Bourbon & Bonfires

by Andrea Johnston

  As quickly as the thoughts of Henry’s widow fill my head, the memory of Landon finding me on the deck and scooping me into his arms calms me. My emotions are all over the place, and I’ll likely scare the man off at sunrise. I know that’s not true. I heard him when he held me and promised me it would be okay. I believe him. Mostly I believe Landon can right the wrongs in my world, bringing a balance to the chaos that are my emotions.

  Finishing my shower, I towel off, slip on a pair of shorts and a long sleeved T-shirt before towel drying my hair and padding to the kitchen. If I remember anything from when my parents’ passed away, it’s that time is slow when you want it to be quick and fast when you want it to slow down. Tonight, I want the night to pass quickly. I would rather face the daylight with a son to care for and a job to get to than the minutes alone in the middle of the night where sadness rules my thoughts.

  With only the light from inside the refrigerator lighting the room, I stand before the open door looking for food to fill the hollowness of my stomach. Nothing looks good, but I know I need something. Grabbing peanut butter and an apple, I quickly make a snack and sit at the counter.

  Time slowly ticks by, and as the sounds of the crisp apple fill the quietness of the room, I am lost in thought and don’t hear Landon approach. I jump what feels like ten feet in the air when he touches my shoulder.

  “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me,” I whisper yell. Holy shit, my heart is racing.

  “I’m sorry. I said your name a few times but you were so lost in thought I don’t think you heard me.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Did I wake you?”

  “You didn’t wake me,” he says, placing a kiss to the top of my head before walking to the refrigerator and pulling a bottle of water from the shelf. I watch as he finishes the bottle in just a few drinks and allow my gaze to linger a little longer than is socially acceptable as his Adam’s apple bobs.

  “What’re you thinkin’?” Landon asks.

  “Nothing appropriate,” I mumble.

  Landon walks over to where I’m sitting and steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. Each breath tickles my neck, sending shivers up my spine and goosebumps across my skin. I’m not wearing a bra, and I feel my nipples peak. I try to concentrate on my apple, but it’s no use; all I can think of is the way he’s kissed me lately. Never pushing and always letting me set the pace, he’s been so patient. Too patient. I’ve been holding back because I know the minute I give in and let him take it to the next level, I may never come back. I may never come back to this place. A place that has me thinking logically. A place that tells me this will never work.

  “Tell me.”

  Lips to my shoulder.

  “No,” I whisper.

  Lips to neck.

  “Lan . . .”

  Tongue to my neck.

  I visibly shiver at the sensation of his tongue on my skin. Gripping the counter, I take a deep breath. This is escalating, and I should stop it.

  “Tell me.”

  Teeth to my earlobe.

  “I can’t remember.”

  A chuckle and a whisper of breath to my ear is about all I can take. Turning on my stool to face Landon, my legs on either side of his body, his hands settle on the bar behind me, caging me in. I open my mouth to tell him this is a bad idea when his lips settle on mine. Slowly he peppers my lips with kisses. Soft and gentle, these aren’t fiery and desperate like his kisses so often are.

  My hands settle on his hips as he leans in, deepening the kiss. I open for him.

  I open my mouth for his tongue.

  I open my legs for him to settle.

  I open my heart for him break.

  The kiss slows, and as he pulls back from me, I feel the loss immediately. I lean back a little, my back hitting the edge of the counter as I peer at him. His eyes are vibrant, the color of the brightest emeralds, and I’m lost. Lost in emotion and thought. My heart breaks for the loss we’ve suffered and is full of emotion for this man.

  “Addison.”

  It’s not a question or an invitation. The way Landon says my name is a statement. A statement of what’s to come. I know it, and he knows it. I say nothing as he wraps his arms around me, lifting me up so my legs wrap around his waist. In only a few long strides, Landon has us in my room, shutting the door and locking it before I take his face in my hands and guide his mouth to mine. I kiss him hard and fast. His tenderness in the kitchen a moment ago has passed and this kiss is the opposite—fire and passion. I put every emotion I have into this kiss. I let myself go, and the moment I do, so does Landon.

