Crazy Ride

by Nancy Warren

  “The doctor will be with you in just a moment,” said the kindly looking middle-aged receptionist in the same tone she’d have used if she was manning the Pearly Gates and said, “God will be with you in just a moment.”

  Joe scowled and sat. One thing this waiting room had in common with others was the lack of reading material. A well-thumbed issue of Reader’s Digest from 2002 shared table space with a golf magazine published later the same decade.

  Normally, Joe wouldn’t have cared, but without his cell phone, laptop or any other device, he was screwed.

  He was halfway through a mildly interesting article called I Am Joe’s Liver, when the doctor’s faithful handmaiden told him rapturously that he might go in now. As she ushered him into one examining room, a pretty, obviously pregnant woman emerged from the other.

  Dr. Hartnett walked out of another door, his office maybe, nodded to Joe and kissed the pregnant woman. On the lips.

  At a gentle push from the doctor’s receptionist, Joe went into the examining room. Hartnett came in a few seconds later. “Well, Joe.” He said with a friendly smile. “I’m glad you decided to stay. How’s it going?”

  Joe glared at him. “Do you fuck all your female patients?”

  The smile disappeared from Hartnett’s face and he leaned back against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “That woman is my wife.”

  God, didn’t that sound like the punchline to some stupid old joke.

  “And Emily?” His posture must mirror the doctor’s he realized. He’d crossed his own arms and was leaning against the window sill of the only window in the small room.

  “Ah, so that’s what this is about,” the doctor said, loosening his stance and glancing around the room. There was a tiny counter with doctor paraphernalia, an examining table with fresh paper laid over it and one chair.

  Joe didn’t say anything, simply glared.

  “Did Emily tell you about us?”

  “I asked her after I heard the two of you on the phone this morning.”

  “I see. And you’re upset that she and I used to be … close?”

  “I’m upset that you goddamn hurt her.”

  Hartnett glanced up sharply, a crease marring his noble brow. “She told you I hurt her?”

  “No. She said you two ended things when you met your wife. But I’m not stupid. I’ve been with a lot of women. I know when one’s been hurt.”

  “And what symptoms is Emily showing?”

  Joe found himself leaning onto the newly papered examining table, so the stiff paper crackled. “She’s cool about sex. Casual. Her attitude is more like a guy’s.”

  Hartnett nodded. “And you think I made her like that?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No. Emily is who she is. She and I – well, I’m not proud of it. It was convenient for both of us. Frankly, I thought I was too busy as a doctor and research scientist to ever go the love and family route.” He smiled slightly, more as though he couldn’t help himself than that he actually wanted to smile. “Then I met Terri.”

  There was silence for a moment. Joe hadn’t nearly finished, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say next.

  Hartnett spoke next. “So, I take it you and Emily…?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can see that it might have been disconcerting for you to discover that she and I—“

  “Disconcerting my ass. I wanted to knock your teeth down your throat.”

  Hartnett, far from looking terrified at the prospect, seemed curious. “Why?”

  “Because you…because I…”

  “Love her?”

  Joe felt as though he were the one who’d had his teeth knocked down his throat. Love? Who’d said anything about love?

  Love Emily? But if he loved Emily then that meant changing everything he’d ever believed about himself, and probably everything he’d planned for his future.

  But then wasn’t he questioning that already?

  “You can take that know-it-all smirk off your face, Doc. It could never work for Em and me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I live in New York and she lives here.”

  “Mmm. I used to live in Boston. It’s easier than you’d think to move here.”

  “Yeah, well, that isn’t even the biggest problem.” It wasn’t, now he stopped to consider. “I’m here to put together a land deal so that one of my clients can open a mine.”

  “Yes. I know. I’m opposed by the way.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Oh, not for the reasons you probably think. I don’t oppose progress, but I would oppose any activity that affects the groundwater in the area. The water has unique properties. It’s extraordinary.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You mentioned that before, and how nobody gets sick here. Except me.” And that reminded him of the other thing he wanted to know. “So what was that about on the phone with Em this morning? About something causing someone stomach trouble. I got the feeling she was taking about me.”

  “I can’t tell you what we were discussing. I’m sorry.”

  “But it was about me.”

  “Maybe you should ask Emily.”

  “Yes. I will.”

  “Going back to your conflict with Emily over the factory, I don’t see that as insurmountable. If you love each other, you can respect each other’s opinions about things you don’t agree on. Maybe there’s a way you can both be happy?”

  “I don’t see it,” he grumbled.

  “Give yourselves some credit. Two years ago I wouldn’t have believed I could settle in a place like this and be happy for life, and I certainly didn’t plan to get married any time soon or start a family.” He shook his head. “Now look at me.”

  “Yeah, well, I have another problem.” He could not believe he was about to do this. “I can’t sleep if there’s a woman in the room. We make love, we’re all done, and I lay there wide awake until she leaves, or I leave.”

  “Really?” The doctor didn’t appear shocked or even very surprised, merely interested.

  “I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell you this, you’re not a shrink.”

  “No. And I take it you haven’t seen one?”

  “God, no. It’s a quirk not insanity.”

