Peony Red (The Granite Harbor Series Book 1)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  “Can you make a fire?”

  I pause. “Are you sure? I mean, I know that—”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s the big ones that get me. Don’t ask me to go to a bonfire, but I can take a small fire in a fireplace. A controlled burn.” Alex winks at me.

  I make a fire, and rain starts. Rookie is already passed out on his bed, his legs twitching every now and then.

  We eat dinner, and I can’t believe how good the tacos are. “I’ve had fish tacos before, but these are really good.”

  A button on Alex’s shirt comes undone; it exposes part of her breast, a side view, and I’m not in the least bit complaining. I’ve been able to touch those. Put them in my mouth. Devour them, yet this view of them makes me more turned on than ever.

  I don’t know why I say this—call it the gentleman in me—“Your button came undone.” I point to it.

  Alex looks down. “Oh.” But she doesn’t fix it. She sets her wine glass down and goes to take the dishes to the kitchen.

  “Nope, I got it. You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” I stand and come over to her side of the table, leaning in and grabbing her plate.

  Alex touches my arm. “Just put them in the sink. I’ll do them tomorrow.”

  “Again, no. I’ll do them.”

  She smiles. “Whatever, Warden Young.”

  With the dishes done, I join her on the couch by the fire as the rain pours down.

  “Wow, this is beautiful.” She stares out the wall of windows.

  Lightning appears over the ocean, followed by a rumble of thunder.

  Rookie’s head immediately pops up.

  “It’s okay, boy. You’re fine. Just thunder,” I say.

  I set the wine glass down on the coffee table and take Alex’s glass from her. I reach back and pull her hair tie from her hair, as it falls down her back. I scoot closer to her.

  Her eyes are hooded, and she’s biting her lip, staring up at me.

  I pull her over on top of me; her middle is centered on me, so she can really feel me harden underneath her.

  I unbutton her top and expose a black lace bra that’s providing too much material between us. Carefully, I pull the shirt from her shoulders and drop it to the floor.

  Alex takes her leggings off, leaving her standing in front of me with just her black bra and black panties.

  Fuck. She’s so goddamn hot.

  She gets down on her knees, unbuttons my jeans, and helps me to pull both my jeans and boxers off. She sits back down on top of me, and I groan as I feel her wetness through her panties against me.

  What I wouldn’t give to slide her panties aside and put myself inside her. With one hand, I reach back and unhook her bra, which causes her breasts to pop free.

  I feel her start to move against me. Pushing my hand up to her chest and then up to her neck, I use my other hand to cup her breast and then quickly realize I need her in my mouth. I move her further up on me and put a breast into my mouth, followed by the other, giving each one full attention. Her nipple hardens in my mouth.

  I hear her sigh when my mouth wraps around her.

  “Look at me, Alexandra.” My voice is hoarse.

  She opens her eyes and stares back at me.

  “I need you to sit up just a little bit.”

  She does, creating a space between my hardness and her middle, and when she does this, I slide my finger through her panties and pull her lips apart so that her center is resting on me. But she doesn’t get off that easy. I use my finger to feel her wetness.

  Alex leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Please don’t. You’re going to make me come before I’m ready.”

  I ease my finger out of her panties and push us both off the couch. With her wrapped around me, I carry her to the bedroom.

  Our eyes meet.

  “I need this,” she whispers.

  I need her. I want to say that, but maybe it’s too soon. I want to give her what she needs. But more, I want to give her everything she needs.

  I lay her down on the bed. Her legs are open for me. Wide. Her hands fall above her head.

  The rain pounds against the windows. Thunder rumbles. The fire burns.

  I ease myself on top of her as she pulls her mouth up to mine, and we collide. I try to tell her through this kiss that it’s the last kiss I want to give another, that I want to spend the rest of my life kissing her and only her, making love to only her. My tongue searches her mouth for answers, ones that I’m not sure she’s ready to give. I’ll take what she gives. I’ll take all of it.

  I reach for my pants on the floor to find the condom and quickly put it on.

