Prescription for Love

by Radclyffe

  Abby pointedly looked away. Anyone watching them would see the desire. She’d already exposed her need to Flann, she could at least keep some dignity in public.

  “They’re hard to resist, aren’t they,” Presley said.

  “Is it that obvious?” Abby murmured.

  “Only to someone who knows both of you,” Presley said with laughter in her voice. “Is it serious or just serious lust?”

  “I’m not sure.” Abby pushed her hair off her neck in hopes the breeze would cool some of the heat in her face. “I’m serious about the lust, I mean. That’s very serious. Possibly terminal.”

  Presley choked on her laugh.

  “But the rest of it, I’m a little afraid to think about. Sometimes it feels too—”

  “Big?” Presley finished.

  “Yes.”

  Presley nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Wonderful and absolutely terrifying at the same time.”

  “Yes.” Some of Abby’s uncertainty dissipated, knowing Presley understood. “Is that normal, do you think? Because I’m not usually reduced to words of one syllable just from looking at a woman.”

  “I think so, when you love all the way.”

  Love. Abby wasn’t sure. She understood love. She loved Blake with every atom of her being. She loved her mother. She loved her work. None of those things kept her awake at night or had her second-guessing every action. Only the fear of failing Blake frightened her, but not of loving him. Whatever she felt for Flann was different from all of those feelings. The want, the desire, the need left her open and vulnerable and raw. As if she might break. “I don’t know if I even want to know.”

  Presley squeezed her knee. “You’ll know when the time is right, and you’ll know what to do.”

  Abby hoped so.

  *

  At the beginning of the fifth inning, the right fielder, a nurse Abby recognized from the ICU, motioned to Flann, spoke to her for a minute, and then slumped on the bench. Flann grabbed her glove and ran out to right field.

  “Looks like Flann is going to sub for Mary Ellen,” Presley said.

  “Damn it,” Abby said. “She wasn’t going to play tonight.”

  Carson must have heard her. “You didn’t really think so, did you? I gave her until the fourth inning.”

  “If she breaks open that incision—”

  “She’ll be careful,” Carson said. “She’s not nearly as wild as she looks.”

  Abby wasn’t sure she agreed. She watched Flann field a ball on the run, her stomach a twisting mess. She couldn’t bear to see her hurt again.

  When the team came up to bat, Flann of course took her turn. She laid a solid line drive to left field, and Harper scored. Flann made it to first, and Abby let out a breath. Flann signaled to her bench and a pinch runner came in to take her place. Flann threw Abby a cocky smile back to the sidelines as if to say, What, were you worried?

  Abby just shook her head and Flann laughed. Oh, she was wild, all right. Wild and sexy and driving Abby crazy. When the game ended with a win for their team, Abby was a little disappointed the evening was almost over. She wasn’t usually a spectator, but she’d enjoyed the camaraderie of the cheering section, and she’d definitely loved watching Flann.

  As Abby stood to make her way down the bleachers, Presley said, “Don’t forget Carrie’s planning a wedding summit tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll be there,” Abby said.

  “Carson?” Presley asked.

  “Absolutely.” Carson hiked Davey onto her hip. “Bill is planning on helping with the barn raising too.”

  “Good, I’ll see you both then.” Presley headed in the direction of the team and Harper.

  Abby waved to Carson and met Blake and Margie on the field. “You two need a ride?”

  “Yeah, but we’re gonna get hot dogs from the stand first,” Blake said. “You want one?”

  “None for me. I’ll meet you at the car. I’m parked in the middle of the second row.”

  “Okay. See you,” Blake called. He grabbed Margie’s hand and they disappeared into the crowd.

  Abby walked behind the bleachers toward the parking lot. A hand snaked out, caught her wrist, and pulled her into the shade beneath the bleachers.

  “Flann!” Abby laughed. “What are you doing?”

