Not the Rebound Guy

by Abby Knox

  Until I feel something hot and sticky dripping down the side of my neck.

  “Oops. You got something on your shirt. Better take that off.”

  She pulls at the neckline of my tee shirt and plants her mouth against my skin, licking off the hot jam, building the bonfire of desire that grows in my belly.

  “Baby, you keep fucking around with that jam; I’m going to get crazy.”

  Her eyes flash. “Oh, I wanna see you get crazy. I don’t believe you.”

  “Last night not enough for you?”

  “Last night, we didn’t have any strawberry jam to play with.”

  I tear off my tee-shirt and throw it on the chair. “You better make sure I didn’t drip any jam anywhere else.”

  She glances out the window, and seeing no sight of Grams, she unzips my fly. She drips some on my stomach, then with a sly smile, kisses my chest, licking it off. Before I know it, she’s on her knees in front of me in her grandma’s kitchen, her teeth tugging at the button of my jeans. Oh shit.

  “I think we got some down here on your fly; let me check.”

  “Little girl,” I growl.

  “Keep going with the little girl stuff; you’re getting me wet. You’ll have to clean that up too.”

  “Oh shit, Eliza.”

  I look down, and I feel the warm wetness around my dick. Her eyes are locked onto mine as she licks around the tip and down the base of the shaft. It was already hard, been hard all morning.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Mhm,” she mumbles, her mouth full of my dick. She begins to bob up and down on it, and I grab onto the countertop, careful not to knock over any jars that line the counter.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I tug the scrunchie out and thread my fingers through her hair, forcing her to pause. “Wait, get up,” I say.

  Eliza pops me out of her mouth and licks her lips. Lord, what a sight.

  “I said get up and bend over. Hold on to the sink.”

  Trembling, she stands and grabs onto the edge of the sink, and I jerk up the frilly broomstick skirt, exposing her tanned ass with the pretty little flowered panties.

  I yank the panties down. I don’t have a condom on me, so I slide my dick through her wet lips, and her gasp is all I need to propel me onward. I reach around and cup her mound, feeling the top of my dick hit my hand as I thrust. It’s not the same as being inside her, but this hurried little ride is so damn hot I’m about to nut all over the inside of her bunched-up skirt. I bend over and nip on her back through the fabric of her top.

  I grab the jelly spatula out of her hand, reach into the pot, and drip some onto her bare ass. “I wish you could see this. This beautiful little behind.”

  “Covered in dimples and cellulite but okay.”

  “I’m dripping jelly right into those little dimples above your cheeks.”

  I bathe the skin of her tush with my mouth, sucking in all of the sweet, sticky strawberry jam. I can’t wait to get this woman completely naked again, but this time, in my bed. In my house. And then my heart breaks because I know my bedroom won’t be finished until after she’s gone back home.

  Her wavy brown hair half covers her face when she looks back at me, that filthy look in her eyes telling me she likes what it is that I’m doing.

  “Put it in, Garrett. I can’t handle this,” she whines.

  “Baby, I don’t have any condoms on me at the moment. I wasn’t expecting jelly-making to turn into food play.”

  “It’s OK. I’m still on birth control. I trust you.”

  I’m relieved about that first part. But I’m overjoyed about the second part. I lean my torso over her back and murmur in her ear, grabbing a fistful of her hair. “Soon. First, I need something else even sweeter. Turn around and hold on tight.”

  Eliza yelps as I fall to my knees in front of her, helping her spread out for me.

  Having no time to waste, I slide my tongue through her folds. Her sweet taste is so heavenly, so much more luscious than any jam, more pleasing than my own honey. I want to take time to savor, but time is not on our side right now. I delve my tongue into her heat, giving her everything she needs. I’ll spend the rest of my life giving this girl whatever she needs. She deserves someone who will support her dreams as well as her filthy fantasies. It’s gotta be me. It just has to. Fuck any man who won’t do this for her. Going down is the fucking best.

  I cover every inch of her pussy with sloppy kisses. She’s so wet; I could do this for hours and never get tired of all the ways I can make her wet. “Eliza,” I rumble against her skin, making her moan and drip some more.

  We could be caught any minute. We’re in danger of getting caught either by Grams or by a dog, a goat, or a pot-bellied pig. None of which would be ideal.

  I tease her clit with my tongue, then suck it into my mouth.

  When I glance up, she looks down, biting down on her lip. Her release barrels through her, and she turns her head away and grunts, stifling the scream that begs to come out.

  I hear Helen barking from across the yard. Eliza’s eyes go wide, and she says, “We’d better—“

  I nod. “Yep.”

  The two of us are barely zipped up and tidied up by the time Grams steps can be heard climbing the porch steps.

  When she walks in, she’s none the wiser as Eliza sets about washing up the pots in the sink, and I fill out the numbers of jars that have popped while we’ve been doing our deeds.

  “You two just getting started on the dishes?”

  Eliza and I glance at each other, then I find an imaginary something interesting on the floor to stare at.

