I KNEW MEGHAN WOULD be in town at school until at least four the next day, and Ali was working the stand as usual. So after I finished my work in the morning, I drove back to the house and began getting ready for our date.
I opened up the old cedar chest in the upstairs hall and pulled out four old quilts. Dropping them at the top of the steps, I went into the bathroom and dug around the cupboard until I found the bottles I needed. Just before I went back downstairs, I remembered to grab two pillows off my bed and add them to my pile.
It took some doing to get the truck ready, but once it was, I unwrapped a brand-new tarp and spread it over the back. I needed one more trip into the house for matches, candles and the bottle of wine Ali had bought last month. I’d replace it on my next trip to the liquor store. The last item I needed was in Meghan’s room, and I walked in cautiously, as though at any minute she might jump out and ask me what the hell I was doing in there. I hadn’t been inside Grandma’s room since Meghan had arrived, and it was weird to see her things over the familiar furniture.
Blank canvasses were propped up against the hope chest at the end of the bed, and a bunch of brushes dried on a towel by the windowsill. Piles of books dominated the dresser. For the most part, Meghan was neat; there were no dirty clothes on the floor, and her bed was made. But she must have had trouble deciding what to wear that morning, I thought, because I saw a couple of discarded shirts tossed over the coverlet. A pink lace bra sat there, too, and I picked it up, running my fingers over delicate fabric. I’d seen some of her underwear by now, on nights when we got particularly daring on the porch, but not this one. Just imagining her within the cups made me hard.
I tossed it back onto the bed, remembering my mission. Meghan’s music blaster was on the nightstand, and unplugging it, I carried it out to the truck.
Mission accomplished, I thought. Now I just had to wait until eight o’clock. This was going to be the longest day ever.
“NO, GRAHAM, DON’T TOUCH anything!” I made a desperate grab for the seven-year old terrorizing the kids around him. “Or anybody.”
“I’m a monster!” He roared, darting around the desks and evading me once again.
Truer words, I thought, but I didn’t have time to laugh. This child was determined to spread his finger paint over everything and everyone in the room.
“Whoa there, tiger.” A tall woman in jeans and boots caught Graham and swung him up, holding him by his middle. “Time to wash up.”
“Thanks.” I hurried over with wet paper towels and wiped off as much of the paint as I could manage with the boy batting and kicking. I glanced up at his captor. “I appreciate the help. Are you a mom? I don’t think we’ve met yet.”
“Nah, not a mom. Just an aunt.” She let Graham down, holding his hand in a death grip. “To this little cherub, actually.”
“Oh.” I grinned; it was clear that this chick had her nephew’s number. He wasn’t going to get away with anything. “Everything okay with his mother?”
“Yeah. She’s my sister, and her husband surprised her with a trip to Hilton Head for a long weekend. Anniversary deal. They left this little prize with my mom, and for some reason I’ll never understand, she gave him a donut for breakfast. Sugared him up before she sent him to you. So ... sorry about that.”
“No problem.” I dried my hands. “I did notice he was a little more, ah, active today.”
The woman grimaced. “You’re being too nice. He’s a brat sometimes. He’s the only grandchild, and so he’s more than a little spoiled.” She sighed. “I can’t say anything, I do it, too.”
“What are aunts for, if not to spoil? My nephew is just a little over a year old, and I could just eat him up whenever I see him.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Meghan Hawthorne, by the way. The art teacher.”
“Maureen Flynn. Veterinarian and auntie to horrible monster children.” She shook my hand as I laughed.
“Graham’s really not that bad, not normally. He’s actually got some talent, when I can get him to sit down and concentrate.”
“Doesn’t surprise me a bit. My dad’s an artist, of sorts. He’s a mason, and he designs these beautiful fireplaces or walls for people. He’s got the eye, Ma says.” Maureen examined me a little more closely. “You’re not from Burton, are you?”
I laughed. “No, why? Am I missing a special symbol marking me as part of the town?”
