Confessions of a Small-Town Girl

by Christine Flynn

  “Kelsey?”

  “Because the only time I don’t feel that I’ve made a terminal mistake coming back here is when I’m at the mill working on it or with you. Okay?” She hadn’t meant to verbalize the “with you” part. Feeling pushed, it had simply slipped out. “I’d just appreciate it if we could talk about something else.” She peeled the lid from the soup container of buttermilk. “Please.”

  For a moment, Sam said nothing, he just stood there, watching her in that steady, unnerving way he had while she let out an exasperated breath. She hadn’t mixed her dry ingredients. She needed to do that first.

  “Just answer one question for me, will you?”

  She grabbed a dry plate from the drainer. “What’s that?”

  “What does she want you to do?”

  “As of last night, she wanted me to put the mill on the market. She’s sure I won’t have any trouble getting my old job back.”

  “And what do you want?”

  She’d started spooning flour onto the plate. What I’ve always wanted, she thought to say, only to go still when she realized that, just then, she felt more uncertainty than conviction.

  You’ve never run your own business before, Kelsey. This isn’t what you’ve trained to do.

  With her mother’s voice echoing in her head, she resumed her task. “To know that I haven’t made a huge error in judgment.”

  Sam knew he could be sorely lacking in sensitivity at times. Part of that was genetics, he was sure. His mom had accused his dad of the same thing on more than one occasion. Part of it, he suspected, was just being male. Then, there was the fact that he’d had little practice being sensitive since his typical modus operandi was to avoid situations where employing it might be necessary. All of which combined to make him feel rather awkward when he found himself wanting to remove the disquiet that had robbed the light from her eyes.

  Not knowing what else to do, he could only offer what he’d learned from his own experience.

  “The only mistake you’re making is doubting yourself, Kelsey. You asked yourself all the right questions going into this. You did your homework and your heart is in it. Once a decision is made, you need to stick with it and not let anything…or anyone,” he quietly emphasized, “stand in your way.”

  She turned the disquiet in her eyes to him.

  “No second-guessing?”

  “None,” he replied, wondering at how her mother must be wearing on her. “You’re the one responsible for the direction your life takes. Uncertainty is totally self-defeating.”

  “You never have doubts?”

  “Sure I do.” He doubted situations and people all the time. People especially. He’d just never doubted her. “I just don’t second-guess myself once I’ve decided what I need to do. If I don’t have faith in my decisions, I have no power to act on them. No one does.”

  He had the feeling he wasn’t helping at all. The disturbing disquiet remained as she looked away.

  “Hey,” he murmured, settling his hand on her shoulder once more. “You never would have taken this on if you hadn’t had faith in yourself.” He was still blown away by the guts it had taken for her to make such a move. “You need to shut down that doubt and put that faith of yours back to work. Okay?”

  The coffeepot gave another sputter. Above her head, the roof creaked as the morning sun heated its surface. Kelsey barely noticed the sounds. Searching the strong lines of his face, she desperately wished she possessed his confidence. More than anything else, she wished he would hold her.

  “How?”

  At her typical insistence, the light of a smile entered his eyes. “Repeat after me,” he instructed, looking very big, very male as he turned her to face him. “I have no doubts. What I’m doing is absolutely right.”

  She’d never known anyone who had his faith in her. Amazed by his power to calm her fears, she touched her fingers to the soft cotton covering his chest.

  “Is that the mantra they taught you at the police academy?”

  The smile in his eyes deepened. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to put you in solitary for the rest of your life. Come on,” he coaxed, “Say it.”

  She took a deep breath. “I have no doubts…”

  “Not like that,” he muttered, cutting her off. His smile turned serious. “Try it again. It will only work if you really mean it.”

  She needed to believe it. In her heart, she knew she did. So, she closed her eyes, concentrating on that conviction while the warmth of his hands seeped into her shoulders, and started over.

  “I have no doubts,” she repeated, thinking of each of word as she spoke it. “What I’m doing is absolutely right.”

  “Better. Now,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “Promise me you won’t ever forget that.”

  Considering all he’d done for her, giving him her word was the least she could do. Eyes still closed, she gave a little nod. “I promise.”

  “Good,” he murmured, seconds before his lips brushed hers.

  His kiss was featherlight, the merest whisper of skin to skin. Yet, the quick heat was immediately there. Kelsey felt it shimmer through her as she breathed in the scents of toothpaste and warm male and told herself she should move. And she would, she insisted, in the moments before his mouth settled more fully over hers and he drew her into his arms. Soon. Right now, she wanted to absorb his strength and let herself lean on him. Just a little. And just for a while.

  Sam thought she might do what she’d done nearly every time he’d reached for lately and find some excuse to pull away. If she had, he would have let her go. Reluctantly. But he would have done it. Yet, instead of that subtle retreat, she lifted her arms, winding them around his neck, and kissed him back as greedily as he was suddenly kissing her.

