Each time, he was wrong.
He came down and she was kissing him, her tongue gliding sweet against his. Mike took over, soft at first, building it then taking her to the whimper. When he got it, he ended the kiss, slid his lips down her cheek to her neck and worked his mouth there.
This was different than he had with any other woman. Even Audrey, he disengaged quickly. He didn’t mind closeness, cuddling but, whatever it said about him, when he was done, he was done. With every woman he had, every encounter, within moments he pulled out and rolled away. He might eventually roll them into him but he never stayed buried, kissed, savored the feel of the woman’s limbs rounding him, the smell of her perfume in his nostrils, the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her wrapped around his dick.
He did it with Dusty every time. He couldn’t get enough of her, enough of her scent, her feel, their connection.
He felt her legs wrap tight and her fingers glide over the skin of his back, light, sweet, her other hand sliding into his hair and playing. It sent prickles across his scalp, down his neck but not the bad kind.
He was about to lift his head when her body bucked in a strange way and she made a noise low in her throat like she was in pain.
His head jerked up and he looked down at her to see her warm brown eyes filled with tears. Filled so full, they spilled over, gliding down her temples into her hair.
“Sweetheart, what the fuck?” he whispered and when he did, she lifted her head, shoved it in his neck, her arms and legs getting tight and she began to sob. As in sob, body wrenching, breath hitching, moans tearing up her throat.
Jesus.
He pulled out. It took effort and not a small amount of time since it seemed with her actions Dusty wanted to burrow into him, for him to absorb her into his skin but he got his jeans adjusted and his shirt off. Then he forced her arms in the sleeves and got two buttons done at her breasts before she plastered herself against him, face buried in his neck, ass in his lap, arms around him in a death grip.
He slid the fingers of one hand up and down her spine soothingly, the fingers of other gliding through her hair as he twisted his neck and whispered in her ear, “Angel, get a handle on it long enough to talk to me. Tell me, what’s wrong?”
“Da…Da…Darrin,” she sobbed into his neck and her body reared with another hitched breath. “He’d be so…so…ha…happy!”
That was not what he expected her to say. Then again, he had no fucking clue what she was going to say.
Mike’s hands stopped moving so he could circle his arms around her and he whispered, “Dusty.”
“He…he…wanted us together sah…sah…so bad,” she continued blubbering. “And he did…did…didn’t live to see it. In…in fact, him dying is why it happened.”
Jesus.
Mike’s arms got tighter and he kept whispering in her ear when he said, “Honey.”
She jerked back, looked down at him, her face red, her eyes wet, the trails of tears still tracking over her cheeks. “I know I’m weird!” she cried. “Talking about my brah…brah…brother after sex but he would, Mike. He would be happy.” She pulled an arm from around him and dashed a hand across her cheek so clumsily he feared she’d do herself harm but luckily she stopped, took a long shuddering breath and kept talking. “Not the sex part because he was kind of conservative but the you and me part.”
“He wanted us together?” Mike asked and she nodded fervently. “Why?”
“He read my diaries, Mike!” she exclaimed then collapsed against him again. “And he knew you were a good guy.”
Well, that would definitely explain it, at least the diaries.
She’d ratcheted it down to sniffling so Mike moved his hands on her soothingly again, giving her some time before he murmured, “My girl, takin’ everything on, she hasn’t had time to deal with her own shit.”
“No,” Dusty mumbled then sniffed.
“You need to give yourself time to grieve, Angel,” Mike advised.
“When?” she replied. “There is no time with my bitchface sister, budding teenage romance, shadowy, nefarious businessmen lurking and Rhonda baffling science by being the first case of a walking, talking, cooking, grocery shopping coma patient.”
He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t. But his body started rocking with laughter anyway.
This went on a while before Dusty muttered, “This isn’t funny.”
He knew she wasn’t pissed because her words held a smile but Mike calmed his laughter and gathered her close before he said gently, “No, darlin’, it isn’t. But you are.”
