Love in Maine

by Connie Falconeri

  “What is your problem, Zander?”

  He was looking down at Hank, who was looking at the fire trucks and ignoring . . . everyone and everything.

  “Zander!” Maddie barked.

  “Hey, beautiful!” Zander reached up to caress Maddie’s cheek, and she swatted him away before he could make contact.

  “Cut it out!”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” He said “friends” in a way that made Maddie despise him. Unforgivably. For the rest of his life. Because he said it in a challenging, collusive way that made it seem like Zander and Maddie were cut from the same cloth and—even though Maddie might pretend to be friends with those people—that Zander and everyone else knew that she was always going to end up behind the wheel of a late-model BMW that her husband had bought her for Valentine’s Day. Different cloth.

  “Yes!” Maddie beamed. “Zander Dalgliesh, this is Henry Gilbertson and his mother Janet. And this is Phil Campbell, who owns the diner here in town.”

  The other three looked up from the curb, Janet smiling widely and reaching up awkwardly to shake hands with Zander.

  “Nice to meet you,” Zander said to Janet. He was almost sincere. He turned back to face Maddie with that fake, doe-eyed, I’ve-missed-you-baby look in his eyes. Maddie could feel Hank’s stiff back like a physical thing weighted against her.

  “Thanks for saying hi, Zan. Have a good summer—” Maddie tried to fob him off with a quick good-bye, beginning to turn away before she finished speaking.

  “Hey! Wait a minute! It’s me, baby! Get over here—”

  He reached for her waist and tried to pull her into a quick hug. She smelled the beer on his breath and felt Hank rise up behind her and saw Janet’s eyes cloud and all sorts of ragged bits of information were pelting her senses and she couldn’t process what was actually happening.

  “Zander! Stop!” Maddie pushed herself away from him, and then almost fell backward as Hank doubled the momentum of the movement, pulling her flush against him with his strong hands at her hips.

  Zander stared at Maddie with a disbelieving look on his arrogant, handsome face. “Who is this guy?” Zander jutted his chin at Hank without ever looking at him.

  “Zander,” Maddie said, proud of how steady her voice was, and feeling slightly guilty for how good it felt to have Hank’s strong, thick fingers digging into the waist of her shorts and his thumbs pressed into the skin at her lower back. “This is my really good friend Henry Gilbertson. Get it?”

  Zander’s expression was incredulous. “You’re fucking this guy?!”

  Hank’s fist flew so fast and so close to Maddie’s ear before it slammed into Zander’s face that she didn’t even understand what had happened. They’d all been standing there and then—poof!—Zander Dalgliesh was lights-out on the sidewalk. Denny and two other guys from their frat whose names Maddie couldn’t remember stared down at their friend’s limp body.

  “Whoa,” Denny commented. “Nice hit, dude.” Then he took a sip of his beer. What a pal, Maddie thought. The other two were equally disinclined to bend down and check on their friend’s well-being.

  Phil and Janet had also stood up, physically and emotionally backing up Hank. Maddie could feel his breath against her neck.

  “You okay?” he asked Maddie.

  A policeman was making his way over. He’d been standing about ten feet away, talking to Sharon and her in-laws who’d come to town for the holiday weekend. The cop was named Steve, and Maddie had served him coffee a bunch of times.

  “Hey, Maddie, what happened?”

  “Hey, Steve. This guy kind of grabbed me, and I tried to push him away, and then he said something really rude . . . so . . . Hank punched him.”

  Steve stared at Hank and Janet and Phil.

  “Hank?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s me, Steve. Cut it out with the yessir stuff. What happened? You okay?”

  Hank’s hold began to loosen on Maddie’s waist, and she quickly put her hands over his to keep him attached to her. And to let him know that she was with him. Supporting him.

  “It’s like Maddie said,” Hank told Steve.

  Zander was starting to come around. Denny squatted down.

  “You got totally nailed, dude.”

