Enthralled in his story, a small smile of understanding lifted at the corners of her mouth. She touched her index finger to his chin dimple. “You’ve never been an asshole.”
“Yeah, I was and I got pretty sick of myself.”
“Under all that sexy, bravado of arrogance, you were always grounded, Summer. What changed it around for you?”
“I split for a while. Trekked through Peru, spent some time in India. Got my head on straight. Getting away from the spotlight forced me to look inside…take inventory on what makes me happy. It helped immensely, but I still couldn’t shake this feeling inside of me…this conviction of failing.”
“You’ve never failed at anything. Sometimes things in life just happen. Things we don’t have control over.”
“Yeah well, life sent me over the edge when I couldn’t make it to Shayla’s wedding. I was on location in New Zealand. I was angry, seriously outraged, because I couldn’t be there. That’s when I realized…my anger had absolutely nothing to do with Shayla and John getting married. I was livid because I wouldn’t get the chance to see you.”
She could feel the look of hurt creeping across her forehead. Carrie Ann had pretended, even to herself, to be so relieved that he couldn’t attend the wedding, but deep down she was disappointed not to see him. “I’ve never really admitted this, not even to Shayla, but…”
“Umm, actually you have admitted it. And I really could’ve done without that one, Carrie Ann. You were totally bummed that I wasn’t at the wedding. But you were so worried that I’d show up last minute with another woman you brought a date, which led to a horrible one-night stand. Which you’ve blamed me for…for the last five years.”
Carrie Ann looked away in humiliation, nervously digging a hole in the dirt with her shoe. She murmured crossly, “It was all your fault.”
“Yes. It was my fault and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for letting you out of my life long enough to give other men the opportunity of…enjoying you.”
Jealously began a slow assault on her senses. The handful of relationships and lovers she’d had over the years paled in comparison to the countless affairs he’d had, not including weekend fucks. The mere thought of the headcount set her on a very sharp edge of combustion.
“What about all the women you’ve enjoyed?” she snapped.
“Maybe we should just get this out of the way right now?” He spun her around. His probing stare locked in hers, scrutinizing her features. Carrie Ann squirmed to get out of his arms, but he refused to release her. Hands pressed against his chest, she could feel hard running emotions pounding beneath her fingers. “If you think it was any easier for me to see you with someone else, you’re wrong. It was all I could do not to rip each one of them apart, limb by limb. Now…we can either table the discussion or get it out the way. Which do you prefer?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about all the women you’ve slept with.” Her temper ignited. She panted and wriggled trying to get free. Her face screwed into a tight snarl of frustration and repugnance, imagining the amount of spray-tanned flawlessness that had laid between his sheets. Emotions pricked the corner of her eyes.
“There’s not much to say, Red.” In one smooth move, Summer scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the blanket. “Every woman I’ve been with, for that matter, every woman I’ve ever known, pales in comparison to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Tabled.”
“Believe me, Red, you’re going to get to the tabled, but right now I think we need to clear the air.”
Her eyes fluttered and heart melted at the mere hint of table sex. Heavy breaths huffed from her flared nostrils. It was silly and stupid for her to be jealous, but she was sick with it.
Summer dropped to his knees and set her on her bum, and spun her so they were nose-to-nose. He crawled over her, arranging her just so, until his rear pointed skyward and his forearms rested at each side of her head. His lips inches from hers.
“We’re at nine thousand feet. The air can’t get any clearer,” she nipped sullenly, cutting him a sardonic eye roll.
Summer brushed the tip of his nose to hers, nudging playfully. He maneuvered his head to keep the sun from glaring into her eyes. She could barely make out his face, shadowed from the bright rays, but she could still make out his eyes smiling softly, taunting her with happiness. The man always possessed a distinct capability, an art really, of making her laugh when she was pissed.
“It’s just something I’m going to need to get over.”