She snuggled deep and fell silent.
After a few moments, she whispered, “I miss him, Mike. He used to call once a week, sometimes twice. And I…well, I just miss him.”
“Yeah,” Mike whispered back wishing there was more to say, magic words. But there just wasn’t.
She took in a stuttering breath.
Mike held her close and Dusty held him close right back.
After a while, he dipped his chin and asked softly in her ear, “You want me to clean you up and put you to bed?”
She didn’t answer verbally, just nodded, her head moving against his shoulder and neck.
At her answer, Mike lifted her up, straightening from the couch and he walked her to the bathroom. She leaned heavy into him as he ran a warm cloth between her legs.
This was something else Mike had never done with any woman. With Dusty, he didn’t do it every time, not even often, but he did it. And each time he did it, he found it profound. This was because the woman he held was a woman who could take care of herself but when she was with him, she trusted that to his care. That was a gift but with this act, so intimate, it was more. It was treasure, precious and it never failed to move him.
When he was done, he carried her to her bed. He took off his jeans. He left her in his shirt.
The minute he joined her in bed, he pulled her close even as she burrowed deep.
In the dark, staring at the ceiling, tangled up in Dusty, Mike asked, “You wanna talk?”
She shook her head against his chest.
“I think the beer, tequila, mechanical bull, witnessing an alpha badass in action times two, hot sex and a crying jag took it all out of me,” she replied and Mike grinned.
“That shit happens.”
Her voice held a smile when she muttered, “Yeah.”
“Rain check,” he whispered, “Call it anytime.”
He figured she’d eventually accept his offer but right then she just sighed.
“Sleep, Angel,” he ordered gently.
She sighed again.
Then she whispered, “Yeah.”
He fell silent.
She did too until, “Mike?”
“Right here, sweetheart.”
“Love you, babe.”
Mike’s chest got warm and his arm around his woman got tight.
Then he whispered, “Love you too.”
She pressed closer and within minutes fell asleep.
Seconds after that, Mike followed her.
* * * * *
It was Monday morning. The bags were packed. The boxes taped. The agent had been through the house to add it to her rental listings. There was a shitload more work to do but Dusty’s manager was going to see to any of it that had to do with the pottery, Jerra any of it that had to do with Dusty’s personal shit and Javier anything that had to do with the horses or the land.
Good employees, good friends. They had her back.
They’d had breakfast with Rivera, Jerra and their two loud, crazy kids who definitely took after Mom and Dad and were supposed to be in school but were out to say good-bye to Auntie Dusty. Now the kids were chasing each other on the sidewalk, Jerra and Dusty were hanging on each other, quietly talking and barely holding back tears.
Mike and Rivera were five feet away, giving them time.
Mike put his hand out to Rivera and muttered, “Glad we had this opportunity.”
River
a took his hand, gripped it and locked shades with Mike, muttering back, “Yeah.”
They dropped hands and looked at the women.
“Jesus, shoulda brought my scalpel,” Rivera mumbled and Mike grinned.
Then he looked at his watch and he said, “We gotta get on the road.”
“Right, I’ll take Jerra, you take Dusty. Plan?”
Mike looked at Rivera and nodded.
Mike started to move to the women but stopped when Rivera called, “Mike?”
He tipped up his chin.
“Take good care of her,” Rivera whispered.
Good friends.
They had her back.
Mike again locked shades with him.
The he replied, “Absolutely.”
Chapter Sixteen
Unleashed Hell
Fin pulled his books out of his locker and shoved them in his bag. Reesee was standing next to him, shoulders to the lockers beside his, eyes scanning the emptying halls.
It was after school and Fin was taking Reesee home.
This was because, since she and Mr. Haines came back from Texas a week and a half ago, his Aunt Dusty had totally stepped up.
