by Mara Jacobs
She wondered for a moment if she could just pretend she hadn’t seen the boy, but decided to get the inevitable over with. For Pete’s sake, she was acting like an idiot. She could walk into a boardroom full of strangers and have them all liking her in minutes, she could certainly handle a teenage boy.
The boy’s eyes, still roaming her body, came to rest. She wasn’t sure if it was on the items she clutched, or on her breasts. She lowered her arms holding the wine bottle and the package of cookies to her sides and the kid’s eyes stayed locked where they were. Definitely not on the items she’d brought. Cheeky little thing. The idea that Finn had probably been exactly the same way at that age made her smile.
She walked toward the field and the kid, setting the wine, cookies and her purse on the veranda as she passed the house. The smile was still on her face as she got to the boy. Oh yeah, she thought, as she noticed his startling blue eyes still staring at her breasts as she neared, he’s gonna be just like his dad.
Knowing this, and knowing nothing about kids, she handled him as she would his father. “Hey. I’m Lizzie,” she said for greeting, raising her chin in salutation.
He raised his chin to her for response. “Stevie.”
The boy’s glance returned to her Navigator then back to Lizzie. She could see the pieces falling into place for him that she was the one his dad had been with when he got out of that vehicle on the bridge. That was something to talk about.
“You get it pretty bad the other night?”
The boy seemed startled by her comment. She probably sounded just like one of his buddies asking the same thing. “Oh yeah, grounded for a week,” he told her, with almost a tinge of pride attached.
“A week, sheesh, that’s tough.”
“It wasn’t that tough, it’s already over, eh?”
That’s right, that had been nearly ten days ago. Finn hadn’t wanted to see her for ten days. She was extra glad now that she wore what she did, it felt a little more substantial, more armor-like than her previous choice. Still, he had invited her here, that had to mean something, didn’t it?
A car pulling into the driveway drew both of their attention. Seeing who it was, Stevie walked past her, wiping his dirty hands down the sides of his beat up jeans. “That’s my friend and his dad, they’re picking me up.” He was already beyond her, out of the field and headed to the veranda where Lizzie now noticed a duffel bag and a rolled up sleeping bag.
Stevie picked them both up and headed for the car as the driver waved out the window to Lizzie, obviously mistaking her for someone who was in some way involved with Stevie. “I’ll drop him off tomorrow on our way to church, around ten, okay?” She waved in return and that seemed to satisfy the father in the car.
Stevie was nearly at the car when Lizzie called out, “Hey Stevie.” The boy turned to her. “Your dad around?”
He nodded his head toward the dilapidated barn. “He’s in there.”
“Okay, thanks. It was nice meeting you.”
“It was nice to meet you.” His hand was on the car door now, and he stopped and faced her again. “Has Annie met you yet?”
“Who’s Annie?”
A chilling, almost devil-like smile crept up his face, “Oh man, she’s gonna have a cow when she finds out about you.” He shoved his stuff in the car in front of him then climbed in. With one last wave, and Stevie still wearing that eerie grin, the car drove away.
The lights were on as she entered the barn so it was easy to locate Finn. He was halfway down the length of the building. He stood at the gate of one of the horse stalls, his strong thigh raised, his work boot hitched over a low board on the gate entrance. He leaned slightly, his forearms resting on the top of the gate, one wrist on top of the other. The lean muscles of his back were tight against his dusty tee shirt that in another life had been a pristine white. His head was bowed slightly and his eyes were glued to the empty stall, not really seeing it.
He looked...defeated. Like a boxer on the ropes, not wanting to be beaten any longer. Her heart started to go out to him but she quickly slammed on the brakes. Not on Finn. Don’t give your newfound emotions to Finn. That wasn’t part of the plan.
She may be able to put her heart on hold, but she did nothing to stop the physical yearnings that slammed into her as she watched Finn shift his weight and put his other foot on the wooden railing. The movement made his jeans, which were second-skin worn, pull tight across his backside. She involuntarily was licking her lips as he noticed her and turned to look at her.
Her gesture didn’t escape him. “Like what you see?”
His arrogance was nothing new to her; in fact, it was one of the things she’d liked about him. Arrogance in a life mate would not be desirable, but a cocky guy was just the one you wanted when looking for a purely down-and-dirty, no-holds-barred, make-sure-you-have-a-safe-word, sex partner.
“I do. Hay always makes me hot,” she delivered her line in her best “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” breathy, sexpot voice.
He chuckled and the thought of making him laugh, when only moments ago he had seemed so low, made her smile. The idea that maybe their little interlude would bring him some comfort, or even just a few laughs (though hopefully not when she was naked), made her feel better about the whole thing.
“I thought I was always what made you hot.” He started to walk toward her, covering the distance of half the barn in only a few, lengthy strides.
“That’s what I let you believe, to salvage your fragile ego, but it was always the hay, Finn... always the hay.”
He was now only a step away from her, and just when she was about to put her arms out for the coming embrace, he stopped. “Well, I guess there’s one good thing about being a hayseed, you get all the best women. Did I tell you how sexy long hair is on you, Liz?”
