A Taste of Summer

by Beverly Preston

  “What are you? Some kind of inspirational relationship guru now?”

  He ignored the dig. “You make me fall for you…every…single…time just by the way you look at me.”

  Battling the oncoming waterworks burning the back of her eyes and nose, she willed her defenses, regarding him scornfully, “You just want a blow job or…or a fuck for the night.”

  His eyes broadened. Her crudeness surprised him more than it shocked herself.

  “Well, I do love the vision of your mouth wrapped around my cock.” He moved closer, coasting his fingers along the ridge of her jaw. “And I most certainly want to fuck you senseless.”

  “I’m sure you’ve knocked sense into plenty of women.”

  “Carrie Ann, I’ve never wanted to fuck another woman the way I want to fuck you.”

  Her lip curled, repulsed by his words. Summer was visibly shaking. She started to pull away from him, but he gripped her arms.

  “You’re also the only woman I can really talk to. And the woman I want to look into the future with. Plain and simple, Red. I just want you. Inside, outside, upside down and fucking sideways.” The demanding but gentle squeeze of his fingers around her biceps, drew a rush of breath from her lungs. A flash of belligerent male triumph ignited fire in his eyes. Apparently he was happy to have finally made his point. “Carrie Ann, you’re the only woman I want in my bed when I wake up every morning.”

  Rain began to fall from the sky in thin vertical threads, misting down on their faces. Strikes of cold water bounced off the quarried stone beneath her feet, splashing against her ankles.

  “Summer,” the edge of her voice beginning to crack.

  “I’m right here in front of you. Right now! Why can’t you just be honest with your feelings?”

  Fear, trust, desire, love, and her old adversary guilt, flashed out of control, a cautionary beacon of sure danger ahead. She didn’t have time to be reasonable. Or the courage.

  “I am being honest with my feelings.”

  The lie came out smoothly, but he wasn’t buying it. His hand slipped into hers, the simplest gesture of affection sent her heart into a sputter.

  “I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of trying to force the puzzle pieces of my life together. They just don’t fit. You are the missing piece of my puzzle, Carrie Ann. It’s driving me crazy. Especially after…”

  A bellowing cry from the tree line interceded, gripping both of them with fear.

  “Aspen,” they said simultaneously.

  Summer bolted toward the whining howls, robe whipping behind him like a superhero cape. Damn he was fast. Carrie Ann threw on her boots and chased after him, boobs bouncing wildly with no concern. Adrenaline coursed through her veins fearing the worst. The pup’s cries getting louder with each yelp.

  By the time she caught up to Summer, he held Aspen to his chest with one hand. The other hand restrained her paws from scratching at her face. Winded from sprinting, Carrie Ann hinged at the waist, sucking in air. Half a dozen cream-colored sticks bore into Aspen’s snout.

  “Are those…”

  “Porcupine quills. Shh, it’s okay girl.” Worry coated his dry voice, giving kisses to the top of Aspen’s head.

  Carrie Ann moved in for the dog, yearning to comfort her cries, but Summer wouldn’t relinquish the pup. She stood on the sidelines, anxiously wringing her sweaty hands, waiting for her turn.

  Brows tucked tight in concern, he started for the barn. “We’ve got to get these out of her.”

  Compressing the spring of her breasts in the palm of her hands, Carrie Ann jogged alongside him, keeping pace with his long determined strides. “Take them out? How are we going to get them out?”

  Hearing her voice, Aspen thrashed and wiggled in his arms, whining to get to her. Carrie Ann gave no regard to her shirt, wide open and kiting behind her like a sail. She repeatedly attempted to reach for the dog, breasts bouncing freely with her stride. Summer glanced down at her, eyes quickly plunging to her boobs before meeting her gaze. Without stopping, he handed off the pup.

  “Meet me in the barn. I’ll see what I can find.”

  She snuggled Aspen tightly in her arms, minimizing the dog’s movement as Summer sprinted for the barn. Her whines drifted off, but her dark brown eyes darted and bulged in a pleading fashion. “It’s okay, girl. Your daddy’s gonna fix you up. He’s gonna make you all better.”