  Zander stared with vacant, disoriented eyes, first at Denny, then up to Maddie. He looked at her with a combination of rage and shame. Then he caught the way Hank was staring at him and he levered himself up to a standing position and dusted himself off.

  Denny stood up next to him.

  Steve stared at Zander without asking him any questions or encouraging him in any way.

  Finally, Steve rested his right hand on the handle of his gun in that quintessential that’s-right-I-am-the-one-with-the-gun-here gesture, and said, “You all right, son?”

  Steve couldn’t have been much older than thirty, so the son had a little hint of aggression behind it. Kind of like, You getting me, buddy?

  Zander looked slightly cornered, and Maddie almost felt sorry for him. But not really. It felt great to see the moment when he realized he was just a prick.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I must have just fallen down.”

  Denny and the other two frat guys started laughing. “That’s for sure.” And “You always were clumsy.” And “This old sidewalk is pretty uneven. Watch your step next time, Dog-man!” The four of them regrouped and started to walk off.

  Lifting his plastic cup in a salute, Denny turned back to Maddie and said, “Always a pleasure bumping into you, Post.” Then he turned, and all four guys started laughing again at his rapier wit.

  She probably would have run after him and scratched him in the face if Hank hadn’t been holding her in place.

  “Let them go, babe.”

  And nothing really mattered after that because he was leaning in close to her ear when he said it, and it was so sweet, and he really cared about her. It didn’t matter if he freaked out and ran off and never saw her again, she was going to get this man in bed and make sure he knew how much she cared for him.

  She turned out of his hold. “I hate to be a downer, but I think I want to go home and chill out for a little while.”

  Janet was still standing just beyond Hank, with Phil on her right. “Oh, I’ll walk home with you, sweetie. The parade’s almost finished.”

  “No it’s not!” Maddie smiled. “There are probably two more hours at least. You all stay. I’ll be fine. I just want an iced tea and to be quiet for a little while. I’m totally fine.”

  Janet looked at Phil. Phil looked at Hank.

  “I’m definitely walking home with you. No point in arguing.” Hank took her hand in his and then turned to his mom. “Thanks.”

  Janet tilted her head, and her mouth tightened as she held her emotions in check. “You are a good man, Hank.”

  He looked embarrassed. “Bye, Phil.”

  “Bye, Hank. Bye, Maddie,” Phil said.

  Hank guided Maddie through the crowd in the opposite direction from the one Zander and his friends had taken. They took the first right onto Ash Street, and it was almost immediately deserted. It felt strange to have been in the midst of all those humming crowds and then to be suddenly dropped into this silence. Hank looked mad. He started walking a little bit faster, and Maddie picked up her pace.

  She had hoped they might duck behind one of the big oak trees that sprawled in some of the yards on the sloped road that led back up to his place. She wanted to kiss him so badly. It was terrible to admit how that punch had made her want to kiss him. She felt like some vaporish medieval heroine who wanted to give her handkerchief to her knight-errant to carry in battle.

  Hank seemed like he just wanted to deliver her home as quickly as possible and be done with the whole stupid fracas.

  He was practically dragging her the last few feet up the driveway, and she assumed he was going to lead her into his mother’s house, pour her the ameliorative glass of iced tea, and leave her be
. She started to let go of his hand and lean toward Janet’s front door, but Hank’s hold on her only tightened and he pulled her along with even more abrupt power.

  Toward his place.

  Up the steps.

  Pounding.

  He didn’t let go of her hand when he reached into his front pocket and pulled out the single key to his front door. How he remained so steady, so focused, Maddie would never know. She only knew that her heart was hammering so hard she was beginning to lose some of her hearing. The blood was pounding in a way that made her eardrums throb. He-wants-me-he-wants-me, the beat seemed to hammer away. He pushed the door open, pulled Maddie in, kicked the door shut, and tossed the single key into the small bowl on the table next to the front door.

