by Carrie Elks
Maybe he was lucky that Courtney lived in Hartson’s Creek, rather than down the road from his apartment in Boston. He wasn’t sure he’d have the control not to want to see her constantly.
But this was a booty call for her, as it was for him as well. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She’d made that clear the first afternoon they’d slept together. Asked him to keep it quiet, and not to expect anything from her. He’d gleaned enough to know she was a widow of two years, still living on her husband’s family land.
And that nobody had touched her in those years until him.
The memory of her responsiveness made him rock hard. She opened the door and there she was. Her curls tumbling around her shoulders, a pretty dress skimming her amazing curves, and those piercing blue eyes as wide as the sky. She looked so damn feminine it brought the animal out in him. Without saying a word, he stepped inside, kicking the door shut with his heel, and pinned her against the wall, crashing his lips against hers.
She gasped against his mouth, then arched her body into his, deepening the kiss until they were a tangle of desire. The hard-on he’d had since he’d stepped on her stoop was like an iron bar against her. He pulled her up, her legs curling around his waist, her arms around his neck, the warm heat of her welcoming him in.
Her fingers caressed the short hair at the back of his neck as he lowered his mouth to her neck, sucking and kissing her delicate skin until she let out a low moan. It did something to him, that sound. Made him need to hear it again and again. To make her feel toe curling pleasure until she was breathless and high.
He already knew where the bedroom was. Up the short flight of stairs where he had to duck his head as to not knock it against the ceiling. Her bed was neatly made, the covers tucked in, a white embroidered runner at the bottom. He kicked his shoes off then laid her down on the mattress, taking in the sight of her perfection against the whiteness of the sheets.
“Take your dress off.”
Her eyes flashed with desire. She did exactly what she was told, slowly peeling the fabric over her dark curls before throwing it on the floor. She was wearing ivory lingerie, the lace fabric so sheer he could see the dark shadow of her nipples through them. And damn if it didn’t make him harder than ever. Still fully-clothed, he crawled over her, kissing her shoulders, her chest, the swell of her breasts. Then he lowered his mouth to her soft stomach, loving the taste of her.
Her breath hitched as he pulled the lace cups down to expose her breasts. He closed his mouth over one nipple to suck her tightly. She liked it rough. Hard. She’d made that clear from the start. And he was going to give it to her every way she desired.
But first he needed to taste her. Yanking the pretty panties from her ass, he slid them down her legs and threw them to the floor. She went to take her bra off and he pulled her hands away. “That stays on,” he said gruffly.
“Okay.”
He yanked her thighs apart, his thumbs digging into her soft skin. He dropped his head to breathe her in. “You smell delicious.”
Looking up, he could see the blush staining her cheeks. Loved the way he was in control of her blood flow the way he was in control of her. To test his theory, he slid his finger into the warmth of her, feeling the wetness, the heat, the need.
She gasped as he followed his finger with his tongue, licking at her like she was some kind of sweet dessert. Then he did it again, harder this time. Enough to make her cry out, her thighs tightening around him as he licked and teased.
When she came, her moans muffled by her hands, her thighs quivering like Jell-O, he stood and unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor next to her panties. His pants were next, the release of his zipper a relief to his steel hardness, then his shorts and socks, landing in a pile next to the bed.
All he had left the condom he’d taken from his wallet. She was watching him, her throat undulating as she swallowed hard. He slid it onto his erection, loving the way her eyes were so wide and needy.
He’d thought of this moment for the past month. Fantasized how it would feel to be inside her again. Whether she’d be as sweet and responsive as he remembered. As he climbed over her sweet body, caging her in with his arms and pushed himself into her, he knew it was even better.
He’d found a little slice of heaven, and he wanted it to last forever.
“You okay?” Logan asked her an hour later. It was pitch black outside, though they hadn’t bothered to close the curtains. The only creatures who could see in would be the chickens, and they were too busy roosting to care what Courtney and Logan were doing.
“I’m good.” She stretched her arms languidly, then turned on her side to look at him. He brushed the curls away from her face, his fingers trailing along the skin behind her ear.
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we were together?” He blinked when he realized he’d said it out loud. Those were dangerous words. Most women would take them as an invitation.
But Courtney laughed and he knew she hadn’t taken him seriously.
“We’d drive each other crazy,” she said, her eyes twinkling as they met his. “Look at how incompatible we are. You’re a city boy, I’m a country girl. You’ll never be the kind of guy who’d be happy cleaning out the chicken coop.”
He laughed at the thought of it. “I’d drive you crazy,” he told her. “Just like every woman I’ve ever dated.”
She propped her chin up on her hand and gave him a speculative look. “That’s because you’re a love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think of me?”
Her lips twitched. “Sorry. Did I offend you?”
“No. It’s just interesting hearing how you see me.”
She ran a finger down his neck, to the dip at the base of his throat. “You’re good looking. Successful. If you wanted to be in a relationship you would be. At our age there are more women looking for relationships than men.”