  It’s almost too much. I ease into her at first, and she gasps and then sighs as I stare into her eyes.

  “Is this all right?”

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  I push into her but realize I need to stop. “I have to slow down, Alex. This feels way too fucking good.”

  She holds me in place and tightens around me. “Is this too much, Warden Young?”

  I groan in her ear. “Yes,” I say as I try to think of a murdered moose. Dead puppies.

  We stay here, unmoving, me inside her, for seconds.

  “Are you ready?” She begins to move, and I almost lose my shit.

  “Oh, sorry,” she says.

  Placing her hands on my chest, she starts to move again. I watch her watching me.

  “I want to watch you come, Alex.”

  Dead moose.

  Dead puppies.

  Slaughtered deer.

  With ease, I slide in and out. In and out. Her sweet voice of resistance tries to counter what she’s feeling. And I watch as she falls to pieces in front of me. Calling my name. Enraptured in me. I pull myself up to her as she yells, and I put my tongue in her mouth.

  Once I know she’s satisfied, I turn her around and then slip myself inside her again.

  She gasps, “God, Eli.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sit back on my knees and allow her to loosen around me. “Is that better?”

  She nods as I reach around, place both hands on her breasts, and pull myself in and out. I watch as her little hips move.

  Oh my God.

  She calls my name again.

  I reach down with one hand, put two fingers against her center, and move them. Not quick, not hard, just enough pressure. We both come together, loud, against the thunder, against the rain, the fire, and the world.

  The rain still falling, her naked body against mine, we listen.

  “What’s your favorite color, Eli?” she asks. Her head on my chest, she slides her hand up and down my chest.

  “Blue.”

  The rain falls.

  “What was your mom’s name?”

  “Rebecca.”

  The rain falls.

  “Steak or chicken?”

  “Steak.”

  Thunder explodes. She jumps, and I pull her close.

  She stares up at me. “Are storms heavier in the east? Louder? More rain?”

  I laugh and pull her to me, kissing the top of her head. Yeah, I can do this for the rest of my life. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you been to California?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Really?”

  “No. I hate to fly. Seems like a far car ride.”

  She stops and looks up at me. “You’re scared of flying? You get bad guys for a living, and you’re scared to fly?”

  I shrug. “Think it’s a control thing.”

  “So, if you had a choice to fly in a plane, take a bullet to the leg, or hold a deadly snake, which would you choose?”

  “I’ve been shot in the leg.”

  She closes her eyes. “What?”

  “It was a pellet gun, and Ryan, Ethan, Aaron, and I were twelve. I’d take my chances with the snake.”

  “Oh my God. Why?”

  “Animals are instinctual. They’re protecting themselves. They aren’t vicious.”

  “Yeah, but they’re fast. One bite
could make your heart stop,” Alex says in an Australian accent.

  I laugh and pull her tighter around me, just to make sure this isn’t a dream and she isn’t going anywhere.

  She’s leaving, Eli. Remember that. Her home is on a different coast.

  “What’s your biggest fear?” I ask.

  “Shouldn’t we have had this conversation before sex?” Alex laughs.

  “We do things differently in Maine. Sex first, talk later.”

  There’s a pause.

  “Probably snakes.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “I guess it’s the way they move. They’re sneaky. Quiet.”

  “They aren’t sneaky. They just don’t know how to be loud.”

  She moves her head so that she’s looking at me. “I forget I’m dealing with a game warden. The referee between animals and humans,” she whispers. “I like that about you, Eli.”

  “There are a lot of things I like about you, Alexandra.” I try to make light of the situation, only because I’ve never felt like this for a woman and it’s starting to get under my skin.

  “I really like you, Eli.”

  Instinctively, I pull her to me, kiss her with all I have, and make love to her again.

  October 19, 2017

  “Where are you going?” she asks as I start to get out of bed.

  It’s just after six thirty a.m. on Thursday morning, just after making love again for the second time since last night.