“There’s nothing to get over. My past is my past. Your past is your past. Life is what it is, Carrie Ann. We can’t go back, we can only move forward. I give you my word…you’ll never have any reason to feel jealous again.” The tender sincerity in his tone, played along her heart strings. Summer palmed a few flyaway hairs from her face. His mouth moved over hers, delivering a sweet kiss. “You own my heart. You always have. Everything else has just been white noise filling in the blank spaces.”
A long sigh of acceptance drifted free from her tight pursed lips, steadying her shaky exhale. Her eyes adjusted to the light. She focused on his throat, smooth and tan. Appetizing. Carrie Ann brought her palms to his neck, entwining them at his nape. “I kind of like this…softer side of you, Summer.”
“Oh really?” He growled. “It’s the only thing soft you’re going to get from me today.”
“Is that so?” she countered boldly, trying to keep a straight face. “Gonna give it to me hard?”
“Carrie Ann Lowell, from now on you get it however you’d like it.” His tone riddled with impeccable politeness. For a millisecond. “Hard and fast, slow and dirty…you just say the word, but today I plan on fucking you into exhaustion.”
*
“What the…” A sea of white greeted them when they walked through the door. Toilet paper was strewn from one end the cabin to the other. “Aspen!”
“Uh-oh.” Carrie Ann contained her giggles behind the palm of her hand. “Looks like someone was a busy girl while we were gone.”
“Oh…she is in T.R.O.U.B.L.E. Aspen!” Authority rang in his voice as he called again. Summer gathered long strips and tiny pieces of tissue in his hand, making his way into the living room.
Movement stirred beneath a pile of flowy white cotton. A black nose and sleepy brown eyes peered out between the pillowed squares. A golden fluff ball emerged, fiercely barking as she charged toward them protectively.
“What did you do?”
Aspen skid to a halt, identifying the intruder as her master returning home after a long day. She whined, wiggling from head to tail, trotting toward them with a scarf made of toilet paper. Carrie Ann forced herself to look away from the cuteness.
Summer held out the ream of toilet paper in his hand. “This is a no, no. Bad girl, Aspen.”
The pup slowed to a crawl, literally, inching closer on her belly. She looked guilty as hell, sprawled out on the floor like a Swiffer sweeper. Aspen avoided Summer’s harsh stare as he scolded her several times before sneaking off to hide on her doggie bed.
“I’m so proud of you. You’re so strict. I would’ve totally caved. I mean seriously…look how stinking adorable she is. Even when she’s bad.”
Summer turned his back to the dog, so she couldn’t see the humor weave through his smile. He winked at Carrie Ann, whispering out the side of his mouth, “Go get your camera.”
“I knew you were a big softy.”
She snapped a dozen disaster photos and a short video collecting evidence of the destruction. Summer sat cross-legged on the floor reengineering the locking mechanism on the puppy play pen. Aspen snuck out of her timeout position, warily making her way to her daddy, head hung low in remorse, with a deflated football in her mouth.
“Drop it.”
She placed the ball in his lap as peace offering.
“Good girl,” he praised.
Summer lowere
d his nose to hers. His eyes pierced into a hard squint, holding until she couldn’t take it any longer. Catching him off guard, Aspen slurped a big wet kiss right on his mouth. He laughed out loud, easing back onto a pillow, accepting her apology kisses.
After a few tosses of the football, it didn’t take long for both of them to pass out. Carrie Ann located his phone, grabbed a jacket from an antler, and quietly slipped outside to message Shayla.
It’s me, Carrie Ann.
I figured things out.
Can you talk for a minute?
Within seconds, the phone vibrated in her hand. Her cheeks instantaneously heated to a bright shade of crimson. “Hey, Shay.”
“What does that mean? What have you figured out?”
“Well, hello to you too.”
“Don’t you dare…” Her motherly tone vanished as she covertly whispered into the phone, “…fuck with me Carrie Ann.”
“I can’t believe you hung up on me.” Carrie Ann contained her giddiness, dragging out the torture.