He tipped his head to the side. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
He bit down a smile. “That makes you older than me by a bit.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “No way.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her outraged expression. “Way,” he said, deadpan. “And for the record, I’ll be your boy toy anytime.” It was interesting the way she demanded nothing. In the past few months since they’d met, he barely called or messaged her between his visits to Hartson’s Creek. Neither did she, come to that. Their only correspondence would be him checking to see if she was free before he visited.
She didn’t complain about him ignoring her, or asked him for something more than sex. It was every man’s dream. Yet there was part of him that wished he could offer her more.
“It’s a good thing I’m only using you for your body,” she said with a grin, as if she could read his mind. “Otherwise the town would be outraged.”
“The town would be outraged anyway.” He shrugged. “Everybody’s always up in each other’s business here.” So different to Boston where nobody cared a damn about what you did.
“That’s why we’re keeping this quiet,” she murmured. “It’s easier this way.”
She was right. It was better for the both of them. And if there was still part of him that wondered what life would be like for them in a parallel universe – one where he wasn’t a workaholic and she wasn’t a country girl happy to live off the land? Well he’d ignore it, because she was right. This arrangement was good. Maybe he could stop himself from messing things up the way he always did.
Yeah, and maybe the pigs in the pens behind Courtney’s cottage would sprout some wings and take flight. Either scenario felt pretty unlikely to him.
The First Baptist Church of Hartson’s Creek was packed on Sunday. Courtney slid into the scratched wooden pew next to Mary and Ellis, the way she always had for the past eight years. Before he died, Shaun always sat on her left, his back ramrod straight, his gaze trained on Reverend Maitland as
he gave his sermon from the pulpit. Once, right after they’d gotten married, she’d tried to hold his hand, and he’d pushed her away roughly.
She hadn’t tried again.
“Morning,” Carl said, sitting in the small space at the end of the pew. She had to shuffle closer to Mary to give him room, but still she could feel the roughness of his wool jacket against her arms, and the warmth of his thigh against her leg.
“Good morning.” She gave him a nod.
“It’s a beautiful day.”
She glanced at the window, seeing the sun shining through the colored glass. “Yes it is.” Apart from the fact she was sitting in church after spending Friday night sinning. She was lucky not to have burst into flames.
She took a deep breath. Nobody knew. They’d been careful. Once a month at her cottage where nobody could see them. That’s not the way rumors started around here.
“Hello, darling,” Mary said, leaning across Courtney to give her son a kiss on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you were working this morning.”
“I’m rostered for this afternoon. Thought I’d come and join you all.” He shot Courtney a glance. “Make sure you’re all okay.”
“You’re such a good boy.” Mary patted his cheek then sat up, moving herself out of Courtney’s space. “You look just like your brother this morning.” Her eyes shone as she looked at him. “It warms my heart to have you here.”
The organ music started up, and everybody stood. Carl’s hand brushed against Courtney’s as she reached for the hymn book. He took it from her, and opened it to the right page, holding it out so they both could see.
“I drove past your house Friday night,” Carl murmured, his voice barely audible above the brash notes of the organ and the sound of voices. “Saw a car there. Anybody I know?”
Courtney kept her eyes trained on the hymn book, her lips moving to the words though no sound came out. He’d seen Logan’s rental car outside her house? The thought of it made her want to hurl. “Just a friend.”
Mary’s sweet voice sang out loudly next to her. The thought of her and Ellis learning what she’d been doing made Courtney’s stomach tighten. They were still mourning their son. She should be too.
She was definitely going to hell.
“You should watch that,” Carl murmured, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. “People will talk.”
You already are. She managed to form a smile on her lips. “Of course,” she said softly. “We wouldn’t want that.” Finally she got up the nerve to ask him. “Why were you driving past my place anyway?”
“You’re my brother’s wife,” he told her, his brow dipping. “It’s my job to protect you. Shaun would have wanted it.”
Would he? It was hard to remember the way Shaun thought sometimes. Or what he would have wanted her to do once he was gone. It wasn’t something they ever talked about. He hadn’t been sick or anything. Neither of them had any idea that the day he slammed the front door of their cottage and tore out of the driveway he was only minutes away from losing his life. She swallowed hard, blinking her eyes to get those thoughts out of her mind.
He was gone. It didn’t matter that they’d argued like crazy that day. Or all the days before that. And she certainly didn’t need to keep wondering if he’d intended to drive into the oncoming truck, rather than it being an accident, the way the police investigation had said.
Two years of grief counseling was supposed to have pushed those thoughts away.
“Look, there’s Rita Clark. She’s got her grandbabies with her,” Mary whispered to her left, as the organ music faded away and they all sat down. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
“They are.” She gave Mary a tight smile and tried to ignore the way Carl’s leg pressed against hers once again.
