“I see how it is. The truth comes out,” she teased. Wrapping Shayla in a full embrace, Carrie Ann swayed a little, holding to her tightly, whispering, “Have a great time. Thanks so much for helping me every year. It wouldn’t be the same without you. Love you.”
“Love you too. It’s always a pleasure.” Shayla pulled back making close inspection of her unusual show of emotion. “You okay?”
A sting of sentiment gathered in her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Must be the champagne. Have a great time.”
Shayla squeezed her upper arms. “Call me if you need to talk.”
Jason appeared at her side with another flute of bubbly. Other couples wandered off, stealing away to the dance floor. Feeling relaxed, she took a long sip. The golden effervescent tingled her nose making her giggle a little. Jason held out a hand, encouraging her to sit. She snuggled into the corner of the white outdoor sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
“I’d say tonight was a huge success for you and for the HAHF.” Jason raised his crystal flute. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
The chilled bubbles slid down her throat. She licked her lips, catching a dribble of sweet liquid at the corner of her mouth. Her bottom lip felt numb as she tugged it between her teeth. Carrie Ann hadn’t eaten so much as one appetizer and the effects fuddled her senses, leaving her unsteady and a bit slow.
Easily distracted, she stared off into the distance, mesmerized by the heavy mist moving in. The drone of Jason’s voice slipped into obscurity. The fog took on a golden glow under the chandeliers, swirling in waves and eddies as people moved under the canopy. Without knowing what she agreed to, the words, “Sure,” floated happily from her mouth.
Following his lead, she took another swallow from the crystal flute and placed the empty glass on the table in front of them. She hooked her arm through the crook of his elbow, clutching to Jason as he escorted her to the dance floor.
“Oh, we’re dancing,” it came out more as an ambiguous statement than a question. Her free hand flew to dip at her throat, testing the giddy tremor inside her chest.
Jason caught her around the waist and she automatically draped a wrist near the back of his neck, relaxing against him. The smell of the ocean clung to the damp night air. A cool evening breeze gusted beneath the tent and a shiver chased over her bare shoulders. Carrie Ann slipped her other arm inside the fine silky lining of his suit coat for warmth, molding herself to his masculine form.
“I feel bad…not being able to save you from a date with Ryan.”
Her thoughts jumbled, losing focus to the wispy mist sweeping beneath the hem of her gown as they danced. “You mean Summer?”
Carrie Ann pulled her eyes away from the dreamlike haze to look up at Jason, but as he swayed to the side, her gaze collided with Summer’s. Head on. He stood in the distance beneath a long branch of a pepper tree covered in twinkle lights.
The muted lighting silhouetted his rigid stance, but she could still detect his irritation. His penetrating stare cut to her core.
For some reason his annoyance made her giggle a little. Slyly, she wiggled her fingers up and down in a waving fashion. This only made his heavy brow furrow into a hard squint.
“Yes,” Jason continued. “Hopefully that doesn’t discourage you from going on another date with me.”
Feeling slightly tipsy, she couldn’t contain an awkward, breathy laugh. It made her shake internally from head to toe. Carrie Ann clutched to Jason to keep from stumbling. The feel of his well-built back felt surprisingly nice under her palm.
Words and thoughts weren’t registering correctly. In the back of her mind, she knew there was a question she needed to answer, but her brain wasn’t functioning. She snuggled closer letting her hips sway freely to the rhythm of the music while her eyes fixed on Summer. The creases of her lips bent upward, relishing in the play of muscles under his white dress shirt.
He felt so good pressed against her body, but Summer looked confused, and pissed, and jealous. And far away. Too far away. It felt as if she were in a dream, standing on the outside looking in.
Two plus two were not adding up.
Hearing Jason’s voice at her ear made her recoil, jerking away from his body, as if the mere touch of him scalded her flesh. Her exhales came in labored huffs. The tips of her icy fingers rubbed clumsily at her neck and nape.
“You okay?”
Peering up at Jason, her head bobbled from side-to-side, sluggishly. Confusion grew. Beats of the music streamed through her veins, keeping pace with her heart. She could not understand why Summer was so far away.
