by Lin, Amber
“What’s the matter?” Lucy asked. “No, let me guess. The matter is six feet of pride and not a lick of sense.”
“Luce, you just described half the men around here. And maybe women.”
“Then my odds of being right are pretty good.” She took a bite of chicken. “Fucker still didn’t show?”
Natalie shook her head. Three weeks and no word. He hadn’t even come into the diner to eat. Maybe that was to be expected since she had left him, but she hadn’t meant forever. She froze when she realized Lucy had raised an eyebrow at her and that she’d somehow slipped off her shoes and was rubbing her feet.
“Sorry. My feet are killing me. I’ve been on a rampage today.”
Lucy brightened. “Did you finally tell Mr. Winterman off for being a cheapskate?”
Mr. Winterman protested the rise in coffee prices from $0.99 to $1.09 several years ago, and Natalie hadn’t had the heart to stop serving him on account of ten cents.
“In my head, a hundred times. But he can keep his dime. It’s this mood I’m in.” She grabbed a fork and stabbed at the pie.
“What’s wrong?”
She examined her friend, from Lucy’s short-cropped hair to her mud-caked boots. She had always been tall and thin, but where before it was willowy, now her every move was imbued with a kind of casual power that came from compact muscle. Lucy didn’t date much, probably because she scared the shit out of most men. It probably didn’t help matters that she usually smelled faintly of diesel. Occupational hazard. Natalie couldn’t judge considering she smelled like grease at the end of the day.
“I don’t feel like I used to. I keep thinking about...change.”
Lucy waved her fork in recognition. “I saw the new specials. Blue Sky Omelet, that’s cute. Are you using food coloring?”
“Nah, it’s an egg white omelet on a blue plate, like clouds on a blue sky. But that’s not the kind of change I mean. Not just in the diner, but everywhere. Everything.”
“Drive out to the farm. I’ll bet someone has plenty of new tricks to show you.”
Just like that, Natalie’s thoughts snapped back to Sawyer for the umpteenth time that day. Unlike the diner, he was a change she had no control over. If he wasn’t willing to fight for them, if he didn’t want her twelve years later, then there was nothing she could do about it. He would lose the farm, and she would be alone. She winced. “How did you get Joe to accept your help? I can’t imagine he was too keen on handing over the farm to you.”
Lucy grew serious, as she always did when speaking of that time, when their sibling rivalry had been pushed aside in her effort to pull Joe from his despair. “He didn’t resist me taking over the farm. By that time, it had fallen to shit, and he didn’t want to deal with it anyway. It’s one thing to run a farm and another thing entirely to bring it back to life.” Lucy gave her a pointed look, since that was what Sawyer was trying to do. Failing to do. “Anyway, it was moving back into the house that put a bee in his bonnet. That and ordering him to stop drinking, stop using the tennis ball machine for shooting practice and stop pissing in the flower pots.”
“That’s gross.” And sad. “You did good by him.”
Lucy shrugged off her part in his recovery. “Well, men like him don’t accept help easily. Men like Sawyer.”
“Stubborn,” Natalie said archly.
“Texan,” Lucy corrected. “And yeah, stubborn. They’re also loyal, dependable, and they really know how to use their—”
“I get the idea.”
“Do you? In Dearling, a man gets asked about his farm or his ranch first, his family second. That’s their source of identity, their measure of worth. Sawyer may have gone away for a while but he’ll always be one of us.”
One of us. When they were together, just him and her, Natalie felt they were the same. It wasn’t the southern drawl he got, especially when aroused, or their shared affinity for pie. They fit together, their bodies, their hearts. She had always felt that way, but how could it be true when she’d always wanted to stay in Dearling and he’d always wanted to leave?
Although maybe he hadn’t wanted to leave but felt he had to. She had understood when he had built himself up in high school, when he had enlisted right after. He had something to prove to his father, to the town and maybe to himself. But something was holding him back, and it wasn’t only water rights.
“If he wants to leave, he should be able to go. I don’t want him to feel tied down by me.”
“Tied down?” Lucy asked. “He didn’t have to come back at all. He could have sold it years ago when it still had its water rights, did you think of that? Whether he held on to the farm and his link to the town because of you or some other reason, I don’t know. But when he did come back, he came to see you every day and then accepted you without a fuss during the storm. Yeah, he wanted to bang you, but you said he was comfortable with you there, that it was more than that, right?”
“Yeah,” Natalie agreed cautiously.
“I don’t think he feels tied down by you, I think he wants to be tied down by you. Don’t shake your head at me, I didn’t mean in bed. He wants to stay here, with you. He just never felt welcome.”
Lucy’s words were eerily similar to Barry’s.
“I already tried to welcome him and it didn’t work. He walked away from me in high school, and he did it again last week. I can’t just beat him until he accepts me.”
“Now who’s the kinky one?”
“Okay, I deserved that.” Natalie sat back in her chair, but her friend’s point had been made. Sawyer had reached out to her in his own way. If it were anyone, it would be you. And it wasn’t only him blocking their progress.
