by CP Smith
“Was foul play involved?” a woman asked loudly down the line. James closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and looked at me. I shook my head. Her family didn’t need the additional grief. “No. It was an accident,” he lied. “Susan and a friend were in the barn during the storm. A bale of hay fell on top of the deceased, and she dropped a lantern she’d lit, setting herself and the barn on fire in the process. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“And the deceased’s name?”
“Donna Coletta.”
____________________________
James watched Dan Pike cover Donna’s body. He’d left Susan inside to rest because he didn’t want her to see what came next. Removing the body.
James stared at Donna’s body, and his jaw grew taut. From the time he was old enough to understand what it meant to be attracted to the opposite sex, James had known that Donna, the daughter of his parents’ best friends, had a crush on him. He’d never felt a lick of attraction for her and had tried to let her down easy every time she made advances on him. But as the years grew into a decade, it became apparent that Donna wouldn’t give up the ghost, even going as far as running into him by accident when he was out with another girl in high school. He’d had words with her parents, explained about her obsession, tried to get them to see that she needed medical help, but they’d laughed it off as youthful hormones that she’d eventually outgrow. She never did it seemed, even though James had started to believe she’d moved on when he’d come home from college to find she was dating someone. He’d been relieved instantly, and he’d forgotten about her crush over the next five years.
Taking in the burned-out shell of his barn, James realized Donna hadn’t gotten over him at all. She’d just taken her obsession to a new level; became a ticking time bomb that went off when she’d seen the evidence of his feelings on Susan’s ring finger.
Closing his eyes at the destruction in front him, James said a silent prayer of thanks to God that Susan was alive and well inside his house where she belonged.
“I got Susan’s statement, so why don’t you run it past me one more time from the beginning,” Pike asked.
James opened his eyes and retold the lie he and Susan had agreed on as they cleaned up the evidence of Donna’s attack. One that would shelter her parents from the truth: that their beloved daughter had died trying to kill his future wife. No good would come from them knowing. Her parents had lived in Murfreesboro most of their married life and had a good standing within the community. He couldn’t bring himself to add to their grief by accusing her of attempted murder.
“Donna and Susan had a disagreement last week because she was late for work. It bothered Donna, being a good friend with my family and all, so when she heard about our engagement, she came over to congratulate us and apologize for being rude. Susan had just ended a call with her mother about our wedding and mentioned to Donna that she wanted to get married in my barn. For some reason, only known to them, they thought checking out the size of the barn during the storm made complete sense.”
Pike’s solemn expression lifted just a hair and his lips twitched slightly, exactly as James had hoped. Men didn’t understand women, so inserting a bit of levity into the situation made sense to Pike. Why question what they were doing inside the barn in the middle of a storm, because when have men ever understood a woman’s reasoning?
“And then what happened?”
James sighed and bowed his head. It grated on him to cast Susan in a light that made her look anything but the intelligent woman she was. “I’d just loaded bales into the loft. I’d told Susan some of them were unstable, that I hadn’t had time to secure them, but she must not have heard me because she climbed up the ladder, heading to the loft. One of the bales fell when she reached the top, pinning Donna.”
“And the lanterns?”
James shrugged, “Storm took the power out. It happens a lot, so I’d hung several lanterns on hooks inside the barn. Susan climbed to the loft, hoping her lantern would disperse more light so they could see. Donna had lit one as well, and when the bale fell, she dropped it, and it exploded on the floor, igniting the barn.”
Pike looked at what was left of his truck. “And your truck?”
“Came home on my dinner break. Susan was hangin’ out the window to avoid the flames. I tried the door, but somethin’ had lodged against it durin’ the fire, so I used my truck to clear a path.”
“Risky. It might have exploded on impact,” Pike pointed out.
“I’d just filled up, so I knew I had time before the gas was hot enough to explode.”
“Still risky.”
“What would you have done?”
“I’d have risked it,” he agreed.
“Damn straight, you would,” James growled. “It was both of us gettin’ out of there alive or neither. I wouldn’t have wanted to live without her in my life.”
Pike looked back at the barn shaking his head, then mumbled, “Fuckin’ tragic.”