Lord, how this man could get to her. She could have been a schoolgirl as she twirled the ends of her hair that she had worn pulled back into a low ponytail.
Sure, she had played business games with adults. There, she was on sure footing. But here, playing flirting games…it seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d last done this. It was a lifetime ago. This was a new life. And this was why she was here…to practice.
Her hand rose and followed her hairline from her scalp all the way down. She swung her ponytail over her shoulder to land on her breast; where she began to smooth it down, almost stroke it. She watched as his eyes never left her hands, saw the corners of his mouth turn up in approval. Maybe this flirting stuff is like muscle memory. Even if you think you’ve forgotten it, your body recalls the motions.
“Thanks, it’s relatively new to me.”
“What is?” He was jarred out of his hair-watching reverie.
“My hair. Having long hair. I only started growing it out three years ago. I’d had short hair all my adult life.”
“What made you decide to grow it long?” His gaze now moved to her face.
She hesitated, searched for words. “I just decided it was time to try some things in life that I hadn’t tried yet.”
“A little young to be having a mid-life crisis, aren’t you?”
She chuckled, “Yeah, but growing my hair was so much cheaper than buying a red sports car.” She remembered Stevie. “Oh, by the way, the man who picked up Stevie said he’d drop him off tomorrow at ten.”
His body seemed to tense, but he just nodded acknowledgement of her message. “So, he was still here when you got here? Did you talk to him?”
“Of course I talked to him.” What she really wanted to ask was who’s Annie?
“What did he say to you?”
He mentioned Annie if that’s what you’re afraid of. And what’s worse for you, Finn, it sounds like he’ll mention me to Annie if he gets a chance. “Not much, it wasn’t long before his ride showed up.”
She paused, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a son?”
It looked like he was going to deny that he’d ke
pt Stevie from her, but then he shrugged. He went to the side of the barn where there were piles of empty quart containers and began to stack them. “I don’t know. It just didn’t come up at first, and then...”
She walked over to where he worked and began to stack some of the containers herself. He seemed to be putting them in piles of ten, so she followed suit. When he noticed what she was doing, he took her hands and led her away from the piles. “Don’t Liz, these quarts are all stained up, you’ll get yourself dirty.” His eyes swept her body, but this time it was no sexual perusal, but almost a paternal look. “You look so nice and clean. Don’t get that pretty blouse stained with strawberry. Believe me, it’s hell to get out of clothes.”
She wanted to protest, but was pleased at his thoughtfulness. He returned to the pile and kept stacking while she watched. Enjoyed watching. He was squatting, balancing on his haunches and once again she watched the muscles in his back ripple as he reached for a discarded container.
“The kids I hire to pick in the mornings do this. They show up with lots of energy, but four or five hours bent over in the field gets them pretty tired, so by the time they put away the unused quarts, they pretty much just throw them in this general direction. They’re good kids, though.”
She watched as he quickly put the work area back together. He was putting the stacks on several tables constructed from wooden planks over sawhorses. The tables held empty quarts and several wooden carriers, designed to carry ten quarts at a time. The side of the barn directly across from him, to Lizzie’s right, contained bales of hay piled high, a pitchfork and three wheelbarrows, their paint chipped and peeling. The hay was to put on the bed of the fields during picking time, and to cover the plants after the season. The rest of the barn was empty, including the eight stalls, and once again she wondered what had happened to Finn’s horses. She wasn’t about to ask, though. One uncomfortable subject at a time.
“Back to Stevie.”
“Right. I don’t know.” He finished his work and was at her side once again. He stood with his hands on his hips, his fingers just barely entering the tops of the pockets of his jeans. Wranglers, she noted. He’d always worn Wranglers and she had always hated it. Only real cowboys wore Wranglers. Nobody in the U.P., they all wore tried and true Levi’s.
They sure did fit him well, though. She found herself drawn more to the fit of the jeans across his backside than the label that resided there. That may have been a first for label-conscious Lizzie.
“I’m certainly not hiding Stevie from you, it’s just that, bringing kids into what I took our arrangement to be, didn’t seem…necessary.”
“And just what exactly do you take our...arrangement…to be?”
“I thought we made that clear the other night. Actually, I think you were the one who set up the rules of the game.”
“You’re right, I did. Still want to play?”
He raised his eyebrows in a “what do you think” way. He reached out his hands, intending them for her waist, but looked down to see their appearance seconds before laying them on her. Stopping himself, he stepped past her and beckoned for her to follow. “Come on, I need to clean up. Then, I’m going to feed you, and then…” He let the words hang in the air. He held the door open for her, then switched off the lights after she’d passed into the dimming daylight.
“And then?” Lizzie said, as she followed him toward the farmhouse.
“And then…I think you know full well what’s going to happen then, E-liz-a-beth.”
Chapter Seven
√ Pick up wine
√ Call Sybil
Lizzie poured herself a glass of wine while Finn took a shower. He’d gotten her a glass and a corkscrew then hastily retreated upstairs. She could hear the water beating down from the kitchen. Old houses. Her parents’ was the same, you could hear any water running from anywhere else in the house. The sound was comforting in a way.