  Grams sighs. “Just take care of the mess. And when you’re done with that, you can start prepping for some zucchini bread and rhubarb.”

  My stomach growls in anticipation. And to be honest, I’m somewhat dehydrated at the moment as well.

  “I’m going to have a shower then a nap. If you two can manage that, that would be great. Tonight’s Bunco night. Linda’s picking me up. It’s not a senior-center endorsed club because there’s too much drinking. So don’t wait up!”

  “Grams! You party animal. How late are you going to be? You need your rest.”

  “You want me to drive you?” Garrett offers.

  Grams looks from Eliza to me and smirks. “You two are a couple of old hens. It just so happens we lay out all our pill organizers on the counter, like a cookie swap, and then we watch to see what happens.”

  “Grams!”

  She waves us off as both of us look horrified. “You two have no sense of humor. Of course, I don’t do that.”

  I can’t help myself; I have to reach over and slide my arm around Eliza.

  “All right,” I say. “Go get your disco nap, Betty.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eliza

  We spend the better part of the afternoon dutifully chopping zucchini and rhubarb, bagging it and freezing it until such a time as Grams wants to make bread.

  Garrett and I work well together in the kitchen. He does most of the chopping, and I bag it up, measuring and labeling bags, and writing everything down into the planner.

  “Why are you logging all the produce on paper? I think you’ve done enough with the strawberries,” he says.

  I explain, “She might consider with all of the zucchini she has out there, adding sweet breads to the mix. It’s a good idea. Diversifying. Plus, her bread recipe is fantastic.

  “That sounds good,” Garrett says.

  “Wanna dip into the recipe box and try it out?”

  He laughs. “She’s checked out for the afternoon; we might as well.”

  I open all the cabinets until I find the box labeled “family recipes.” Then I dig through it and grunt. “These are a mess. She has not organized them by type or even by origin. Auntie Rudy’s cheese ball is right next to Cousin Squat’s apple pie.”

  “I have so many questions.”

  “Me too!” I say. “There’s no rhyme or reason.”

 
I lay out each index card on the table and sort them by type: breakfast, potluck, appetizers, entrees, and desserts.

  Garret stands over me with his hands on his hips. I look up, and the amused curl of his lip makes me pause. “What?”

  “That wasn’t my question. You have an Aunt Rudy and an Uncle Squat?”

  I blink up at him. “Yes. Don’t you have any relatives who are only known to you by their nicknames?”

  Suddenly, he’s grabbing me and pulling me to my feet.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Outside. We’ve been cooped up in this kitchen all day. We can make bread later.”

  I’m happy to follow him anywhere. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s time the queens meet each other.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Garrett doesn’t answer, and then I see we’re headed toward the beehives.

  I hold my breath. “Don’t I need a fancy suit and a helmet and like an incense burner to keep them docile?”

  “Nope. We’re just going to look, and they’re calm right now.”

  “How do you know I’m not allergic to bee stings?”

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “What are we talking about then? Come on.”

  We trudge through the grass, through the fence all the way to the shady area in the grove of trees behind his house, down by the creek. It makes my heart happy that he’s picked such a pretty spot for his bees to live. Trees, water, wildflowers.

  He talks all the while as he opens up the hive for me to have a look. “See…they’re just doing their thing.”

  I look at the partition contents that he’s opened for me, and it’s mesmerizing. I’m not going to lie; I’m still feeling a little bit afraid of this enormous mass of tiny creatures.

  “Queen, meet queen,” he says. I look to where he’s pointing. I have to gingerly bend to get a closer look at where she is. Bigger and longer than the rest of the tiny buzzing creatures, she finally stands out. “She’s got attitude, that’s for sure,” I say.

  “And up here,” he says, pointing to the section of comb where the tiny hexagons are dark and wet, “is where the babies are. The workers feed them until it’s time to cover them up.”

  All of a sudden, the Magic School Bus episode comes back to me. “I remember this!” Like a teacher’s pet, I rattle off bee facts that have been sitting dormant in my inner child’s brain.

  Garrett looks impressed.

  “And look,” he says, “that one there, looks like he’s dancing? He’s drawing a map to tell the other ones where the good stuff is. He’s telling them how to get to Grams’ meadow.”

  I laugh. “Everybody wants to go to Grams’ house.”

  He says, “I knew as soon as I saw the property was next to a field of homegrown veggies and flowers that that was where I wanted to beeee.”

  “Nice pun.”

  “Oh, I’m full of bee puns. I’m buzzing with them.”

  “Oh my god. Stop.”

  “What’s the matter? Did I kill your buzz?”

  I point at him and playfully raise my voice. “NO! You don’t get to do two puns in a row off the same word!”

  “Well, now that I know the rules,” he chuckles, putting the hive drawer back in place.

  He takes my hand and says, “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a walk.”

  A “walk” around his place entails a lot more than simply walking through the grass. We stop to feed the chickens, visit the baby chicks in the incubators, peek inside the goat barn, which consists mainly of a small old tool shed that houses Gertie and two tiny baby goats.