“Tragic,” James echoed. “In more ways than one.” What he didn’t say was that he wouldn’t shed any tears that Susan had survived when Donna hadn’t. If you laid a hand on what was his, it was as good as a death sentence in his eyes. He’d mourn for her parents. He’d mourn for what Susan had gone through, how scared she must have been, but he would not feel one ounce of guilt that Donna had perished when the alternative was him standing over Susan’s grave.
____________________________
Six weeks later . . .
I stared out the kitchen window at the leveled ground where the old barn used to stand. Even with the ashes gone and the ground ready for new construction, I knew that night would always be with me. And in a way that was blessed, instead of cursed.
Two arms circled me from behind, then James kissed the pulse on my neck. “What’cha doin’?” he asked softly in my ear.
I shivered per usual any time he was close, then leaned my head against his shoulder. “Staring at the ashes of our past while thinking about our new beginning,” I answered, then pulled his hand to my belly as tears began to spill down my face. “Asher if it’s a boy. Or Ashlyn if it’s a girl, so we’ll never forget how blessed we are.”
James froze for a millisecond then buried his face in my neck and drew me in tighter against his body. “Asher James,” he finally growled, his voice hitching slightly on the James. “Told you already, baby. I want four boys. If you give me girls, I’ll end up killin’ someone.”
I giggled through my tears. “If you get to have all boys, then I get to lie and say we dated two months before you seduced me.”
James spun me around, capturing my face with his hands, his thumbs brushing the happy tears from my cheeks, then he leaned in and stated emphatically, “You’re not changin’ his birthdate.”
“No. I’ll never forget the night he was conceived, and how complete bliss could rise out of the ashes of that night.”
His eyes bled to indigo and nose flared as he drew in a deep, ragged breath. And then my wild man, my own personal Casanova of Murfreesboro, kissed me.
EPILOGUE
November 2013
JAMES MAYSON STOOD AT the foot of his bed and watched his wife sleeping. His heart thundered in his chest as he took in the light purple slip of material she called a nightgown. Even after twenty-eight years, Susan still had the ability to stop James dead in his tracks.
Blood pumped rapidly through his veins as he toured the contours of her body, her full breasts defying the lace of her gown. Christ, but he loved this woman. Loved her more than the day they’d married on this very farm. Loved her more than his sons, if that was possible. He was proud of the men they’d become, would bleed for them if need be. But Susan? James didn’t want to expel a single breath in this world without his Susan in it. Knew if she passed before him, they might as well bury him beside her.
He would never recover from the loss.
Raising his arm, James grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it from his bod
y, tossing it at the end of the bed. Then his boots came off, and his jeans followed. He’d been hard since Susan had sent him that fucking image, and he planned to work off his frustration on her body. Putting a knee to the bed, James crawled between her legs, pushing the silky fabric up as he went. Then he opened her legs, saw she was bare to him, then dipped his head and feasted on her velvet skin, drinking in the honey taste of her.
He knew the minute Susan woke up. Her hands tangled in his hair and her sweet pussy rubbed against his mouth in a frantic rhythm as she whimpered, “Baby.”
“Swear to Christ, I’ll never get enough of you.” And he proved it by spreading her wider until he could sink his tongue into her slick heat. “You ready for me?” he rumbled low against her flesh, then worked her clit over until she cried out his name in release, coming for him within minutes of his touch, like always.
Her passion for him had never waned in all their years together, and neither had his. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her often and did so with frequency.
Once she’d melted into the bed, James moved up her body until he found a pebbled nipple through the lace on her bodice and pulled it into his mouth, nipping the sensitive bud with his teeth. Susan arched her back, gasping when he moved the fabric to the side and drew deeply on her breast.
“I take it you liked my present.”
“Like what’s in it better,” he mumbled against her skin.
“Even if I have a double chin and hips that won’t slim down?”
James paused his attention to her breasts and looked up at her. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear my woman say she thinks she’s fat. ‘Cause I’d be fuckin’ pissed if you lost one ounce of your curves.”
She bit her lip.
James sighed. “Where’s this comin’ from?”