  Eleven barbed quills embedded in her nose and lips. It reminded Carrie Ann of a thick, bushy, walrus mustache she’d seen at an adventure park as a kid.

  Reaching the barn, a bottle of peroxide and a tube of antibiotic ointment sat beside a thick towel laid out on the bar top. Summer met her with a pair of green handled, flat jawed, pliers and a smaller more delicate pair of medical pliers used for clamping.

  “You’re going to have to hold her still while I pull them out.” His voice moderated, turning to sweet sugary honey, speaking to Aspen. “What were you thinking taking on a porcupine? Huh, you crazy little girl. I bet you don’t do that again.”

  His warm protective tone grabbed hold of a thin thread bound around her heart, tugging gently. Carrie Ann croaked, “Do you want me to lay her on the bar or should I hold her?”

  He snatched the towel, giving her a brief nod signaling her to lift the pup from her chest. She did as he asked, allowing him do tuck the cottony towel between them, his knuckles brushing the curve of her breast. A raspy groan gathered in his throat. “I swear, I think the two of you are trying to kill me.”

  Her lips pursed, smothering a tiny smile. “Sorry.”

  “Like hell you are.” He bent, lowering his face to Aspen’s. “This is gonna hurt a little, girl.”

  It took an hour to remove all the quills. Carrie Ann kept the pup as calm as possible. She held her tight, and gently covering her eyes while speaking softly near her floppy ear. Summer took extra precautions, grasping each quill at the base and yanking it out in one rapid motion, making sure not to break the barbs off inside.

  The painful process brought winces and tears to all three of them. After cleaning the wounds and filling the holes with ointment, Summer started a roaring fire. The large stone fireplace encompassed most of the wall, narrowing just above the thick slab mantel, and rising to the ceiling. Carrie Ann moved to a well-worn rocking chair recliner. She settled in, hanging her feet over the padded armrest. The tan leather molded to her body as it began to warm. Snuggling the exhausted pup to her chest, Carrie Ann thoroughly inspected Aspen’s nose and lips for any remaining fragments, hidden beneath the skin.

  At some point before the de-quilling procedure, Summer changed into a pair of faded worn jeans and an espresso brown thermal shirt. He stared at the flames, one arm stretched out long, palm gripping the mantel. Remorse visible in the slouch of his shoulders. “I’m not sure if I need a drink or breakfast. That almost requires a shot of whiskey. Maybe even tequila.”

  “If you want to hold her, I’ll make coffee. Got any Baileys?”

  “Baileys and whiskey sounds good. I think I’ve got some behind the bar.”

  “I’ll make breakfast too. I’ll blend whatever you’d like.”

  Summer approached her, racking his fingers through his cropped hair. “Nah, you wanna hold onto her and I’ll fix something? What are you hungry…”

  His words trailed off, studying the two girls cuddled in the rocking chair. Aspen sprawled out flat in the valley between her breasts, her battered nose nuzzled in the crook of Carrie Ann’s neck. Fine lines near the corner of his eyes softened. She noted a flicker of something, an unfamiliar emotion she’d never seen him wear before, clouding his eyes to the color of cognac. Her belly burned as if she’d already threw back a shot of whiskey.

  “What?” she questioned warily in a hush.

  The muscles of his throat forced a swallow. His gaze lingered over her legs. He paused, watching the movement of her feet, turning in small thoughtless circles. Summer’s mouth bowed south, shaking his head. “Nothing. No, I mean…it’s no
thing, Red.”

  Glimpsing downward, she took quick inspection. She was still wearing his shirt, and even though it was only buttoned twice near the tail of the shirt, all of her naughty parts remained covered. The opened front pulled over the dog like a blanket.

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  Seeming a bit entranced, he moved toward her, blindly reaching for a cashmere throw hanging over the couch and draping it over her bare legs.

  “What,” she asked again.

  “It’s just…you…you look beautiful.” His hand closed around her foot with a squeeze. “I mean really beautiful. Kind of…maternal or something with the dog laying there on your bare chest.”

