Second Time Sweeter

by Ros Baxter

  Gen found KD in the crowd. She was standing beside Frannie, the Sunshine rep she had introduced Gen to earlier. The girl was dark-haired and pretty. And as Buddy made the announcement, Gen noticed KD’s hand reach out and take Frannie’s. The two women looked at each other with a secret smile and Gen’s heart leaped with joy. In fact, she was sure it was impossible for her body to contain any more joy.

  Until she spied Davina Devondish stalk out of the hall, looking as if she wanted to personally castrate Buddy Thompson. As she did, the crowd parted for her, and the band struck up a particularly racy version of ‘Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again?’

  Gen was so dizzy with joy she started to lose track of events. She barely registered the crown descending on her head, and Mrs Sticklen motioning them out to take the first waltz as King and Queen.

  But then she was in Brodie’s arms and the world came back into focus.

  He looked down at her as ‘I Had the Time of my Life’ started to play. The lights were dimmed and wolf whistles and catcalls started from the large circle of onlookers as they began the waltz. Brodie had no intention of keeping it G-rated. He wrapped Gen in his arms and pulled her close so she could feel the heat of his body and the sweet strength of his arousal.

  ‘Green always did it for me,’ he whispered against her ear.

  It was lucky he was as good at dancing as he was at everything else, because her legs were weak as a newborn calf’s as he led her around the floor. His hand was in the small of her back and in that instant she was sure she had never felt anything so erotic. If the dance didn’t end soon, there was going to be a public display of affection that might dispel once and forever the image they had carefully crafted of Sweet Pocket as the last bastion of clean living.

  She pulled away a little and looked up at him. ‘Is this real?’ She was embarrassed to hear her voice break as she said it. She cleared her throat as he smiled right into her and tried again. ‘Are we real?’

  ‘We’re the only real thing there’s ever been for me,’ he said, tipping her into a dip as the crowd around them went wild with applause.

  He brought her back up and wrapped her in his arms again. ‘And as soon as this damn dance is over I’m going to take you somewhere and remind you what real feels like.’

  ***

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed against his face, the scratchy rasp of his stubble serrating her lips.

  ‘You sure, Gen Jen?’ He was asking with his lips, but his body was already pressed hard against her.

  For her part, she couldn’t even hear the question. Her legs were wound around his waist; the silky green skirt of her dress was bunched around her stomach; and her back was pushed hard against the peeling paint of the back of the old hall. She liked the way it felt—hard and real, a solid anchor as an almost-forgotten feeling of being all at sea overtook her.

  It would have been déjà vu if it hadn’t been so real and so right now.

  She closed her eyes against the memory of another Spring Fair Dance, a lifetime ago.

  He stopped just long enough to look at her, her green dress gaping wide open. He whistled, long and slow, and even though she blushed she knew his naked appreciation wasn’t going to slow her down.

  His arms were strong and brown, shirtsleeves rolled almost to the elbow. It was too dark to see the golden hair sprinkled across those forearms, but she knew it was there. The thought brought a whole tidal wave of memories crashing over her. Times she’d ogled those arms, balanced casually on the steering wheel of his old pickup. Times one of those arms had been draped possessively across her shoulder. Times those arms had held her in that old barn. The sight of those arms alone would have been enough to make her weak and dizzy. To feel that predictable slide in the bottom of her stomach that reminded her, for the first time in a long time, that she was still alive. And still a woman.

  Yep, those arms alone would have been enough. Even if he hadn’t said what he’d said on the dance floor. Even if he hadn’t given her that look, that same damn eyes-half-closed, come-away-with-me look, like he hadn’t aged a day. And like she hadn’t made him leave.

  She felt the bulge in his pants pressing into the not-nearly-sensible-enough underwear she’d selected on a whim tonight. Not nearly sensible enough for the Queen of the Spring Fair.

  But exactly the right kind of not-sensible-enough for making out at the back of the hall with the baddest boy the town had ever known.

  Like she was seventeen again.

  He pulled her dress a little wider and swore as he looked at her some more. ‘You always knew how to mess with my self control,’ he said, as his head dipped to lick her clavicle, then each breast in turn.

  Their shoes lay discarded on the grass beside them, one atop the other, as if they knew what they’d wanted all along and couldn’t figure out why their owners had taken so long to get with the program.

  Genevieve only vaguely heard the Dixie Chicks cover band crank up its latest number from inside the Spring Fair Dance, but the sound pecked at an unwilling piece of her brain like a malicious crow.

  ‘What if someone finds us?’ she whispered, hardly able to connect breath with vocal cords under the assault of his tongue.

  ‘I don’t give a shit,’ he said, sliding two fingers into her with one hand as the other made short work of her underwear.

