Fall in Love

by Anthology

“Oh. Business is pretty slow, unfortunately.”

  “I have a lot of retail experience. I could hold down the fort while you… advertise.”

  “Not a bad idea.” Allie pops the last of the cookie into her mouth and gives me a considering look. “I have been thinking about staying open later on weekends. Try to catch some of the theater and restaurant foot traffic. If you’re looking to work random hours, plus weekends, for very little pay, then you’ve hit the jackpot.”

  Hardly ideal, but I like Allie Lyons. I like her shabby shop and her scary apple-tree costume and the pink calligraphic sign that’s better suited for a questionable massage parlor than a bookstore.

  “Great.” I push to my feet. “When can I start?”

  *

  “Heart, courage, home, or brains?”

  “What?”

  I hold out the plate of cookies that Allie insisted I take home. They’re rectangular sugar cookies frosted with the words Heart, Brains, Home, and Courage.

  I dangle a Brains cookie in front of Dean. “I suppose I didn’t need to ask.”

  He takes the cookie and bites into it. “Doesn’t this mean I don’t have brains?”

  “Like I said, I didn’t need to ask.”

  He gives me a swat on the rear, which then turns into a very nice caress. I nibble on a Courage cookie and settle in beside him on the sofa. He’s supposed to be watching a baseball game, but apparently the butt-pat got him thinking in another direction because he curves his hand around me to fondle my breast.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask, shifting around so he can get a better hold on me. “Summer classes end next week.”

  “Work’s all done. Give me a kiss, beauty.”

  I turn my head and surrender to his warm, sugary mouth. Heat shoots across my skin. He tucks a hand underneath my shirt and flicks the clasp on my bra, then cups the weight of my breast in his palm.

  “Oh, wait.” I’ve had the dates of the summer session in my head because I was hoping some jobs might open up if students leave town before the fall semester starts at the end of August. Now something occurs to me, and I ease away from Dean. “Hold on. I need to check…”

  I head into the bedroom, pressing a hand to my stomach. As much as I’d like to start stripping naked right away, I don’t want to be unpleasantly surprised. I pull down my pants and underwear to check things out. Nothing. Good.

  I head back to the living room, then stop. I turn into the kitchen and look at the calendar, do a quick calculation in my head.

  My stomach flutters hard.

  “Liv?”

  “Coming.” Tension tightens my spine as I return to the living room. Dean’s sprawled on the sofa, looking entirely edible with his stubbly jaw and thick, wavy hair. His T-shirt has ridden up a couple of inches to expose the hard ridges of his stomach. His hand hovers over the button-fly of his jeans.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Um.”

  He lowers his hand and pushes to sitting. “Um what?”

  “I didn’t get my period.” I rub my palms on my thighs. “Or I… I haven’t gotten it, at any rate. Yet.”

  Something flickers in his eyes, but I can’t read what it is.

  “How late are you?” he asks.

  “A week and a half.”

  “That’s not much.”

  “I’m pretty regular. I didn’t think of it with getting fired and starting the job search again, but when I realized the date…”

  We look at each other. The silence is weighty.

  “The condoms haven’t broken or anything,” I finally say.

  “They don’t have to. And I’m not always wearing one when I come.”

  “You’re not inside me then either.”

  “I don’t necessarily have to be, if it’s close enough.” He stands, fastening the top button of his jeans. “I’ll run to the drugstore and get a pregnancy test.”

  “Wouldn’t it be too soon to register?”

  “Won’t hurt to take one.” He pulls on his shoes, grabs his keys, and heads out.

  I press a hand to my stomach again. We’ve been careful about condom use. Even during my brief, nausea-inducing attempts to take the pill, Dean wore a condom when we had sex. I told him before we got married that I didn’t want to have children. He understood why and has never tried to convince me otherwise.

  I pace to the window and stare down at the street. A group of teenagers passes by, laughing as they head down the path toward the lake. A couple with two kids goes into an ice-cream shop. An older man shuffles past, led by a leashed dog.

