by Leger, Lori
“Boo!”
She jumped at the sound from behind her, accompanied by a sharp jab to each side.
“Gotcha!” He wrapped his arms around her waist before she had a chance to fuss at him.
Annie sighed and leaned back against him. “Jerk!” She turned in his arms. “Drake, are you feeling well enough for some bad news?” She smiled at the face he made, all scrunched up, looking like a little boy who wouldn’t eat his oatmeal.
“Oh man. What now?” he groaned.
She paused, bracing herself for his reaction. “Martin’s gone.” Drake paled noticeably and she struggled to get him to the bed without touching the gauze on his upper chest wound. “Sit, so I can explain.”
“Explain what? Your cat’s dead because of me. I thought the wound was superficial. Aw man.” He hung his head. “Dammit, if I hadn’t taken him from your arms he’d be alive now.”
“And you’d be dead, remember? He’s the only thing that prevented that gunshot from doing any serious damage to you. I think, no, I know he would have chosen this if he could have. Especially under the circumstances.”
He eyed her curiously. “What circumstances?”
“He was dying, Drake.” She tried to control the quaver in her voice. “I just came from the vet and she told me he had cancer, a fast growing type. There was no sign of it for his last physical just under a year ago. It was already in his bones and she said he must have been in unbearable pain.”
“He didn’t act like he was in pain,” Drake whispered. “I’m so sorry, Babe.” He pulled her as close as he could with one arm. “When did it happen?”
She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped her eyes, sniffing loudly. “I came straight here from the vet’s office. The wound was serious enough, but she said he probably would have made a full recovery if not for his condition. When she checked on him this morning, he’d passed away in his sleep.” She reached up to smooth the frown lines on his forehead. “He was old, Drake, and he went to sleep and just didn’t wake up. That’s what his chart shows. No spikes. No drastic drops in any readings. He just faded away in his sleep. We should all be so lucky to go that peacefully.” She pulled her shoulders back and dabbed at her eyes again. “Besides, he’s in kitty heaven now …”
Drake kissed her forehead. “Where he can eat all the pizza he wants.”
She lifted her finger to add, “And never gain an ounce.”
“Not to mention kick all the bad-guy-ass he wants. I think going all ‘Alien’ on J.B. was probably the most fun he’d had since—”
“Since scaring the crap out of you on New Year’s Eve,” she added, wearing a somber smile.
“That’s likely.” Drake released a big sigh. “I’m sure gonna miss him. Can I get you another one?”
Annie raised her hand. “Oh no—Martin can’t be replaced just like that. He was too special. He showed up on the doorstep, and as soon as I saw him, I knew, I just knew he was meant to be a part of our family. God had a hand in it, and if he wants me to have another pet, he’ll send one that needs a family.” She looked around the hospital room, saw his suitcase already packed and on the bed. “If you’re ready to go, I’m your ride home.”
“Sure, but before you bring me home, you think we could swing by Kenton first? I’d kind of like to say goodbye to Martin, unless—it’s not too late, is it?” he asked.
“I’ll call her and let her know we’re on our way,” she said, touched by the fact that he even wanted to.
The nurse entered the room with the wheelchair. “Mr. LeBlanc, here’s your horse and buggy,” she said, winking at Annie. “We usually call it a chariot, but I’m makin’ an exception for Tex, here.”
“Well, ma’am, you are right on time,” Annie said. “I left my own wagon double parked downstairs, and the last thing I need to deal with right now is a ticket from the sheriff o’ this here town.”
Drake sat in the wheel chair. “Aw, don’t you fret none, little lady. All it takes is one good attorney to get you out of that,” he said.
“Hmph. Looks like I’m in a heap a trouble then, mister—seeing as how those are pert near non-existent,” Annie said.
“Yes’m,” the nurse drawled, playing along. “Right up there with Santy Claus and that there Easter Bunny.” The two women burst into laughter as Drake grumbled something about not getting any respect.
