Making It Right

by Kathy Altman

  Free. She was free.

  Free to find herself unable to let go of him.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “This feels good.”

  Good? This was pure bliss.

  “You can say that again,” he rumbled, and this time the cylindrical shape pressing against her was not an inanimate object.

  A thrill shot through her. At the same time she shoved back a step and ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. “Pathetic, I know, but I don’t remember the last time someone hugged me.”

  “So what you’re saying is, nothing personal?”

  “How can it be?” she said lightly. She hunched her shoulders under his jacket, suddenly wishing she could keep it. A flash of brass gleamed as the zipper caught the light. “We just met.”

  “I’m glad we did.”

  The conviction in his voice pushed her back another step. “I won’t be in Castle Creek for long.” She reached behind her and swept a hand up the wall. Light from inside the apartment illumined the stark need on his face and she went still. An answering need surged into her chest, like the foam of a poorly poured Guinness, and she pushed the words out before she could second-guess them. “But I’ll be here long enough to share a drink with you before you go back across the street. You know, to toast the end of what has been a sucky day for us both.”

  “That’s not much of a trade.” His words were all grumble, but the low-pressure kind.

  “It could be,” she said archly. “I mean, it depends on what’s in the fridge.”

  He laughed out loud, then shot her a curious glance. “Wait, you don’t know what’s in your own fridge?”

  “I just moved in today. I never had the chance to look.”

  “Knowing Eugenia, there’s probably enough provisions in there to last a month. She likes to be prepared.”

  “We could check it out together,” she said, not quite managing a casual tone. “Or if you need to go now, I’ll make sure the next time you’re here I can tell you exactly what’s on offer.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “To drink,” she added. She was too distracted to be embarrassed because, of course, there wouldn’t be a next time. Living in an everyone-knows-your-name location like Castle Creek guaranteed it wouldn’t be long before he’d heard every last detail of her sordid story. Was she so wrong to want to savor each moment before he did?

  “I could definitely use something wet,” he said.

  It was Kerry’s turn to laugh out loud. “Then follow me.” She winked. “To the kitchen.”

  “That’s as good a place as any.”

  With a shake of her head, Kerry led him through the living room and dining room to the kitchen, which overlooked both the side parking lot and the street. Their teasing had diffused the tension. She would offer the man a drink, share a few more laughs with him and send him on his way. Yes, being in his arms had helped ease the relentless ache of her father’s rejection, but using him to temporarily forget her problems was not the way to go about rehabilitating herself.

  “This is great,” he said behind her. “My space seems bigger, but maybe that’s because—” He stopped.

  Kerry turned and leaned back against the refrigerator, the immaculate white enamel cold and unyielding against her spine. She tipped her head as he hesitated in the kitchen doorway. “Because you’re lonely?”

  They stared at each other across the small space. Gil’s jaw had gone tight, his narrowed gaze focused on Kerry’s face. Her breathing got desperate and his gaze dropped to her chest. Color invaded his cheeks and a shimmering warmth flooded her belly.

  Something shifted in the sink—the spoon she’d used for coffee, maybe—and the sudden metallic clatter had the effect of a starter pistol on Gil. He was across the room in two strides and shoving his own jacket off Kerry’s shoulders. His hands followed the sleeves down her arms until he reached her hips.

  Meanwhile his mouth... Holy Hannah, his mouth. He used it to get acquainted with her neck, then her jaw, alternately kissing and rubbing, using the occasional scrape of teeth and touch of tongue to build a frenzy of anticipation. She wanted that mouth on hers. Now.

  She moaned with impatience and he chuckled against her skin. But he didn’t move on to her lips. His fingers, on the other hand—on both hands—never hesitated to get up close and personal. They roved and squeezed, roved and squeezed, from her butt to her hips to her ribs. He had her shoulder blades pinned to the refrigerator and her pelvis pressed to his.

  She couldn’t help swiveling against him. He hissed in a breath, yanked his glasses from his face and set them on top of the fridge.

  “I need your hands on me,” he gritted. He bent his knees and whipped the jacket from her wrists, then straightened and dropped his mouth to hers.

  Finally.

  He kissed her deeply, earnestly, stealing her breath along with coherent thought as hot ripples of pleasure hijacked every muscle. He tasted like malt and smelled like early morning on the lake and every last one of her nerve endings writhed with need.

  And warning.

  The warning part she chose to ignore. The need part she embraced wholeheartedly. She dug her fingers into his back and dragged them all the way up to his neck. He gave his blessing with a groan, tightening his hold on her hips. She gripped his shoulders, reveling in the feel of solid muscle as he plundered her mouth.

  When his hands slid over her ribs and cupped the sides of her breasts, she bucked against him. His grip faltered momentarily, and a sliver of common sense wormed its way between them.

  She ripped her mouth away from his and took deep, gulping inhalations. She clutched his wrists. “Are we really doing this?”

  He shuddered as he fought to catch his own breath. He swallowed then rested his chin on the crown of her head.