The wine tasted good, but she intended on indulging in only one or two glasses. She was determined that this would not be a repeat of her previous bungled sexual encounters. No, she wanted her wits about her. She wanted to know what kind of touches from a man made her body feel good, and more importantly, if she was capable of physical intimacy with a man.
It had been so long.
She moved from the kitchen to the living room. She’d only been in the house once, on their first date. The house hadn’t changed much and she found her thoughts drifting back to that long ago night.
They’d gone to a movie, then planned to go the Commodore for pizza. As the movie ended and the credits were rolling, Lizzie and Finn rose to leave. He stepped back, into the well of his pushed up seat to let her pass, but as she did, he stopped her with his arm. When she turned to face him, she was greeted with a hunger in his eyes that both shook her to her core and ignited something deep inside her burgeoning woman’s body.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as he brought his lips to hers. In her young life it was the sweetest first kiss she’d ever received. It was no more than a soft brush of their mouths. Amazingly, she felt no nerves, no embarrassment, and when he pulled back, as if to leave her, she entwined her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her. Back to her now open mouth.
It was to be that way for them throughout their short relationship. Finn always making the first move, and Lizzie always clinging for more. More, but not too much.
They’d gotten the pizza to go and taken it back to the farmhouse where Finn assured her that his grandmother had taken his sister to Marquette for the day and weren’t expected back until very late.
It had all happened so fast. The kiss at the theater, kisses in the car on the drive home, and more sweet kisses as he led her to the couch.
“Liz, you feel so good,” he said.
“You too. You too.” She let his hands roam at will as he settled her down, stretched her out then lay next to her, placing her in a cocoon of his body and the back of the couch. It was a tight fit, but that was the idea.
She’d dated a lot by the spring of her senior year in high school, but had a strict, self-imposed, makeout code. Kissing on the first through fifth dates. After a month, second base. After three months, third base. After five months, she’d touch “it” for him. And that’s as far as she’d gotten, as far as she intended to go. She knew she was desperately behind the other girls, behind even Katie and Alison, but it was non-negotiable. She was not losing her virginity in high school.
She had a plan. In her sophomore or junior year of college, she would meet the right boy. After several months together, the passion and love would be insurmountable and she would gift him with her virginity. After that, she could do as she pleased. Not intending to marry until at least twenty-seven, she would then be free to sample several dishes from the smorgasbord of men available to her. But not the first time. No, she wanted to be in love, and she wanted to be emotionally mature enough to know the difference between overcharged hormones and love.
Her makeout code was thrown out the window, however, as Finn gazed down at her on the couch. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes held a reverence that startled Lizzie. That was the kind of look boys bestowed upon Katie. Lizzie was the girl they’d punch on the arm with good humor. But Finn’s eyes. Filled with a near worshiping look that made her hands tremble as she took them to his face and cradled his cheeks.
She could stare into his eyes forever. Eyes that looked at her that way. Eyes that made her feel beautiful and wanted. As he rolled half on top of her, pressing himself into her hip, she became aware of something else that unveiled the level of his desire.
She should push him away and set the ground rules right now, then they could do some more of that wonderful kissing. This was their first date, after all, and they had only met last week as he sold her popcorn. Not being from the same school, and being nearly three years apart in age, he’d have no way of knowing about Lizzie’s strict code unless she told him.
Her hands on his face, set to push
him away, had a mind of their own and instead pulled him down to her neglected mouth. She slid her hands around to his neck and entwined one in his soft hair and the other across his back, which showed the result of the hard work he did mucking out stalls and grooming horses.
Of course she’d used her tongue when kissing before - she wasn’t that green. But it had always been more of an acceptance of a boy’s tongue in her mouth, which she would inadvertently brush with her own as she tried to keep out of its way. This was different, she wanted full participation. She wanted - no, needed - to taste Finn as he tasted her. She tangled her tongue with his, then pushed past it, into his mouth, finding warmth.
He angled his head, taking the kiss, and Lizzie’s tongue, deeper. She responded with a soft gasp as his erection, fully hard now, began to press into her hip and started to slowly push back and forth. She was startled away from the thoughts of his hard penis, and how much longer she could enjoy the sensation before she’d have to call a halt to the whole proceedings, by a sharp pull on her tongue. He was sucking her tongue! None of the boys she’d made out with previously had done that, not even Petey Ryan who was the most experienced of all the boys she’d dated.
Until Finn.
She pulled her mouth away, trying to catch her breath. His mouth never missed a step, gliding easily to her neck to continue his oral exploration.
Some level of awareness returned to her now that her mouth was unoccupied, and she was astounded to realize that her hips were grinding into Finn’s with a rhythm that matched his. If it didn’t feel so darn good, she’d roll him right off of her and onto the floor. But it did feel so darn good, so she just arched her neck to allow Finn’s mouth better access.
He was unbuttoning her pink oxford blouse, pushing away the collar, trying to bare more of her neck. Now. She should stop him now. The idea drifted away as his warm tongue worked down the side of her neck. Her breath caught and her pelvis involuntarily flexed, pushing farther into him.