  The night was warm, dark and noisy. An orchestra of crickets in a tree beside them was almost outdoing the most famous of all the local country bands. But there was a ringing in Genevieve’s ears that beat it all. His hand was making her unfold, like an origami swan. And she wanted more.

  ‘Take your pants off,’ she ordered him.

  ‘Huh?’ His head snapped up. ‘Here?’

  She nodded, motioning at her own semi-nakedness. ‘It only seems fair.’

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds, he’d kicked off his jeans. ‘These too?’ He snapped the waistband of his jockey shorts.

  She nodded, drunk on the sight of those muscular legs and the dark hair leading down to his underwear.

  They were gone quicker than a teenage boy with dreams bigger than a small town.

  She crooked her finger at him. ‘Now come back,’ she said. ‘And do some more of that.’

  ***

  Genevieve sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed, her heart light as she told her mother the story of the night, leaving nothing out. Well, almost nothing. Starting with the signing of the co-op papers, moving through the deal with Sunshine, describing the dance of the King and Queen (mostly) and ending with the fact that she loved Brodie and he loved her.

  Still. And again.

  ‘But he hurt you,’ Gen’s mother slurred, hurt and fear in her voice, each word poking Gen hard in the ribs.

  Gen took a breath and steeled herself. You have to tell her.

  ‘Ma,’ she began, almost losing heart. She looked into those amber eyes again, soft and luminous against the crisp whiteness of her pillowslip. ‘It wasn’t … it maybe wasn’t quite like I made out. You know. At eighteen.’

  If Gen closed her eyes, she could still remember it. The feeling of watching him walk away. Knowing she had to let him go. Knowing she was making him go. But knowing she had no choice.

  Ma watched her carefully, an increasingly rare moment of lucidity. Then she nodded slowly. ‘I wondered.’ she sighed. ‘He …’ She trailed off and then worked her mouth again.

  Gen tried not to cry as she watched her mother fighting to form the words.

  ‘He loved you,’ she said, finally and slowly, grunting with the effort of wrapping her tongue around the words. ‘But you seemed so …’

  Gen nodded, not wanting her mother to have to remember the time. ‘Yes,’ she said, knowing her mother was referring to the desolation that had descended upon her after Brodie had left. ‘I was.’

  Her mother tried to prop herself up on one elbow, but she fell back against the covers. Gen wanted to reach for her, but she knew from experience how much her mother hated being trea
ted like a cripple. So instead she turned her face a little, as if she hadn’t really noticed.

  Sarah’s mouth worked wordlessly. Then she managed to form speech again. ‘It was me.’ Each word was an effort and a hard stab in Gen’s heart. This was the whole reason she had never wanted Sarah to know—why she had told so many stories. To avoid this—her mother feeling guilty. And now here they were anyway.

  Gen remembered the day she had found out that all the accidents, the clumsiness, were so much more than just her still-young mother’s natural exuberance bubbling over, like it always did. She had kicked herself for not noticing, for being so caught up in Brodie and his plans for escape and finding his fortune. Their plans.

  ‘It wasn’t just you,’ she said. ‘I mean, we didn’t know, then. It could have been me too. They said there was a good chance, remember? We didn’t know I was in the clear. And I couldn’t … I knew he’d stay. He would have stayed if he’d known.’

  Gen watched her mother’s mouth form a tight line. She tried to reach up for her daughter but her hands shook uncontrollably. ‘If I knew—’

  ‘Exactly,’ Gen said, looking into those eyes she loved so much. ‘You wouldn’t have had a bar of it.’ She pulled the covers up over her mother’s thin shoulders. ‘What’s done is done,’ she said.

  Sarah’s eyes were watchful and dark with hurt.

  ‘Everything happens for a reason, Mum,’ she said, her heart light as she thought about the touch of Brodie’s hands on her less than an hour before. ‘And I promise you—I don’t regret a moment of the time we’ve had together.’ She brushed Sarah’s hair back against the pillow. ‘You and me.’

  ***

  Gen was washing potatoes the next day when Brodie came in, wheeling Ma’s chair like the poster boy for in-home care.

  ‘Hey there, Gen Jen,’ he said, smiling at her like they were still at the back of the hall.

  He’d swapped light blue jeans for black ones, and a white T-shirt stretched across his chest as if it wanted to make a home there. He flashed her that wild, white smile and Gen felt her insides turn to mush.

  ‘Hey guys,’ he drawled at the children, doing their homework at the kitchen table.

  An unfamiliar lightness filled Gen as she surveyed the scene, but she knew they had a lot to discuss. Last night had been wonderful, but she needed to be sure he understood what he was getting himself into. She turned to the children. ‘Who wants ice cream?’

  ‘Before dinner?’ Bea wrinkled her face in surprise. The little girl resisted a moment, studying the man wheeling her grandmother, as if maybe something more interesting was about to happen.