  “Right. Sure.” He sat in the single chair, and Joe, barely realizing he was doing so, jumped up and sat on the scrinchy paper on top of the examining table. His feet dangled in space and there was nowhere to lean his back.

  “I don’t have formal psychiatric training, but I do have a psych major. From the little I know of you, I’d say you have control issues.”

  “Control? I always assumed it was some kind of sleep disorder.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  No, he hadn’t.

  “When you sleep, you are vulnerable. You’ve got no control over what’s happening in your room. Whether you’re drooling on your pillow or crying out for mommy in your sleep. Right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “So, for you being vulnerable with a woman is a pretty big deal, I’m guessing. A bigger deal than for most of us.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “You could try sleeping pills for a few nights so you get used to sleeping with a woman then your psyche might cut you some slack.”

  “No drugs. Any other ideas?”

  “Yes. I think you should see someone. A therapist when you get home. If you’re trying to solve this yourself, all I can suggest is that you start figuring out what terrifies you so much about being vulnerable.”

  “Do you think a person can be very relaxed about sex but terrified of love?”

  “Yes.” He said it the way a less professional doctor might have said, Duh.

  Joe nodded. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “No problem.” He rose and came closer. “While you’re here, how’s your stomach?”

  “Oh, it’s great. No more pain.”

  “Good. You can take those antacids I prescribed if yo
u’re planning on eating a heavy meal, otherwise, eat sensibly, go easy on the booze and spicy food and you’ll be fine.”

  “Can I have coffee?”

  “If you must.”

  “I’ve been drinking raspberry tea for a week. Believe me, I must.”

  Hartnett took his blood pressure, finished his exam, made some notes on his file and they shook hands. “Come back if you get any more symptoms or have questions.”

  “I will. Sorry if I was out of line earlier.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Love makes people crazy.”

  When he emerged into the waiting room, Emily was sitting, flipping through the same Reader’s Digest he’d perused earlier. He felt a kick of delight at the sight of her. “Hi, what are you doing here?”

  “I thought I might have to break up a fist fight,” she said, looking worried. “Is Gord all right?”

  “Just the fact that you appreciate I could kick his ass if I wanted to makes this a great day. He’s fine. I met his wife.” Sort of.

  “You know you’re psychotic, don’t you?”

  “Only around you,” he assured her, a little afraid that that had turned out to be true this morning. God, what an idiot.

  And how much more, how ten thousand times more of an idiot had he been not to recognize his own feelings? Maybe he wasn’t in love with Em yet, but he was awfully damn close.

  Too close to call.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m ready for a picnic.”

  “How’s your stomach?”

  “I am allowed to have coffee again.”

  “Oh, happy day,” she said and took his hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  They rode through fields of wildflowers and past farms where cows stared at them from big vacant brown eyes before going back to grazing. The wind was fresh, and when it dropped, the still air was warm on his back. The horses plodded contentedly along, trotted when urged – trying to push them any faster would have been cruel -- and seemed to be enjoying the day as much as the riders.

  Naturally, Emily had chosen their route carefully to showcase the organic, unspoiled beauty of the area. And because she was smart, she kept her mouth shut and never once mentioned that the land was bound to lose some of its charm when it was torn up.

  She felt the land itself rebuked Joe every step of the way.

  After about an hour’s riding, they came to a wooded area that ran beside a slow-flowing river. “I thought we’d have our picnic here and let the horses have a drink and a rest,” she said over her shoulder, then dismounted from Lucky.

  “Well done, my trusty steed,” Joe said as he patted the flanks of his black horse, Bruiser. The horse looked down at him and then snorted as though he did not appreciate the sarcasm.

  Emily took off the saddle bag, looped her reins around the pommel and then let Lucky head for the river for a drink. Watching her, Joe said, “Shouldn’t we tie them up?”

  “Where do you think they’re going to go?”

  “Right,” he said, patting the big black gelding once more. “I guess their race is already run. They can nap while we eat lunch.”

  Bruiser clopped his way to the river and he and Lucky stood side by side drinking. From Lucky’s saddle bag, Emily retrieved the blanket she’d put in there along with the sandwiches, the lemonade, fruit and cookies.

  As she laid out the blanket on a grassy patch near the river, but shaded from any chance visitors along the path by a thatch of trees, she caught Joe’s eyes on her and knew he’d clued in to exactly what was on her mind.

  Not a word was spoken, but she saw the way his gaze grew more intense, dropping knowingly to her chest. Her nipples tingled and the sensation spread. Some wayward tendrils of hair blew into her face and she felt each silky strand against her skin.

  Very deliberately, she reached out and smoothed the blanket against the springy grass, as though she were smoothing sheets onto a bed. It was made of polar fleece in a dark green pattern with cranberry and mustard colored designs on it. The fabric felt soft against her fingertips.

  She glanced up. He hadn’t moved, but lounged against a tree as though perfectly content to stay there for a while.

  “Don’t you want your picnic?” she asked, surprised at how husky her voice sounded. He hadn’t even touched her, but she felt warm all over.

  His voice, that clipped, no wasted words voice spoke at last. “Yes. I want my picnic.”