“Carrie Ann!” A loud warning.
“We’re together.”
She couldn’t deny the huge smile from consuming her entire body, wiggling from head to toe, mimicking the puppy. Shrills of excitement rang through the air as Carrie Ann held the phone away from her ear.
“Together? Please define that before I get too excited.”
“That means we’re together…as in boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Halle-frickin-lujah! It’s about time!” A sentimental sniffle broke through her happiness.
“Oh my gosh, are you crying?”
“Heck yes, I’m crying! And I’m covered in goosies. I’ve been waiting years for this to happen. Honestly, I’d given up hope.”
Shayla’s show of emotion brought the sting of wetness to her lower lashes. Carrie Ann heard John cheering in the background.
“Stop, you’re making me cry.”
“Finally! Thank you,” Shayla acclaimed. Carrie Ann could envision her best friend, palms together, chin tilted skyward. “Okay, okay. I want to know every detail. Well, not every detail, but I want the low down.”
Pebbles crunched beneath her feet as Carrie Ann paced back and forth, recanting the story. She left out the juicy details, partly because John’s big head was wedged between Shayla’s ear and her phone and because she’d always found their intimacy to personal to share. Even with her best friend. However, she managed to indicate that they were even better than ever together, which prompted the question she’d hoped to avoid.
“Are you really okay?” Shayla’s hushed tone full of concern. “How did Summer take it?”
Pacing came to a halt.
“You did tell him, right?”
Dusk brought a chill to the still air. A shudder trickled down her spine one vertebrae at a time, indicating there was still a backbone hidden in there somewhere.
“Carrie Ann…” Shayla drew her name out as if Ann had two syllables. Sympathy fused with frustration and disapproval. “You have to talk to him.”
“I know.” Her assurance resonated lamely…even to her own ears. “I will. I just haven’t found the right time.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You’ve been alone with him for days.”
Shayla’s uneasy groan rang in her ear as a bitter warning. Right on cue, her old nemesis guilt appeared, tapping her left shoulder with a pitchfork.
“I will.” Her voice slipped into a softness, nearly inaudible. “I have to, Shayla. Honestly, I’ve tried, but the words just won’t come out. I don’t know how to start the conversation.”
Shayla’s tsk of understanding, delivered little comfort. “Promise me you’ll tell him before you come home.”
Carrie Ann drew in a never-ending breath. She filled her cheeks full of air, expanding them like frightened blowfish, before slowly releasing the pressure through tightly compressed lips. “I promise.”
Chapter Twelve
‡
She’d spent ten years trying to force him from her memories, but the days that followed were a magical rediscovery of a love neither had ever truly let go of. The window to her soul had been pushed wide open, welcoming Summer like a breath of fresh air.
Carrie Ann couldn’t get enough of him and Summer seemed just as content being glued to her side. And her front. And her back. They kissed passionately, danced randomly, made love zealously, and laughed constantly. The simple act of holding his hand felt like a lifeline to their future. Happiness welled from a place deep down inside, bringing life to a place she thought had been wiped from her spirit.
The word vacation took on an entirely different meaning. No schedules, no clocks, no social media. This was relaxation at its finest. An unadulterated week of being unplugged from the world and uninhibited from one another.
They went for short hikes, soaked in the mineral pool, lounged by the fire, and had several serious rounds of Who Sunk My Battleship by candlelight. Summer broke out a script and read to her, actually read to her, in front of the fire. The script was touted as a masterful title that would bring the literary sub-genre Domestic Noir to the forefront. Mixing the seductive thriller, or at least the good parts, with his privately distilled whiskey made for an erotic evening. Remaining in character, he slinked down her waist, hooking his thumb through the thin material of her panties. “You are my addiction,” he said with conviction. Taking it a step beyond the sensual scene written on the pages, he plunged his mouth to her apex, bringing her to pieces with his wickedly talented tongue.
