by Unknown
The snow crunched like crushed cereal under her boot as she walked the trail to the cottage, holding the bag of groceries against her hip, and opened the door to the cottage only to be met by warmth from the fire burning steadily inside. Apart from the heated glow from the fire, the only sources of light came from two LED lanterns from Harold’s, stocked at the very back of the store, which she had promised to return when her short stay was over. One lit up the walkway between the two rooms and one resided in the bathroom, where a toilet that had seen better days and a small sink occupied the gloomy space.
The red ice chest next to the fold-out table wasn’t yet half-full and she was happy to find storage for string cheese, yogurts, and deli-made sandwiches—as good for breakfast as for dinner. She was taking a handful of pretzels from an opened bag when a creak of floorboards exceeded the rustling of the bag in her hands and she froze. This place is empty, she thought. I know it is, I already checked the entire house when I got here. I’m not making this up.
The noise stopped and she placed the open bag of pretzels on the floor without taking her eyes off the door leading out to the hallway. Quiet, it was quiet. Being on guard was a new mantra, ever since leaving home, and as a precaution she stepped back against the side of the fireplace and picked up her trusted baseball bat she’d placed there earlier when moving in the rest of her belongings.
Ever so slowly she walked toward the door and peeked around the corner down the dimly lit hallway, not more than fifteen feet of floorboards connecting the two rooms, and listened intently. Nothing. With the baseball bat raised for a perfect strike she softly tiptoed along the hallway and entered the bedroom. Nothing more than an air mattress, a nightstand, two random chairs, and a tall wardrobe filled the room. She waited on the threshold and let her eyes get accustomed to the light. She could count the seconds of quietness by the beating of her heart against her ribs as she fixated her eyes on the knob of the wardrobe.
She reached for the knob and as she pulled it, something from the inside pushed against her and as the door opened wide she swung the bat hard and strong in the air, getting a solid hit on something jumping straight for her.
Chapter Thirteen
“There is a man in my closet,” she stated, holding the baseball bat ready for another strike should the wiped-out stranger wake up. "I have a man in my closet . . . there is a man in my closet." Nervous laughter bubbled like sizzling soda and a snort escaped her delicate nose. The man's heavy work boots moved on the floor.
“Hey, lady, that didn't feel good.”
Bam! Her bat once again landed on the man’s head, sending him tumbling to the bottom of the closet.
“There is still a man in my closet,” she convinced her wandering mind, and gently kicked the body of the man leaning against the back wall of her closet, tipped him over, and opened his jacket. “In uniform. Shit.”
With a deep sigh she lowered the bat to the ground, quietly contemplating where to find a flashlight in a stranger’s dump of a house.
In defeat she shook her head and took a closer look at the inert man apparently in uniform. Slowly her eyes traced the buttons on his beige shirt under the lone illumination from the moon shining through the filthy glass window, up his neck, and with a hand steadying her racing heart she lifted the heavy arm covering his face. “You!” she yelled, as if calling a naughty child away from temptation.
“Who else, Mantle,” Brody groaned from the floor. “Is my head still attached to the rest of my body or did you beat that to the other side of the room?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here, Mantle?” he said, his voice an imitation of hers.
“Stop calling me that, I hate it.”
“Yet, it fits your swings so well.”
“Are you going to stay in that pathetic form in the corner of the closet or are you gonna come out? What are you even doing here? I am staying here for the rest of the weekend.”
“Loraine Wilder thought she noticed suspicious activity in the cottage, seeing as this is supposed vacant, being the dump it is. I’m here to see if whoever is scaring the living daylight of Mrs. Wilder across the field is James Hemmerson or a ghost. I didn’t know it was you, honestly. ”
“A ghost? Really?”
“Not my words,” he sighed and with gritting teeth dragged himself up from the floor by the door handle of the closet. “Mr. Wilder is putting a new belt in the engine of my cruiser, getting the squealing pig that has followed me for a few miles out from under my hood.”