Annie pulled up under her garage and cut the engine. She sat listening to the sound of silence, mixed with clicks and ticks of the cooling engine, and something else. Steady, rhythmic breathing, not her own, but that of her sleeping passenger. He’d had a difficult time at the vet’s office saying goodbye to Martin. More difficult than she, or even he, had imagined. Seeing him bent over her cat, whispering his thanks, his regrets, his gratitude over the part Martin had played in saving his own life and hers—she’d never forget that moment. That was the do or die moment for her. The No-U-Turn experience that led to the here and now.
She turned in her seat to study the man next to her; every glorious feature of his handsome face. Chiseled jaw with its three day growth of beard, perfect brow, straight nose, slightly cleft chin and kissable lips. She loved his looks, but it so wasn’t the best part of him. The goodness in him topped her list of pros, followed by his intelligence, talent, wit, ability to understand her, his patience with her … all of it topped off by the fact that he loved her. His looks? Well, hell, that was lagniappe. A little bit extra, the icing on the sexy, delectable Drake cake.
Annie reached over and touched his face, ran the back of her hand down his cheek. “Drake …” She spoke in a gentle tone so she wouldn’t startle him. The ride from the hospital had been hard physically on him even with the pain pill he’d taken just before departing. Getting out at the vet’s office, one town over had nearly done him in, and she’d been glad to see him fall asleep in his seat. She touched him lightly on the arm. “Drake, we’re home.”
He woke with a start, wincing at the sudden movement. “We’n Lake Coburn already?” he said, sounding a little sleep and a lot drugged up. “Musta passed out.” He fiddled with the electric seat adjuster until he was sitting upright. “This isn’t—ma house.” He squinted through the windshield.
“You’re staying with me.” She unbuckled her seatbelt then reached over to free him from his.
“I yam?”
She smiled, amused at the sound of Drake on drugs, completely vulnerable, completely out of it. “You certainly yam. I want you here with me.”
“Y’do?”
Annie slipped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to meet him. “Uh huh, so I can take care of you. It’s the least I can do.” She got him out of the car and onto her couch with no more questions asked. She brought his suitcase in on the next trip and sat beside him. “Do you need anything?”
He turned his drugged, adoring eyes on her. “I need-ju.”
“That’s nice, but how do you feel?”
He reached over to grab her hand and placed it on his groin area. “I dunno—you tell me,” he slurred. His mouth twisted in an adorable, grin.
Annie laughed as she pulled her hand away. “You feel just fine Tex, now how about you rein in that pony? At least until those stitches come out.”
He grunted. “Tha’s not a pony. Tha’s a stallion.” He managed to sound slightly insulted even as he slurred syllables and dropped t’s in his drug-induced state.
“Whatever you say, stud.” She couldn’t stop grinning. “You want to go to bed now?”
“Thought you’d nevuh ashk.” He sounded even more drugged, if that was possible.
She helped him off the sofa and walked him down the hallway and into his bedroom.
Once he’d settled, Drake patted the mattress next to him.
She sent him a suspicious look before lying next to him. “Are you in any pain?”
“Mm’fine.” He closed his eyes, looking as though he was about to attend a fais-do-do as the guest of honor.
Annie curled up
on her side against him, her head resting on his left arm and listened as his breathing became even and relaxed. She lay quietly, playing with the hair on his bare chest then lightly tracing the perimeter of gauze covered wound. What if he hadn’t been holding Martin? What if that bullet hadn’t stopped a fraction of an inch short of causing major damage to his heart? Yes, she loved the pet she’d had for twelve years, but…but what? She loved Drake, that’s what. He snorted loudly in his sleep and turned slightly, pulling her closer.
She lifted her finger to trace his eyes, his nose, his lips, and stopped on the dimple in his chin. “I love you.” She whispered the words softly, first, as though she were dipping her toe into a tub of warm water to test if the temperature was right. It felt good saying it out loud. It felt right. “I love you, Drake.” She spoke louder, letting the warmth envelop her fully, pretending he could hear her.