Her head twisted, raking a seductive stare over the silhouette beneath the tree. The dim glow from above shadowed his features, hollowing his cheeks and defining the dimple set perfectly in the center of his chin. The man was like a force of nature, his presence a gravitational pull she couldn’t deny.
A slow burn of yearning brought a flush to her cheeks. Old cravings twisted deep inside, turning her heartbeat unruly. Her eyes drifted shut as her lips parted, releasing a long breath. She could feel him from across the room, the implicit fluency of his touch as it traveled over tender, vulnerable secret spaces of her flesh and heart. Places only he knew. Places only he owned. Her body had a mind of its own and it was becoming very, very hungry.
Suddenly, Carrie Ann Lowell felt like a million fucking dollars.
Chapter Six
‡
A pale greyness passed through the window swallowing the day’s light. Carrie Ann laid sprawled out in bed, lying face down, nose squished in a fluffy pillow. She peeled one eyelid open then the other, glaring at a log wall.
Heaviness encumbered her limbs as she drew them beneath her chest. The sound of rain falling on the roof wrapped the space in a hushed solitude. She raised to her elbows, lifting her head from the sateen steel blue pillowcase. The tips of her fingers turned small circles rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Her heart rate picked up speed, scouring the bedroom for familiarities. Carrie Ann made detailed observations of her rustic surroundings, hoping something would ring a bell, but the spacious bedroom held none. Only fine cabin-like furnishings. Her eyes immediately drawn to a large antique armoire filling the far corner of the bedroom. The dark wood almost hidden beneath the distressed sea-glass blue patina. A floor lamp made of antlers sat beside a craftsman style overstuffed chair and ottoman covered in worn leather and a camp-style blanket.
Her head twisted to the right inspecting the rumpled down blanket on the other side of the bed. A shallow indentation on the pillow indicated she’d not slept alone. Panic settled over her like the heavy wool blanket¸ filling her with dread.
“Shit,” she croaked, smacking and licking her dry lips searching for much needed saliva.
Propped on both elbows, her naked breasts bounced as she reached for a tall glass of water on the bedside table fashioned from a tree stump. A wicked hangover pounded her temples. Two blue Advil set beside a folded piece of paper reading:
You’re safe
Take these
I’m outside in the barn
Summer
“Summer?” Her confusion mounted, yet oddly enough, seeing his signature brought a bit of relief to her reeling imagination. Carrie Ann downed the pills, quenching her parched scratchy throat. “Barn? Where the hell am I?”
Every inch of her body was sore and stiff. Fisting the silky sheets, she attempted to slip out of bed, but a bulky weight laying atop the covers between the back of her spread thighs prevented her from moving.
Oh God.
The heaviness stirred, stretching with a shiver before settling a portion of its bulk atop her rump. She wriggled, pressing her hips to the mattress. Noting the tenderness in her inner thighs, she swallowed, hard. Her shoulders raised and lowered with each exaggerated breath she desperately tried to control. There was nothing. Zero recollection of the night. Embarrassment slowly crept over her nude body, bringing a wave of nausea to her tummy.
Terrified to chance a glance over her shoulder, she stared straight forward at the intricate iron scrolls of the headboard and the square log walls behind it. She wasn’t ready to face the music or Summer.
Suddenly, the body disappeared. A pant of searing breath at her shoulder blade conjured up imaginings of an evening she couldn’t recall. Taking into consideration her nakedness, soreness down below, and last but not at the very least a note from Summer on the bedside table, the cinematic film churning through her mind was soiled with humiliation. She felt a cold nose nudge the place where her arm met her torso. A rough tongue licked her cheek.
Hit with the intoxicating sweetness of puppy breath, triggered an instant calmness inside. Carrie Ann rolled to her side. She swore the pair of chocolate brown eyes smiled at her as the pup rested its muzzle on her pillow.
“Who are you?” she asked in a soft groggy tone. Carrie Ann stroked its soft cream colored fur a few times before locating the heart-shaped tag hanging from the pink collar. “Aspen.”