  With her firm breasts flattened against his chest, he slipped his hand down her spine and cupped her hips to draw her closer. He nearly groaned at the feel of her body seeking his. The woman was like a drug in his blood. One taste of her was all he needed to crave her more. One taste, and his judgment was altered. He’d intended to offer her reassurance and, if he was capable of it—a little comfort. It was just hard to remember his purpose with her kissing him as if she felt the same slow-burning heat that threatened to turn his control to ash.

  “Hey.” He whispered the word against the shell of her ear, kissing the soft skin behind it. “Are you okay?”’

  He felt her hesitate a moment before she lowered her head to his chest. The bones in her back felt incredibly fragile as he skimmed his hand over them.

  “I am now,” she whispered back. As if savoring his touch, or drawing something from it, she gave a little sigh. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  “My pleasure.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Breathing in her scent, he realized his whole body felt as taut as a bowstring. “You should probably fix my breakfast.”

  “Probably,” she agreed, though she didn’t seem terribly anxious to move.

  With her arms still around him, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “Breakfast would be good,” he murmured, “but you know what I’d rather have?”

  “Help loading the truck?”

  He chuckled against her hair. “That would be good, too,” he conceded. “But in all honesty…I’d rather have you.”

  The phenomenon was interesting. He felt every muscle in her slender body go motionless in the long seconds before she lifted her head. Still, to his relief, she didn’t retreat.

  “What I’d really like,” he clarified, slipping his thumb over the moisture he’d left on her bottom lip, “is to pick up where we left off on July twelfth. Only this time,” he told her, his eyes dark on hers, “I want to get to the bottom of the page.”

  She had wanted him to show her…everything.

  He was giving her fair warning. If he kissed her again, he wouldn’t want to stop. Kelsey sensed that as certainly as she did the heat flowing between their bodies. It moved through them, surrounded them, drew them closer s
till.

  She wouldn’t want him to stop, either.

  The admission should have had her easing away. At the very least, it should have given her pause. But she was right where she’d wanted to be since the moment she’d last stepped from his arms and moving was the farthest thought on her mind.

  “You’d have to show me where we were.” Her heart beat wildly at her stunning lack of caution. “I don’t remember…exactly.”

  Something feral slipped into his expression. “I’ll refresh your memory.”

  He would have no problem doing that at all. That night at the mill had fused itself in his brain, haunting his sleep, adding an entirely different sort of frustration to his restlessness. His eyes steady on the control-wrecking need she didn’t even try to deny, thoughts of it now sent heat, poker hot, racing through him as he slowly tugged up the hem of her shirt.

  This time there were no buttons to contend with. All he had to do to feel her in his hands was coax the fabric over her head. The shirt had barely hit the floor before he leaned down to kiss her, softly, making himself take his time while he unfastened the clip of her pink lace bra.

  The bra had landed soundlessly beside the shirt when Kelsey felt his lips trail down the front of her throat. His hand eased over one bare breast. Cupping it, he did exactly as he’d done before and flicked his tongue over its tight little bud.

  Her nerves already sensitized, she dug her fingers into his shoulders as he closed his mouth over her. Apparently realizing he’d just made her knees go weak, he slid one arm around her back. Just before they threatened to buckle completely, he lifted his head.

  “Remember now?”

  She swallowed past the pulse hammering at the base of her neck. She’d lied. She remembered exactly what he’d done.

  “Perfectly,” she assured him and raised on tiptoe, kissing him as she had before while she pulled the hem of his shirt from his pants.

  As if impatient to be skin-to-skin himself, Sam grasped a fist full of white cotton between his shoulder blades and dragged it over his head. But even as the garment joined hers and he reached to pull her back to him, she noticed the scars bisecting the hard, honed muscles of his beautiful chest.

  Her glance flicked to his. There was no mistaking the hesitation in his carved features before she touched her fingers to the inch-long scar under the right side of his jaw. Below it ran the raised ridge that angled from above his right collarbone to six inches below the flat, brown nipple on the other side.

  Thoughts of the pain he would have once been in had her lightening her touch as she slowly traced that gash its long, disturbing length. The texture felt hard compared to the smoothness of his skin, and slick. Yet, it didn’t feel as satiny as the pink, quarter-size disk of flesh high on his left bicep.

  She kissed that puckered disk first, leaving her palm curved over it before touching her lips to the slash. Even as she did, she heard his slow intake of breath.

  She wasn’t allowed to ask what had happened. She’d barely lifted her head before his hands were in her hair, his mouth was on hers and she wasn’t thinking of anything at all but the raw hunger she felt in him as he invaded her senses as thoroughly as he had her heart.

  I have no doubts. What I am doing is right.

  The words drifted through her mind as she stretched against him, rough skin to soft, heart hammering. She knew he had intended the affirmation as encouragement for her decision about the mill. And heaven knew how grateful she was for his unrelenting confidence. Yet, as he backed her across the kitchen and through the door to his bedroom, what was happening now felt absolutely right, too. She had started falling in love with him thirteen years ago. As they fumbled with the snaps and zippers of each other’s jeans and tumbled, clinging, onto the tangle of sheets, she knew she had now fallen for him completely; body, mind and soul.