Then she saw it. The miniscule twitch at the corner of his mouth. And there it was again, almost as though he was trying … not … to …
“Took long nuff,” he slurred.
“Son of a … you were awake the entire time, weren’t you?” She was amused enough not to be angry.
He cracked one eyelid opened, and grinned. “Could’n help m’shelf.”
“At least the slur is real.”
“Wha shlurr?”
She laughed, and sat up. “Never mind, sleepy head. We’ll talk when you wake up.”
“Don’ leaf.” He reached out for her arm. “Say’t agin.”
She leaned in closer. “I love you, Drake.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Luff you, Annie Girl.” He groaned as she kissed him full on the lips.
“Now go to sleep.”
He looped one arm around her neck, pulled her closer. “Mmmm…wanna make love t’you…”
“No strenuous activity for two full weeks. Doctor’s orders.”
“You c’ld be on top.” He clutched at her breast, couldn’t quite manage to hold on.
Annie chuckled as his hand fell feebly to the bed. She climbed out and grabbed a quilt from her rocker. By the time she’d finished tucking it in around him, he was breathing deeply and snoring—asleep for real this time. She kissed him soundly on the lips to make sure, and turned away, muttering softly to herself.
“It’s gonna be a long two weeks.”
Drake finished drying himself and stepped out of the shower onto the tiled floor of Annie’s guest bath. He leaned in close to the mirror to examine the stitch free scar on his chest. Not too bad, and other than a slight itchy feeling, it didn’t bother him a bit. As of today, he was finally released. They’d celebrated by going to their favorite Mexican restaurant for supper. Annie had a mango margarita and he’d limited himself to one beer, anticipating getting to drive home for the first time in two weeks. It turned out to be a good idea, since they ran to the truck in the middle of a torrential rain that soaked them both to the bone. He pulled on his briefs and jeans, remembering how delectable Annie had looked during the ride home, with her blouse soaked through and clinging to wet skin.
He groaned at the image, feeling the all too familiar tightening in his lower midsection. Living with Annie without touching her had been torture, almost to the point of him packing up and moving back to his rental on more than one occasion. She’d asked him to stay, but suggested they cease and desist on all physical contact until later. When he’d asked how much later, she’d given him a non-committal shrug.
Drake looked around for his shirt, realizing he’d forgotten to pull his clothes from the dryer before showering. He sighed, gathered his rain soaked clothes and headed down the hallway to the laundry room. He was just thinking how good his bare feet felt on the plush carpeting when he rounded the corner and froze in the doorway.
Annie’s delectable bottom, covered in faded jeans, bobbed up and down enticingly as she bent over to place her own rain-soaked clothes into the front-loading washer. He took it for as long as he could. Finally, he cleared his throat then adjusted his armload of damp clothes to hide his all too frequent affliction of late. She turned at the sound and straightened. If the rear view was enticing, the front was downright decadent. The front of her scoop-necked knit shirt dipped dangerously low to reveal a bit of cleavage, while her damp hair curled delicately around her dewy face, still pink from her hot shower. He closed his eyes, biting back another groan.
“Hey.” She finally managed to speak, as she forced her gaze from his glorious bared chest. She reached for his laundry, immediately feeling her jump in body temperature. “I’ll take those. I’m washing a batch of colored laundry right now.”
“I can do it,” he said, leaning against the door. “Go ahead and finish what you were doing.”
She added a couple more items into the machine and stepped back. “It’s all yours,” she said, waving her hand at the washer. She squeezed to the side so he could pass and couldn’t help but close her eyes to breathe in his masculine scent. She watched him load the washer, then the pre-packaged laundry detergent before starting the cycle, just as she’d taught him.
She was all ready to tell him job well done, but once he faced her, all she could do was stare at the towel dried tufts of hair falling across his forehead. Her line of sight dropped lower, to the mouth she adored kissing, and lower yet, to encompass an overabundance of well-sculpted pecs and planed abs. The few glimpses she’d caught of him without a shirt had never been in such close proximity.