  Carrie Ann’s lip twitched. Her face scrunched into a grimace as if he’d just delivered the worst insult imaginable. A hint of queasiness twisted in her gut.

  She had no idea how capable he was at reading her every expression. Sensing her sour reaction, he backtracked immediately, drawing both shoulders toward his ears.

  “I don’t know where the fuck that just came from.” Summer gave a quick, self-justifying, shake of his head. “But, I know one thing for certain, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”

  His words hit her like a gale force wind. She felt the color leaching from her face as a bitter arctic storm, brutal in its force, brewed inside. Her heart sinking so low she could feel her pulse clear down to her toes.

  Fighting back a full blown panic attack, she moved to her feet and peeled the sleeping pup from her chest, thrusting Aspen into his arms. She wasn’t even aware she was talking, but a muffled version of her voice hummed in her ears. “I’ll make breakfast.”

  “Carrie Ann,” he pleaded in a guttural voice. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered despondently, oblivious to the tears already gathering in her eyes. Refusing to be in his presence for a second longer, she stomped out the door barefoot. Tremors wracked her body and uncontrollable emotions spilled down her face. She could scarcely breathe.

  “You’re not fine.”

  The blood raging through her veins made it hard for her to hear him, but she sensed his presence at her side. Catching her by the arm, he spun her to face him. Face averted, she firmly pressed the tips of her fingers to the sockets of her eyes, smearing away the show of weakness.

  “Yes, I am.” She wrapped the shirt tightly around her body, shrinking further into despair.

  “I’m trying to be patient. I need to understand why you’re so mad. I don’t even know if you understand why you’re so pissed at me right now. The other night…”

  One arm came around the small of her back. He cradled Aspen like a football between them. Summer bent his head and nuzzled his cheek near her temple. The heat of his breath tickled the shell of her ear. “Here, take her for a minute.”

  Without reluctance, she unlinked her fingers, smoothly accepting the handoff. The back of his knuckles swept along her jaw and neck. She sucked in a sharp breathe of air feeling his strong fingers delve into her loose bun, releasing the long dark layers with one easy motion. Loose, wavy locks pooled around her shoulders.

  He spoke against her hair, lips brushing her cheek. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything, Red.”

  With every breath, her chest expanded, trying to fill her lungs. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t fix her, that part of her was broken and gone forever, and that he’d never forgive her, but the words refused to come. Anxiety tightened its grip, holding her concessions hostage.

  Summer’s lips wandered to the corner of her mouth, nudging and caressing. Warily, he eased his mouth over hers, as if asking for permission. She opened partially, timidly moving her mouth with his. Carrie Ann wanted to enjoy the kiss, the unbearable sweetness of his mouth, so much so that it perplexed her, but she couldn’t offer full consent. She was twisted up inside, torn by shame. Big tears rolled down her nose, gathering along the crease of their joined lips.

  Tasting the saline, he pulled back. Agony and confusion furrowed between his brows.

  “I know what you want, Summer. But I’m not the same woman anymore.”

  “I don’t understand what that means. You desperately wanted to be that woman the other night. I know you feel for me…you fucking told me so a dozen times. What’s the issue? I know it’s not that guy, Jason. You’ve had relationships…I’ve had relationships…they didn’t matter. None of them!”

  She pitched backward, bobbling out of his clutches. Summer took half a step back. His stance turned rigid, every muscle flexed with frustration. The desire in his eyes hit her with another jolt of sadness. Her heart throbbed painfully. She ached all over with desire. Carrie Ann knew he could have any woman he wanted. Countless threw themselves at him on a daily basis. She so badly wanted to say yes, but it would come with a cost. A payment of knowledge she couldn’t afford to disclose.

  “I can’t do this. I just need some space, Summer.”

  The stiffness in his posture yielded, his expression withdrawn. Words slipped out painfully from behind clenched teeth. “You’ve had your space for years.”

  “Just because you want to give us another shot doesn’t mean it’s going to automatically happen. Life doesn’t work that way. We don’t always get what we want.”