  “Yes?” he answered hopefully.

  Her nerves jangled with anticipation.

  “But if you’re having second thoughts, we should have that drink you offered and talk about it.”

  She laughed unsteadily. “Because alcohol will clear our heads?”

  Slowly Gil pulled his arms away and moved back. “Juice, then.”

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. Why had she opened her mouth?

  “I don’t make a habit of this,” she said.

  “Neither do I. Which explains why we’re feeling awkward.”

  “Let’s revisit the drinks idea, then.” She pushed away from the fridge and opened the door. A jug of tea, a half gallon of milk and five bottles of beer.

  Her father’s brand.

  Bottles rattled as she swung the door shut again. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and it gave her pause. He looked younger without his glasses. Or maybe she was feeling older. Having a sense of adventure used to be so much more appealing.

  A year ago she’d learned how terrifying the consequences of that could be.

  Gil continued to back to the far side of the kitchen until he leaned against the counter. He curled his fingers over the edge. “Adding milk to my coffee without checking the expiration date this morning was not a good idea. Climbing a ladder with a stack of weed whacker spools in one hand and a hot cup of coffee in the other was nowhere near a good idea. This right here, with you and me...this is the best damned idea I’ve had in months.”

  “It’s been a while for me, too,” she said softly.

  “The hug pretty much gave that away.” He gave a graceless sort of one-shoulder shrug. “I’m happy to help you brush up. You know, so next time you don’t embarrass yourself.”

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  He blinked and pushed upright.

  This time she met him halfway. He folded her against him, swung her around and laid her carefully on th
e kitchen table. She begged him not to be gentle with her again, and he wasn’t. Not on the table, or against the dining room wall, or even when he had her bent over the back of the living room sofa.

  If she’d been looking for punishment, she hadn’t found it. Never had she climaxed so hard, or so loudly. Never had she laughed so often, or given so much pleasure.

  The punishment came when he finally left the bed, and she knew he wouldn’t be back.

  * * *

  WITH A GROAN, Gil sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He recognized that ringtone and was tempted to ignore it. Especially since he’d managed maybe two hours of sleep the night before.

  Images of why he hadn’t managed much sleep flickered through his mind, like someone thumbing through a deck of X-rated playing cards. Damn, he’d had fun. Kerry had been sweet and giving, and once they’d gotten that first furious coupling behind them, she’d relaxed, and revealed a ready, husky laugh that had charmed him, and a relentless hunger that had flattered him.

  That hunger had also challenged the hell out of him. He was still exhausted. He should tell Seth to go work out by his own damned self.

  But Gil could use the distraction. As much as Kerry had seemed to enjoy herself, she’d lost her smile when he’d asked for her number. Getting her to agree to an actual date seemed unlikely.

  His excitement faded at the same time his cell quieted.

  Knowing Seth, the quiet wouldn’t last two minutes.

  Gil rolled out of bed.

  Kerry had reminded him more than once that she wouldn’t be in town for long, but he’d charm her number out of Eugenia and call her anyway. He didn’t want last night to be the end of it.

  Maybe he’d try to seduce her with his glasses again, of all things. Every time he’d taken them off she’d started to squirm.

  As expected, his cell resumed the chirping. He scooped up his jeans with his foot and scrabbled at the back pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  “Wakey, wakey, Coop. You got fifteen minutes.”

  “Screw that,” Gil said. He hung up and headed for the kitchen. Never had he needed coffee more.

  They played the same game twice more. The fourth time Gil answered the phone, Seth warned him he was down to ten minutes.

  “Before you show up with breakfast?” Gil asked hopefully.

  “Before I show up and haul your ass out of bed. I know where you keep the key.”

  “Remind me again why we’re friends?”

  “Just get your gear on. What do you say to Hubbard Ridge? I’ll have you back in time to open the store.”

  Gil retrieved his coffee mug from the sink and frowned at the muck in the bottom. Time for a fresh cup, though none of his others held heat as well as the Cap’n. “Don’t you have cows to milk or something?”

  “Dude, you know that’s crack-of-dawn shit. See you in a few.”

  He made it down the stairs just as Seth pulled up in Bertha, his ancient pickup. Gil stumbled around the front of the truck and buckled himself in, and with a jaw-cracking yawn slapped away Seth’s attempt at a fist bump. “You should have let me sleep.”

  Seth grinned and put the truck in gear. “You can catch a nap later, old man.”

  Gil leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. The moment he was thinking clearly again, he was going to kick Seth’s ass. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Ivy won’t be around for evening chores, so she advised me to get my break in now.”

  “And you’re spending it with me? I’m touched.”

  Seth scoffed. “Just sit back, smartass, and enjoy the ride. You’re going to have to work a little harder during the next one.”