  CHAPTER 12

  When Hank knew he had her, in his lair as it were, he went into damnable slow motion. The hand that had been holding her like a vise for the past fifteen minutes began to loosen, and then the pads of his fingertips were touching the lengths of her fingers. So lightly, with such gentle intent.

  Maddie’s breath was faltering.

  He brought his other hand around to her back, slipped it under her T-shirt, and then his hand somehow snaked up to her nape. With one firm press of his thick forearm against her back and the tightening grip of the hand at her neck, Maddie was his.

  Hank’s lips came down onto hers, and there was none of the light teasing that she remembered from some of his other kisses. He was taking her hard and fast this time. And she wanted to give and give. She whimpered at the promise of all that power and strength. She tried to pull her hips away slightly, but his left arm was so relentless at her back. His strength was completely immovable.

  “Tell me,” he breathed, kissing his way down her neck, nuzzling behind her ear.

  Her lips were slightly open, her head leaning back into his strong palm. “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me you want this.” His voice was deep and far away, muffled by her skin and his desire.

  A strained little moan escaped her.

  “Tell me!” he demanded, pressing harder into her, crushing her against him.

  “Yes. You know I do.” The words were stilted and sounded unfamiliar on her lips. They sounded like passion. Not the kind of passion that she’d experienced while rolling around in a tent or making out with Zander after too many beers. This felt like something unavoidable was bearing down on her, pulling her under, pushing her higher.

  She felt the floor slip away, not even caring that she’d completely lost control of her own body. Hank was carrying her into his bedroom, and she leaned her face into his tensed chest muscles. Maddie wanted to inhale him, not just the scent of him, but the actual essence of his humanity. She wanted to take and take and take.

  She smiled at the irony. There would never be a more generous taking. Maddie was going to make sure that Hank felt the gift of all her taking, of how much she needed and wanted to feel him and appreciate him and know him and love—okay, so yeah, there it was, moving on—love him. The perfect giving and taking. And, Maddie hoped, giving and taking and giving and taking, until neither of them could distinguish one from the other. Just as it was in those perfect moments when she was rowing, lost in the natural rhythm, the catch and the extraction of the oars becoming seamless. When the parts became the whole.

  Hank was afraid of how badly he wanted her. He needed to slow it down and breathe. She would drown him without even trying. The way she was looking at him just then, when he’d tossed her roughly on the bed and she had laughed her exhale, then lifted herself up on her elbows, her hips tilting right and left, unable to stay still. Her lips were . . . sin.

  He stood at the side of the bed, staring down at her, stretching his jaw and placing the flats of his palms against his cheeks, then covering his mouth.

  “What am I going to do with you, Madison Post?”

  Her face bloomed. Her eyes sparkled with desire and mischief and something much darker. Something that pulled him so far down, way too deep. “I have no idea, but I can’t wait to find out.”

  He looked up at the ceiling to collect himself, then he stared down at her.

  “May I take your shorts off?” she asked.

  He was confused by her tenderness. It wasn’t a sexy submissive thing, either. She was trying to take care, to be mindful. Hank smiled at the realization. “Look who’s all relaxed and mellow all of a sudden?”

  She bit the inside of her lower lip and looked up at him. “You make me kind of warm and gooey inside. It’s like I’m in slow motion when you look at me like that.” She was on her knees on his bed, fingering the top button of his fly, reminding him that she was waiting for his answer.

  He knew what she was really asking. Was he ready? Was he ready to bare himself to her, to let her really see him and really be with him? He was tempted to push her hand away and shuck off his own clothes in a careless rush, to remove any romantic byplay from the equation.

  But.

  It was going to feel so good to have her hands on him. To feel the slight quiver of her fingers as she messed around with the buttons and pulled at the elastic of his underwear and touched him. To feel her excitement and have that energy around him and against his skin. To feel her feeling him.

  He could deal with the fallout later, but for now he wanted to feel all of that. He wanted to feel, full stop.

  “Yes,” he answered. His voice was certain, but it was deeper than it usually was and she looked up at him.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Are you trying to protect my virtue or something? Take off my shorts!”