  “Collecting my kiss.” Flann pulled her close with an arm around her waist and kissed her, a kiss that blanked her mind and flooded her body with fire. Flann’s kiss wasn’t the gentle brush of lips like the last time—more a promise then than a joining. Now her mouth was hot and hard and demanding.

  Abby opened to her, taking her in, drinking her in. She drove her fingers into Flann’s hair and held her in place. She wanted more than a promise—she wanted an answer for the tension and wanting that had kept her awake all night. Flann slipped into her mouth and Abby moaned softly. Deeper—she wanted her deeper everywhere.

  Flann tugged Abby’s shirt from her shorts and slid her hand onto her lower back, fingers spread, molding their bodies even closer together. “I missed you.”

  Abby’s mind was a whirl of sensation, the scent of summer grass, the heat of summer sun, the taste of lust. “Oh God, Flann. We can’t do this under the bleachers.”

  “No one’s looking,” Flann growled.

  “Not right this minute,” she gasped. “Mmm, you feel so good. I can’t stand it.”

  “Good. I’ve been going crazy thinking about this.” Flann kissed her way down Abby’s throat. Her hand closed on Abby’s breast, and she moaned again. “You’re going to have to stand it for a while longer, because I want you. Abby, I want you.”

  Gathering every shred of her tattered willpower, Abby pushed away. The wild hunger on Flann’s face almost made her not care where they were or who might see them. But she wanted more than a kiss. More than almost. She wanted all.

  “Blake and Margie are waiting,” Abby said. “And one more kiss like that, and I’m going to want a lot more than kisses.”

  “You’re right,” Flann said, breathing hard. “What I want to do I can’t do here. When—”

  The roar of motorcycles drowned out Flann’s words, and a strange look passed over Flann’s face.

  “What?” Abby asked, recognizing Flann’s focus shift to risk assessment.

  “Where are Blake and Margie?”

  “They were getting something to eat and heading for the parking lot to meet me. Why?”

  Flann took her hand. “Probably nothing. Come on. Let’s go find them.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Some guy’s been bothering Margie,” Flann muttered. “It’s probably nothing, I just want to—”

  Blake and Margie stood next to Abby’s car. Four young men on motorcycles ringed them, the engines rumbling like threatening predators. Abby’s pulse raced and her mind sharpened. The threat had materialized.

  “Stay here.” Flann strode quickly toward the group. Abby followed on her heels and edged over toward Blake and Margie.

  Flann halted inches from a scruffy bearded boy in a nondescript T-shirt and grimy jeans. About twenty, he was hollow-cheeked, his eyes narrow and small. He looked like an angry rodent of some kind, the type that bit when cornered. Abby’s chest tightened.

  “You’re gonna want to stay away from my sister and her friends, Richie,” Flann said.

  “No law says I can’t talk to her,” Richie said.

  “When you’re fifteen, you can get away with being a bully unless somebody puts a stop to it. Somebody should have set you to rights then.” Richie smirked. Flann’s stony expression never changed. “Now what you’re doing is called stalking. If I see you around Margie again, or she tells me you’re following her, or verbally accosting her, you’ll get a visit from the sheriff.”

  Richie snorted, but his gaze shifted away from Flann’s solid one.

  Harper eased up beside Abby. “What’s going on?”

  “Not sure, something about Margie and that boy on the motorcycle. He’s
been following her, it sounds like.”

  Harper stepped up next to Flann. “Hey, sis. Need help swatting flies?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Fucking dykes,” Richie said, but his voice was thin and shaky. He glanced at Blake. “Freaks. Figures.”

  “You’re gonna want to back off now, Richie,” Flann said softly, but loud enough for everyone who had gathered around to hear. “And you’ll want to stay away from my sister and her friend Blake.”

  “You see, Richie,” Harper added, “Blake’s family.”

  “Yeah. Whole family’s freaks,” Richie muttered, but he was pushing his motorcycle back away from Flann and Harper. His friends silently followed suit and the crowd parted, disdainful glances following the group as they turned and rode away.

  Abby wanted to grab Blake but knew he would be embarrassed. Instead, she said as casually as she could manage, “Everybody doing okay?”