“A pig? Not a real one. If so, it must be a really small . . .”
A deep inhale raised his chest and with a shake of his head he tried to find her eyes in the dimness.
“Oh,” she stopped. “I got it.”
“Good job, Mantle. There is hope for you still.”
“Stop it. You should be happy I didn’t use all my strength, had you been Hemmerson or not.”
His large hand caressed his chin and a smile crept up his lips.
“I’ve never met a woman who thinks she knows everything more than you. You should be in the history books for women with great minds and cocky attitudes.”
“First of all,” she took a step toward him holding the bat tightly in her hand, “it sounds to me that you think less of women than of men. Secondly, me cocky? You should find a mirror, so back off. I’m not scared of you being a man with a star on your chest.”
“Before we go any further, put that bat down. And no, I’ve never implied you were less talented than a man. You just happen to be in places where I’m going and I’ve started to wonder why.”
“Maybe they are coincidences or more,” she mumbled and with bat in hand she walked out of the bedroom and into the nice heat coming from the fireplace. She knew it held nothing more than a gas lamp but it seemed to add a nice ambience to the evening. Before sitting down on one of the two chairs by the camping table, reaching no more than two feet off the ground, she grabbed a ham sandwich wrapped in paper and seated herself.
“Remind me again why you are here?” His presence made itself known by the way his hands rested stately on his hips, feet wide apart, hat back on his head. He was stunning. Suddenly Sunshine found it difficult to swallow the bite of sandwich rolling on her tongue. She gulped loudly and ogled him, tracing every detail on his body like when he had been on his own couch. Her eyes stopped at his face, grim and dark under the brim of his hat.
His look alone made her wrap a blanket she’d felt behind her around her shoulders. “I’m borrowing this place from Gerald Lawner’s widow for a few days, until I return home.”
“And why can’t you be home? You have that beast of a dog, and by the way, is he here also?” She noticed his hand reaching for the gun hanging from his belt, making her chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” She smiled and pulled up her feet onto the seat.
“I’m not afraid of dogs, if that’s what you’re implying.” He quickly closed the distance between them and seated himself in the chair next to hers, leaning against its hard back.
“Being by myself in the trailer while Brutus is in surgery wasn’t very comforting, and seeing that William at the grocery store knew Mrs. Lawner, they thought I should stay within these walls, behind a solid door and windows until the hunt is over. So.” She reached over to touch his knee, noticing rigidity grip his entire being, his eyes locked on her hand. “How is that hunt going, Sheriff? I’m counting on you for a safe homecoming.”
His jaw tightened and he stood, letting her hand fall to the ground. “No leads yet. I’m sorry if that has caused you problems. The state police are doing their best to find clues to where Mr. Hemmerson may be located.”
Brody’s pocket buzzed and he excused himself to take the call outside in the cold. Not two minutes later he stepped back in, took off his hat and, with that, hung his jacket on the top of the door. “Looks like I’m staying the night,” he said, and then coughed. “The belt
on my car isn’t replaced yet, and Mrs. Wilder demanded I stay to make sure you’re okay for the night, seeing you’re neither an escaped prisoner nor a ghost after all.”
Chapter Fourteen
The dark-brown Stetson rested on the doorknob and Brody, looking down at his watch, noticed it was almost midnight. He’d been surprised they’d held a conversation for nearly two hours, enjoying the warmth from the fireplace and surprisingly the company of each other.
“I’m sorry I had to make you leave my guest room. It was just that . . . well I forgot I had already promised Wayne he could stay, getting out of hospital and all.”
Sunshine smiled and snuggled into the blanket wrapped around her as she took another sip of the watery instant coffee she’d finished heating on the miniature stove. They’d left the chairs behind and moved to the floor closer to the fireplace. She had seen Brody sleeping before, in nothing but underwear, thus seeing him in the corner of her eye stretched out in uniform, resting his hands on his rolled up jacket, made memories flutter in her mind, causing a heat to pool between her legs.