The pads of the puppy’s paws made a scratchy noise against the silky fabric as the golden retriever inched closer. Her entire body wriggled with excitement taking another swipe at Carrie Ann’s face.
She hauled the blankets up to her chest. The plush bedding held traces of the warm, sunny, familiar scent of Summer. Lying beneath a massive pealed log beam that spanned the entire room, she took in the surroundings, desperately hoping something would spark a memory of how she got there.
Rain struck against the window, running down the glass in clear ribbons. A loud pop made her lurch upright, clutching to the puppy. Uninterested in the noise or her loud squeal, Aspen began chewing on a strand of Carrie Ann’s hair. Another round of pops and hisses resonated from the glowing ambers in the fireplace.
Draping her legs over the edge of the bed, she wrapped the down blanket around her body, collected Aspen in her arms, and plodded toward the window. The dark and stormy sky gave no indication of time of day. Glancing back over her shoulder toward the bed, there was no clock anywhere in sight.
Carrie Ann peered out the window, but couldn’t see anything through the fog. Leaning closer, nearly touching her nose to the cold windowpane, she wiped the condensation from the glass. Low lying clouds hovered above a vast golden meadow stretching all the way across a valley to the base of a mountain on the other side. A very big mountain.
A deep groove notched between her brows. “What the…where the hell am I?”
Setting Aspen on the floor, she scurried to the other corner window. The puppy pounced atop the blanket dragging behind Carrie Ann’s feet. Grabbing a corner between her sharp teeth, she barked and growled playfully, shaking the fluffy fabric in her mouth like a chew toy.
“Shh. No, no.” Carrie Ann warned with a quick snap of her fingers.
Aspen released the blanket, looking up at her with sad dejected puppy eyes.
“Come here.” She scooped a free hand under her soft, pink belly.
A thick forest of tall pine trees consumed the view. She couldn’t escape the uncertainty and doubt clouding her mind. The more she tried to remember what happened the madder she got. Inner turmoil churned like the threatening darkness beyond the window. The last thing she recalled was being on the dance floor with Jason and then…Summer standing under the tree.
Stifling her instantaneous I’m going to kick his ass reaction, she set the pooch down and warily peeked her nose out the bedroom door before making her way through the cabin. The only sounds she heard were Aspen’s nails clacking on the wide plank flooring and rain drizzling on the tin roof. The structure itself seemed rather dated, as if it’d been there for fifty years, but it’d been remodeled with a small top notch gourmet kitchen. Modern furnishings, an exquisite worn leather sofa and two love seats, created a U-shaped lounge in front of a river rock fireplace.
She couldn’t help snooping, inspecting each room, including a room that was obviously Summer’s. Inquisitively, she tip-toed inside the spacious bedroom. His tux hung on a hanger on the closet door, shoes kicked to the side of his bed. The enormous log bed was covered in luxurious expresso colored comforter. Aspen trotted by, pulling a black dress sock from his shoe, proudly towing the prize back to Carrie Ann.
“Give,” she commanded holding out her hand. The puppy crouched on her front paws while sticking her tail in the air, wagging it back-and-forth. Carrie Ann said sternly, “No, no. Aspen, give.”
The puppy relinquished the sock and flopped to her back, exposing her pink belly for a pat. Ambling toward his tux, the sunny scent of him lingered, bringing warmth to her chest and neck. She’d never forgotten the fragrance. Carrie Ann lifted her hand to touch the jacket, but a subtle ache behind her heart forced her to pull back.
There’d been countless times over the years that she missed him. Lonely nights filled with visions of his simple smile and others occupied with erotic moments of shared passion. But each time she allowed herself that brief moment, that blip of curiosity wondering what if things had gone differently, she paid a steep price. Days of painful heartache and melancholy always followed. The kind of hurt and sadness that brought her to tears. Wreckages from her past she wished she could wipe clean from her memory.
Moving in a slow motion, she trudged back to the room she’d slept in. Opening the armoire, she found her red dress hanging alongside several of her favorite tops, jeans, and a black bikini. Boots and shoes for every outdoor occasion were stacked neatly on the bottom two shelves of the compartmentalized make-shift closet. Another wave of uncertainty rolled through her stomach. “These are from my closet.”