  Tuesday and Wednesday were spent stalking a nuisance bear; Alex falling in a pile of cow shit; catching a reptile dealer just south of Camden, who had an affection for venomous snakes; and sending two women to jail for outstanding warrants when caught fishing without licenses. I think it was the kid that got to Alex. One of the mothers had her child with her. I watched as Alex fought back tears, watching the two-year-old on his mother’s hip. She was smoking and dropping the word fuck right in front of her son. The hardest part for Alex wasn’t holding the little boy when I put the mother in cuffs; it was when Child Protective Services came to take the child away. For some reason, I know Alex would have taken that child home in a heartbeat if she could have.

  “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to Boston this morning. Come on. We’re catching the eight thirty a.m. train from Rockport this morning.”

  I’ve also learned that Alex is a processor. She processes situations before she talks about them. It might take her a day or so before she moves the conversation to her lips, gives her opinion a voice.

  Alex sits up, holding the sheet over her bare chest. “Boston? I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.” She’s borderline giddy. “Really?”

  “Warriors are playing the Celtics again at four o’clock this afternoon. Thought we could see some of the sights before the game.”

  “Seriously?” Her arms stretch around my neck, but she quickly pulls away, looking at me. “You’re not kidding? We’re going to Boston?”

  I laugh. “Not kidding. So, let’s go hop in the shower and get ready to leave.”

  She flies out of bed, her hips swaying from side to side, her body moving like a wave. She stops and turns to face me. “Are you coming?”

  “Always.” Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

  I want to come home to her at night. I want to reassure her that this life we’ll build together will be one that lasts forever. Wherever she chooses to live. Maine or California or some state in between. I guess the only thing left to do is convince her of that.

  Eighteen

  Alex

  October 18, 2017

  “Wessy,” he says.

  The mother, who’s talking to Eli, couldn’t care less about who’s holding her son.

  “Wesley?” I say, wanting to wrap my arms around him and keep him safe forever but knowing that probably wouldn’t be the appropriate thing to do, so I just hold him on my hip.

  His face is filthy from days and days of dirt. His shirt smells sour, and his diaper feels wet.

  I wait until Eli stops talking, and I gently touch his arm and look to the woman. “When’s the last time you changed his diaper?”

  But it’s as if she doesn’t hear me. She keeps rattling on and on about the jail time she’ll receive if Eli takes her in.

  My tone changes. “Hey!” I say loudly, firmly. “When’s the last time you changed your son’s diaper?”

  She stops and looks at me. “Who are you?”

  “When’s the last time you changed your son’s diaper?” I repeat.

  She takes her short, stubby fingers, her nails covered with dirt and whatever else, and counts on one hand. Then, she stops. “I don’t know.”

  Anger surges through me.

  What I want to say is, You shouldn’t have been able to have children. Wesley should be with a mother, a family, who isn’t drugged out. Life isn’t fair.

  A lump in my throat forms. I see one diaper sitting on the back of Eli’s truck from the search that he performed from her purse. I give her one last glaring look before I march over to the truck and take the diaper.

  She doesn’t care that I’m about to change her son’s diaper, but Eli does.

  “Quiet,” he tells the mother and turns to me. “Alex, I’m not sure you can do that. Child Protective Services is on the way.”

  I switch Wesley to the other hip and grab the diaper from the back of the truck. Eli sees a fire in my eye.

  “I will not let this child sit another minute in this dirty diaper. That’s awful and wrong, Eli. He could have an awful rash because of it. One that really hurts.” I seethe. “Besides, who’s going to tell?” I eye him. I look over at the mother, who’s still rattling on and on about stars, the government, white bread, and Charlie Chaplin.

  I take Wesley to my side of Eli’s truck. Rookie leans forward and looks at Wesley before I lay him down on the seat to change his diaper. He whines and cocks his head.

  “Some people just don’t know how to take care of people, Rook.”

  “Doggy!” Wesley squeals.

  Rookie stares at the boy for a quick moment and then licks his face.

  Wesley looks up, his bright eyes full of promise—a promise his mother cannot give him right now—and shrieks, “Doggy!” He reaches up and touches Rookie’s face as he leans over him. Wesley squeals in delight.

