by Zoe York
“What do you think you're doing?”
“I'm gonna prove I'm not mocking you.”
Her hair swirled over her shoulders as she glanced at their surroundings. “Here?”
“I think it's romantic.”
She snorted. “Now I know you're mocking me. You said we were too old for fooling around in the back of your pick-up.”
“I changed my mind.” The nightgown bunched at her hips. He ran his hands over her soft bottom, urging her closer. “Besides, we have a blanket, and we're parked down by the lake.”
“Is this why you brought me out here?”
He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat. “I want to see you, and I want you to know that I see you.”
She rocked back to sit on her heels. “Are you busy next Saturday night?”
“You asking me out on a date?”
“Sort of.”
“I might be free. What did you have in mind?”
“Run away with me for a few days?”
“I’ll go anywhere with you,” he answered, his voice soft and husky.
She smiled, crossed her arms over her chest, and pulled the nightgown over her head in one swift move, tossing the wad of cotton at him. “How do you feel about tuxedos?”
He snatched the gown from his face and leered at her. “I like you best in your birthday suit.”
“I meant for you.”
“Wow. A fancy date, huh?”
She nodded and his grin faded into a tender smile when the sun glinted off her hair, highlighting the well-camouflaged threads of silver mixed with the gold. Bram reached up to touch her cheek. She leaned into his caress. His fingers combed the ends of her hair, smoothing it over the rise of her breast.
“You'll be my Sundance?” he whispered.
Her lips curled into a sly smile. She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Can I call you Butch?”
“No.”
He cupped her breasts and stared up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. She spread his shirt open wide and slid one finger into his belt buckle. He rose up to meet her, pressing her to his chest.
Her clever fingers managed to pop the button on his jeans. She smiled and pushed him onto his back once more. “I've never done it in the back of a boy's pick-up truck before,” she purred, opening his fly.
He beamed up at her and drawled, “Well, sugar, everyone should try it once. Let me show you how we do things 'round here.”
Chapter 28
Bram grabbed the sissy handle above the door and hung on for dear life. He wasn't accustomed to popping out of toll booths doing zero to sixty in seconds. Lynne smiled and pressed the button on her earpiece, dropping a wink as she slipped through three lanes of traffic without batting an eye.
“Hello? Oh, hey, Mel. Yeah, we just landed. We're on our way to the house now.”
He stared at the billboards and buildings whizzing past his window.
“No, we're good. I'll call them as soon as I get home. See you at about five,” she promised, shooting a glance in his direction.
He sensed her stare but couldn't pry his eyes from the pavement. “Eyes on the road,” he growled.
“See you soon. Bye.” She pressed the button to disconnect the call and smiled. “Am I scaring you?”
“Yeah, and I think you're doing it on purpose.”
“Aw, now, it's not that bad.” She gave his knee a playful pat. “Next exit is ours. We'll be on surface streets from there.”
The so-called surface streets didn't make him feel any better. Six lanes wide, the damn thing was a field of concrete. Acre after acre of mini-malls, quick lube shops, restaurants, and funeral parlors lined their path. He closed his eyes and tried to envision rows of corn planted in their place.
After an eternity, she turned into a residential area, but the large, stately homes guarded by high hedges and wrought-iron fencing made him every bit as uncomfortable. Lynne steered through a discreetly marked gate, pointing the hood of the rental car at the three-car garage attached to a pristine brick colonial.
“Is this it?” he blurted.
“This is it,” she confirmed, pulling to a stop near the front door. She yanked the key from the ignition and patted his knee. “You could have driven.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, I don't think I could have.”
She laughed and reached for the door handle. “Chicken.”
“Damn right.”
She popped the trunk. Pulling a nylon and mesh duffel from the back seat, she marched toward the door. “Let me get the door unlocked, and I'll help with the bags.”
“I can get the bags,” he muttered, staring into the open trunk. He slung two garment bags over his arm, shouldered the strap of another duffel, and heaved her rolling suitcase to the ground.
Lynne stood at the top of the steps grinning down at him. “There's nothing sexier than a man hell-bent on proving his masculinity.”
He huffed, hauling her brick-laden suitcase up the steps. “I'll prove it to you. Say the word, darlin'.”
Her joyful laugh lightened his load. He dumped the suitcase and duffel in the foyer. She pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips as she relieved him of the garment bags. “Later, lover-boy,” she whispered. “I've got a caterer to corral.”
She hung their clothes side-by-side in a coat closet as big as the one in his bedroom at home. She opened a door off the hall and ducked into a powder room with the duffle. “Give me a sec, then I’ll give you the tour.”
Bram scanned the framed photos of Justin lining the wall as he waited. He’d yet to meet her son, and frankly, after the hard time Willie had given Lynne, wasn’t looking forward to it. Still, a man had to do—
The door opened and Lynne reappeared wearing that wide smile he loved so much. “Follow me.” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and led him down a hall, stepping into an open kitchen with glass-front cabinets and marble counter tops.
“Whoa.”
