The Grand Opening

by Ava Miles

  With their faces inches apart, she saw his eyes crinkle. “Aren’t you…glad we waited? I believe it…helped.” His breath rushed in and out like a steam engine.

  “What?” Were her ears buzzing?

  His laugh sputtered out. “I’m usually…pretty quick to turnaround, but…you might have to give me a little time. God, Peg.”

  Yes, God, she thought to herself, trying to catch her breath. This was sex? What the hell had she been having all her life? It was like moving from the romper–room to a graduate program.

  He took some deep breaths. Caressed her arm. Brought her hand to his lips. “I’ve got a pretty good imagination. This was better.”

  “This was…” What could she say? The best she’d ever had?

  He nibbled on her fingers, which seemed ridiculous. “You were saying?”

  The truth hit. She’d done it. She’d finally gone to bed with him. Why was it her infernal luck that it was this hot between them? “It was good.”

  His mouth tipped up. “I know you’re not prone to over–dramatizations, so I’ll let that piddly word go.”

  She tried to draw her hand away. “Shouldn’t you…” She gestured to the bathroom across the room.

  He kissed her full on the lips and then pulled away. “As you wish.”

  She spun into action when he cleared the door. Why didn’t he close it? Somehow that action seemed more intimate than what they’d done. She dove for her shirt and had one arm through it when she heard a clucking sound. She looked over.

  He stood in the door, all naked and relaxed. Her mouth went dry.

  “I didn’t take you for the do–and–dart type.”

  She usually wasn’t. No one had ever made her want to run but him. “Ah…I have to fix Keith dinner.”

  “Abbie and Dustin are taking him out for pizza if that’s all right.”

  He didn’t move from his place. Home Depot would sell more doors if they had him model like that in an ad. She’d buy twenty if they came with a signed photo.

  “I…”

  “Rhett says there are steaks in the fridge. Why don’t we cook some dinner? Then if you want, we can make love again.”

  Her voice wouldn’t work. She pressed a hand to it and swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “You don’t need to make me dinner. I can make something when I get home.”

  He finally uncurled and strode across the room. She’d admired his gracefulness before and wondered if it was his fancy clothes.

  It wasn’t.

  He sat on the bed. “But then you would deprive me of your company, which is what I want.”

  She blinked. “You want my company?” No one had ever told her that before.

  “Yes, I like talking to you. Being with you.” He kissed her nose, which made her feel weird. “I can hear the wheels turning already. You did say you understood my position before we started this.”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands. She had. She simply hadn’t realized how it would feel to be with him. Like she was out of control.

  Worse, like she needed him.

  Want was one thing. Need was another.

  He tipped her chin up. “Don’t hurt me by saying you’ve changed your mind.”

  She flung out her arms. “Why do you keep saying things like that to me? It’s making it hard.”

  His face softened. “I realized that one of us would need to be vulnerable if we were going to have anything. I knew you weren’t ready, so I volunteered.”

  She pulled the sheet over her breasts. “I don’t like you saying those things to me.”

  “Why?”

  That damn, patient gaze again. “I don’t know. I just don’t.”

  He rose and went to a closet. Shrugged into a robe. Pulled out a man’s white, button–up shirt and extended it. “Well, perhaps that’s something you should think about then. I’d like to hear something nice from you every now and again, but I don’t require it. I know who I am.”

  She yanked on the shirt. “I’m not the gushing type.”

  “Bull,” he uttered in the quietest voice she’d ever heard him use.

  She shot off the bed. “Don’t tell me you think you know me.”

  He belted his robe. “I know some, and I’d like to know more. I’ve seen how you are with Keith. I know how it feels to have tenderness for a child. That feeling starts to grow inside you, and then it can come out for anyone. Who is our choice. Mine seems to come out with you.”

  When he walked toward the door, she fisted her hands by her side. “I don’t want yours to come out with me.”

  “Too bad. It already has.”

  The shakes started.

  “Stay. It’s only dinner, Peg. If you don’t want to make love again tonight, we can wait until you do.”

  Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want that to stop. Sex was all she thought she could manage, and even that…

  “This is new territory for me.” It was as honest as she could be.

  He reached for her hand. Kissed her gently on the lips, like a boy giving his girl a first kiss in school. Her eyes grew wet, shaming her. When they were face to face, he caressed her cheek.

  “It is for both of us. Come on.”

  He stroked her palm and led her out of the room. She looked back at the bed. The pillows were on the floor. Their clothes were scattered everywhere. It looked like they’d had an orgy.

  Yet, the crushing pressure in her chest warring with the warmth in her heart made her know better.

  They really had made love.

  It might have been a first.

  Chapter 24

  Abbie was an unabashed soccer mom. Some people let loose on the dance floor. She let loose next to yards of white–lined grass and gaudy orange goals. She could yell and express herself here—it was all about supporting her son, right? The initial shocked looks from new parents always amused her. They must glance over, see the conservative Ann Taylor suit, and think, Holy moly, someone’s sure hiding something under her bushel basket.

  Mac teased her about it. Dustin’s ears turned red a few times at the level of her enthusiasm, particularly as he grew older, but he’d never told her to quit.

  “Come on, Dustin. Cut him off.” She didn’t yell, but since it was practice, her voice carried across the plush field.

  “Wow. He’s really good. Isn’t he, Ms. Maven?”

  Her little companion crunched on the granola bar she’d handed him from her well–stocked mini–cooler. Keith had the sweetness she’d always cherished in second graders when she used to volunteer at Dustin’s school. He was starting to know his own mind, but he still liked to cuddle.

  She put her arm around the boy. Mac had told her the story about how he and Dustin had found Keith crying behind the shed. It had broken her heart, and she’d teared up when Mac texted her a picture of the two boys sitting in a large oak tree hand in hand. Mac was right. They adored each other. It gave her a warm glow to see her son treat a younger boy so well.

  She still didn’t like Mac spending time alone with Peggy, but she wouldn’t hold that against Keith. He was a sweetheart, and his warm little body curled into her like he’d known her forever. She loved the smell of a little boy who’d played outside. Their sweat seemed purer somehow, just like their motives.

  Abbie understood kids. It was adults who sometimes baffled her.

  Her gaze lifted to the scenic view above them. The mountains promised a gritty survival she appreciated. The wind could blow. The snow could dump. But they didn’t bow or break. They stood tall. She wouldn’t mind being a mountain.

  Keith’s feet bounced in time to music only he could hear. She crossed her legs and wiggled, hoping to get more comfortable. There was no doubt in her mind that metal bleachers had been invented by a man.

  Dustin streaked ahead of the pack with the ball, dribbling with a precision honed from year–round Select Soccer Leagues and week–long camps.

  “Go Dustin. Go!” she yelled as he cut off another player.

 
“Yeah! Make a goal, Dustin,” Keith added, wiping melted chocolate on his T–shirt from the granola’s chocolate chips.

  She grabbed a wet wipe.

  “Take your shot,” a rough–and–tumble Southern voice boomed from the bottom of the bleachers.

  Her fingers dropped the wipe in surprise. It fell through the metal slats to the ground.

  Dustin shot forward, and kicked the ball. It sailed into the corner of the goal, so powerful the net popped back like a parachute before falling into place.

  “Yes!” her son cried out and pumped his fist to the sky—his signature after–goal gesture.

  She and Keith clapped together. “Good job, Dustin,” she managed, but her attention had shifted to the man who was strolling up the bleachers toward them.

  Rhett wore a simple white T–shirt accentuating his long, hard torso—oh heavens—and tight–fitted jeans with the tamest brown leather boots she’d ever seen on him. His cowboy hat was nowhere in sight.

  “Awesome, Dustin!” he called over his shoulder.

  Her son gave an enthusiastic wave. Rhett returned it.