  I don’t have wipes, but I’m sure Wesley will be happy. Those would most likely burn his tender red area where the mother neglected to take care of.

  Rookie stares down at Wesley. His head cocks to the other side, and he gives the little boy one last lick. Wesley laughs a gut laugh, a deep, infectious laugh that makes me laugh.

  I pick him up and hold him to my heart. His crazy blond hair going every which way, he rests his head on my chest and takes a big, deep breath, as if he knows I’m a safe place for him to land.

  “It’s all right, sweet boy.” I stroke his head as Eli’s hand touches my elbow.

  “Child Protective Services is here for Wesley.”

  My heart turns away. It wants to leave. It wants to take this baby and run. The social worker reaches out for Wesley, and I hand him to her.

  “His name is Wesley.”

  “Are you family?” she says.

  Wesley is too tired now to pick up his head.

  Yes, I want to say.

  But Eli speaks for me, knowing this might be too tough, “She’s with me. The mother is on the other side of the car.”

  The mother is now talking to the open space around her.

  I watch as the social worker strap Wesley in the car seat that’s probably held more children than I can count. The car seat that has taken children from trauma, sadness, dysfunction, drugs, alcohol, abuse. And just one more child will enter the system this evening. Again, I’m guessing, but I’m assuming I’m spot on.

  I feel Eli’s hand touch the small of my back.

  “You okay?”

  “No,” I say as I climb in back with Rookie so that the piece-of-shit-prisoner can cli
mb in front.

  Rookie looks at me.

  “Sad, buddy,” I say to Rookie.

  He whines as he moves to a lying position and puts one paw on my leg.

  Eli opens the door so that the woman can climb in front.

  As my hatred extends to the front seat, Eli starts to talk to her. “You need help, Lexi.”

  But, somehow, she’s saner, more normal this time. As if Eli’s words are no longer falling on deaf ears. “I know.” She scratches at one of the many scabs on her face. “Will my son be safe?”

  What I want to say is, Safer with them than you, but I’m sure she already knows this.

  “Do you really want this for your son? Do you?” Eli asks.

  She starts to rub her forehead with her fingers. I can’t see her face, but I can see Eli’s.

  “No”—her voice quivers—“I don’t.”

  There’s silence as the truck hums down the highway. Rookie’s head falls to my lap.

  After a long stretch of silence, Lexi speaks again, “You’re sure he’s all right? He’ll be okay?”

  Eli nods. He’s not positive, but he knows he’s safer with Child Protective Services than his mother. Because the ugly monkey of addiction will rise again when her buzz has worn off, and she’ll use once more. I think Lexi knows this, too.

  “What about rehab?” Her hand shakes as she reaches up to scratch another scab.

  “I can give you a list.” Eli’s voice is gentle. “Bottom line is, you have to want it. You can’t get sober for your son. You can’t get sober because it’s the right thing to do. You have to get sober for you.”

  “I know.” She scratches the side of her face one last time.

  We escort Lexi to a police patrol car just out of South Hope to be transported to the jail.

  I climb in the front seat and wait for Eli, who’s talking to the police officer.

  He walks back over to the truck and gets in.

  I stare at him. A smile pulls on both sides of my mouth.

  “What?” he asks as he puts the truck in drive, and we head back the way we came.

  Once we’re out of eyeshot of the police officer and the oncoming traffic has subsided momentarily, I lean over the center console and kiss him on the cheek. With this kiss, I want him to know he’s more than I’ve ever imagined as a human being, as a man. I want him to know, through acts of love, I am moved by his compassion, his empathy to help others, his willingness to go the extra mile if that means the person will be treated with dignity, with respect. I want him to know that I would have treated Lexi with far less compassion. Just everything. Watching Eli interact with her made me realize she deserved respect, compassion, empathy. For forever? Absolutely not. Somehow, she’s got to wise up, hit bottom. But I think having her son taken away today—which was hard to do on Eli’s part, I know—was one step closer for her.