  “Then come over here.”

  He didn’t move. “I want you naked first.”

  The spark that crackled between them should have caused a forest fire.

  “Naked,” she repeated in a strangled tone.

  “That’s right. Bare-assed naked.”

  He ought to smoke; a cigarette would have been the perfect prop for him standing there like a gambler sizing up the property he’s just won. Like he ought to take a long drag, so the tip of the cigarette would glow deep red, then he’d blow out a lazy stream of smoke that would obscure the eyes gazing at her with such intensity.

  She swallowed. She wasn’t used to playing games where sex was concerned. She felt out of her element, and suddenly vulnerable. Excited. “You want me to strip?”

  “That would be the quickest way to get naked.”

  “Where…where do you want me to start?”

  He pondered that for a moment, then said, “Boots. And socks.”

  Sensible. She eased off her boots – they weren’t real riding boots, but the horses didn’t seem to care. Joe’s gaze on her was so intent that even revealing her feet to him felt shockingly erotic. When she pulled off her socks, the air caressed her overheated toes and she wriggled them in the grass.

  She settled herself in the middle of the blanket, staring up and across at Joe who still lounged, his back against a sturdy tree trunk about six feet away. “Now what?”

  She was wearing an old denim shirt that snapped up the front, but since she’d had sex on her mind ever since she dreamed up this picnic, she wore a lacy periwinkle blue bra and a scrap of matching periwinkle lace that passed as panties.

  He debated for a moment. “Shirt.”

  The snap of the first fastening was startlingly loud in her ears. She felt Joe’s attention, every atom of his being focused on watching her bare herself. She slid her fingers slowly, slowly to the second snap, and the third when she eased the shirt open enough that he could glimpse her periwinkle-supported cleavage.

  A sound came from his general direction; it could have been a soft curse, or merely a groan of barely-contained lust. Her breathing quickened as she felt him watching her, felt the air cool on her hot skin, watched her breasts rise and fall. She was so sensitive that the denim sliding against the silky bra cup made her nipples tingle.

  Another snap, and another. Her belly was bared, and finally she flicked open the last fastening. The shirt fell away from her as she sat straighter and with her gaze holding Joe’s snapped the fastenings at her wrists. She rolled her shoulders and let the fabric slide.

  Leaves shushed above her in the canopy of trees, the river gurgled and somewhere a bird called.

  The lace and elastic and underwire felt like a prison for her breasts suddenly, so she reached behind her and undid the hooks then slipped the straps over her arms, holding the cups coyly in place until she was done.

  Joe might look casual lounging against his tree, but she felt the strain he imposed on himself to remain still and watch.

  She tossed the bra to the blanket and let her breasts spill free.

  He stared at her breasts as though he’d never seen them before, then his gaze moved down, clearly waiting for her to shuck her jeans. Instead, she leaned back on her arms and lifted her face to the breeze. A shaft of sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves and she shifted until she felt the warmth on her face. She moved her legs so her feet were shoulder-width apart and flat on the blanket, her knees raised. The air brushed her unfettered breasts and she felt the points stiffen.

/>   “You’re killing me,” Joe said softly.

  “I know.”

  She raised her hands over her head and stretched, lengthening the muscles in her back and breathing in deep so her breasts hiked, then, feeling his restraint close to breaking, she unbuttoned the fly of her jeans. She wriggled out of them, and slid them off, then resumed her position so she reclined in nothing but a bit of periwinkle lace and a whole lot of heat.

  She gazed at him. She was trembling and she heard her own breathing.

  “I said naked,” he reminded her softly.

  It was all she could do not to moan. She lay flat on her back, knees raised and eased the panties down her legs making sure to give him the maximum view as she did so.

  When she tossed the foolish scrap of lace behind her, she felt enervated, curiously exhausted and yet pulsingly alive as she lay back and waited.

  She gazed up at the shifting patterns of the greenery above her, and beyond that a scraping of cloud against the blue bowl of sky.

  She didn’t hear him approach over the noises of nature and her own heart, so she jumped, startled when she felt his hands on her thighs, pushing them apart.

  A quick panting breath in and out. He pushed her wider still so she felt open to the sky and the trees and the water rushing by, so all her needy self was open. His hair brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh as he shifted her hips. She was boneless, compliant and then she felt the warmth of sunlight between her legs and realized he’d exposed her even more completely.

  She felt his eyes on her, he was so close his breath stirred her curls and wafted over her hot, wet intimate flesh.

  Her hands fisted and she found she was grabbing the soft blanket, open and needy and waiting and then suddenly he was there, his mouth on her, his tongue inside her, all the way inside her with no teasing first, no preparation and the shock of it, and the amazing way he made her feel had her crying out. Not all the way, not yet, but oh, she was so close. As though he knew, he stayed clear of her hot button, licking his way around the opening to her body, nibbling lightly, and then when she was so desperate her hips were dancing with him, trying to lead, and he was teasing her giving her almost but not quite what she wanted, he suddenly grabbed her hips and put his mouth right exactly where she wanted it. He sucked her lightly, the way he’d learned she liked it, and his tongue danced over her clit with perfect rhythm and pressure.