And today was the most recent example of that. No was off with one of his classes on some field trip where he wouldn’t get back until five and Mr. Haines was in Indianapolis doing some cop shit. Since Clarisse’s mother was pretty much checked out like his Ma, but in a different way, when he had to go to Indy, Mr. Haines called Aunt Dusty to ask her to go to the school and pick up Rees. When his Aunt Dusty called Fin that afternoon, she told him that she’d explained to Mr. Haines that Fin was already at the school, he had a ride and Reesee was coming to the farm anyway after school to study so why didn’t he just bring her home? She told Fin she also explained to Mr. Haines that Kirb would be in the truck with them.
Fin figured Mr. Haines probably didn’t like it but he agreed. Fin also figured he agreed mostly because Kirb was going to be there.
But for Fin it would be the first time he had his girl in his truck.
And he was looking forward to it.
Since getting back from Texas, Aunt Dusty had been pulling this kind of shit all the time.
Like, right after she got back, a couple of days later, it was after dinner. Reesee was over and they were sitting on the couch. His grandparents were out with some cronies, his Ma was up in her fucking room (as usual) and Aunt Dusty and Kirb were upstairs doing whatever they did up there. Then Aunt Dusty came down.
She came to the pocket doors and, with a wicked cool grin, said, “I’m just gonna close these. Kirb and me are gonna do Wii. We might get loud,” she tipped her head to the TV, “don’t wanna disturb your program.”
Then she winked and closed the doors.
Fin had found his times to kiss his girl but that was the first time they made out. On the couch. In his living room. With his brother and aunt upstairs shouting and laughing over whatever they were playing on Wii.
It was awesome.
Fin thought it was totally cool Reesee had never been kissed or touched by anyone but him. He also found he had all the patience in the world to teach her how to do it and what he liked. He didn’t take advantage, feel her up or anything. His girl was too good for that shit. He’d wait. Introduce her slow-like. But he liked it that she got a little stiff at first and, if he was gentle and took his time, she lost that then she got all cuddly and sweet.
He liked it a lot.
Aunt Dusty had also “talked” Fin into giving Reesee and No their horseback riding lesson this past weekend.
This, with Aunt Dusty’s go ahead, Fin ended with him on the back of Blaise, Reesee in front of him and he took her out on the land, showing her his favorite places. No had gone home so it was just them. He’d also taken her to a stand of trees by the creek, pulled her off Blaise, walked her around then pushed her up against a tree trunk and took his time teaching her about kissing some more.
She was getting used to it. He could tell because she didn’t hardly get stiff at all anymore. Now she got into it real quick.
Real quick.
His Aunt Dusty was totally the shit.
Reesee was better.
His girl was coming out. She didn’t have any trouble at all talking to him anymore. Still, she wasn’t a jabber-mouth. She listened more than she talked and she only talked when she had something interesting to say. And she always talked soft.
Fin liked that too.
What he didn’t like was what she told him last week after she sat down with her Dad, Mom and Mrs. Layne. He was surprised, as was Rees, that Reesee’s Mom showed. He wasn’t surprised that Rees had a talent that made her better than any kid in that school, made her better than that ‘Burg. He already knew that though he wasn’t expecting it to be her writing.
What he didn’t like about this was they were talking about her going to another school. Fin had another year there and he didn’t want Reesee to be at some other school his senior year. That would totally suck.
But she had to do it. He’d heard his Gram and Gramps saying more than once that they wished they’d had the money to send Aunt Dusty to a special school for the arts and it was just the Lord’s work and Aunt Dusty’s drive that led her to a life of doing what she loved to do. If Reesee had that opportunity and the talent, and Mrs. Layne was totally cool, she would not lie about that, she should take it.
And nothing should hold her back.
Fin slammed his locker and looked down at his girl.
“Ready?” he asked.
Her eyes moved over his face and he knew she was thinking. Then again, she always was. His Reesee was never blank, always had something on her mind. She might talk soft and not very much but whatever she said was interesting. And if she didn’t share, Fin always wanted to know what was going on in her head.