  They both laughed, and she began undoing the buttons. Her hands were doing that fluttery thing he had relived again and again since the canoe trip. The way she would become kind of overset with desire or sensation or whatever you wanted to call it, and her fingertips would sort of lose their dexterity, and she would take those little breaths that meant she’d discovered something she liked, and her fingertips would hover and barely touch him.

  He reached for her. “Just tell me to stop if I’m too rough or anything—”

  “Stop trying to go easy on me, Hank.”

  “Okay, but just . . .” He was peeling off her tight T-shirt and paused to stare at her purple lace bra. “You wear stuff like this . . . just during the day . . . around . . .”

  Maddie was busy leaning in to kiss his neck, and he kept pushing her away to get a better look at her chest.

  “Yes, why?” She leaned in again and then stood up on the bed so he could take off her shorts.

  “No reason . . .” Her shorts were just below Hank’s eye level. He kissed her navel then undid her shorts and pulled them down the length of her smooth, tanned legs. He left on the matching purple lace underpants.

  “Honestly, Maddie. You are amazing . . .”

  She had draped herself over his shoulder and was kissing his spine and shoulder blades. “So are you,” she whispered, moving her kisses up to his neck and around his ears.

  “Be careful . . .” he whispered.

  “I know,” she said. “I’ll be gentle with you.” He knew she was referring to his ears and how tender they were from all the years of diving, but he felt like she might not rip his heart out either. That she would be good to him.

  For now, he amended. She would be good for now. No pressure.

  He must have stiffened at the thought of some kind of long-term provision. She stood up, flipping her hair down her back and enjoying the stretch.

  “It’s kind of fun being up here, six inches taller than you are.”

  He looked up into her eyes as he began to work his hands up her legs, massaging deep strokes and rising higher each time. “It is, huh? You like to be above me?”

  “I like to be anywhere near you . . .” She pulled him toward her and bent forward so she could fit her mouth into the crook of his neck.

  He adored her in that moment. Way more than he ever thought he could adore another human being. Way more than he wo
uld ever allow himself to feel after the hours or days they spent in this room. Because they both knew he wouldn’t be able to sustain anything like this level of intimacy.

  “It’s just for now. Okay?” Hank blurted.

  She smiled at him, and he thought he saw a sheen of emotion across her eyes. Maddie looked to the ceiling for relief from the pressure of Hank’s eyes, then took a deep breath and stared him down. Down deep. “Whatever you can spare, handsome.”

  He crawled onto the bed and put one leg over her hips. She wriggled under him like she had in the tent, enjoying the confinement of his arms and his body. “Don’t say it like that, Maddie. I don’t mean it in a scrimping way. I just mean . . .”

  She was touching him again, and the words started to evaporate. “I just mean . . .”

  Her hands were everywhere. “It’s all good,” she whispered.

  “I just can’t give you anything more than this . . .”

  She stopped kissing and touching and moving all over and against him and grabbed his head in her hands. “I want whatever you can give. Nothing more.” Maddie pulled his face to hers and kissed him with everything she had, she wanted to give him everything. He could go on telling himself it was just for now, just for today, just for this week, just of this summer, but Maddie knew in her guts, in all of her tingling nerve endings, that—for her—this experience would never be limited by time or distance. She would never look back and think that Hank had given her anything less than . . . everything.

  Maddie’s possessive hold on his skull loosened and her hands fell away, resting easily on the pillow by her face. She bit her own knuckle and tried to get some of her hair to cover her face. She felt scared all of a sudden. Not of him or what was to come, but of revealing herself, of the vulnerability of it all. She was trying so hard to relax, but it was all becoming real.

  Hank’s face shifted slowly into one of his movie-star smiles. “Are you getting nervous all of a sudden?”

  She froze under him, trying to let the pain abate. It was nothing really. It was fading already. Maddie was already beginning to feel the spread of warmth that meant she would be feeling the bliss and abandon of release—