  The admission held no surprise. Not even the faintest hint of shock or dismay. All she felt was a sense of inevitability, as if she’d been destined to fall in love with him all along. Beyond that odd certainty, she was mostly aware of the daring he encouraged when she followed his lead and pushed away his clothes, kissing her way down his body after he’d stripped away hers and kissed his way back up.

  With him, she could somehow be the woman she wanted to be. Someone more courageous, more fearless, and infinitely less restrained than she’d ever been around anyone else. With him, she could be bold.

  She loved him for that. She loved him for so many reasons. She just couldn’t think of them just then. With his hands and mouth escalating the need deep inside her, she could barely think at all.

  She had once wanted him to show her everything. And he would, he promised himself, dragging his mouth from her breasts to her belly. He wanted that, too. He wanted to take the time to explore and linger. He wanted to know every seductive inch of her. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, her scents, her softness. As long as it had been for him, as badly as he wanted to be buried in her, he just couldn’t do it now. Especially not with her small hands roaming his shoulders as he moved back up to drink the sound of his name on her lips.

  The need for release pounded like a pulse.

  Sheets rustled. The clock on his nightstand bumped the lamp with a metallic clink when he groped for the handle on the nightstand’s drawer. They needed protection. The thought of having to use it with her battled some primitive instinct that didn’t feel familiar at all, but the functioning part of his brain overrode that dangerous impulse. Finding one of the small foil packets he was looking for, he ripped it open with his teeth.

  He was beyond the fantasy. All he cared about was the moment as he rolled the condom over himself and she rained urgent little kisses along his neck. All that mattered was seeking her when she slipped her fingers through his hair to meet his mouth, urging him closer as their tongues mated and he settled his weight over hers.

  She arched to him, threatening the control that already felt razor-thin.

  He asked her to slow down.

  She wanted to know why.

  He couldn’t respond. He didn’t trust the raw, demanding need he felt for her. He didn’t trust the threat she had over his control.

  It’s just sex, he told himself, but the claim felt more like protest than conviction as he eased inside her. Hanging on to that control, he clenched his teeth against the exquisite feel of her, only to find that control no longer mattered. All that did was the way she clung to him as they moved, and the heat they created that seared its way clear to his soul.

  He hadn’t trusted the need. Lying with her in his arms while his heart rate slowed and his breathing quieted long minutes later, he didn’t trust the peace he felt with her, either.

  He hadn’t recognized the feeling at first. But the odd and quiet stillness that settled over him couldn’t have been anything else. It had just been so long since he’d felt it that he hadn’t known it for what it was.

  He didn’t know which one of them had pulled up the sheet that covered them both. He lay on his back with her curled at his side, their legs tangled and her head on his chest. Her tousled hair tickled his chin, its gentle scent filling his lungs with each breath. It had been a full minute since she moved. When she stirred now, it was only to lift her hand and touch the puckered pink flesh high on his muscled arm.

  “What happened?”

  He didn’t think much about his scars, except to keep them covered. He didn’t mind the questions. He’d just never been comfortable with the way some people stared. “Got in the way of a bullet.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Three years.” It had been longer than that. “Maybe four.”

  “And here,” she said, tracing the long scar on his chest.

  “A guy had a knife. I didn’t move fast enough.”

  Kelsey pulled back her hand, laid it over the quieted beat of his heart. He made both incidents sound as if they were his fault—as if he should have been in a different position, that he should have moved faster. He was a
man who took responsibility for his actions. He would blame no one but himself when things went wrong.

  There had been a time when she might have thought he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. Knowing him now, she realized it was how he survived. Every incident was a lesson.

  She touched the scar under his jaw. “And this?”

  “I fell off my bike doing wheelies.”

  Raising up on one elbow, she looked doubtfully into his eyes. “Seriously?”

  He lifted his hand, pushed her hair from her cheek. What he’d just told her was his usual, blow-off explanation for his most visible scar. Remembering the tender way she’d kissed his old wounds, he gave her the truth, instead.

  “It’s where the guy with the knife started. He had me in a neck-hold from behind.”

  The vision of a knife to his throat before he’d turned and been slashed formed in an instant. That vivid scenario also had her glance falling back to his chest. It shook her to her core to think his skills would have failed him in such a way.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, he tipped her chin back up. “There were three of them. I was the diversion so my partner could go for backup. It all turned out okay.”

  Disbelief colored her quiet tone. “That’s how you judge the success of something? By whether or not you walk away alive?”

  He hadn’t exactly walked. “What else matters?”

  Kelsey had no answer for that.

  “All we have are moments, Kelsey. And all we really have is the one we’re in.”

  The past was over. The future wasn’t there yet. She supposed his pragmatic approach served him well, considering how he lived his life. But she didn’t want to think of how hard it had been not recalling fond memories or having dreams beyond tomorrow. She especially didn’t want to think of his life away from her. As she kissed the scar on his chest, praying he would stay safe, all she wanted was to hold reality at bay for a little while longer.