  After about fifteen minutes, the door clicks open. Dean hands me a paper bag. I peer inside at the boxed pregnancy test.

  “Says it can detect results six days after a missed period,” he says.

  “Guess I should go take it, then.” I glance at him. Why is his expression so unreadable? “What if it’s positive?”

  “Then we’ll talk.” He squeezes my shoulder, then tilts his head toward the bedroom. “Go ahead.”

  I go into the bathroom and close the door. There are two tests inside the box. I take one out and put the box in the cabinet beneath the sink. My hands shake as I peel a plastic test stick from the foil wrapper and unfold the instructions.

  It’s pretty straightforward, and because I’m so nervous I need to pee anyway. After I’m done, I cap the stick and put it on the counter.

  Three minutes, the instructions say. I try not to look at the results window, but end up staring at it like it’s a crystal ball. A faint pink line appears. My heart thuds.

  Two lines mean positive.

  I keep staring. The single line darkens.

  One line. Not two.

  My heart is still pounding hard.

  “Liv?”

  I take a breath and crumple up the empty foil and instructions. After tossing them in the trash, I open the door. “Negative.”

  Relief flashes across his face. “Good.”

  Good?

  I check the test again. Definitely one line. I throw it in the trash and dust off my hands. “Well, that was something, huh?”

  I push past Dean, feeling his gaze on me as I go into the kitchen. I pull a frozen pizza from the freezer and turn on the oven.

  “Hey.” Dean’s hand settles warm and heavy on the back of my neck. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  But I’m not entirely sure that I am, and I don’t understand why.

  *

  I take a long walk through town this morning. Dean’s usually the one up at dawn, but the morning after taking the pregnancy test, I wake before him. Can’t remember the last time that happened. I dress in sweatpants and tennis shoes, pulling on a fleece jacket as I head downstairs.

  I’ve never gone for a walk when most of the town is still asleep, but I like the stillness, the reddish light of dawn skimming over the lake, the burgeoning chirp of birds. I also feel relatively safe, though I stick to the downtown area where lights shine in a few of the houses, bed-and-breakfasts, and bakeries.

  I walk down Avalon, turning onto Emerald and Ruby Streets, and then back around the block to Avalon again. I increase my pace, enjoying the flex of my muscles, the brisk air filling my lungs.

  Negative. That’s what I was hoping for, right?

  I’ve never wanted kids. I’m not maternal. The shit-storm of my childhood was enough to put me off people in general, so it’s a wonder I’m even married.

  I’m almost thirty years old, and in my entire life Dean has been the only man I’ve trusted with bone-deep certainty. He’s the only person I’ve ever really loved. We’ve built a life together—a lovely, normal, secure life.

  I’m happy with just the two of us. I don’t want a baby.

  I stop and look in the dimly lit window of a baby boutique shop. Cute, overpriced clothes, hats, puzzles, blankets, and a few things I can’t quite identify.

  I remember a baby I once knew. I haven’t
thought of her in years. Penny. Round face, long eyelashes, fuzzy tufts of blond hair. I was thirteen and took care of her on occasion when her mother had something to do.

  Penny was almost a year old then. She must be sixteen now. Probably driving. I wonder if she’s had her first date, what her favorite subject is, if she plays sports or likes to read. I hope she’s happy.

  I stare at a pink, knitted hat. The memory of Penny clouds over with images too black to be transparent. A cold, icy ball tightens in my throat.

  “Liv!” The sound of Dean’s voice breaks the still dawn air.

  I look up with a start. He’s hurrying toward me, his expression dark with concern. A strange fear grabs me suddenly. I run to meet him and fold myself against his strong, warm chest.

  “Jesus, Liv.” He closes his arms tight around me. His breathing is hard against my ear. “I woke up and you were gone. Your cell was off.”

  “I forgot to bring it.” I pull back to look at him. It takes me a second to process the fact that he was scared. “I went for a walk. What… where did you think I’d gone?”

