Heart Stronger

by Rachel Blaufeld

  “Let’s go,” Aiken called from my back porch. Smitty was already out there, running circles, tail wagging, zipping around the yard, thrilled to be with his main dude. I looked out my bedroom window and took a deep breath, filling myself with false confidence. I might have been slightly older, but that didn’t mean doubts didn’t fill my head.

  They did.

  Like a hot-air balloon.

  Zippering my suitcase, I took a few deep breaths, inhaling, exhaling, and repeating.

  We were off to New York. Aiken had never seen the city, so we were spending a few days sightseeing, doing the tourist thing, before heading to a beach bungalow somewhere on Fire Island. I hadn’t planned any of it. Aiken and his computer skills did all the research, even locating a pet-friendly hotel in the city and a beach rental that allowed dogs.

  I hadn’t left Smitty in three years, I wasn’t about to now.

  He was my steady.

  “Here I am,” I said, lugging my suitcase down the steps and out the back door.

  “Richards, that’s what you have me for—the heavy lifting. I thought you would’ve swapped places with me and sent me back up. Now, I see I gotta tell you what to do every step of the way.”

  “I’ll have you know, this is my workout for today.”

  He snatched the suitcase, easily carried it down the driveway, and tossed it in the back of his truck, secured the cover, opened the door for Smitty and me, and off we went.

  “I made a small list of things to see, but you can tell me what’s at the top of your list,” I said when we exited our little town for the highway.

  “You, smiling in bed, coffee on the nightstand. You underneath me. You next to me, walking, holding hands.”

  “Come on, play along with me. What do you want to do?”

  He turned for a quick second, and I caught my reflection in his mirrored aviators. I pulled my hair out of my messy bun and tried to smooth the lines in my face. If I was honest, I felt older for the first time since we’d been together.

  “Uh-oh, the wheels are churning. I see them chugging. Chug-a-chug-a-chug.”

  I didn’t know how he continued to do that, but he seemed to read my mind.

  “Aiken—stop. Come on. Don’t push me.”

  “I need to check out the 9/11 memorial and definitely want some New York-style pizza, but I think today we should do Central Park. We can take Smitty, so he’s not cooped up in the car and then the hotel.”

  “Really?”

  Like that, I felt light again. It was impossible to be serious around Aiken’s zest for life.

  “Yeah, really. I’m a thoughtful guy, remember?”

  I nodded, my words getting clogged up in a traffic jam in my throat.

  He was.

  “Sounds perfect. We can grab a pretzel and a hot dog from one of the vendors in the park.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  For most of the drive, we listened to music and chatted about scenery, Smitty sprawled out in the back. Aiken’s dad called, and he sent him to voice mail, saying he’d call him back later. His phone rang a second time, and he said, “I got to take this. Do you mind?”

  I shook my head and checked the email on my phone.

  “Hey, Bruce, what’s up?”

  The other man’s voice filled the cab over the Bluetooth. “Hey, Aiken, all good here. Wanted to tell you that a guy by the last name of Wagner is going to call you. Runs an orchard up near Harrisburg. He’s expanding and wants to drive more traffic to his store.”

  “Thanks, appreciate the business.”

  “No problem. We love the site. Been telling everyone in my farmer’s group about it. But that’s not all I called about. Been thinking about Jeannie a lot since you were here. Wondering where she went. If she’s okay. Hope she didn’t find more trouble.”

  “Thanks, Bruce. My mom was definitely some sort of trouble finder, but I don’t know much more. I’ve been meaning to ask my dad, but I haven’t found a good time to bring it up. Too upsetting and all that. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Same here. Was getting my oil changed the other day, and Roscoe mentioned your grandparents. He’s still got their car in his heap. He’s gonna scrap it.”

  “Well, that’s probably all it’s good for. Listen, Bruce, I’m heading on a quick trip with my lady. When I get back, I’ll come by, and we’ll chat.”

  “Why didn’t you say? Goodbye.”

  The phone clicked off before Aiken could say goodbye.

  “You can call your dad back if you want.”

  “I don’t,” Aiken said, matter-of-fact.

