All the Way

by Beverly Bird

  “Turn the knob off!” Hunter bellowed, moving in on the sink.

  “It is off!” Kiki shouted back.

  “Then why’s the water still coming?”

  “If I knew that, I’d be dry!”

  Liv watched helplessly as Hunter waded under the spout. He grabbed the hot and cold nozzles and twisted as though he didn’t believe Kiki.

  Nothing happened.

  “The food!” Liv cried.

  She and Kiki dove for it together—trays of sliced pheasant and goose, and pastries for the dessert round. They snatched them off the counters and dropped them on the table where the geyser didn’t quite reach. Liv was shocked to find that she was only slightly damp when they finished.

  Hunter hollered again for a wrench, and Kiki took off in sodden slippers for the mudroom. When she came back with one, Hunter got down on his knees in the puddles and his upper half disappeared beneath the sink.

  Abruptly, with barely a fizzle, the water stopped shooting.

  “What happened?” Liv gasped.

  Kiki made a growling sound and wrung out the hem of her teddy. “I turned on the water tap and the faucet piece blew off.”

  “Was it loose?”

  Kiki glared at her. “Sure it was. And I neglected to get someone in here to fix it so we could have a disaster on our hands tonight.”

  Liv held up both hands as Hunter crawled out from beneath the sink. He grabbed a kitchen towel to dry his hair. “I had to turn the water off entirely. We won’t have a working sink until we can get a plumber in here in the morning.”

  Liv looked at him helplessly. “Can’t you fix it?”

  “Babe, I know restrictor plates and carburetors. I know alligators. I know the Army. I don’t know plumbing.”

  Liv sank down at the table in a ripple of black silk and green tulle as her legs gave out. The food was ruined and they had no running water. “This is bad.”

  He was watching her closely. “Are you throwing in the towel?”

  She looked up at him. It was a challenge. “You told me a few weeks ago that I need to learn when to do that.”

  “This might not be the best time. Besides, I didn’t mean it. I was just mad at you because you were pushing yourself to be superwoman when you were sick. Near as I can tell, you’re not sick now.”

  She blessed him for the adrenaline it shot into her blood. “I’ll learn the lesson next lifetime.” She pushed to her feet. “Save the food,” she said to Kiki.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Dry the damned goose off and nuke it.”

  “The glaze—”

  “People have been out there drinking steadily for two hours now. They won’t notice. And in case they do…” She trailed off and looked at Hunter. “The owner of the Connor is out there. Can you charm him?”

  “Into what?” But one corner of his mouth kicked up into a grin.

  “Hard liquor from his establishment. If I ply people with more than beer and champagne, we might just be able to pull this off.”

  “You don’t have a license for that.”

  “I’m willing to live dangerously.”

  He grinned slowly. “Consider the man charmed.” He started to move for the door.

  “Wait,” she said quickly. “I meant after you get those clothes off.”

  His gaze shot back to her. “Kiss got to you that much, did it?”

  Something hot slid through her. “I just meant to put your clothes in the dryer. You’re soaked.”

  “You’re not. More’s the pity.”

  Liv pressed a hand to her heart and headed back to schmooze the guests until Kiki could catch up with the food and Hunter could do something about the liquor. What were they doing, teasing each other like this? she wondered again.

  She didn’t know, but she was pretty sure she liked it.

  While the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two in the morning, Liv saw the last inebriated guest into a cab in front of the inn. She came back inside and closed the door behind her, leaning against it, exhausted.

  Hunter stood in the hall, watching her.

  “Well? What do you think?” she murmured.

  He shrugged. “The word overkill comes to mind. When you decide to get people drunk, you don’t horse around.”

  “It worked.” Then she felt laughter tickle her throat. It finally seized her, fully, until he grinned back. “You look ridiculous.”

  The trousers of his Southern-gentleman-rogue costume now only reached midankle. The sleeves didn’t quite hit his wrists. It strained over his shoulders. It had, apparently, been only dry-cleanable. The geyser and the dryer had pretty much killed it.

  “Come on. I’ll help you clean up.” He held a hand out to her.

  “We can’t. We don’t have running water.”

  “We can tidy up.”

  Liv didn’t move. “I just want to sit. I haven’t sat since five o’clock.”

  “If you do, you won’t get up again.”

  “So what?”

  “I have plans for you later.”

  Her heart vaulted. “Hunter…”

  “Hmm?” He came toward her.

  “We have to talk about this.”

  “I wonder why.” He reached her, took her hands in his own.

  His touch was so warm. And somehow rough at the same time. All the things she used to crave. “Because…because…” No reason came to mind. Liv blew her breath out.

  “You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

  “Aftermath of adrenaline.”

  “Right.” He touched her mouth with his again, as softly as a whisper this time. “Livie, I’m about talked out on the subject of us. I can’t think of too many topics we’ve missed in the past two and a half months. And I want you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the need that ripped through her. “You left me,” she whispered.

  “I was hurting, Liv. I was hurting bad.”