  “I didn’t know.” Dean lets out his breath and scrapes a hand through his damp, messy hair. “You’re never up before seven. I thought you were in the kitchen, but when I got out of the shower…”

  “I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. Unease roils in my stomach. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Just… next time, tell me, okay?”

  I nod, unable to shake the edgy sense of fear surrounding both of us, the stretching reach of old shadows.

  Dean wraps his arm around my shoulders as we head home. Once inside, he slides his hand to the back of my head, a slight pressure that turns me toward him. Tension still ripples through him as his lips come down on mine.

  I curl my fingers into the front of his shirt and tug him down harder. His mouth is cold and minty. Heat burns through the morning chill clinging to our clothes.

  A sudden, hard rush of longing fills my chest. My eyes sting. I put my hand on his stubbled cheek and part my lips under his. He works the zipper on my jacket and pushes it to the floor, then slides his big hands under my bottom to lift me against him. I fold my arms around him as he goes into the bedroom and lowers me to the bed.

  I grab his shirt and yank him down to me.

  “Hurry,” I gasp.

  A burn flares in his eyes. He levers himself over me, planting his hands on either side of my head before descending for another kiss. I arch upward to meet him and wrap my legs around his hips.

  He is the one who once rescued me from bitter isolation. I need him to defeat it again now.

  I pull his lower lip between my teeth, drive my hands into his thick hair. He matches my swift urgency without hesitation, tugging off my shirt and bra, then pulling my sweatpants and panties off and dropping them to the floor.

  He’s hard already. I can feel his cock pressing against me beneath his jeans. A tremble quakes through me, centering in the throb of my heart. Dean’s breath skims over my neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow of my throat as he slides a hand up my inner thigh and into my cleft.

  “Open,” he whispers, brushing his mouth across mine.

  I part my legs to give him access and fist my hands in his shirt. He strokes a path over my folds, his adept touch wrenching a gasp from my throat. I twist underneath him, tears blurring my vision, heat surging across my skin. When his forefinger slides into my body, I push upward and grasp his wrist to keep him inside me.

  He’s saying something, a steady stream of murmurs in my ear, but I can’t make out his words past the sound of my heartbeat. He circles his thumb around my clit, pressing against a spot he knows is especially sensitive.

  My nerves stretch hard, a rubber band close to snapping. I fumble for the button-fly of his jeans. My hands shake.

  “Dean.”

  “Easy, beauty…” He presses his mouth to the tears that have slipped from the corners of my eyes and down my temples. His breath rasps against my ear. “Come first, and then I’ll fuck you.”

  A wave of heat pours over me. I turn toward him, and our mouths collide hot and wet. Our arrested lust and the strain of the previous night suddenly explode into crazed need. He splays his fingers over my clit and with one stroke, I come hard, bucking up against him and crying out his name.

  When the sensations ebb, he moves away just long enough to take off his clothes before descending over me, his body hard and straining with urgency. Gasping, I wind my arms around him, crushing my breasts against his chest, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

  His cock throbs against my thigh, and I writhe around to try and nudge him into the right position, aching to feel him immersed deep inside me.

  “Wait.” He pulls back to grab a condom from the bedside table. Then he slides his hand down my side and kneels between my legs. His eyes smolder as he strokes his gaze over my damp, naked body, lingering on the swells of my breasts and taut nipples. “You’re so damn sexy, Liv.”

  Renewed arousal flares in my blood at the desire-thick tone of his voice, the heat in his expression. Dean presses his hands to my knees to urge them farther apart, running his finger over my folds. He rolls the condom on before putting the swollen head of his erection against me, then grabs my hips and pulls me onto his shaft.

  “Oh, God, Dean…” It’s a delicious shock, the sudden pulse of his long, hard length filling me. I tighten around him the instant he starts to thrust, and then everything disappears in the face of his heavy, repeated plunges, his eyes still raking my body, his hands gripping the undersides of my thighs.