She pulled open the top drawer. Anger flourished finding bras, and panties as well as a few pieces of her special lingerie. Her lip lifted into a snarl. Reaching in for a pair of silky leopard print panties exposed another of her favorite goodies. Mr. Fucking Perfect, her climactic pleasure toy of choice, guaranteed to bring pulsating satisfaction every time, lay nestled between her undies.
“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes darted around the room making sure no one was watching. She could feel the heat throbbing in her cheeks. “Oh, this is not cool. What the hell?”
Roughly snatching an outfit from the hangers, Carrie Ann marched to the bathroom to get dressed. She shoved her fingers into her hair, raking through the leftover up-do. Her overnight bag sat on the counter. Half terrified to look inside, she forced herself to yank on the zipper.
“Fuck. Fuckity-fuck.” A catalog of colors, red and pink polish, filled half the tote. A flash of panic ensued, instantly compelling her gaze to drop to her feet. She huffed out a sigh of relief noting no change in her toenail polish. The man had a serious crush on her feet.
Dragging a toothbrush across her teeth, she yanked the oversized knit cranberry sweater over her head and threw on a pair of skinny jeans. She splashed water on her face, thumbing over the smudged mascara and leftover party face. Mounting fury and humiliation did a dangerous dance inside her, morphing into an explosive cocktail of tenacity. She crammed her feet into her boots, tying the laces with lethal force.
Carrie Ann marched out the back door heading for a barn fifty yards from the cabin. Drops of cool water pelted her face and cheeks. With every grinding step came another blow of fury. Where was she? Why didn’t she remember anything? Why the hell was she naked? The last thought was almost a given…they’d obviously had sex. And they’d most definitely slept in the same bed.
By the time she reached the barn, rage charged through her veins. Aspen scampered ahead, darting through a doggie door. Burying her shame in a fractious show of obstinacy, she yanked the door and stormed inside.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to find walking into the barn, maybe horses, cows, chickens, or even a tractor, but this was anything but rural. The decked out living quarters looked more like a collaboration of rustic mountain man retreat meets urban man cave heaven, featured in the pages of Architectural Digest. Her observation only made it as far as the pool table covered in camel felt before
landing on Summer’s long lean form stretched out on the plush dark sofa, sound asleep. His long bare feet hung off the edge of the couch crossed at the ankles. One hand cupped his crotch the other draped behind his head. The sight of him, relaxed and rumpled, caused her heart to thud.
Aspen made a beeline for him. She shook the water from her coat and plopped her paws on the edge of the rusty red cushion. Her tail wiggled feverishly back-and-forth, happily licking Summer’s slumbering face.
“Hey, girl.” She heard him say groggily, curling his fingers over the pups wet floppy ears. The hammering of her pulse nearly drowned out his voice.
Their gazes clashed.
He lifted his head from the chenille throw pillow. A mixture of relief and concern etched across his face, softening the worry lines near his eyes. A burning sensation struck deep within her belly. Carrie Ann was so pissed, she worked herself into a hot mess desperate to confront him. However, once inside, a feeling of dread swarmed her head and stomach, mortified by what she’d done in a drunken stupor.
His eyes remained fixed, raising to his feet. He looked disheveled and warm, wearing a grey T-shirt over a white thermal and worn pair of jeans. The top buttons undone. The mere sight stole her breath from her lungs sending a rush of blood rocketing through her pulse.
As he crossed the room, puppy at his heels, a thick lump of shame caught in her throat. Summer stared at her silently for a moment. She could barely find the courage to look at him. A subtle smile crossed his lips, giving a non-verbal exchange of hello.
“Morning, Red.” He swallowed before clearing his throat. “Actually, I guess it’s already afternoon.”
Struggling to keep the vulnerability from seeping through the cracks in her voice, she snapped, “I don’t really give a shit what time of day it is, Summer. Where the hell am I?”
His brow lifted, looking entertained by her anger. He replied vaguely, “This is my place.”
The air sizzled with intensity.
A Taste of Summer Page 8