After reaching her peak, she panted, “Just so we’re clear, you’re not taking this role, right? Cause I’d hate to have to hospitalize one of Hollywood’s finest leading ladies.”
“From now on, you are my only leading lady.”
“That’s a definitive no, right?”
A low chuckle simmered in his chest, taking a bite of her inner thigh. “That’s a definitive no.”
Weather permitting, they took a day trip to Jackson Hole. The upscale sleepy village offered limitless opportunities to outdoor enthusiasts of every age and acted as a magnet for fast paced family fun during the peak seasons. Pup in tow, they meandered the streets, hitting a few galleries and designer boutiques infused with authentic western flare. He bought a few trinkets for the cabin, a souvenir hoodie for each of them, plus several handmade candles and oils, promising to use them that night, their last night, at the cabin.
Though they opted to keep the day casual, Carrie Ann wore a cerulean blue cotton summer dress and her favorite converse while he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Though he sported a baseball cap, backwards, people still noticed him. Summer’s height and size made him stand out in any crowd, but his ruggedly handsome features made him a target for women of any age. Not to mention he was named Man Crush of the Year by People.
Passerby’s pointed and stared, snapping photos from a distance. She found herself on edge with the added attention, but Summer was in his element. He was confident, yet on guard, fully aware of everything going on around them. His ready smile and laid back charm was on full display as he held her hand and kissed her sweetly, openly showering her with affection.
Children lined the streets and their father’s shoulders, as they gathered in the town square taking in the old fashioned gun-slinging showdown between an infamous outlaw and a posse hot on his trail. The Jackson Hole Shootout Show had been a Montana tradition for more than fifty years.
After the showdown, they stood in a small informal line, waiting to take a touristy picture under the iconic arch made of elk antlers. A little girl waiting in line behind them wearing pigtails and a water bottle fanny pack, lingered closer, making fast friends with Aspen. Her mother strolled over to oversee the friendship.
Getting a glimpse of Summer, she squealed, loudly, sending a shriek of excitement throughout the square. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I can’t believe it’s you! I love your movies!”
Summer immediately offered his hand as a polite hello, but the woman was in the
middle of a total full-blown fan girl meltdown. She bypassed his extended hand, and dove straight in for a full embrace. Thankfully he had good footing or she might have tackled him to the ground. Carrie Ann stepped back, though she didn’t have much of choice. The mother wedged herself between them, throwing her arms around his waist, like a small child clinging to a giant teddy bear.
Unable to disguise her shock, Carrie Ann’s eyes popped wide and mouth gaped open. She wasn’t mad, but the element of surprise, left her a bit dazed. Noticing Carrie Ann’s reaction, the woman’s husband clasped hold of his wife’s elbow attempting to draw her away.
Not happening. There was no way she was letting go. Smashing her crimson cheek against his chest, she drew in a big breath through her nose, indulging in the scent of his cologne. The woman’s eyes drifted shut and her smile filled with wonderment as if he smelled exactly as she hoped he would.
Summer’s demeanor switched like a flip. No one else seemed to notice, but Carrie Ann witnessed his energy shift one hundred and eighty degrees into work mode. He greeted her with a polite hello and a brief hug before holding her at bay, reaching for her husband’s hand. The two men exchanged a nod, a gesture of sorts, an underlying indication that the man needed to peel his wife from Summer’s frame.
The thirty-something man, who appeared to be somewhat mortified by his wife’s behavior yet a little star struck himself, collected her by the arm, encouraging, “Honey, step back and give Mr. Ryan some breathing room.”
A small crowd started to gather. Carrie Ann’s gaze sifted defensively through a sea of curious onlookers. Summer snagged Carrie Ann by the waist, pulling her to his side, graciously offering a quick picture in hopes of quieting her outburst.
“You want me in the picture?” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t think she wants me in the photo. Really, I don’t mind. Go ahead.”
A Taste of Summer Page 20