  And she had done that to him. But—oh, God—he had destroyed something in her, too, when he had gone. Was it even possible to go back and fix all that?

  She eased back from his kiss, but then she only leaned her forehead against that incredibly strong shoulder. “We were never right for each other in the first place, Hunter. We were always so different…”

  “Were we?”

  Liv straightened. “I needed that picket fence you gave me this morning. I needed it then.”

  He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “No, Livie. You only thought you did.”

  She felt her spine harden. She didn’t want to fight with him. She wanted to love him. But the words spilled from her anyway. “You still don’t understand.”

  “On the contrary, I finally do. I figured it out watching you tonight. If you had really needed that fence, Livie, you’d have it now. I’ve never known you to walk away from one single thing you wanted to do.”

  “I do have it!”

  “No. This wasn’t the kind of Christmas you shared with your parents.”

  She didn’t want to hear this. Things reared up inside her in violent protest. No, no, stop! Because she knew what he was going to say, and she knew it would change everything.

  “Santa came,” she whispered.

  “Then our daughter dressed up as Scarlet O’Hara. Minus the breasts.”

  Her throat clogged.

  “I’ve been watching you all night, Livie. This isn’t the life you always said you wanted.”

  “It’s solid,” she whispered, “secure.”

  “But it’s not a neat, nuclear family. It’s you, your best friend, Vicky…and me. And a lot of strangers.”

  Something started shuddering deep inside her. How many times had she said that herself? “But no one can take it away from me.”

  “That’s the first true thing you’ve said yet.”

  Her temper flared again. “What do you want from me, Hunter? Damn it, what are you angling for here? What do you want me to say?”

  “That maybe what yo
u always coveted when we were teenagers doesn’t define you as an adult after all.”

  She went at him with both hands, pushing off the door, planting them against his chest. Then she forgot that she wanted to push him away and she curled her fists into his jacket, clinging instead. “Stop it,” she pleaded aloud this time.

  “Uh-uh, Livie. I guess I’ve got a few things left to say after all. Then I’m going to take you upstairs and I’m going to love you like I should have done before.”

  Her legs were going to give out. She kept holding on to him to keep herself upright. “That won’t solve anything.”

  “I think it will solve a lot.”

  “Stop being such a man.”

  “Tell me that without holding on to me so you don’t swoon at the prospect.”

  She loosened one fist to thump it against his chest. “I hate you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s getting old, babe.”

  Nothing had ever changed, she thought helplessly. What she felt now was exactly the same as that day when she had pulled her T-shirt over her head in the middle of the desert. Every limb was filled with air…with expectation. And it shimmered and trembled. Things at the very core of her coiled and tightened until they ached.

  “Tell me one thing, Livie. Tell me the truth.” His mouth was a breath away from hers again, but he didn’t kiss her this time. “Are you happy? Take me—and these last three months—out of it. Were you happy with your life before you went to Delaware?”

  Her breath shuddered out of her. “Yes.” Except she hadn’t had him.

  “You’re an innkeeper, babe. You tend to the needs of others. You could have chosen any life you wanted after you pushed me away. You sure as hell had the traditional thing going with Guenther. But you left him and this is what you grabbed. Because it’s you.” He startled her by dragging her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. “You had the perfect family when you were a kid, and you lost it. But you never did go back to that life because when your world shattered around you, you changed.”

  “No,” she whispered against the taut black of his Rhett jacket.

  “You adapted. And you ended up taking all those things you knew about family, giving it to strangers to make them feel at home while they’re on the road.”

  She struggled in his arms until he let her go. “Thank you, Freud.”

  “Kiki isn’t the only brain around here. And even she didn’t know what to do with a broken faucet.”

  “She just panicked.” Liv tried to laugh. The reflex got caught in her throat and strangled her. “If you take the picket fence away from me, Hunter, you’ve taken every reason I sent you away in the first place.”

  “I know.”

  It wasn’t just her body shaking, Liv thought. It was her heart.

  He was right, too right. She’d thrown away love. She’d thrown away something real and tangible with him, something hers for the taking, to grab her version of security. And then she had never ended up keeping it, anyway. Because security—with Johnny, without this man—was nothing. But…

  “I hated letting you go all the time!” The words ripped from her. “It hurt.”

  “You should have told me, Liv.”

  “Would it have made a difference?”

  “I don’t know, babe. I just don’t know. But we’re together now.” He caught her hand again. “Come upstairs with me.”

  Liv looked around dazedly. She had responsibilities. She had the life she’d made without him. The parlor was a shambles. And—she noticed for the first time—their daughter was asleep on the divan, a small, peaceful face poking out above burgeoning hoops of green velvet.

  Hunter caught her chin in his hand and pulled her face back. “When was the last time you stayed up all night, Livie?”

  “The time we camped in Canyon de Chelly to listen for the ghosts of our ancestors.”

  “Well, then. Let’s go upstairs and listen for a few ghosts of our own.”

  “This could be such a mistake,” she whispered.

  He moved back another step, her hand still in his, drawing her with him. When she hesitated, he scooped her up in his arms. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

  Laughter caught in her throat again. “Hunter.”