“Nah, I just realized I didn’t know anyone related to you. So what brought you to our bustling city?”
“It’s a long story.” I moved to my desk and began to sort through the day’s projects. “But basically, I’m part of a program that places art students in communities that need them. I’m only here for the summer.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Do you live nearby?”
“I go to school in Savannah, but right now, I’m staying out at Sam and Ali Reynolds’ farm.”
“Ohhh.” A shadow passed her face so quickly, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it.
“Do you know them?” I had a hunch maybe she knew one of them a little better than the other.
“I ... did. Not so much anymore.” This time the discomfort lingered.
I sighed. “Sam? Did you date him?”
Her brow knitted together. “What? Sam? Oh—no. No, I’ve never had the pleasure.” She winked at me. “But by the way your face is turning that lovely shade of red, I’m guessing you have.”
“I’m not—I mean—”
Maureen laughed. “No comment is a perfectly acceptable answer. No, I knew—know, that is—Alison. But it was years ago.” She paused, as though remembering. “We sort of drifted apart. But at one time, I thought she was going to end up part of my family.”
I was confused for the space of a moment, and then everything clicked. Evans. Of course. This woman must be the sister of Ali’s lost love, Bridget’s real father. Examining her more closely, I thought I saw a tiny bit of resemblance.
And if this were Bridget’s aunt, and Graham was the child of her sister ... that meant Bridget had a first cousin, right here in town. In her class. I blinked, wondering if Ali knew about this. Of course she had to. This was Burton. Nothing was hidden.
Maureen was speaking again. “Nice to meet you, but I need to get the paint monster back to my mom before he does real damage. Graham! Get a move on, we’re going to Granny’s house.”
The other parents were straggling in to retrieve their children, and by four o’clock, my classroom was empty. I finished cleaning up and lit out for the farm. I had a date, and I needed time to prepare.
No one was home yet when I got back to the farm. Ali had put pork chops in the slow cooker for dinner, and they smelled delicious. I high-tailed it to my room, where I stripped off my teacher clothes and jumped into the bathtub.
Tonight wouldn’t be our first time having sex, but in my mind, that night in the truck on the side of the road only partly counted. We’d almost been animals that night, mad for each other, and while the intensity was still there in spades, tonight we’d have time to enjoy each other. So I wanted to be perfect. I used my favorite citrus body wash and shaved every part of my body that qualified for that attention.
I had just climbed out of the tub and wrapped myself in a towel when I heard Ali and Bridget get home. Ali stuck her head through the doorway. “Hey. Whatcha doing?”
“I ...” Licking my lips, I tried for a smile. “I have a date. So ... I was getting ready.”
Ali’s eyes wandered down my body, and she grinned. “My brother’s taking you on a date?”
“Yeah. I don’t know where or what. He just told me to meet him at the truck at eight.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Oooooh. Well, then I guess I’ll just say I won’t be waiting up.”
My face burned, and Ali laughed. “In case you’re wondering, no, I’m not going to make this any easier on you. It’s too much fun, seeing the two of you tortured with having to behave yourselves.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the edge of the t
owel in to the top, securing it against my chest. “I have no idea what to wear, since I don’t know what we’re doing.”
Ali came in and flopped onto the bed. “Around here, you can’t go wrong with jeans. If you’re leaving at eight, he’s not taking you into the city for a fancy dinner. There’s a movie house in Summerville, but jeans would work for that, too.”
“Good thinking.” I pulled out my favorite pair of soft and faded denim and flipped hangers in the closet, looking for a shirt. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I glanced over my shoulder.
“I’m not helping you pick out sexy underwear for tonight. Sorry, I know it’s a girlfriend thing, but when it’s for my brother to see—there’s way too much eww.”
“No, silly.” I shook my head. “I don’t need help with that.” I thought of the expression on his face whenever he lifted my shirt and saw a new bra, and I smiled. “I know what he likes.”
“Way TMI.” Ali shuddered.