  Blake nodded. “Yeah. They’re just jerks.”

  “I agree. Not a particularly scientific assessment,” Abby said lightly, “but accurate.”

  Presley cut through the crowd to Harper and took her hand. “Everything all right?”

  Harper kissed her. “Fine.” She slid an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

  Presley wrapped an arm around her waist. “Good idea.”

  The crowd broke up, and Flann watched until Richie West and his friends pulled onto the highway and roared away. “Morons.”

  She turned, took in Margie and Blake. “They come near you again, you call me. Or Abby or Harper. Day or night. Right there on the spot. If you can’t get us, you call 9-1-1.”

  “They won’t bother us again.” Margie glanced at Blake. “They’re cowards.”

  “Bullies usually are,” he said quietly.

  “Just remember,” Flann said, “you don’t ever have to take it. Either of you. That’s why we’re here. All of us.”

  Blake looked at Flann, then his mother. “We know.”

  “I’ll be with you two in a minute.” Abby took Flann’s hand and drew her away. “Thank you.”

  Flann cupped her cheek and kissed her. “No thanks necessary. I really wanted to tear his mean little head off, but I didn’t want you to think I was uncivilized.”

  “You can be as uncivilized as you want when we’re alone.”

  Flann grinned. “Be careful, I might take you at your word.”

  Abby walked toward the car. After a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder, liking that Flann was watching her. “I expect you to.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “I knew we should’ve gotten here earlier,” Blake said, practically vibrating in the front seat.

  Abby pulled in behind a long line of pickups, Subarus, and an occasional minivan in the drive leading up to Presley’s farmhouse. Construction equipment in vivid yellow, green, and orange crowded the slope behind the house. She thought the big prehistoric-looking things were backhoes, but she hadn’t quite gotten the nomenclature straight yet. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning. I don’t think it’s polite to show up before people actually get out of bed.”

  “Mom,” Blake said in an aggrieved voice, “this is the country,” as if she didn’t know that, “and everyone gets up at sunrise.”

  Abby gave him a look. “This coming from the guy who used to complain about getting up before nine.”

  He jumped out of the car as soon as she put it in park, peered in at her, and grinned. “That was before. Margie and Flann and everybody are probably already here. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Laughing, Abby climbed out and waved him on. “Go, then. And be careful with the tools.”

  Blake gave her the aggrieved expression reserved for parents who clearly didn’t get it, and jogged off down the drive. Abby took her time following, wending her way between cornfields, basking in the cool air that would give way in a few hours to heat and humidity. It was July, after all, but she found she didn’t mind the weather. How could she mind when surrounded by clear skies and the smell of growing things everywhere? No, she definitely didn’t miss summer in the city. No wonder so many city dwellers had historically escaped north into the mountains and countryside every summer.

  She smiled. She’d never have to escape again. She was already home. She was as sure of that now as Blake had been almost from the beginning. All she needed was to be sure the job worked out and Blake adjusted to his new school. No small tasks for either of them, but they’d both made great progress so far. Thanks to Margie, Blake had a growing circle of friends who would help him when school started, and she had made solid inroads to getting the ER residency program up and running. And then there was Flann.

  Flann was a very definite reason to want to stay right where she was.

  As if reading Abby’s thoughts, Flann appeared at the top of the drive. “Hey! You made it.”

  “According to Blake, we’re already late.”

  “Not to worry. People will be drifting in and out all day.” Flann wore her usual nonhospital attire of work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt, this time with her sleeves cut off and a raggedy V slashed at the neck. The shirt was tight enough to show the curves of her breasts if you were looking, and Abby was looking. She shaded her eyes, the better to take in every inch of her, and Flann slowed as if knowing exactly what she was doing. The easy grin Abby was coming to love spread across her face.

  “Sleep okay?” Flann slid her hands into her pockets and rocked a little on her heels, waiting for Abby to draw next to her.