“That’s not what Wayne said when you guys came home, witnessing me pack my stuff to leave.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Brody stated and stared into the open flames. “You know his background as well as I do and what state he was in after the turbulence with Christine. He has a long way to go before he trusts anyone again, and you being a newcomer, you definitely have your work cut out.”
“No worries, Brody.” Sunshine turned her head and seemed to look deep inside of him. “Thanks for offering the stay, for any length.”
“If William, Truly, and Jefferson all vouched for you, then, any time. Any time at all. And also,” he sighed and sat back up next to her, locking his muscular arms around his pulled-up legs. “You kind of saw me in the worst moment. I’m not usually high of pain meds or walking around in the nude. I want to apologize for that.” His teeth bit hard at the side of his chin. He hated being caught with his pants down. Literally. And having to confess things to a woman was something he tried to avoid. An officer was always right, not in any need to explain an action. He was to be admired for his strength, not seen as sensitive.
* * *
Sunshine swallowed another gulp of coffee and stared back into the flames, which performed a wild dance. “It wasn’t bad at all, Brody. Quite the opposite.”
In the corner of her eye she saw his head turn her way. Her smile widened but her mouth stayed quiet. For a long time they shared the silence, orange flames their mutual entertainment.
“You look tired.” Brody’s voice cut through the fog wrapping around her mind like a soft blanket and she was thankful he’d taken her cup away before she accidentally spilled it. She wrapped the blanket tighter and turned to find herself a comfortable spot on the floor.
“Here,” Brody’s dark voice answered, and her stomach jittered in the midst of exhaustion as he offered the length of his arm as a pillow, the side of his body a source of warmth.
“Thanks,” she mumbled and with the blanket around her she snuggled comfortably into the nook of his arm, his body heat a source of security.
She woke sometime later. The fire smaller but glowing, and as her eyes grew accustomed to its light, she noticed that she’d turned to face Brody, her head resting comfortably on his solid shoulder. She could hear his breathing, slow and steady, asleep. She relaxed her neck, attempting not to disturb him, not wanting to wake him up. The flames gave partial view to his features, but god was he stunning. His chest moved slowly and she lead her gaze up the side of his neck, his parted lips, then up to his eyelashes, a fanning darkness over his skin. His short hair lay perfect, and she wondered how stiff it would feel under her hands should she dare to reach for it. She calmed the urge and placed her fingertips on the fabric of his shirt, feeling the heat transfer from his chest to her hand.
He stirred and a low moan rumbled his chest, making Sunshine lift her hand to the air above. He coughed slightly and wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her tighter against him, like something familiar, and she could feel every inch of her body touching his. His fingers found their way under her blanket and rested on the side of her waist, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Synapses went off and her skin turned hypersensitive.
The fire dwindled and then feel asleep among the ashes. Sunshine swallowed hard at the darkness and shivered slightly.
Brody’s body moved closer against hers. “Are you cold?”
Sunshine nodded softly and pushed her face and her chilled nose tip against the shirt fabric stretching across Brody’s chest. She felt his chin finding a resting spot above her forehead, and the air he exhaled tickled the strands of hair whispering about her head. She inhaled sharply at the sensation and bit down hard, not knowing how Brody would react, but her mind was made up.
Gently she moved her head, feeling the unshaved skin of Brody’s chin slide down her face until her nose was lined up with his. Her mouth breathing the air exiting his lungs. By the light from the end of the hallway, she saw Brody’s eyes trying to find a place on her face on which to focus. Seconds passed. Then ever so slowly her lips tasted his in a soft kiss. His lips were warm, his unshaven face an arousing sensation to her skin. She slowly retreated but found Brody’s mouth attempting to taste her, again. Her mouth opened and released a short exhale, which Brody’s mouth expertly accepted as an invitation and sweet, oh so sweet sensation, his tongue caressed hers. Searching at first. Until Sunshine ran her hand up Brody’s arm and by his shoulder pulled him on top of her, making Brody groan into Sunshine’s mouth and claim her. Her lips, her tongue, the skin of her neck. Brody tasted sweet, something you’d drink your fill of and yet come back for more. Faster their mouths worked. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths, muffled panting echoing off the bare walls.