“I had a walk down memory lane tonight and clearly remember bein’ thinner.”
James raised a brow. “And I clearly remember not bein’ able to keep my hands off of you for the past twenty-eight years, so your point is moot.”
“Moot?”
He was not getting drawn into a conversation about her being overweight when most of the men his age, and even younger, fantasized about his wife. A point that pissed him off, especially when he caught them watching her sweet ass when she walked away.
“Are we fuckin’ or what?” James growled.
Her eyes softened. “I think Asher’s found his BOOM!”
James sighed, nodding. “I suspected as much.”
“By the way, I told November you asked me out for two months and I said no each time until you wore me down and I finally said yes.” She rushed out her explanation so quickly James barely kept up.
A slow grin crept across his mouth. “Did I get lucky on the first date in this version of events?”
Susan rolled her eyes, and James immediately took her mouth, kissing the fire back into their cooled bodies, then slid inside her, groaning deep in his chest when she clamped tightly around his cock.
“I will want this body until the day I die,” James stated, rolling his hips. “I love your fuckin’ hips and ass.”
“Even when I’m a grandmother?” she gasped, arching her back.
“’Til the day I take my last breath.”
“Such a Casanova,” Susan smiled, raking her nails down his back.
He grinned, rolling his hips again until she dug her claws in, making him groan. “You my good girl?”
Susan bit her lip, then ground down on his cock, tightening her muscles. “Oh, yeah.”
Twenty-eight years and four sons, yet she still made him feel like he was twenty-six.
Rolling to his back, James brought Susan with him, keeping his hand on her hips. She rose and fell in a practiced rhythm, milking his cock with each downward thrust until both were panting with need. When he felt her climax rising, James knifed up, grabbed her shoulders, and drove deep inside her silken heat until her head fell back and she cried out. Then, with a final thrust, James buried his cock deep and exploded, crushing his mouth to hers so he could drink in her moans.
Sated, James fell to the mattress, pulling Susan with him, then tangled his legs with hers as she melted into his body. Raising her hand to his mouth, he kissed the ring his grandmother had left him, the ring that symbolized his commitment to Susan.
“Do you ever think about Donna?” Susan asked out of the blue.
“Nope. I prefer to keep my blood pressure under control.”
Susan nodded against his chest. “I dreamt about her tonight.”
“Don’t waste your time on her,” he ordered, the edge of his voice sharp.
Susan pushed up then crossed her arms on his chest, looking down at him. “You’re still angry after all this time?”
“Fuck yeah,” he growled.
“Why? She’s paid for her sins already.”
With a fury he hadn’t felt in a long time, James rolled Susan to her back and unloaded years of pent-up anger.
“She almost took you from me, and in doin’ so, she almost took my boys from me. All this,” he swung his arm wide to mean their home, their life with their boys, “would have meant shit without you. It pisses me off that you had to go through what you did, especially when I warned her parents she needed help. And in doin’ so, they lived the rest of their lives missin’ her because they didn’t listen, and we lived the last twenty-eight goddamn years pretendin’ that their loss was our loss, too. So yeah, it pisses me the fuck off to think about it.”
“Okay,” she nodded, running her hand against his cheek. “I hate her, too.”
His eyes softened. “No, you don’t. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.”
“Well, I would have hated her all these years if I’d known how much it hurt you to think about what happened.”
His chest tightened with the memory of that night, so he exhaled then drew a deep breath to calm himself. “Got my boy Asher because of her,” he grumbled reluctantly, trying to lighten the mood. “Guess I can thank her for that.”
“Your son who’s met his match.”
“About damn time, too. I’m fifty-four years old, and I need a grandson to take fishin’.”
Susan smiled. “What if he has girls?”
“It’ll be a boy,” James stated with authority.
“And how do you know that?”
“’Cause God knows if he gives me grandaughters, I’ll end up killin’ someone . . .”
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CP Smith writes humorous, ooey-gooey romantic suspense with OTT alphas, insta-love, and LOTS of dead bodies! She believes books should be about escape rather than reality. Ms. Smith writes what she likes to read and leaves the rest to those with better imaginations. She lives in Oklahoma with her husband and five children.
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