  In seconds, my top is off and his tongue is lapping at my hard nipple. I grab his hair both to steady myself and to beg for more. The lapping turns to light bites as I let out a moan. My legs are still wrapped around his waist as he lays me on the bed. I quickly begin removing my shorts as he pulls down his jeans and boxers in record time.

  I gasp as he stands before me naked. He’s chiseled and ripped in all the right places. His skin is flawless, not a mark on him. I’ve joked about running my tongue across each muscle along his waist but never have; I actually licked my lips in anticipation.

  “Fuck, Addison. You’re perfect.”

  I’m grateful for the darkness because his words embarrass me. He doesn’t see what I know is there. The stretch marks, the ripples in my thighs. The havoc nine months of breastfeeding did to my breasts.

  I push the negative thoughts out of my mind as he settles above me. A kiss to my lips and then my ear, I let him take his time with me. My hands slowly glide across his back. When his kisses reach the extra skin around my belly button, I freeze waiting for him to say something. To think twice about being with a woman my age.

  He surprises me when he speaks instead. “I promised you two or three, and I always keep my promises.”

  Before I can retort, he settles between my legs, his arms opening me wider. Each lick between my folds sends a shock to my system. When he inserts a finger, I moan and lift my hips. Another finger and I feel the first promised orgasm building. Like a flash of lightning, I’m overcome with the explosion of pent-up feelings and a plethora of emotions.

  Sated, I lie still, my heart beating through my skin as I attempt to catch my breath. I’m startled by the wetness from his tongue on my nipple as his fingers draw me back to the brink. I’m like a ticking time bomb, and I can’t control myself when another orgasm peaks. Landon swallows my moans with his mouth as I let go.

  “I can’t . . . no more.” I think I speak the words. I certainly feel them, but processing from my brain to my mouth may be turned off at this point.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asks as he brushes the hair from my face and looks me in the eye.

  “God, no. I don’t think I can move. I’ve never . . . twice.”

  “You sure you don’t want to go for three?” My eyes close as his lips land on my neck again. The sensation makes it almost impossible to respond, but I do.

  “I don’t know if it’s humanly possible.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  I feel the bed dip as he moves off. Rustling through what I assume are his jeans, they hit the floor before he’s back over me, kneeling between my legs. The tear of something draws my attention, and I open my eyes to find him with a condom packet in his hands.

  As soon as he’s sheathed, he uses his knees to open my legs wider and leans over me, his hands on either side of my head. When he doesn’t move, doesn’t push into me, I look up and see something in his eyes . . . I won’t go there. I won’t say love, but there’s something there, and I’m lost to it.

  Slowly he pushes into me, and I arch my back as he fills me. It’s been so long. So long since I’ve been with a man, since I’ve felt cherished and loved. If ever. It’s never been like this. As he begins moving, I match his pace. Lifting my hips, I meet him thrust for thrust, my hands gripping his lower back, pulling him to me.

&nbs
p; I can tell by his breathing he’s close, and I’m right there with him. It isn’t until he stops moving that I realize I’m crying.

  Last night was more than I could have predicted. When I arrived with burgers and shakes, I didn’t expect to spend the night. I definitely didn’t expect to spend the night with Addison in her bed. Naked. My first thought when I woke up this morning was how much of a dick move it was to sleep with her on the night she was hurting. My second thought was how badly I wanted it to happen again.

  I’ve had my share of girlfriends and flings. Hell, even a few one-night stands along the way. But never have I had a night like last night. That wasn’t just sex; it was more.

  The sound of the shower draws me from my slumber and I get up, leaving my beauty to sleep and walk to the kitchen to find Mason grabbing a banana, his backpack slung over his shoulder. With a wave, he hightails it out of the kitchen to the front door. Rummaging through the cabinets, I find coffee and make a pot then call my dad to help with the office. After giving him a quick rundown of the last twenty-four hours, I decide to call Addison’s work. Doc Burning is very sympathetic to Addison’s loss, and agrees it is best she take the day off.