  Abbie grabbed her purse from the bench in front and put it by her side, trying to block him. Rhett grinned, shuffled down the narrow riser, picked up her handbag and returned it to its spot. He sat down, nudging her with his thigh.

  Her gaze remained on the field. Where was her self–control?

  From her peripheral vision, she saw his gaze crest over her face like he was admiring a painting’s many angles.

  “Hey, Abigail.”

  His intimate tone made her bite the side of her cheek. “Rhett.” Her voice was as stiff as her back. “I thought you’d be hanging out with Rye and Co.”

  “They took off last night. I’m sure I’ll see them again soon now that I’m back stateside.” He bumped her as he reached across her. “Now, who’s this little fella?”

  Keith responded to Rhett like he did everyone. He grinned.

  “I’m Keith. My mom’s Deputy Peggy McBride. Who are you?”

  Rhett shook his hand, still leaning close enough to brush his arm over the rise of her breasts. Her insides curled up like paper in a fire. She elbowed him. Hard. He grunted and then did it again.

  “I’m Rhett Butler Blaylock, a family friend. I play poker like Mac.”

  She inhaled his infernal cologne—something she used to smell when she missed him, even when he was halfway around the world. The woodsy musk hinted at sex and fun and a little rebellion too. Hadn’t she picked this one out for him? She’d thought the name, Narciso Rodriguez Limited Edition, both funny and ironic. Who was more narcissistic than Rhett? He’d laughed, but his mouth had tightened a millimeter. Still, she hadn’t stopped him from buying it. When had she become so cruel?

  Keith bopped up and down in his seat. “Do you win a lot? My Uncle Tanner says you need nerves of steel to play like it’s a real job. Steel’s really hard, you know. My mom’s got nerves of steel.”

  “I’ve met her. She’s a lovely woman. You’re lucky to have her as your mama.”

  “Uh–huh,” her little companion agreed.

  “So how did you come to join our little outing today?”

  “My mom got upset. Mr. Maven said he was going to cheer her up. She broke our paper shredder today.”

  “So I heard. He took her over to my house. We set up something fun for her.”

  Abbie waited for him to fill her in. So, he was in on this thing with Mac? Why wasn’t she surprised? She frowned. She might not like the idea of him getting involved with that woman, but it was his business. If it hurt her and Dustin again, she would interfere, but only then.

  “What did you set up?” Keith asked.

  “Well, you can ask your mom when she gets home. It’s a secret. Do you like secrets?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t like secrets in my house. Mom says.”

  Rhett dramatically clapped his hand to his heart. “Crushed to the quick.”

  “It’s cut to the quick,” she corrected.

  He winked.

  Keith giggled. “We like surprises though.”

  “A much better word. Give me a high five.”

  Their palms met in front of her, so different in size she was amazed they connected.

  “I’m not so fond of secrets myself,” Rhett bandied back to the boy. “Your mama’s a wise woman.”

  Score a dig for Rhett. She stared at the field, wishing the boys would finish sucking their oranges and start playing again. A distraction would make it easier to ignore him. And, God she needed to ignore him.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m doing here?” Rhett inquired.

  She narrowed her eyes, wishing for sunny skies. Her sunglasses would be on, making it harder for him to study her. “I figure Dustin must have told you about practice.”

  “You figured right.” He pulled a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket—a Rhett staple—and offered her some.

  “No thanks.”

  “Keith?”

  “Sure, but I like the other ones better. You can spit the hard parts on the grass, and no one gets mad. It was kinda hard at first, but I figured it out.”

  Rhett chuckled in that dirty way of his, sending shivers down her spine.

  “I like those too, but Abbie here isn’t too fond of men spitting, so I brought the clean kind.” Then he had the audacity to wink again.

  He darn well knew she didn’t like it since she sucked at spitting. He’d tried to teach her how to eat the shelled seeds one time, but she hadn’t taken to it. He’d laughed like a loon when she got an icky glob on one of her white sandals. After wiping it off, she’d joined him. Then he’d kissed her senseless and thrown her over his shoulder. She stopped the memory in its tracks.

