Laura’s here.”
“I can give you a ride home,” Laura said.
“I have my car here, but I think I’d like to stay, for a bit.” Emily perched beside Phi on the bed.
Pippa leaned over and kissed Phi’s forehead. Patchouli oil wafted up and over her. The smell of Phi, and comfort. She almost lost it then. Phi was going to be all right. It was almost too much to take in. Exhaustion slammed into her. “I love you,” she whispered pa
st the tears gumming up her throat. “Don’t you ever pull this shit on me again. I need you. I forbid you to die on me.”
Phi patted her cheek with a naughty grin. “Why do you need me, when you have a handsome stud outside waiting to take you home?”
Oh, yes indeedy, time for Doctor Not-Quite-Old-Enough-to-Shave to ’fess up.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Don’t give them too much crap. They’re busy here. This is a hospital, they have sick people who need attention.”
Matt straightened from where he leaned against the wall outside Phi’s room. He jerked his chin at her. “You ready?”
“Yup.” Pippa slid her hand into the one he held out. “I’m not sure we haven’t all been had. She looks great.”
Matt raised a brow and narrowed his eyes in the direction of Phi’s room. “You think she faked it?”
“We’ll never know for sure.” Pippa let the warm, rough clasp of his fingers enfold her hand. Their hands fit, like a lock and a key.
They talked a bit on the way home. But it was all small talk, nothing of what was really going through her head.
A knot tightened in Pippa’s belly as they got closer and closer to the Folly. This new development in her life was all fresh. Where did that leave her and Matt? Would he find out she was staying, start mumbling excuses, and back out the door? She didn’t want him to leave. Tonight. Or maybe any other night.
He pulled up outside the front door, and got out to open her door.
Pippa hopped to the ground.
Matt stayed where he was, wedging her between himself and the truck. His eyes glowed gold as they lingered on her face. “You okay?”
“Tired.” She dredged up a smile. She really wanted him to stay. Needy was new to her. She didn’t much care for it, but that didn’t make it go away.
He brushed the back of his fingers over her jaw. “Get some rest.”
“Actually . . .”
“Yes.”
“I’m not that tired.” She shrugged and tried to keep it light. “Have you got time for a cup of coffee? A glass of wine?”
“No.” He shook his head and curled his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head. “I don’t want coffee. Or wine.”
“Beer?”
His breath fanned along her bottom lip. Heat radiated off his powerful body and set up an answering pulse low in her belly.
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. His fingers tightened on her scalp. “Am I an ass for hitting on you right now? Given everything—”
“No.” Hitting on her was good. It meant he wanted to stay. She gripped his belt on either side of his hips. There was far too much distance between them. “Stay?”
The word hung in the tiny wisp of air between the mouths.
“God, yes.” He crushed the words between their lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth, slick and wet and demanding.
Pippa’s knees melted under the rush of heat. Her nipples peaked and she pressed them against him, wrapping her arms around his neck to make sure he stayed where he was.
He edged her away from the open car door. His mouth hot and hungry.
The door slammed.
“You sure?” He leaned back, his color high, his eyes hot and hard.
Was she sure? Sure about the future, no. What this meant? No goddamn idea. But sure that she needed his body on hers, driving into her, surrounding her with his heat? Hell, yeah.
They stumbled through the door, locked at the mouth and shedding clothes as they went. Somehow, they made it up the stairs, Pippa’s nerve endings throbbing with need.
Her back hit the bed and he came down on top of her, big, strong, and hot to the touch. His chest pressed into her breasts, the hard jut of his cock through his pants resting between her thighs.
“It seems indecent.” He tore his mouth from hers, sat back, and toed off his boots.
Pippa giggled as she followed his sight line to the dancing butterflies on organza. “Phi would have changed it into bordello red years ago if I let her.”
His boots hit the floor with a thunk and he was back, his weight pushing her deeper into the bed. “Don’t let her. It’s kind of kinky, like deflowering the virgin.”
Pippa arched into him as he slid his fingers between her thighs, locking on the wet heat throbbing at her core.
Grabbing her wrists, he raised her hands to either side of her head. “Keep those there. Let me love you.”
Oh God, please, let him love her.
A searing trail of wet kisses marked his passage down her neck, nibbling lightly over her sensitized skin as he homed in on her nipples.
The hot suck of his mouth had her writhing against him.
Pippa wrapped her legs around his hips, and dug her heels into his ass. She needed him closer. His cock throbbed thick and hard against her, and Pippa shifted against him, restless to have him inside her, filling her.