  “Don’t you dare try to turn this around. I know exactly how life works, Carrie Ann. I don’t need a fucking reminder.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he took a step toward her, piercing her with a hard stare. “And just because my career comes with a big bank account, doesn’t mean I have everything I want. I’ve scratched, I’ve clawed, I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. Success, fame, fortune…none of it really matters. Because when I reached the top of the mountain I’m still not happy. What I want the most is something I have zero control over!” He threw his arms out, muscles cording. “Oddly enough, that’s one of the things I always loved most about you…your pig-headed tenacity! But, right now it’s beginning to piss me off.”

  Her lids fluttered in a fast blink.

  “You want more space? Fine.” Summer shoved his hands back into his pockets. Heading for the cabin he murmured, “I must be crazy. A fucking idiot for torturing myself like this.”

  Slow to move, she stood there stroking Aspen’s soft coat. Carrie Ann waited until he disappeared inside before retreating to her room for a shower. A veil of hot water cascaded over her shoulder, easing the pangs of remorse shooting through her. Throwing on a pair of boyfriend-cut jeans and a sweater, she took advantage of his “blend” time and snuck into the living room to retrieve her book.

  Apparently she wasn’t near as stealth-like as she thought because he called out in a brusque, grumpy voice, “Help yourself. Fire is still burning in the barn if you plan on keeping warm.”

  The slamming of the door drowned out any further complaints he spewed under his breath.

  “I think he’s pissed.” Carrie Ann lifted the puppy’s face to hers. Her paws had barely touched the floor since she’d been accosted by the porcupine. “What do you think?”

  Aspen answered with a slurp of the tongue right on Carrie Ann’s mouth.

  “Ewww.”

  Passing on breakfast, she poured a big cup of Joe and meandered back to the barn. A bottle of whiskey and Baileys sat atop the bar, so she added a substantial shot of each, giving it a stir with her index finger. She took a sip of the creamy goodness. Almost perfect. Rummaging behind the bar, she sorted through bottles until she found Kahlua. Just a splash added the perfect punch of extra coffee flavor.

  Carrie Ann settled in beside the roaring fire, spending most of the day reading. Finding down time in her crazy schedule had become nearly impossible the last few years. A relaxing vacation still included a laptop, cellphone, and unlimited data. She found it compulsively necessary to check emails and messages daily. And what would a vacation be without posting fun-filled moments over social media. At some point during Chapter Twelve she found herself so entranced in the story, she wiggled
in her seat holding a pee, not wanting to put the book down. Clinging to the pages, sitting on the toilet, it occurred to her that she hadn’t even so much as given modern technology a thought since climbing out of bed the first day.

  Summer’d been nonexistent the entire afternoon. She stoked the fire, adding a few logs every hour or so and took Aspen for a few walks. All the while holding the book of course. After a few hours, she considered checking on him until she heard another round of axing and chopping, pummeling through a long grind of wood splitting.

  It was late in the day when he decided to join her. Fresh from the shower, his hair still silky and wet. A rocks glass dangled from his fingers, sinking into the other end of the sofa.

  “You plan on living up here during the winter?” she asked.

  He slid her a questioning glance. The fire shed a glow of warmth across his tan skin.

  “All that firewood you’ve been chopping…I thought maybe you were going to brave a Montana winter.”

  Anything else she said would’ve bolstered an argument. The tense energy surrounding him, softened. He drew a full blown sexy grin behind the rim of his glass. “Well, I have to take my frustrations out on something, Red. Would you prefer…”

  “No!” she giggled. A minute of quiet passed between them. “What are you drinking?”

  “Whiskey. Try it.” He offered his glass. “I get it from a private distiller.”

  Avoiding his fingers, she confiscated the tumbler. The decadent pale gold liquid twinkled in the clear tumbler, raising it to her lips.

  “Personal chef, private distiller. Living the good life, ah?” The words came as a playful compliment, but in truth Summer had grown into a confident man. Time gifted him with an aura of relaxed poise and inner-strength that looked very, very good on him.