It wasn’t until Reverend Maitland walked to the pulpit and opened the bible that she finally felt her body start to relax. At least Carl and Mary had to look at him for a while instead of her.
Right now, she was grateful for the respite.
As soon as he walked into Murphy’s Diner, in the center of the town square, Logan knew it was a bad idea. Becca had called ahead, reserving a table for their large party, knowing how busy the diner got on Sundays after church. Aunt Gina had wanted to cook for them all, seeing as half of her boys would be leaving town later that day, but they’d argued her down. She wasn’t getting any younger, and the Hartson clan was getting bigger. With Gray’s growing family, and Tanner’s new wife, there would be twelve of them sitting around the table.
But he hadn’t banked on glancing over and seeing Courtney Roberts sitting there, with two people who looked to be in their sixties, and a man who was sitting way too close to her for Logan’s liking.
Simmer down. They had an arrangement. One that didn’t include him wondering why the guy seemed to be touching her face right now.
“Who are you looking at?” Becca asked, following the direction of his gaze. “Oh, there are the Roberts. You know them, right? They run Creek Edge Farm. We used to go to the pumpkin patch there when we were kids.” She waved at them, completely unaware of how tense Logan felt. “They lost their son a couple of years ago. It was such a horrible accident. That’s his widow, and his brother, Carl.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you think there’s something between them? They’re sitting awful close.”
“Stop gossiping,” Logan said sharply. He immediately regretted his tone. He sighed and pulled a chair out for Becca. “Sorry, I’m not used to small town talk anymore.”
Becca didn’t seem bothered by his admonishment. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she? Such a shame to be widowed so young.”
Logan looked at Courtney again. She was wearing a gauzy white blouse, printed with tiny grey flowers, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal the delicate line of her collarbone. He swallowed hard, remembering how soft her skin was. How warm her thighs were, how she’d moaned long and loud as he took her over and again.
He hadn’t spoken to her since. That wasn’t in their agreement. It was supposed to be simple. They both had itches they needed to scratch. Nothing more. And in exactly three hours he’d be catching a flight back to Boston and work. To a world where farms and the pretty women who worked on them didn’t belong.
“What are you going to eat?” Becca asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Cam ordering oatmeal with fruit on the side. His twin ate like a professional even when he wasn’t being lectured by his team nutritionist. Maybe that’s part of what made him so successful at what he did.
“Can you order me pancakes and bacon?” Logan said, standing. “I need to make a quick call.”
Becca blinked. “Sure. You want a drink?”
“Coffee and OJ please.”
“Are there problems at work?” she asked, her voice sympathetic.
He nodded, even though it was a complete lie. He didn’t need to make a call at all. He just wanted some fresh air, somewhere away from Courtney Roberts, because he couldn’t stand watching that son-of-a-bitch leaning in to whisper in her ear any longer.
As soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk outside Murphy’s, he exhaled heavily. He was being crazy. That’s what this town did to him. Closed in on him like a crusher. He needed to be calm. Tonight he’d be back in Boston, back to the job he loved, in the industry he thrived in.
He leaned his head on the wall and looked out at the green square on the other side of the road. People were scattered across the lawns, others seated on the benches that bordered the bandstand at the center. There were trees dotted all around, their leaves not yet vibrant red and oranges, though it was only a matter of time. Despite the golden sun and blue sky above him, there was already a hint of fall in the air.
Against his better judgment, Logan pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped out a message.
You look beautiful in that blouse. Wish I was ripping it off of you right now.
As soon as he pressed send, he turned to look through the windows, over to the corne
r where she was sitting with her dead husband’s family. He could tell from her frown that her phone had buzzed. She pulled it from the purse next to her and unlocked the screen, blinking as she read the words.
He tapped out another message.
Look out of the window.
He could see her swallow hard. She stuffed her phone back into her purse, then lifted her coffee cup to her lips, slowly turning her head to look out of the window. As soon as their gazes clashed he felt it again. That need. The desire. The crazy feeling that the world was tipping sideways.
He stuffed his phone back into his jeans pocket and breathed in a lungful of air.
The sooner he flew home the better. Boston. That was reality. This was just a fantasy for the both of them. A respite from the crazy busy lives they led.
Even if his heart wanted it to be something more than that.
Chapter Four
“The zoning committee has turned our late license down,” Paris told Logan, gritting her teeth as she stomped into his makeshift office at the back of the restaurant they were renovating.
Logan looked up from the table he was using as a desk, his laptop open in front of him. “It’s been a bad day here, too. The electricity in here is kaput. They’re gonna have to rip out the walls to see where the loose connection is. And the shelves we ordered from Italy are stuck in customs. I’m trying to work out who to bribe.”
Paris leaned on the wall and let out a long sigh. Her long dark hair was pulled back, revealing her exotic bone structure and almond shaped eyes. As always, she was exquisitely dressed, wearing a pair of black cigarette pants and skyscraper green stilettos, along with a gauzy white blouse that left nothing to the imagination.