  ‘Scat,’ Gen said, flicking a dishtowel in the direction of the two children.

  Sarah wheeled off after them towards the back room and the deep freeze. Gen heard the squeak of the screen door leading to the back veranda.

  Brodie leaned back against the kitchen island, resting his back and casually crossing his legs at the ankles. ‘You ran out on me last night,’ he said. ‘You know, Gen, it’s getting to be a real nasty habit.’

  Gen folded her arms across her chest. ‘I had to talk to Mum.’

  Brodie was standing too close, as usual, taking up all the space and using up all her air. He nodded. ‘I know, you said that. I was just calling by to check you hadn’t gone and changed your mind on me,’ he said, smelling like man and sunshine as he leant down to gently kiss the side of her face. ‘I just want to do this.’ He held her chin in one big, rough hand and brought his mouth slowly towards hers.

  She pulled away, not because she didn’t like it, but because she had been thinking, overnight, and she knew they needed to talk about things in an atmosphere where they weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off. She needed to be sure he understood what this would mean, the hardships involved. She had two dependents. Three, really.

  ‘We need to talk.’ She pressed her palms against his chest and moved him back.

  ‘We sure do,’ he drawled, stepping forward to bury his face in her hair. ‘About a whole lot of things. Like how quickly we can get you some help in here with your mum. How we get an assessment of this place so it’s going to work for her to stay here.’ He pulled back so she could see his eyes. ‘’Cause one thing’s for sure, Gen. Sarah is staying here with us, ’til the end.’ He frowned, suddenly uncertain. ‘Or, you know, as long as you guys decide works.’

  Gen stared at him. Had Nelly been talking to him? Had he read her mind?

  ‘Well.’ He grinned. ‘Those figs aren’t going to stew themselves. And I’ve got a serious investment in this town now. Especially now I’ve taken on Shady Acres.’

  ‘You have?’ Gen blinked at him.

  ‘Yep,’ he said, nodding seriously. ‘Well, me and Sally and Sid Sider,’ he added.

  ‘Larry’s parents?’ Gen’s mind raced, thinking about the boy who helped her with the milking and how hard his parents had taken it when they’d had to give up their land.

  He nodded. ‘They hate retail,’ he said. ‘This is perfect. Farming for wage, and a cut of profits. None of the stress, but all the bits they love. It’s a done deal.’

  Gen motioned towards the doorway where she could hear her mother with the children. ‘I can’t let you organise all those things,’ she said weakly. ‘For us—for Mum.’

  ‘Why not?’ He held up his hands. ‘I have money, Gen, lots of it. And I want you to be happy.’ He echoed her gesture towards the doorway. ‘All of you, and that includes your Mum and your kids. You’ve done this alone long enough. And besides,’ he said, grinning like a shark, ‘I have a good feeling if things go the way I think they’re going to, that you’re not gonna need my resources for very long.’ He dragged her close again, running his face over her hair and whispering in her ear. ‘I’ve tasted that damn yoghurt of yours. You’re going to make me even richer.’

  ‘We should talk about all this.’ Gen sighed against him, even as her wilful body told her to shut the hell up and get on with the making out. ‘The kids, and—’

  He held a finger to her lips. ‘Later.’ He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, gently. ‘‘Cause one thing’s for sure, Gen Jen. There’s going to be a whole lot of laters.’

  Then he kissed her properly. And it was hot and slow and full of promise. One of his hands lifted the bottom of her T-shirt and inched its way inside to stroke the skin of her belly. She felt the years and fears slide away under his touch.

  ‘You don’t have to be afraid, Gen,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘And you don’t have to do it all alone. We’re going to work it all out. Together. Like we should have ten years ago.’ He pulled back and held her shoulders, looking right into her, like he’d been doing since they were five. With that look that claimed her and asked her permission all at the same time. ‘Just say yes.’

  Gen felt herself unravel, clinging to him in her kitchen. And she knew it was true.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  Thanks for reading Second Time Sweeter. I hope you enjoyed it.

  If you’d like to know more about me, my books, or to connect with me online, you can visit my webpage www.rosbaxterink.com, follow me on twitter @RosBaxter, or like my Facebook page www.facebook.com/RosBaxterInk.

  You can also follow me through my publisher’s page here www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Reviews can help readers find books, and I am grateful for all honest reviews. Thank you for taking the time to let others know what you’ve read, and what you thought.

  You’ve just read a book from my small-town stories line. I’ve also published Set in Stone, a small-town high school reunion story.

  If you liked this book, you may also like my contemporary romance, Lingerie for Felons. I also write a romantic sci-fi line, the New Earth series. You might like to start with The Seek.

  This book was published by Escape Publishing. If you’d like to sample some more great books from my fellow Escape Artists, please turn the page.

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