  He turned up the music—something country, twangy blanketed the cabin, and I stashed my bare feet on the dash.

  We drove all the way to New York like that, making one stop so both Smitty and I could go steal a potty break.

  As soon as we checked into the hotel, Aiken’s feverish excitement rubbed off on me. We hit Central Park, Smitty leashed and raring to go. The sun was high in the sky, but a few clouds and a million skyscrapers lent us shade.

  “Look at that.” Aiken pointed toward a young guy down on one knee near a cluster of rocks, obviously proposing to the young woman dressed in all black and standing tall in front of him. Her long hair blew in the wind, her smile visible from where we stood at a distance.

  “Cute, if you’re into forever love and all that jazz.” I leaned into Aiken’s shoulder, not daring to make eye contact. At one point, I’d believed in all that jazz.

  “I kind of am.” He pinched my side. “With you and all that...jazz…”

  “Don’t even finish that thought. I’m not even going to say what I’m thinking, because you already know.”

  “Ooooh, is someone being sensitive again?” He poked my side, eliciting a yelp and a laugh.

  “Not really. Sort of, but it’s an issue. I was married before, and it didn’t exactly go as planned. And I’m older. And…David lost interest.”

  “David wasn’t the right guy. Plus, you’re the fancy-pants psychology professor. Don’t you know age is only a number? A chronological thing, not a barometer for how we should live our lives…once we’re an adult…feel me? Maybe I’m an old fogy at heart?”

  I brushed my lips along his cheek, not bothered by the coarseness of his scruff.

  “You kind of are an old fogy.” I jumped on his back. “Can you even give me a piggyback ride?” Smitty barked and stared at me. He’d never seen me act so frivolous or impulsive.

  “You have to say giddy up.” Aiken started prancing.

  “Oh, come on.” I slid down his back, and he whipped me around the front of him, my legs staying wrapped around his waist.

  “Give me that mouth.” He gathered me close with the hand not holding the leash and melded our lips together.

  His tongue snuck in for a brief sneak attack, before he nipped at my lower lip. With our foreheads touching, he held me tight, Smitty at his side. “You know what? I’m the lucky one, because I got the whole hot love thing and the forever deal wrapped up in one mighty fine package.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to digest his words.

  “Don’t think so hard about it, Richards. I more than like you, and you more than like me. End of conversation.”

  We were diverted when a group of street performers set up near us, boom box blasting some funky dance music as they did tumbles and flips. I welcomed the distraction, still taking in Aiken’s sentiment.

  We spent a few minutes watching, before dropping a few bills into their hat and making our way toward the reservoir.

  Looping the water sanctuary, we held hands, taking in the sights and sounds.

  “I don’t think I could live here,” Aiken admitted.

  “Me either. Too fast, too crazy, too hip. Even though I was raised in Pittsburgh, I’m a small-town girl at heart. Not that Pittsburgh is anything like here, but it’s a busier city than the center of the state where we live. I like the pace, the change of seasons, the leaves, how the whole tow
n bustles from the college, all of that. Probably why I never left rural PA. That and tenure. I thought about it a lot after Abby died, but I just didn’t want to leave.”

  “Makes sense. You have roots.”

  “What about you? Where do you see yourself putting down roots one day?”

  “Did you hear what I said earlier? With you. Used to think near my dad, now I’m not so sure.”

  “Aiken, don’t.” The breeze felt good against the beads of sweat forming on my neck. I took my hand back and busied it with tying my hair in a messy knot.

  “I mean it. With you. I always thought it’d be back in the Midwest, but I like your place and mine, and I like you better than all of it combined.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m not really of the age for putting down roots. That was like a decade ago for me.”

  “Shh, don’t ruin the moment, Claire.”

  He took my hand back, the leash in his other one, and led us down a path. “Let’s go get some good grub and enjoy ourselves. You don’t know it yet, but we are putting our own roots down every damn day.”

  He squeezed my fingers, and I shut up.