  Abby wanted to say How could I, considering the state you left me in, but she decided to be more subtle for the moment. “Great. How about you?”

  Flann leaned close, her breath warm against Abby’s cheek. “Had a hard time getting to sleep, thinking about all the things I wanted to do with you and didn’t get a chance.”

  Abby drew a long breath, savoring the earthy freshness of her. She’d know Flann’s scent anywhere. “Really? I fell asleep the second I lay down.”

  “And here I thought you never exaggerated.” Flann chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist. “Didn’t you think about me just a little?”

  Abby slid her hand onto Flann’s back, tracing the edge of muscle running from her shoulder down her spine, hungry for the touch of her solid, sexy body. She pressed into her just a little, not caring they were standing in the middle of the drive. “I’m still waiting for the wild part.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Abby was about to invite her to get as wild as she wanted when Harper yelled down, “Hey, Flann, you gonna work today or what?”

  Flann sighed. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

  “No,” Abby said, meaning it. “I’m second call, so as long as it stays quiet, I’ll be here.”

  “Good. I’ll find you.” Flann turned as if to go, turned quickly back, and kissed her. “I’m feeling a lot more than a little wild.”

  Abby laughed and gave her a push. “Don’t be thinking about anything except what you’re doing out there.”

  “Promise.”

  “Thank you.” Abby grabbed her hand. “Would you keep an eye on Blake for me?”

  “Of course. You never have to worry about that.” Flann ran a finger along the angle of Abby’s jaw. “I want to kiss you but if I do, I’ll never get to work.”

  “Go,” Abby said, already so aroused she ached. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

  Flann jogged away and Abby slowly followed, giving her body a chance to calm down while enjoying the view of Flann from the back. She had a great ass. Finally she rounded the corner to the back porch, which, along with the kitchen, she’d quickly come to realize was the center of all activity.

  Carson occupied one of the rocking chairs with a cup of coffee and an amazing-looking biscuit balanced on a plate on her knee. The scent of something marvelous—yeasty and sweet—emanated from the kitchen on a wave of strong coffee fumes.

  Abby’s mouth instantly watered. “W
hat is it?”

  “Buttermilk biscuits with fresh blueberries. Lila and Mama are making breakfast.”

  Abby tried not to moan on her way inside. Carrie and Presley were filling their coffee cups from an industrial-sized coffee urn. The table was laden with baskets of biscuits, slabs of butter, syrup, and fruit. A few dozen plates and piles of silverware filled one end.

  “Oh my God, this is heaven,” Abby murmured.

  Ida Rivers ladled mountains of scrambled eggs from a cast-iron skillet the size of a satellite dish onto a platter. She smiled at Abby over her shoulder. “I hope you came hungry.”

  Abby blushed, instantly shy, a sensation she wasn’t usually prone to experiencing. But this was Flann’s mother, and a woman she greatly admired. And she’d just been hungering for her daughter. “Famished. Anything I can do?”

  “Lila and I have the food situation under control. I understand Carrie is handling the important business of the morning.” Ida shook her head. “We could have used her when Carson got married. Harper and Flann were about as useful as tits on a bull as far as the planning end of things went.”

  Abby’s mouth dropped and she couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Oh my God. I’m going to have a hard time getting that image out of my mind anytime I look at either of them.”

  Ida smiled, set the eggs aside, and forked slices of ham onto another platter. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

  “Flannery certainly does,” Abby said quietly.

  Ida nodded and continued spearing ham with a practiced flip of her wrist. “She does, but she’s never been willing to see it.”

  “She just needs to slow down long enough to notice.”

  “You seem to have noticed, though,” Ida said.

  “It’s not hard to see, when you look. She’s wonderful.” Abby paused. “She’s kind and brave and tender.”

  Ida handed her the platter of eggs. “I’m glad you know that. Put this on the table for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “And don’t let her fool you,” Ida said conversationally as she deposited the ham beside the biscuits. “She’s just been waiting for someone to catch her. Even if she doesn’t know it.”