  As I’m finishing my first cup of coffee and throwing a few pieces of bacon in a pan, I hear the telltale sound of bare feet on tile. Turning toward Addison, I take in how beautiful she is in the morning. Her hair is mussed, and there isn’t a stitch of makeup on her. Her shirt is crooked, and her short shorts draw my attention to her toned legs. Legs I didn’t spend enough time between last night.

  “Good morning.” My greeting is simple, but by the confused look on Addison’s face, anything more would be unwelcome.

  “What time is it?” she asks between yawns as she walks toward me, taking my coffee out of my hands.

  “A little after eight.”

  “Oh no, I’m going to be late for work. I need to jump in the shower.”

  When Addison turns to walk away, I wrap an arm around her waist and stop her. Taking the coffee cup from her hands, I set it on the counter before spinning her around to face me.

  “I called Doc this morning and told him you’d need the day off. He sends his condolences and said to tell you to take as much time as you need. Mason left for school about twenty minutes ago.”

  “You called my work?”

  “I did. And mine.”

  “You own the company, Landon. Who’d you call?”

  “My dad,” I say before kissing her forehead and turning my attention to the bacon.

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Are you mad?” I don’t hear anger in her voice, but I may have overstepped by calling her boss.

  “Mad? No. I just can’t believe you did that.”

  “Why? Addy, you’re exhausted and had some really bad news. I think if ever a mental health day was needed, today is that day. I figured we’d eat some breakfast, shower—obviously together—and then binge on Netflix. If you want to talk about Henry, I’d love to hear about him. If you want to cry, I’ll hold you. And,” I say tugging her to me, “if you want to spend the day in bed, I’m all right with that too.”

  “About last night . . .” Addison is suddenly very interested in my feet as she speaks.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Babe, you don’t have to thank me. Believe me, it was all my pleasure.” My hands squeeze her a little tighter for emphasis.

  “Oh my word. Just stop.”

  Her laughter fills the room for a little while. I know enough about loss to know it will come and go. But, for now, I’ll appreciate it while I have it.

  After we finish breakfast, I make good on my promise of a dual shower, and although I offered three big Os, I settled for the two she gave me. Once we’re dressed, we settle on the couch for a day of Netflix and naps.

  Halfway through season three of Orange is the New Black, Addison hits a wall. Her sadness bubbles to the surface, and I hold her as she cries and falls asleep. I send a text to Taylor to check on things, and he gives me an update on the funeral arrangements for next week. I promise to keep in touch to ensure Addison has all the information.

  When Mason walks in from school he finds his mother still asleep on the couch, her head resting in my lap. For the first time, I see a young boy looking at me. The sadness his eyes hold, looking at his mom, breaks my heart.

  “Hey kid, how was school?” I whisper as I slowly rise from the couch and motion for him to go into the kitchen.

  “Fine. How’s my mom?”

  “She’s okay. Exhausted. We’ve hardly left that couch since breakfast.” Not a total lie. “I think she’ll be better when she wakes up. We talked about Henry, their childhood. Did you know him?”

  “I met him a few times. Are we working tonight?” Mason begins pulling ingredients for sandwiches from the refrigerator while we talk. I remember this age, starving all the time. My mom used to complain constantly how all we did was eat after school. She worried it’d ruin our appetites, but it never did.

  “Not tonight, man. I think we should be here for your mom. It’s been a long twenty-four hours. How about we make dinner, so she doesn’t have to worry?”

  “Make dinner? Do you know how to cook?”

  “I made you tacos once, remember? And, I can grill a mean steak. What do you say? I’ll show you how to master the grill.”

  “Master? Whatever.” Mason rolls his eyes dramatically and I wish I had something in my hand to throw at him. “I’m taking my snack and going to my room. Let me know when you want to teach me, oh wise griller.”