She had her own issues, clinging to the diner. Of course she would give up this place, if not as her work then as her home, when she eventually married. Had she unintentionally resisted commitment, knowing it would mean leaving the place that had been her home almost all her life? Had Sawyer been right?
Strange that they could see each other so clearly when their own self-doubts were obscured. Strange but also right. Like looking in the mirror and finding what she’d been searching for.
“You know I love this place, Luce. This is what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“You do love this place.” Lucy paused. “But do you like it?”
Natalie frowned. “Like do I love it or am in love with it? The diner isn’t my boyfriend. It’s family.”
“Gram was family.”
“Is,” she corrected, feeling surly. “She is family.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. But the point remains that Gram is family. This is just a place.”
Her throat felt tight. Lucy’s slip had hit home. Gram’s heart might still beat, but her mind was far away. And now the diner’s importance drained like sand between her fingers.
Lucy scooped up the last bit of cherry filling with her finger before heading to the door. “I’m fixing to go to the quilting club. Come with me. Clock out early for once.”
Natalie returned to her dish station and picked up a dirty mug. “Please, and listen to two hours of drunken speculation about Sawyer’s package? No, thank you.”
“One hour,” Lucy corrected. “We only bring out the booze after we’re done quilting. I don’t drink and stitch. And you never did answer my question about Sawyer’s—”
Natalie flicked soapy water at her friend. “Stop that or I’ll have Joe arrest you for public indecency.”
Lucy laughed on her way out the door. “I’d kick his ass, and he knows it.”
After she had gone, Natalie stepped away from the sink. Clock out early for once. Those words had been like the lonely click of a lock tumbling into place. She owned the diner, but she acted like nothing more than a waitress. She claimed to love this place, but she never bothered to improve it.
In her story, the princess had left the palace to live with her commoner. She had reached out for what she wanted, bringing the prince out of hiding. Natalie was secure in her Formica castle. How depressing.
She didn’t have the heart, or the energy, to finish the dishes now. She tidied up the counters and left the mugs to soak overnight, knowing she’d regret it come morning. Climbing the stairs with heavy feet, she wondered if her tiredness was making everything seem freakishly bright, because it was like a spotlight. Maybe she was getting abducted by aliens.
But no, that was Sawyer lounging against the wall beside her door.
“Fixed your security lighting,” he said.
“I didn’t even know I had security lighting.”
“You didn’t.”
“Ah.” She shuffled her feet, kind of squinted to see him better. “So, what’re you doing here? I mean, besides lighting upgrades.”
Suddenly it was dark, as he came over her, around her, the faint musky scent of him like coming up for air after being underwater.
“For this.” His mouth descended over hers, as his hands grasped her waist, and yes of course, the softness of his lips, the intensity of his grip, always this. His presence tore down the numbness that protected her, the contentedness she’d hidden behind. She lived a lifetime in every in-out breath of his chest to hers, the grief over the diner, over Gram. Sorrow and hope coiled in what she’d missed most of all—feeling. As the tears came, the security light became glaring. She pulled back, looked down.
“Don’t turn away from me,” he muttered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I tried to make it work, to get the damn farm functioning again, but it’s not going to happen. There’s just not enough time. I’m sorry. But I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think I have a solution.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He skated his lips over her temple, her cheeks, her neck as he spoke. “I’ll still have the land and the house, like you want. And I’ll need something to do that doesn’t involve farming, so I was thinking I could open a petting zoo.”
God, it was hard to focus when his tongue stroked her skin. “A...what?”
“We’ll get goats and chickens. And a horse for riding.” He found the buttons of her dress, undid a few. “Maybe a giraffe.”
“A giraffe.”
“It’s not a fully formed plan. Still in the concept stage. But I think it could work, if...”
“If what?”
“If you’re with me.”
“Oh, Sawyer.” She kissed him back, all-over-him back. “Yes to giraffes. Yes to everything.”
He pulled her inside, half-carrying her to her bedroom. They slipped against each other, moved together until they were both naked and panting, frantic with it. Now. It had to be now.
Turning her over, he covered her body with his, blanketed her, spread her legs with his knees and clasped her wrists to the bed. Her belly, her breasts were flush against cool sheets. He pushed inside her, hard and inexorable, and their groans mirrored the violence within her body.
He lay over her, pinning her down. It was like being consumed by fire, and she surrendered to his heat. Each thrust was a stake of his claim, his weight a promise of protection and possession. Also because he stopped at one point, gasping, “You know this means you have to marry me, right?”
She paused, considering. As proposals went, she’d always imagined something more conventional. A suit and a nice dinner at the local steakhouse. But she couldn’t fault him for his methods. What better way to ask for her hand when they were joined in every other way?
Silence rippled through the space where their moans had been. She could hear him waiting, feel him pulsing inside her. But he didn’t say anything, his patience like the slick burn of whiskey down her throat, courage enough to continue.
“I’m sorry I freaked out that night.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said roughly. “I was pretty freaked out too.”