She didn’t share this time, just nodded and pushed away from her locker. Then she moved into him and he claimed her.
It took him a while to get her to this point too. He could tell she was shy about holding hands but once her hand started to find his rather than the other way around, Fin moved it on. He did this by sliding his arm around her shoulders. The first time he did it he knew she didn’t know what to do with herself so he actually had to grab her wrist and tug it around his waist.
But she got used to that too. Like now, the minute he slid his arm around her shoulders, making sure to let his fingers glide through her soft hair, she slid her arm around his waist and hooked her thumb in his side belt loop.
Like always when he had his girl in the curve of his arm, Fin thought she was the perfect height and that he really liked her perfume.
Fin started walking her to the parking lot but he did it grinning.
Kirb would be waiting by the truck and then be in it with them but still, this was an added freedom, a step up and he hoped, eventually, Mr. Haines would trust Fin alone with their girl.
As they walked, Fin asked in a mutter, “What’s on your mind?”
“What’s on yours.”
He looked down at her. “Hunh?”
She looked up at him and her mouth quirked in a little smile. She did that every once in a while and Fin thought it was seriously fucking cute.
“What’s on my mind is what’s on yours,” she explained. “When you were gettin’ your books, your thoughts looked heavy.”
It was weird and sometimes it freaked him out but she seemed to be able to read him. At his age he had no clue this was part of her talent, her innate understanding of human behavior and sensing of moods both of which made her a good writer. And he also had no idea this was part of her, why it made her feel so deep, be so sensitive to others and care so much about the ones she loved.
Her arm gave him a squeeze and she asked real gentle, “Are you thinkin’ about your Dad?”
No, for once he wasn’t thinking about his Dad, his Ma, his bitch of an Aunt Debbie or worried that the adults in his life wouldn’t be able to win the fight his aunt w
as waging.
Instead, he was thinking about losing Reesee to another school.
He didn’t want to lie so he looked forward and muttered, “It’s no big deal.”
“Heavy is always big in one way or another, Fin,” she whispered.
He heard it but didn’t respond. This was because Brandon Wannamaker, Jeff Schultz and Troy Piggott were headed their way and Brandon had eyes on Fin.
Fin’s body got tight.
Brandon was a senior. He was also an asshole. Rumor around school was his Dad was a serious, major dick. Still, even if things were shit at home, it didn’t mean you should bring that shit to school. Fin knew that now more than ever.
Jeff and Troy were both juniors and they were Brandon’s lackeys. They’d do anything for him. Why they thought Brandon’s shit didn’t stink, Fin had no clue since Brandon was skinny, ugly, had a stupid non-haircut where his blond hair was all long and stringy, he had acne and he was, as Fin noted, an asshole. Fin didn’t get that either. What he did get was that they got off on it. Whatever was in them that drew them to Brandon, it wasn’t good.
Brandon and Fin had tussled verbally more than once. This was because, last year when Brandon was a junior and Fin was a sophomore, they had lunch together and Brandon’s favorite time to spread his asshole cheer was at lunch. Fin let him be if he was giving shit to a kid who was a boy. He didn’t like it but he was a guy and he probably wouldn’t want some older kid making him look even more of a loser by stepping up for him.
But one day when Brandon decided to pick on a fat girl, Fin stepped in. That was totally not cool. Sure, she was fat and probably should do something about it but she didn’t need some douchebag making her obviously miserable life more of a misery.
Brandon didn’t like this. Then again, Brandon didn’t have much of a say. Troy and Jeff didn’t have the same lunch break so his crew was not there to take his back. And even last year, before Fin grew the extra two inches that took him up to six foot, he was taller and bulkier than Brandon. So Brandon saved face by making a lot of threats and slunk off.
Fin stepped in five more times last year. Luckily this year, both semesters, he didn’t have any of them in his lunch.
Games of the Heart Page 39