  I laugh and stop suddenly when I realize I may be a master griller, but I don’t have anything to grill. “You just realized we don’t actually have the steaks, didn’t you?”

  “Yep. Guess I’m heading to the store. I’m going to swing by my house and change while I’m out. I’ll be back in an hour. You okay here with your mom?”

  “Pretty sure I can handle hanging out at my house with my mom, Landon.”

  “Right. Sorry. Oh hey, I was wondering where the Sinclair’s stand on camping.”

  “Camping?” Mason asks, eyes wide.

  “Yeah, you know: tents, fresh air, fishing. Camping.”

  “We’ve never been. I mean, I went with my friend Jordy and his dad, but I don’t think my mom has ever slept in a tent.”

  “Good to know.”

  Mason stares at me for a few minutes before shaking his head and walking out of the kitchen. As I’m walking out of the house, I check on Addison, still asleep on the couch. I have to hurry if I’m going to get to the store, my house, and back before she wakes up. But first, I have a call to make.

  When I returned from the store I wasn’t surprised to find Mason sitting on the couch playing Xbox and Addison throwing her sheets in the washer. I couldn’t help but tease her about the reason for the sudden urge to wash bed sheets. I may have used the word dirty a few times. She blushed. I laughed. She smacked me no less than four times. I’ll admit it—the last one stung a little.

  Like we’d been together for years instead of weeks, we easily fell into the motions of preparing dinner, and when the three of us sat together at the table, I realized none of this felt out of place. Being here with Addison and Mason in their home, sitting down for dinner, teasing Mason about his inept gaming abilities, accepting the praise for my superior grilling skills, and settling in for some television before crawling into bed together. All of it was how it should be. How I want it to be.

  Yet, as I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, Addison curled up into my side, her legs tangled with mine, I worry it’s all too much too soon for her. She’s cautious and a little skittish. I saw her watching Mason and me together tonight. She was quiet and observant, her expressions jumping from happiness to . . . worry. A nervousness fell from her in waves, and I wasn’t sure if I should address it or let her work through the feelings at her own pace.

  When I gave her my option of staying again or going home, s
he asked me to stay. As we settled into bed, she thanked me again for being here for her and Mason. For stepping up and caring about them and letting her wallow in her sadness. For an hour I lay, holding her in my arms and not talking, only listening. Finally, as she began dozing off, she admitted this loss triggered all the memories of losing her parents and the loss of her marriage. While not sad her marriage ended, she still felt a sadness for the loss of what it represented.

  Those words were the last she spoke before falling asleep, and the same words keep me awake. In only a few words the happiness I feel being with Addison all day cracks as I wonder if she’s really over her ex-husband.

  A year ago, if you’d told me I was going to pick up my life and move to a small town, I would have said you were crazy. Now, if you add to that scenario that I’d be dating a younger man and falling madly in love with him, I would have laughed you right out of the room. But this, this thing we’re about to do? Yeah, telling me this would happen would have had me calling for a psych evaluation. There’s no way in hell I thought in a million years I’d be . . . camping.

  No rational woman goes camping on purpose. In tents. Tents. Why would I choose to sleep on the ground in a tent when I have a perfectly good bed at home? It makes next to no sense. If it wasn’t for the fact that the men in my life didn’t ask me to go camping, they only promised me a relaxing day and night away, I wouldn’t be here.

  I’m a liar.

  I still would have come. I just would’ve required a lot more convincing. And promises. Promises of massages, pedicures, and at least six new books. Real life priorities. Not this camping business.

  “Are you done pouting?”

  “I am not pouting,” I insist. I am pouting a little. I don’t mean to. It’s just that, for the last four years, it’s been Mason and me. We’ve been a team, and I was used to being the decision maker. This morning I woke up to an excited Mason and Landon talking about plans for fishing, fire, and ghost stories. I was caught up in the moment and before I asked where this was happening, I had agreed to go with them.