“Speaking of which ... I met Maureen Evans today. She came by to pick up Graham.”
Hurt and sadness flickered over Ali’s face. “Oh.”
“I didn’t make the connection at first, but then when I told her where I was living this summer, she got the same look on her face that you have now. She said you used to be friends.”
Ali grabbed one of my pillows and turned onto her stomach. “Yeah, we were. Until her brother left town, and me, and their whole family. I think they blamed me, which was ironic, considering I was the one trying to talk him into staying.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.” I drew a black lace bra and a matching scrap of material that passed for panties out of my drawer and stepped into the bathroom to change, talking to her through the door.
“It’s not your fault. I was really close to all of the Evans until graduation, and then ... I wasn’t. They were like my surrogate family. Maureen was okay with me until I married Craig.”
“And none of them suspected ... ?” I pointed out toward the living room, where I could hear the TV show Bridget was watching.
“I don’t think so. No one ever said anything to me.”
“So Graham is her cousin.” I kept my voice quiet.
Ali laughed, but the sound didn’t have much humor. “Yep. Her one and only.” She shot me a meaningful look. “For now.”
I raised my hands. “Oh, no, my friend. No strings attached, remember? Summer-only deal. No babies. You’re on your own.”
“I’m not that sorry Bridge doesn’t know he’s related to her. That kid’s a piece of work.”
“Yeah, even Maureen said that. She said he’s spoiled because he’s the only grandchild.”
“I know. And don’t think that doesn’t make it tougher ... the thought that my kid’s only grandparents live ten minutes away, and they don’t know it.”
“Do Craig’s parents keep in touch with her?” I thought of my huge extended family back in Florida. The idea of not having any grandparents was inconceivable.
“Not really. Cards at her birthday and Christmas, but I think Craig probably told them the truth after he left. They were great while we were married, but after he moved away, they did, too.”
We both turned our heads at the sound of the kitchen door. “Hey, where are my women?”
Ali and I both laughed, and she climbed up from the bed. “I think that means us. I better go finish up dinner so you two can enjoy your ... date.” She winked at me.
I stood for a minute without moving. Hearing Sam’s words and knowing he was including me in them—his women—gave me a strange feeling that was a mix of longing and panic. I liked the idea, more than I should. The panic came because I dreaded what might happen if Sam began to want more—and I couldn’t give it to him.
I pushed the thought away. Tonight was about romance and fun and just being present in the moment—no worries about the future or the past. And I was determined to make it perfect.
I finished dressing, put on a little makeup and brushed my hair, leaving it down and curly around my face. When I stepped out of the room to go help Ali in the kitchen, I ran full-force into Sam, who was still shirtless and slightly damp.
“Hey.” He caught me by the arms. “Where’s the fire?”
“I think it’s in the kitchen, cooking your dinner.” I grinned up into brown eyes that were devouring me. Taking a step back, I held out my arms. “So? Do I look okay for tonight? Or do I need to be fancier?”
Hunger that had nothing to do with pork chops burned from his face. “You don’t need to be anything else. God, you look good.” He glanced around me at the huge oak grandfather clock that dominated the living room. “How many minutes until eight?”
I laughed. “What’s going to happen at the magical hour of eight? I’m still in the dark about what we’re doing tonight.”
A slow smile spread over his lips, and heat flooded my face. “Okay, so I’m not completely in the dark. I have some ideas.”
He stepped closer to me, until I was backed against the wall that was shadowed between my bedroom door and the turn to the kitchen. “In the dark is the key phrase. But I don’t want you to worry. Maybe I should give you a little preview.”
My heart stuttered a little at his nearness. His chest, bared at my eye-level, sent a scorching rush of desire between my legs, and I couldn’t help running my hands over his skin.
Sam tucked me into his body so that I could feel every inch of him. With one finger, he tilted my chin upwards and kissed my mouth. He started slow and sweet, but when I wrapped my arms around his lower back, he growled low and pushed his tongue between my lips.