Lynne beamed. “You like it?” He scraped his jaw off the floor and managed a nod. “This is my favorite room.” She opened an enormous stainless steel refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. “Melanie came by and cleaned out the fridge. Bless her heart.”
He smirked when she held out both bottles, waiting patiently for him to twist off the caps. He claimed a bottle as his reward and toasted her. “You'd better lose the drawl before we meet up with your fancy friends tonight.”
“I like the drawl. I think it's sexy.”
She lifted the bottle to her lips, her gaze locked on him as she took a deep swallow of icy-cold beer. He grinned when she smacked her lips, and her smile kicked up a notch when he followed suit.
He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. “I think you're sexy.”
A gleam of pure feminine pleasure lit her midnight eyes. “Wait till you see me in my dress.”
“Ten bucks says I like you better out of it.”
She laughed and gave him a playful shove. “I've got work to do. Entertain yourself for a few minutes.”
He rolled his eyes and let her go, a proud smile lifting the corners of his mouth when she dropped onto a stool and got down to business. While Lynne and the caterer hashed out some sort of caper catastrophe, he wandered to the sliding doors. A terraced patio edged by perfectly pruned boxwoods led to a pool deck dominated by a green canvas cover.
Bram turned from the view, his curious gaze taking in the room. The walls were painted the muted yellow of winter sunshine. An assortment of copper pots, ceramic bowls, and colorful vases lined the tops of the cabinets. The refrigerator was littered with fliers and reminders trapped under magnets shaped like fruits and vegetables. A Snoopy cookie jar stood sentry near the stove. At the center of the island cook-top, an earthenware pot held wooden spoons, spatulas, and other cooking utensils.
He spared the ruthlessly landscaped backyard another glance, and his brow puckered. She gave him a distracted smile and rummaged through a drawer, extracting a bedraggled notepad
then scrambling for a pen. A triumphant grin lit her face when she found a stubby pencil and began to scribble on the pad, humming acknowledgments into the phone.
Wandering down the hall, he tested the knob on one of the closed doors and was greeted by an angry thump. He poked his head into the opulently decorated powder room.
“It’s me,” he mumbled, squatting in the doorway. “How're you doin', huh? Still freaked out?” He held out a hand, and the bunny bumped his knuckles with his nose. “Yeah, me too.”
Lynne insisted on naming the rabbit Butch. She also insisted he couldn't be left behind in Arkansas. He set his beer on the lip of the pedestal sink and slid onto his butt, stretching his legs. Butch hopped into his lap and shot him a sidelong glare.
“Don't look at me. I woulda left you there.”
“That's why he's glaring at you.”
Both man and rabbit jumped. Butch leaped from his lap, seeking refuge in the nylon pet carrier nestled in the corner.
Lynne ran her fingers through Bram's hair, letting them trail over his ear. “Did you get lonely?”
“I wanted to get a look at your garage.”
She blinked, a sly smile playing at her lips. “You know, somehow you make that sound mildly dirty.”
“Must be the accent.”
“Why do you want to look at my garage?”
He shrugged. “Guy thing.”
She offered him a hand. “It's behind door number two.”
By the time he stood and retrieved his beer, Butch reemerged, fixing them with an accusing glare. Lynne smiled and bent to stroke his twitching nose. “Sorry, bun. I have to steal Daddy for a few minutes, but we'll be back.”
“I'm not his daddy, and it's not me he's worried about.”
She snickered and pulled him from the room. “Try to tell me you don't love our baby bunny,” she challenged. “I catch you sneaking him carrots all the time.”
“You taught him to beg.”
“He looks so cute standing on his hind legs.”
He rolled his eyes. “I bet you say that about all the guys.”
She laughed and led him by the hand through a well-ordered laundry room. “Particularly you.” She opened a door and gestured to the cavernous garage with a flourish. “Ta da! Garage.”
Bram shuffled past her, groping the wall in search of a light switch. He flipped one, and a vent fan rumbled to life.
“Other switch.”
“I figured that out,” he grumbled as a series of florescent lights illuminated overhead.
Shelves lined the perimeter, mostly empty except for a few plastic storage containers. The sealed concrete floor was coated with a layer of dust but otherwise unmarred. He stepped into the garage and turned in a slow circle.
“You don't use it?”
“Only when the weather's really bad.”
“Why not?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I like to hop in the car and go.”
“Yeah, I heard that about you.”
Lynne laughed and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Funny guy.” She reached for the light switch. “Meet with your approval?”
He nodded as he turned another slow circle. “I could work here.”
A puzzled frown bisected her beautiful blue eyes. “Work here?”
“It's big enough, even if we both park in here. I'd put up some sheeting plastic or a tarp to cut down on the sawdust.”
“Here?”
He squinted at the duct work. “Is it heated?”
“You want to move here?”
He wet his parched lips. “I could, if you want me to,” he said quietly. “I mean, how hard could it be to live in a big fancy house? You've even got one of them ce-ment ponds in the back. You could cook me pot roast in your fancy kitchen—”
“You don't want to move here.”