He swirled his tongue through her navel.
Pippa jacked to a sitting position and giggled. She tried to cover up her belly button, but he snagged her wrists again. He raised one dark eyebrow over his glowing gold eyes. “Where did I say these go?”
Pippa dropped her arms up beside her head again.
“Good girl.” He continued his slow kiss down her belly and into the tight nest of curls covering her sex.
Pippa’s thighs dropped open. Sparks of anticipation shot through her body as he looked at her for a moment, blowing softly on her wetness, before lowering his head to feast.
She rocked and writhed against his mouth as he wedged her legs apart with his shoulders. His tongue dipped and swirled, first over her opening and then up to flick against her clitoris. He took it slow and easy, working her over with tongue, lips, and teeth until she was a hot, panting mess under him.
Her orgasm hit her fast, hard, and dirty, driving her body right off the bed.
Matt sat back on his heels, his glowing gaze on her. “I love making you come.”
“Do it again.” Pippa’s laugh came out low and raspy.
Matt crawled up her body. “Yes, ma’am.”
She needed him inside her, and Pippa wrapped her legs around his hips.
He took a moment for the condom and then he was sliding inside her, slow and sure.
Pippa’s body welcomed him home, holding him tight inside her.
He took his time, deep, slow thrusts that wrapped her in a slow, steady build. Her climax started way down inside her, sweeping her along as it crashed over her. Matt was right there with her, riding the wave down again.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes as he shifted to her side and got rid of the condom. She couldn’t pretend this was just sex anymore. With Matt, it was a soul-deep connection, a celebration of life that she needed like her next breath.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Pippa lay beside Matt, their breath mingling in the warm night air, moonlight painting streaks of light over the bottom of her bed, tangling through the organza drapery and playing happily across the beautiful lines of Matt’s body.
She was starving. “You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
She propped herself onto her elbow and looked down at him.
His gaze flickered over her naked body. He stroked the line of her shoulder, over her breast and down her belly to her hip. “You’re beautiful.”
Damn. How the hell was she supposed to keep it together when he said stuff like that? She rolled away and got to her feet. “I’ll see what there is to eat downstairs.”
“There’s plenty.” He climbed out the other side of the bed. “Ghost Falls has been dropping off dishes all day. June put them in the fridge, but there’s enough there to keep you fed for a long time.”
“Really?” It was the sort of thing that happened in small towns and you forgot about.
He nodded, snagged his jeans, and pulled them on. A tantalizing V peered at her from where he left them only halfway buttoned. “Don’t eat the ones in the pink dishes with the flowers an
d swirly crap down the side.”
“Why?” Pippa tugged on a pair of lounging pants and a camisole before she decided to forget about food for the rest of the night.
“Bella made those.” He pulled a face. “God love her, but the woman should be kept away from the kitchen.”
Now, that was just plain rude. “She went to the trouble of making it. It’s the thought that counts.”
“Even when that thought is covered in those little pink marshmallows?”
Okay, maybe that would be different. “Surely she doesn’t . . . ?”
“Everything.” He raised both brows at her.
“It doesn’t matter if she can’t cook.” Pippa felt the need to defend her soon-to-be BFF. “Bella has lots of other great qualities.”
He grinned. “All of them covered in fluffy pink and sweet.”
Men. They never managed to look beyond the surface. Bella may be all Tinkerbell on the outside, but look what happened to Peter Pan when he messed with Tink. Some lessons were best learned the hard way. “Let’s eat.”
Matt hauled her back by the waistband of her pants.
Pippa crashed into six-four of solid, hot male.
“And then we come back to bed.” He pressed a hot, wet kiss where her shoulder and neck met. “If I only have you for a short while longer, I plan to give you something to remember me by.”
He’d done that already. As for the second thing, well . . . “I’m starving.”
She threw him a TV smile and hoofed it down the stairs into the kitchen.
Baking dishes covered the table, most of them neatly labeled with instructions.
Matt sorted through them with the eye of a connoisseur. He pounced on a plain glass baking tray with a happy grunt. “Mrs. Mammano’s lasagna.”
“Good?”
“Oh, yeah.” He flipped dials on the oven and the kitchen filled with the hum of the convection fan. “She saves these for hospital visits.”
Pippa opened the fridge and handed him a beer. He took it with a smile of thanks and did that manly twist-the-cap-off thing.
It was so him. Was it weird she found that hot? Probably. She shrugged and pulled a bottle of wine out of the rack below the counter.