  Finally, we make our way down to the creek and remove our shoes. “Please don’t tell me we’re going to catch our lunch. This is about as much nature as I can take right now.”

  He laughs. “I don’t have my pole. You’re safe.”

  I chuckle at that. “Well, not that kind of pole,” I say.

  “Oh man, I walked right into that.”

  The sunshine sparkling off the surface of the creek makes me happy. And then I realize I feel more comfortable than I’ve felt in quite a long time.

  We make our way over to the gazebo and sit in the shade, where we chat some more, and he promises no more puns. Instead, we tell each other about our childhoods, and I learn that he and his brother were raised by their grandparents. Listening to him talk, it makes sense to me why he’s so good to my Grams. He misses the people who raised him. I fill him in on my strained relationship with my mom, or as much as I can until sleep overtakes me. I nod off on his chest and wake up to the sound of his stomach growling.

  “Oh no. How long have I been asleep?”

  “Not long enough,” he says, kissing my forehead. “You’re so pretty when you sleep. I could watch you all day.”

  “Creepy,” I joke, sitting up and stretching.

  He laughs. “One of these days, you’re going to take a compliment. For now, let’s go get something to eat.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Garrett

  Watching Eliza study the menu as if it’s changed at all since she was a child is cute.

  When she looks as if she’s decided, I lean forward over the table. “I have a confession to make,” I say.

  “What’s that?”

  I want to shout it from the mountaintops, but Otto’s Diner will have to do. “I like you for more than a fling.”

  Eliza tears off a corner of her paper napkin and gives me a wary smile as the server brings her soda. She murmurs a quiet thank you.

  And then comes the tough conversation. “Garrett.”

  “This makes sense, don’t you think?”

  She looks down at the placemat and exclaims, “Oh look! Esther Smith had a yard sale today. Darn, we missed it.”

  “Eliza.”

  She puts the placemat down and looks up at me. “I have a life in New York.”

  “It’s not that difficult. My grandparents stayed together while PawPaw served in Korea.”

  “How long until one of us gets really tired of the flight between here and New York?”

  I gather up all my courage. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Which will be soon. Because this is real, this thing between us, and no amount of distance or ex-boyfriend complications means anything to me. I don’t want to be away from you for a single second if I can help it.”

  Her cheeks redden as she sips her soda. “You’re not going to be one of those cute small-town guys who tries to convince me to give up my big city life, like in those Hallmark movies, are you? Because three days is not enough time.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that. I would never. But three days? Does it really feel like just three days to you?”

  She bites her lip and doesn’t answer that. “I can’t ask you to leave your home. I just want to keep you in this cute little snow globe. I don’t want you to change for me, and I don’t want to change for you.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. Do you want to be with me?”

  “I have so much fun with you. I like you so much. I don’t want to hurt you, but…you were supposed to be the rebound guy. This is supposed to be a fun three-week vacation.”

  I raise a finger in the air. “It was two weeks, and you voluntarily extended to three weeks, even though the house is totally overcrowded.”

  “I changed it to three weeks because Grams is in over her head.”

  I lean in closer and say, “You were over him the second the wheels were in the air. You never loved that guy. He set you free when he met the spiritual quest bimbo.”

  Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth to speak, but just then, her phone rings. I watch her pick it up and look at the screen, and her face falls.

  She sends it to voicemail and then sets the phone facedown on the table.

  I don’t ask who it was, as it’s none of my business. Even though I am curious.

  “My ex. He’s been text
ing. Wants to know when I’ll be back so we can arrange a time for me to get my stuff. His name’s on the lease, goddammit.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you be taking his call? Seems like an important question.”

  “It does not spark joy.”

  To underline her point, she clicks her phone on silent. “There. Now nobody can disturb us. I’m free as a bird, and I don’t have to think about any of that unpleasantness for the rest of the night.”

  I take my phone out and do the same. “Here we go. I’m setting my phone on silent.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you set it on vibrate? It’s more fun in your pants.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I sip my milkshake then say, “If I want some vibrations in my pants I have better ways of getting that done.”

  “Sir!” Eliza shouts with a laugh.

  I keep my voice low, so only she can hear. “Yup. She’s got legs for days, cute little painted toenails with glitter. A body that doesn’t quit. Soft sexy lips that fit perfectly between mine, deep stormy hazel eyes that always keep me guessing, and a mass of brown curls I want to get lost in.”

  She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “As a poet and a songwriter, you have an unfair advantage.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eliza

  On the way home, I let him thread his fingers through mine. The whole town can see we’re together. For now.

  “Don’t be surprised if this ends up on the placemat first thing in the morning,” I say.

  “I’ll be hopping mad if it doesn’t,” Garrett says.

  I smile to myself, thinking about Garrett storming the diner in the middle of the Sunday brunch rush, picking up the nearest paper placemat and examining it for mention of us holding hands on Main Street.

  “Let’s say we did pursue a relationship. How would that work? Would we try to visit each other on weekends? Would we spend holidays together? Which ones? What’s our Christmas obligation?” My professional planner is rearing its organized head.