  He carried her up the stairs. “Hmm?”

  “Rhett was a renegade.”

  “Yeah. But he loved Scarlet.”

  Things inside her were dancing. With hope. With dreams. He meant Vicky. Surely he meant Vicky. “Scarlet is asleep downstairs in the parlor.”

  “Ah, but she doesn’t have boobs.”

  “Yet.”

  “Don’t ruin my mood.”

  He stopped in front of her door. “Your place or mine?”

  She didn’t want him in Kiki’s bed, Liv thought. She wanted him in the place where she had dreamed about him through so many empty nights. She wanted him in the place where she had cried over him. She wanted him in the place that was her only real, true home—her suite of rooms—because she hadn’t needed the whole fence after all.

  “Here,” she murmured. “Right here.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  He tried to nudge the door open with his shoulder, but there had been people all over the inn tonight so she had locked it. A giddy laugh filled her throat as she reached down into her bodice for the key. His gaze followed her hand.

  “It was the only place I wouldn’t lose track of it through all the chaos tonight,” she explained.

  “You vixen.”

  “Oh, Rhett. You say the sweetest things.”

  He plucked it from her fingers. And somehow, still holding her, he got it into the lock.

  He moved into the sitting room and kicked the door shut behind him. He started for the bedroom before she gasped. “Wait! Don’t forget about Vicky.”

  Yeah, he thought, yeah, everything was different now, and it made everything seem more right. He settled her on her feet and went to lock the door again in case their daughter woke and took it into her head to pay her mother a midnight visit.

  When he looked back, Liv was shrugging out of the green filmy thing with feathers. It wasn’t quite the same as dragging a T-shirt over her head in the middle of the desert…but it was close, he thought, damned close.

  He went back to her and drove his fingers into her piled curls. A bobby pin flew. A lock sprang free and landed in his hand. He found a few more pins and her hair spilled. Cupping her head, the curls spilling over his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers again.

  And she died inside.

  Picket fences inside her crumbled. All the walls around her heart gave out. As they had once, they did again…dropping, shattering, because the only thing that had ever really mattered was him. Liv met his tongue with hers, needing something so much more deep than the touch of his mouth to hers. She swallowed everything he was. The magic. The daring. And the broken boy inside that had only ever needed her.

  She’d known that, had always known that. She’d only wanted him to know it, too, enough to stay with her.

  But he was here now. His hands left her head to slick over her shoulders, down her arms. Their fingers twined at their sides. Their lips cleaved. She pressed herself against him, her breasts to his chest, and listened to his breathing change. It went ragged. She knew that sound. She knew it from long ago.

  But when his fingers left hers to gather up the black silk sheath at her hips, something stuttered inside her. She closed her hands over his again. “Hunter. I’m not what I was.”

  He pulled back and there was something opaque about his eyes. She thought need glazed them, and a thrill shot through her. “You’re everything you were,” he murmured.

  No, she thought desperately, no. She’d been nineteen and pregnant the last time he’d touched her. Now she was easing toward thirty. Her body had pushed another one into this world.

  And somehow, he understood. He’d always been able to read her mind.

  He kept pulling
the sheath up her legs. Over her hips, over her shoulders, over her head. She wore a black strapless bra beneath it, something she wouldn’t have bothered with all those years ago. She wore black panties that he hooked one thumb into at her hip. He tugged them down.

  “I have scars, too,” he said against her mouth. “But none that gave life, Livie. None that gave me all I didn’t know I needed.”

  Her knees gave out. He caught her up in his arms again and buried his face between her breasts as he carried her to the bedroom, somehow tugged her panties over one ankle as he did.

  He didn’t lay her on the bed. He flowed with her. They landed there together and he rolled and she rolled with him. They had been apart long enough, she thought desperately. Now they needed to be together. Skin to skin. Connected. Somehow she was on top of him. She found the buttons of his shirtfront with one hand.

  “You used to make this easier on me,” she said against his mouth, struggling with them. There were too many.

  “You never dressed me up as a Southern dandy before.” But his hand followed hers, popping buttons.

  She found the fly on his trousers and tugged it down.

  “Why, Scarlet, how brazen you’ve become.” He licked her tongue with his.

  “Scarlet’s asleep downstairs. I’m Louise. The madame.”

  “Who can’t be bought.”

  “Except with your promises.”

  He flipped her over onto her back and caught the front of her bra in his hand, yanking it down until her breasts spilled. “What promise do you want, Louise?”

  She wouldn’t whimper. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I never wanted to the first time.”

  It wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t a promise. But then his mouth closed over her nipple. And everything inside her surged there, to the point where his tongue tweaked her skin.

  He left her to shrug out of his shirt and step out of his trousers. And it was agony. When he came back to her, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra. And then it was as it had always been as he settled himself on top of her again, two souls linked by flesh, two hearts pounding together with only skin between them. Just when Liv thought the pain of remembering, of not having, would kill her, he drove into her, deep, without apology or prelude, coming home.