  I want it to last forever. I want him slamming into me hard and fast, want my body rolling under the force of our fucking. I splay a hand over my breasts and push upward to match his movements.

  Tension spools inside me, a thread pulled too tight, and then convulsions tremble through me from head to toe all over again. My inner muscles clench around his cock. Dean braces his hands on the bed, sweat trickling down his jaw.

  “Liv.” His voice is strained, taut.

  “Wait. I want to…”

  Gasping, still shuddering, I push upward as his thickness slides out of me and he shoves to his feet. I close my fingers around his shaft and roll the condom off, then wiggle to the edge of the bed and open my mouth.

  “Ah, fuck…” With a groan, he grasps the sides of my head and nudges his cock past my lips.

  My chest heaves. I lean forward, closing my eyes and putting my hands on his hips. He’s big, and I have to remind myself to breathe slowly as I take him in. The salty taste of him fills me. His grip on my head tightens as I press my tongue to the vein throbbing on the underside of his shaft.

  For a moment, he stills. Above me, his breath saws through the air and restraint cords his muscles. He fists his fingers in my hair. I slide my hands to grip his buttocks and encourage him to move. Then he does, gently at first, then faster.

  Even in the heat of lust, he’s careful not to thrust too deep. I draw back to lick the hard knob and slacken my jaw, my mind filling with images of how we must look, sweaty and disheveled with him fucking my open mouth.

  When he presses the sides of my head in warning, I pull back at the same time he does. I dart a quick glance at him, my blood swimming with heat at the sight of his raw, lust-filled expression and burning eyes.

  I grasp his shaft again, sleek, pulsing, and begin to stroke. The air vibrates with his groan as he creams over my breasts, warm liquid dripping down my cleavage and tight nipples.

  “God, Dean, that’s so hot…” I shudder, pressing my thighs together as the sight elicits a surge of excitement.

  I fall back onto the bed and cup my breasts, smoothing my hands over them until my skin is glossy with his release. Dean sinks onto the bed beside me and reaches out to rub my abdomen. Our bodies ease into relaxation, our breath gradually slowing.

  I roll to my side, loving the scent of him o
n my skin, the delicious soreness between my legs—evidence of his complete possession.

  He pulls me closer. I slide against him, my bare leg falling between his as I press my face into his shoulder and run my hand over his damp chest.

  “Don’t leave, beauty.” His voice is a rough whisper.

  “Never.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  August 16

  “Okay, so that’s pretty much it.” Allie chews on a pen and slams the cash register drawer closed. “I get shipments about once a week, but they vary in size. Invoices go in that basket over there. I run a weekly ad for a fifteen-percent discount on one item, so if someone comes in with one, give me a holler and I’ll show you how to run it through. Any questions?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m not going to extend my weekend hours just yet because I’ve got a… thing this Saturday.”

  “A handsome thing?” I ask.

  Her face gets pink, but she returns my smile. “Brent. He’s an assistant manager over at the Sugarloaf Hotel. He’s very cute.”

  “Nice. Where’s he taking you?”

  “We’re going on that dinner boat out on the lake. Ever been?”

  “No, but I heard it’s great, especially at sunset.”

  “It’s my first date with Brent, but if things work out maybe we could double sometime,” Allie suggests. “It would be fun.” She glances at my left hand, where I wear a platinum wedding ring. “I mean, if you’re…”

  “I’m married,” I say, “but my husband occasionally likes to have fun.”

  “Occasionally, huh?” Dean’s deep voice rumbles across the bookstore.

  Allie and I both look up to see him strolling toward us, carrying a paper tray with two covered cups from a coffee joint.

  He’s in full-professor mode, wearing a gray suit that perfectly sheathes his muscular body. His hair is brushed away from his forehead, framing his strong, clean-shaven features, and his brown eyes are creased with amusement.

  I can feel the awe radiating from Allie as he approaches, and frankly I get a little tingly myself. The man not only looks gorgeous, he has a commanding presence that exudes both authority and sex appeal.