  Keith eyed her with a new regard—like she was some clean–freak mommy type—which she was. She gave Rhett another elbow in the ribs since he continued to lean across her, knotting her stomach.

  He grabbed her elbow with his hand and tickled her. She emitted a high–pitched giggle, rising a foot off her seat.

  His snicker carried across the field.

  She yanked her arm away.

  Keith’s eyes widened. “Are you okay, Ms. Maven?”

  The other parents who’d stayed for practice looked over.

  “I’m fine,” she replied primly, crossing her arms.

  Rhett poked her under her ribs. She giggled again and dug her feet into the metal slab beneath her so she wouldn’t jump.

  “Stop it,” she hissed under her breath.

  His infernal grin made her heart pound in her ears. “I can’t help it. I love to hear you laugh. Missed it. Doesn’t she have a great laugh, Keith?”

  The poor kid simply nodded, probably wondering what the heck was going on. “Are you ticklish, Ms. Maven?”

  “As the day is long, son,” Rhett replied.

  His deep voice held a touch of longing, igniting a memory of how much he’d loved tickling her when they were in bed together, making her scream with laughter. Later, she would scream for another reason—usually his hot, pumping body taking her places she’d never imagined could exist for someone like her. She’d thought she was frigid…until Rhett. Part of her missed her ignorance. The other part craved to be let out of her cage.

  “My mom likes to tickle me. I have to be careful ‘cause sometimes my legs kick. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  Abbie ruffled his hair. “You’re a sweet boy. Some people could learn from you.” She glared over at Rhett, whose shoulders lifted with his hushed chuckle.

  Keith swung his feet back and forth. “Are they going to start up again soon?”

  “Pretty soon,” she replied.

  They came back onto the field all juiced up. Dustin took his position as a forward. His teammate kicked off mid–field, and everyone started the dance. The ball bounded down the sidelines. Someone stopped it with their foot. Then it flew across the field again. She considered soccer a kind of poetry. There was a beat and cadence to
it, a majesty beyond each individual’s actions.

  Rhett didn’t talk to her. He simply handed over the bag of sunflower seeds periodically so Keith could grab more.

  “Come on, Dustin,” she cried out when someone kicked him in the shins, digging for the ball.

  “Yeah, come on, Dustin,” Keith mimed.

  God, she missed this age. She remembered how Dustin used to parrot her like that. Follow her around. Ask her opinion. He needed to be his own man, but she was still afraid he wouldn’t turn out okay without her help.

  “He’s a good boy, Abbie,” Rhett murmured. “There’s so much to be proud of. You’ve done a great job.”

  She gripped her knees. He’d always had the ability to read her thoughts, anticipate her needs. For someone who wasn’t used to sharing her feelings, he’d short–circuited a major stumbling block between them. He simply knew. Damn his poker player’s instincts.

  Hadn’t that scared her to death?

  Worse, he’d wanted to give to her, whatever she’d ever wanted or needed.

  She hadn’t known what to do about it then. She still didn’t.

  “Kick it, Dustin!” Rhett yelled.

  She watched his hands under her lashes. He’d told her he wouldn’t touch her until she asked. God, how much more could she take?

  “You have any water?” Rhett asked. “These seeds are pretty salty.”

  She gestured to the small cooler. He pulled out a bottle, and she watched him from the corner of her eye as he threw back his head and guzzled the whole thing down. His throat moved, all corded and strong.

  “So,” Rhett said when he was finished. “Are you eating anywhere special tonight?”

  “We’re going out for pizza,” Keith supplied, bouncing in his seat. “It’s so cool.”

  “Mind if I come along?”

  Keith looked at her. “You need to ask Ms. Maven, but I’d like it if you came.”

  He’d boxed her in nicely. She gave him the fakest smile she could muster. “Sure.”

  He settled back on the bleachers, crossing his ankles on top of the bench in front of them and putting his arms behind his head. The full–on stretch made her body sizzle. She picked up the cooler and dropped it in his crotch before he could move.