  They followed the road toward the small purple-rimmed ridge of mountains east of the lake. Gil raised his window to lessen the chilly slap of morning air, still damp and smelling of fresh mulch. They whipped past fields so thick with grass they resembled shag carpets. The fields gave way to clusters of barns and produce stands with striped awnings, and those gave way to rows and rows of wooden posts supporting thick, ropy grapevines, curved and twisted like stick figures caught midshimmy. On their left, farmhouses gilded by the rising sun fronted the lake, which lay placid and lazy.

  The infinite blue soothed Gil and his eyelids drooped.

  Seth poked him. “You need more coffee.”

  “I need sleep,” he grumbled, and yawned. “How about we go fishing instead?”

  “So you can scare all the fish with your snoring? Dream on.”

  “I would be, if you hadn’t gotten me out of bed.”

  Seth signaled his lack of sympathy with a single finger.

  Half an hour later, while Seth freed their bikes from the rack on the back of the truck, Gil stood at the foot of Hubbard Ridge and eyed the trail, favored for its varied terrain. Rocks, ravines, steep rises, moss-covered stretches as carnivorous as quicksand, exposed roots as thick as a man’s thigh.

  Eight miles to the summit. How would he manage it?

  With an evil grin, Seth wheeled Gil’s bike over. “Scared?”

  “Skeptical.”

  Seth grabbed his own wheels and they walked their bikes to the mouth of the trail. Gil’s stomach rolled. This climb was going to be a bitch.

  They took a few minutes to fasten their helmets. As Seth pulled on his gloves, he gave Gil the side-eye.

  “So, who is she?”

  “Who’s who?”

  “C’mon, Coop. It’s not a hangover that has you looking all wrung out and dazed. You either stayed up all night watching Star Wars or you got laid.”

  “Maybe I did both.”

  “Pretty sure those two are mutually exclusive.”

  “As Harris would say, don’t get your dress over your head.” Gil threw his leg over his bike and gripped the handlebars. “It was a one-time thing. So let’s drop it, okay?”

  Seth pedaled a few feet, adjusting his gears. He stopped, twisted and looked back. “But you’d like it to be more.”

  “Are we here to ride, or exchange heartfelt confessions?”

  Seth tossed him a water bottle and a baggie crammed with homemade protein bars. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  He did just fine, thank you very much, until he tried to bunny hop a pair of basketball-sized rocks smack dab in the middle of the trail. He might have been able to make it, too, if he’d been going any faster. Instead he ended up over the handlebars and flat on his back.

  As he gasped for breath and stared up at the tops of the pine trees and the orange-yellow morning light seeping through the needles, Seth’s face came into view. The jerkwad was fighting a smile.

  “You okay?”

  “My bike?” Gil wheezed.

  “Is intact.” Seth dropped to the ground beside him. “You really like this girl, don’t you? How long have you known her?”

  When Gil grunted, Seth pointed his water bottle at him. Water splashed across Gil’s face and he sputtered.

  “All right, all right.” He swiped a glove over his face and sat up. “I just met her. Last night.”

  “Seriously?” Seth gave his beard a doubtful scratch. “What’d she do, come in for some caulk?”

  Gil gave his head a disgusted shake. “I will never know what Ivy sees in you.”

  Seth grinned. “She likes how handy I am with caulk.”

  Gil gave him the finger, pushed to his feet and walked stiffly over to his bike. Thank God he hadn’t damaged the thing since he couldn’t afford to pay for repairs.

  “Okay, I’ll behave,” Seth said. “Where’d you meet, Snoozy’s?”

  “Yeah.” Gil plopped down onto the rocks he hadn’t managed to clear with his bike. “He hired her to run the bar while he’s on his honeymoon.”

  “What’s she like?”<
br />
  Sexy. Sweet. Smart. And a bit of a nerd herself. On the table next to the bed, he’d discovered her reading glasses on top of a copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  When she did as he asked and put her readers on, she’d instantly become every man’s fantasy librarian. She was all curves and swells and mock stern expression. When she’d pulled her gloriously messy hair into a makeshift bun, he’d dropped into a straight-back chair and she’d accepted his invitation without hesitation, settling onto his lap, shedding her guardedness as she’d shed her clothes.

  Until he’d asked to see her again. Then it was shields up.

  Fingers snapped in front of his face. “Earth to Cooper.”

  Gil blinked, and scowled. “I don’t know what you want me to say. She’s pretty. I like her. Her name’s Kerry.”

  “Kerry,” Seth repeated slowly, an odd expression on his face. “That’s all you know?”

  “She lives in North Carolina.”

  “Shit.” Seth lowered himself to the rock next to Gil’s. “Listen, Coop. I need to know if we’re good.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I’m about to break your heart.”

  Seth stretched out his legs and stared at a bruise on his shin. “I found out what was bugging Harris the other night. It’s his daughter. She’s back in town. Says she wants to make amends.”

  Gil snorted. “Good luck with that.”

  “Right? She messed him up. Bad. You remember how she did that?”

  Gil frowned. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Just humor me, okay?”

  Gil took an impatient swig of his water. “He told us at poker one night. Said he didn’t want us to hear it from anyone else that his daughter’s a convicted felon.”