He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and peering at her from under his lashes. “I wanna be wherever you're going to be.”
“So you'd do that? You'd pack up and move from the foothills of the Ozarks to the concrete canyons?”
“If you want me.”
Her smile came slow but sure. “I should take you up on that, just to make you pay for making hollow promises.”
“I promise you I mean it.”
“I'd never ask you to move here.” She blinked at the buzzing florescent lights. “The house is too big. It's drafty too. The pool is a money pit. I think I dipped my toes in two times last summer. But I do love my kitchen, and the bathtub in the master suite is pretty nice. Not as nice and deep as the clawfoot.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes bright and shining when they met his gaze. “I love you for wanting to check out my garage, though. Thank you.”
Bram wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from the step and smiling as she slid down his chest. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing the silken skin of her cheek. “Just so you know, you can run, but I'm coming after you.”
She whispered, “Duly noted.”
“I'm serious. I'll go anywhere you want. Don't try to take off without me. I'll chase you down, even if it kills me. I'm not as young as I used to be.”
“Older, wiser...certainly no spring chicken.”
He planted a sound kiss on her lips then nudged her toward the step. “Now show me this tub of yours. I'm gonna need to relax a little before you truss me up like a prize hog.”
She pulled him into the house, her eyes dancing with delight. “Do the pig call thingy.”
“Hog call,” he corrected. “And no.”
“Come on.”
Bram shook his head stubbornly but allowed her to pull him toward the staircase. “Nope. I agreed to wear a monkey suit, but I'm not performing.”
She raised an eyebrow as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder then hefted her suitcase with a grunt. “Not performing at all?”
He smiled. “Well, maybe a little, but I have better ways of keeping you entertained than shouting 'Woo Pig, Sooie!'”
Lynne grinned, pressed a kiss to his lips, and dashed up the steps. “Come on, country boy. Let me show you how we do things 'round here.”
Thank you so much for reading Home In Heartsfield. As a Chicago woman who married a guy from Arkansas, this story is very special to me, and I hope you enjoyed it!
If you haven’t read them, don’t miss the city slicker side of the Windy City Women series - Contentment and Commitment.
Part IX
Burn For Me
by J. H. Croix
About This Book
One alpha man.
One bossy woman.
A fire that won’t die.
Once upon a time, Amelia was my everything. Until I lost her. Now I have a second chance, and I want her back.
* * *
She’s never forgiven me for something I didn’t even do. I’ve never forgiven her for believing the worst.
* * *
One look and the years apart go up in smoke. She’s all I ever wanted. A snappy attitude and the nerve to bring me to my knees.
* * *
We have seven years of bitterness tangled up between us. Yet, I can’t stay away.
* * *
The fire burns too hot. She’ll be mine. For keeps this time.
To second chances in life & love!
Amelia
I shoved through the door into the bar, coming to a quick stop as my eyes adjusted to the light. I brushed a wet lock of hair off of my cheek and threaded through the tables to the bar at the back. Once I slipped onto a stool, the bartender spun to face me. He was a jolly looking man with round blue eyes.
“I’m Tank. You look like you could use a drink,” he announced, his wide smile softening his observation.
“A beer will do,” I replied.
“House draft okay?” he asked.
At my nod, he spun around. Within seconds, he’d handed me my beer and silently offered a clean towel. Though it was tiny, seeing as it was a bar towel, I quickly scrubb
ed it over my dripping wet hair and face before handing it back to him. I settled in to try to forget my shitty day.
A bit later, I drained my beer and glanced around the bar, savoring the anonymity of being in a crowded bar in Anchorage, Alaska where no one knew me. I was tucked in the corner by the wall, pleased to have a nice view of the crowd and yet go unnoticed by just about everyone there. Tank caught my eyes again, a question held in them. I nodded and held my empty pint glass aloft. He nodded in return while he mixed a drink for someone and pulled another pint for me with his free hand. The extent of my conversation with anyone this evening had been limited to Tank’s earlier introduction.
If he thought anything awry with the fact I was wearing a wedding dress splashed with mud, he didn’t show it. Neither did anyone around me. Anchorage was just large enough of a city people left you alone if you appeared to want to be left as such. That said, people were friendly too. Alaska, despite its sprawling geography, kept its residents close, all bound by the knowledge they lived on the edge of the wild and had the strength and guts for such a life.
I took a drag on what was my third beer and wondered if perhaps I should slow down. I was definitely tipsy and on my way to drunk. I fingered the cream silk of my wedding dress. Or maybe I needed to consider it my not-wedding dress. I’d been all dressed and ready to go when I’d failed in my battle against the knot of tension balled like a vise around my heart. I swallowed against the rush of emotion that rose inside as my eyes traveled down the fitted bodice of my dress and bounced to the muddy splotches all over its swirling skirt. Oh yeah. I hadn’t simply ditched my groom-to-be just before we got to the altar, I’d bolted in the rain. Another swallow of beer, followed with a slow sigh. What stung the most—all I felt was relief. Not regret, not second thoughts. Just pure relief.