“Because you thought you’d hurt me, but I knew you hadn’t. I was just...”
“You were upset because I pushed you. I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I had no right.”
“They were true.” She swallowed. “And I was upset but also lonely. I want a family. I want to stop living in the past, to move on, and for me that means kids. If you don’t want that—”
“I do,” he said, but she was on a roll.
“I’m being honest here, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay because of that. I know stuff like this freaks guys out, especially guys like you.”
“Damn it, Natalie. Guys like me? The thought of you pregnant is hotter than a blacktop in August.” His hand fitted over the softness of her belly. “Filled with my seed. My wife. Mine.” He cupped her breast, swiping her nipple with his thumb. “Swollen here, damp with milk.”
His entire body shuddered, all along hers. Inside, his cock pulsed.
“You really do like that,” she said with wonder. He was kinkier than he let on, but in the most domestic of ways. Things like watching her clean, having her serve him food—things she would have done anyway, even if they weren’t aphrodisiacs to him.
“Too much,” he grunted, surging into her. “I like it too much. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No,” she said between gasps. “I want a family and you want to get me pregnant. I’d say it’s convenient.”
His laugh burst around her, like clouds into rain, breaking the storm. “My sweet girl. My practical, crazy girl. Love you.”
The words unleashed some sort of dam within him, and then he was moving against her, inside her, wave upon wave. She said it back on every crest. “I. Love. You.” She wasn’t sure he could hear above his grunts, but it was there in her movements, in her lack of movements. Her submission to him came naturally, without any resistance, any stubbornness. But there was pride, so much pride in doing so. He was beautiful, strong and all hers, and being under him made her feel beautiful and strong, as well.
Afterward they lay tangled together as she felt his breathing even. Something kept her awake. Despite her impassioned words earlier, she was not yes to giraffes. She was pretty much a no when it came to giraffes on what she was coming to think of as her farm.
It’s one thing to run a farm and another thing entirely to bring it back to life, Lucy had said.
There wasn’t enough time, not for him, not for her. She had never wanted to be alone, but she never had been. Even when she pushed her friends away, they had found a way to help her. Stronger now, surer, she could learn from their example.
* * *
The next day Sawyer woke up hard and hurting. Even asleep, his body was aware of her, primed by her, thick and already pearling liquid for her. She lay on her side, facing away, one leg reaching over the other, the shadow of her sex visible and alluring from behind.
Reaching over, he knocked everything off her bedside table in his haste, but managed to catch his wallet. Rolling on a condom, he tugged her onto her stomach. He slipped his fingers inside her, checking her readiness. Still damp and pliant from their exertions all night, her body welcomed him with a moan.
This was how he’d taken her last night. It had felt primal, from behind, like a claiming. It had been a relief. Finally, she was his. But now he wanted her open to him, spread for him. He turned her over, deriving satisfaction from the sluggish weight of her limbs and the sleepy smile she gifted him.
Her eyes fluttered open. “G’morning.”
“Don’t wake up.”
Her voice was like fine brandy, thick and smooth. “You’re inside me.”
He glanced down where his body met hers, where the coarse hair of his groin pressed against the velvety smoothness of hers, where the rubber-clad base of his cock peeked from between her pink flesh. Yea
h, he was inside her. “I’m preparing you. You’re going to spend all day in bed, so get comfortable.”
“I have to open the diner.”
“Let Barry do it.”
“If I call him, he’ll know you’re up here. Having sex with me.”
“And?” He pulled out and then pushed back in slowly, savoring the way her plump tissues parted for him. Then again. He was grateful she didn’t stop him, because he couldn’t have stopped—not now, not ever. His cock had made itself at home inside Natalie. Inside Natalie was warm and wet, the perfect fit.
Her eyes glazed. “Um. What?”
“Everyone will know we’re together soon enough.”
“Mmm.” Her lids fell almost shut, the lust-darkened brown peeking through. Her mouth was slack, helpless, open. Her back tilted up, leaving her slim neck vulnerable, offering her gorgeous tits to his waiting mouth.
He tilted his hips, aiming for that spot. She flinched. Ah, there. Three, two, one, and then he was coming in uncontrollable spasms, in long jets that took his breath away, in an endless swell of hope where there had been none.
Damn.
He must have been more excited than he thought, to have lost control like that. A smile curved his lips. He’d just have to find some other way to satisfy her. She trembled beneath him, still on the edge, as he moved down her body.
“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless. Then, “You don’t have to do that.”
He ran his tongue bottom to top. “Remember, you’re still asleep. Just close your eyes.”
She groaned. “In that case, enough talking.”
He chuckled, applying himself to the task. Her skin was slick and quivery. She tilted her hips up, providing him greater access, but still he avoided her clit, letting his tongue explore her sweet-salty folds while she moaned and begged above him.
“Sawyer,” she said, her voice hot with sexual frustration.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her hips bucked. “Oh, God.”
He slipped two fingers inside her, finding the spot that made her breath catch. “Don’t you need to open the diner?”