His scar was at eye level and she found it strangely alluring. Her fingers itched to touch him. Her palms ached to examine the silken mat of golden brown hair feathering his broad chest. She pictured herself showering soft kisses across his broad chest. Tasting him, getting her fill of touching him.
Eventually, she became aware that he’d spoken. “Did you say something?” She looked up, found his gaze locked on her. Annie blinked several times to clear her head and bring him into focus. She moistened her parched lips with her tongue. The urge to taste him grew stronger. “What?” she asked again, slightly breathless.
“I asked if you’d warmed up. Your teeth were still chattering when we got home. Are you feeling all right?”
Annie nodded. Fact was, if she made the one move she was dying to make, the walls of this invisible barrier she’d erected would come tumbling down, bundles of bricks at a time. She took one deep breath and forged ahead by placing her palm on his chest at eye level. Curving her fingers, she molded her hand to the shape of him before sliding it slowly along his ribcage and onto his ripped abdomen. Other than his sharp gasp at her initial touch, he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t made a sound. Assuming she hadn’t affected him, she chanced a look up and nearly lost her breath at the searing heat emanating from those chocolaty brown irises. “I’ve never felt better.”
His wove his fingers through her hair, crunching handfuls as he stepped closer, forcing her back against the wall.
Annie landed with a soft thud against the sheet rock and brought her hands to his biceps, marveling at the strength rippling through them.
“Annie …” Drake’s voice came out in a hoarse croak.
“Oh. God.” An instant later their mouths met in a tidal wave of want. Drake smothered her moan with a mind-blowing kiss. He lowered his hands to her butt, lifted her easily from the floor. One thrust of his hips and she was vividly aware of his mutually blatant desire. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pushed firmly against her with a grunt.
She broke free from the kiss. “That sounded painful, Drake. Are you in pain?” she gasped, concerned for his wound.
“The only pain I’m in is this.” He pressed against her. “I’m sorry, Babe, but if I don’t get some kind of relief soon …” His voice trailed off in a tortured groan.
His predicament thrilled her. Annie rewarded herself with a quick taste of his neck with her mouth and tongue.
“Annie …” He pressed harder against her.
Annie nipped him lightly with her teeth, smiling at every shudder and groan
he released. This is what she wanted. Complete control of the situation. With Drake completely out of it, unable to think straight because he wanted her so badly. She gloated for a full thirty seconds before he buried his mouth on her neck and soon had her writhing in the slow, sweet torture of sexual frustration.
He lifted his mouth from her neck. “Annie, we need to talk first.” He spoke in a low, hoarse murmur before planting another searing kiss on her lips. He pulled away and she nearly cried out from the loss. She wanted him so badly, but forced herself into some semblance of control long enough to speak close to his ear.
“Drake, listen to me,” she whispered, but couldn’t resist the temptation of catching his earlobe between her two teeth. She smiled when she heard Drake’s hybrid groan of pleasure and frustration. “Are you listening to me?”
“Uh huh—God, yeah—I’m listening Annie, I swear.”
“Good. I want to tell you …” Nip. “How much …” Tickle. “I love you, Drake.” Nip-nip-bite-nip. “I really, really, love you.”
He found her mouth and kissed her gently. “I love you, Annie. I love you so much.” He tightened his arms around her bottom, and carried her carefully down the hallway.
“Drake, put me down. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“Don’t worry about me, Babe. I’m fine.”
“Where are we going?” She continued to nip playfully at his neck, smiled at his shudder.
“Anywhere but the laundry room.” He finally made it to his king-size bed in the room he’d occupied for nearly six weeks.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back? Melissa and Bailey have both raved about washing machine spin-cycles. Something about good vibrations.”
Drake grinned as he dropped her onto the huge, soft mattress. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be missing any spin-cycle, I can promise you that.”
Judging from the way he was looking at her, she didn’t doubt it for second.
“Marry me, Annie.” He’d meant to have this conversation before their first time. Things being what they were, it didn’t happen that way.