  Aiken

  Visiting New York City, I had a newfound appreciation for city slickers. Yeah, the city was vibrant and alive, but after a few days of the lights and the noise, I was ready to go. The last night, Claire and I went for sushi, which admittedly I didn’t have much experience with, other than the shrimp tempura rolls at the grocery store.

  “You’ll like this.” Claire lifted a piece of sashimi—Lord only knew what the heck that was—in her chopsticks. She fed it to me, and I graciously accepted her fingers anywhere near my mouth.

  “One of the benefits of traveling to conferences. Good food,” she said while I chewed. We were in the upper level of some pseudo-restaurant-nightclub place with sushi and ramen.

  Ramen! Fucking shit was pennies at Big Lots.

  “I probably just swallowed a fifty-dollar piece of fish. That tiny little hunk was worth more than my shirt.”

  “Tonight’s my treat,” Claire sipped her glass of red wine, and I took a long pull of my Sapporo.

  “Not a chance, and that’s not why I said it. I’d eat fifty pieces of fifty-dollar fish to make you happy.”

  The walls shook from the DJ mixing up some techno and hip-hop. Fusion. New York was the fusion capital of the world, mixing and merging two seemingly unrelated things everywhere we went.

  “We’re like this joint,” I declared. “This city. It’s all about mixing it up. This and that. Things that don’t mix, but then they do. Like you and me. I’d say we work pretty damn fucking well. We’re fusion at its finest.”

  “Is that so? So you’re admitting that we’re a mismatch?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, missy. I’m admitting no such thing. I’m saying we work well. Like this place with its crazy music and expensive sushi mixed with bare-bottom ramen noodles. I’ll tell you what, though…what I’m not going to do is eat some fancy-shit ramen. They sell that in the grocery store for sixty-nine cents, and now they want twenty-five bucks for ramen with pulled pork?”

  Claire laughed. “Guess you’re not converting to city boy anytime soon, farm boy?”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  I hooked her chair with my foot and dragged her close. Not paying any mind to us being in public, I threaded my fingers through her hair and made her mouth mine. She tasted like wasabi, soy sauce, and Cabernet. I wanted to savor it all, especially her. My lips moved slowly, taking my good ol’ time, leaving nothing on the table, and hinting at what would come later.

  “Ramen is the last thing on my mind,” my lady admitted when I set her lips free.

  “Good. How ’bout you finish your wine and we order room service for dessert later? After we work off dinner?”

  “Perfect…only because Smitty is back at the hotel alone.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk at her joke.

  And quite a joke it was. As soon as we got back to the hotel, I hustled Smitty down for a quick pee. When I returned to the room, Claire clipped his leash off faster than lightning and shoved me against the door.

  I should’ve mentioned she was wearing nothing but a silk thing—camisole, I think it was called—when I returned with Smitty.

  My back dug into the molding on the door, and I welcomed the pain. She clawed at my sides underneath my shirt until she yanked the whole thing over my head, only releasing my mouth for a millisecond to complete the task, and then she was right back to kissing the hell out of me.

  Nothing better than being equally ravenous for each other. Claire pressed to me, her tits, nipples hard, grazing my chest, only the silk barrier between us.

  “Aiken,” she muttered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Need you.”

  “All you have to say.” I lifted her, her legs wrapping around me, and carried her to the bed. Setting her in front of me, splayed out like absolute perfection, I shoved out of my jeans, knocking my boots off. Everything in a heap on the floor, Smitty curled on the sofa, I braced my weight on one arm as I covered Claire.

  I knew she wanted it quick, but I took my time, lowering her nightie thing, my mouth taking her nipple and then the other. When her nipples were both puckered, I lifted the silk in the other direction, my lips making a path to her navel. I traced the outer rim of her belly button with my tongue and then lowered until my knees settled on the floor. With my mouth at a perfect point, my tongue flicked at her sensitive spot while I used my finger to find other sensitive areas. Claire moaned and grabbed my hair, pulling me close and tugging me away before pulling me close again.

  “Oh God,” she muttered before her knees and thighs tightened around my shoulders, holding me in place, while she rode the crest of her climax.

  No way in hell I rushed her through that. I continued a slower version of moments earlier. Licking, laving, sucking, and stayed with her until the end.