When we came up for air, I dropped my forehead to his chest. “I need to go help Ali with dinner.”
“Yeah. I need to get a shower.” Neither of us moved.
I lowered my hands to his ass and pressed him closer to me. “IWWA ...”
“We’re changing that, right now. Today it’s not IWWA, it’s WWAA.”
I frowned, and he leaned to whisper in my ear. “When we are alone.”
I sighed. “I can’t wait.”
He slapped me lightly on the butt and stepped back. “Then let’s get through dinner so we don’t have to.”
I was pretty sure Ali’s pork chops were excellent that night, tender and tasty, but they could have been sawdust for all I knew. I ate mechanically, trying to keep up with the conversation and act normal. I didn’t think Ali was fooled, but Bridge didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.
I helped with the dinner dishes, and by then it was nearly seven. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, playing cards with Bridget.
“That’s enough Go Fish,” he announced after four hands of the game. “Choose something else.”
“Oh, I know! How about Old Maids?” She scrambled down and ran to the cupboard where all her games and books were.
“I don’t know how to play that.” Sam frowned at the deck of unfamiliar cards.
“It’s basically Go Fish, but with different cards.” Ali dried her hands. “They’re all word plays. See, there’s Ben Dover. And Tully Vision. There’s only one Old Maid card, and whoever ends up with it loses.”
“Mama, what’s an old maid?” Bridget began dealing the deck.
“It’s what they used to call women who never got married, sweetie.”
Bridge glanced up at me. “Meghan, are you an old maid?”
I held back a giggle at the horrified look on her mother’s face. “Bridget! No, Meghan is not an old maid. And it’s not a very nice thing to say.”
I decided this was an opportunity to educate her. “Bridge, when this game was made up, women felt like they had to be married to amount to anything. But now women can do whatever they want. They can get married or not, they can have any career ... so that’s why we don’t say old maid anymore.”
She nodded, but I wasn’t sure she understood. “I want to get married when I grow up. I’m going to marry Parker Smith, and we’re going to live on his farm becaus
e it has horses and pigs, and we’re going to have lots of babies.”
Ali rolled her eyes, but I hurried to answer Bridget. “That’s great, honey, if that’s what you want to do. But there’s a ton of other things out in the world, and you might decide you want to do them, too.”
“Don’t you want to get married, Meghan?” The little girl picked up her cards and scanned them.
The room was silent, and I felt as though everyone was waiting for my answer. “Um, probably. Some day. When the right person comes along, and when I’m ready. But right now I’m too young.”
She cast me a skeptical look. “You’re not too young. Mama was younger than you when she got married.” She laid down a pair of cards and gazed pointedly at Sam. “You’re not too young, Uncle Sam. Are you going to get married ever?”
Silence fell again, and I saw Sam’s throat work as he swallowed. “Maybe someday, peanut, but for now, you and your mom are plenty of women for me.”
“And Meghan,” Bridge added.
Sam glanced up at me, his eyes unreadable. “Yep. And Meghan, for sure.”
That same mixed feeling settled in my stomach, and I took a deep breath, wiping my suddenly-damp palms on my jeans. Just for now, I reminded myself.
Sam made it through two hands of Old Maid before he stood up, announcing that he had to get some things ready outside. Before Bridget could ask what he was doing, Ali interrupted and reminded her that it was time for a bath and reading.
“Have fun tonight,” she whispered as her daughter dragged her toward the steps. “But don’t tell me about it. I’d like to stay blissfully ignorant if you don’t mind.”
I wiped off the table and stood uncertain in the middle of the kitchen. It was nearly eight, but I wasn’t sure whether or not Sam wanted me outside. I heard him around the truck, and my curiosity was running high.
Before I could peek out the window, the screen door opened, and he stuck his head inside. “Okay, I’m ready. C’mon.”
“Do I need to bring anything?” I rubbed my arms, wondering if I needed a sweatshirt.
The Last One (The One Trilogy #1) Page 16