Sunshine felt stiff to his touch, chained to his hands, absorbing the way his hands trailed from her waist up the sides of her chest and onto her breasts. When he cupped them, he growled low into Sunshine’s mouth and grinded his erection against the apex of her thighs. Hard. If they’d been in bed, Sunshine thought, the headboard would have slammed against the wall.
Someone had yet to say a coherent word, yet no words seemed needed. Brody’s hands found the top buttons of her blouse and while his mouth found its way down the side of her cheek, onto her neck, his hands separated the fabric concealing her chest, allowing him to move down her collarbone and suck a hard nipple deep into his mouth. He cupped the soft skin of her breast in one hand, guiding it into his mouth, while teasing and pulling the other, until his mouth decided it was time to move on. He started to pull away, but Sunshine arched from the floor, trying to push her nipple harder, deeper into Brody’s mouth. Brody’s hand slipped beneath her, holding her against him, ravishing her breasts as a starving man at a full table. Her mind reset, focusing on maintaining its most basic function: to breath.
Suddenly he lowered her back onto the floor and pulled her shirt above her head, only to fold it quickly and place it on the floor next to her head. He pushed himself down her body, his tongue tracing her skin as he went, until his mouth hit the top button of her jeans. They both stopped, and Sunshine dared to look down, to watch Brody’s hands open the buttons of her pants, his eyes asking for permission.
Sunshine closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the floor, feeling her hair spill out from behind her head, and bucked her hips against Brody’s hands and prayed a silent yes.
There was no hesitation as his hands pulled down her jeans and underwear in one quick move. Sunshine moaned and bit the bottom of her lip. Her shoes left her feet and before she could look, Brody grabbed the back of her knees and pushed her legs up against her chest baring her to his face and letting his tongue taste every single inch of skin so recently covered in underwear. As his hands held her legs in place, the tip of his tongue found her opening and tasted her, tickled her, kissed her, until his tongue grew rigid as a sword and drilled itself deep into her pu
ssy, circling, tasting her insides before he placed his warm lips on the inside of her trembling thigh, tasting her skin. She made a mental note of her preference and giggled when he teased her with a small bite.
* * *
“Hush,” Brody mumbled against the softness of her skin and placed her legs back on the floor and covered Sunshine’s body with his own.
Her hands skid down the length of back, pulling him harder against her. This he could do, clothed. Naked? Not in a million years. Dainty, feminine hands couldn’t handle the roughness of his past. He’d rather please women and let his own hand take care of himself later at home. “If you’re still able to move around underneath me, I haven’t done my part properly,” he breathed into the soft skin of Sunshine’s neck. He moved himself away from between her legs and in his absence his hand found her wet and ready. With a groan he pushed two fingers inside her and found victory in hearing Sunshine gasp as she grabbed the fabric of his shirt and lifted herself from the floor.
* * *
Her hands travelled in a leisurely pace down the starched fabric covering his back, tentatively feeling every muscles moving like an accordion where she touched. Her fingertips reached the belt of his pants and the movement above her stopped. As if robotic, she’d found Brody’s off button and had no clue how to turn it back on. Reboot, reboot, her mind yelled, but nothing happened.
Brody’s warm lips left her naked chest and on strong arms he lifted himself off of her bare body. It seemed he’d developed a fear of eye contact and instead he busied himself with straightening his shirt, tucking it securely back inside the belt of his pants, and straightening his tie before he walked towards the door of the room where his hat waited. In an unexplained haste, he turned around, his eyes quickly scanned her nakedness, a body in shock of his abrupt exit, and gave a vague excuse of a busy morning as perfect justification for leaving.