  Then, as slowly as I’d made my way down, I quick as hell was on top of her, condom rolled on, and diving into the best spot on earth.

  As promised, we had chocolate ripple cheesecake later in bed.

  And then we worked it off.

  Claire

  After a few days of trudging through the city, shuttling Smitty down the elevator early in the morning and late at night to do his thing, I welcomed the sun and salt air of Smith Point, a small stretch of untouched beach on Fire Island.

  We could also take the car, which was a must, according to Aiken.

  His truck and his shitkickers were deal breakers. They either came with, or he didn’t go anywhere—his words, not mine.

  “You going to miss all those hip dinners and expensive cocktails?” Aiken teased, his eyes sparkling, almost as blue as the water we’d driven past.

  The windows down, my hair blowing along with Smitty’s ears, I wanted to freeze the moment.

  Us laughing. Putting down our own roots.

  “Not one bit. Not that they weren’t good, but too much of it in all one place. Way too much food and way, way too many people. I’m ready for some space.”

  “Exactly. Glad I discovered this place.”

  Aiken had found it when looking for a place with a decent dog park. Along with being quiet and low-key, Smith Point had a brand-new two-mile area set up for dogs.

  If I thought Aiken was a bumbling romantic when he saw the dude proposing in Central Park, it didn’t even come close to when he unlocked the door to the rental he’d found. Water views off the second- and third-floor balconies, a gourmet kitchen, fireplace in front of the couch—it was a beachgoer’s fantasy.

  He’d found the rental on Airbnb when someone had backed out of a reservation, and we certainly had lucked out. Pet-friendly, with a private swimming pool, hot tub, and a fire pit, it was simply paradise.

  “Here you go, my lady.”

  “Oh boy, please don’t tell me I’m going to be stuck on this island with the corny version of Aiken.”

&n
bsp; “Come on, Smitty,” he called to my dog, letting him off his leash. With only a whistle, Smitty followed him into the yard. Picking up a Frisbee, Aiken tossed it into the pool. Smitty chased after it, and there went my dog, flying through the air, smacking into the water.

  “Well, well, look at this.” Aiken propped his elbow on a hot tub for two. He flicked a switch, and the jets whirred to life. “Whaddya say? Let’s get naked and get in.”

  “Um, we just dropped our bags by the door and Smitty’s all wet and what if someone sees and...”

  Aiken paid no mind to my rambling. He’d already dropped his cargo shorts and was kicking out of his shitkickers (which, yes, he’d worn) and tugging his shirt over his head. Then he was in a pair of boxer briefs, the sun reflecting off his golden skin, his hair too long and curling around his ears. “Have you noticed the privacy shrubs? And Smitty looks mighty happy lying down in the sun.”

  He did. His fur slick, tongue out, eyes never leaving us.

  Off went Aiken’s boxer briefs, and in the water, he went, staring me down until I stripped and settled next to him. He pulled me into the crook of his arm, and I laid my head on his shoulder, my breasts grazing the top of the water.

  “Sublime,” he mumbled, tilting his head toward the sun. There was a slight breeze, the trees around us rustling, making the temperature of the hot tub perfect.

  “Sun feels good,” I admitted hazily.

  “And this feels good on my tired feet. Christ, did we walk or what? That city’s too big for me.”

  “Feels good, definitely.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed it all in.

  Aiken’s fingers were on my chin, and his lips hovered over mine as he directed my face toward his. Then they were on me.

  Slow.

  Luxurious.

  He took his time, caressing my lips, biting at my lower one, gaining entrance, his tongue swiping against mine.

  I moved to straddle his lap, my thighs on either side of his, my breasts touching his chest. Wet skin against wet skin. His hardness found my soft spot, and we moved together, creating friction, more heat than already was in the hot tub, and then he was sliding in…

  In me, without protection. I knew it. I didn’t care. I tossed my head back and moaned. It was loud and the furthest thing from ladylike as he drove into me. I gave him everything back in earnest, sinking down as he pushed up. Time stood still until we were both close, and then everything sped up. Our pace, our breathing, our race to the finish.