by Hope Ramsay
She broke the kiss. “What do you need?” Her dark eyes had gone black, but the spark of desire burned bright in their depths.
“You’re too far away,” he murmured.
“Do you want the striptease I promised?”
He shook his head. He didn’t want to be teased. Enough foreplay. He wanted to get down to the real action.
She must have figured that out because she lifted the hem of her shirt over her head, baring her breasts without making it a tease at all. And that’s when he realized she had gone braless today. No wonder her nipples had been putting on a floor show for him.
He cupped one of her breasts, the perfect size to fill his hand, the nipple hardening against his palm. With his other hand, he pulled the elastic from her ponytail. Her dark hair fell down in soft waves around her shoulders. He buried his nose in it and drank in the scent. Floral and spicy and something unique labeled “Amy.” His ability to think and reason disappeared. He needed her. He needed the release. But a part of him—maybe the broken part that longed to be healed—wanted to go slowly.
He lifted his head again. “I want you.”
“I know,” she said, then bit her lip in the sexiest expression he’d ever seen. His pulse hit the red line as she unbuttoned his shirt and ghosted her hands over his chest in a soft exploration that made him ache all over. He shrugged off his shirt and pulled her tight against him. It was better skin to skin.
He wanted more. “I need you.” The words were practically torn from his throat. He didn’t like to admit stuff like that.
“I know,” she said.
Damn. He bracketed her face with his hands and pulled her up into another amazing kiss that still wasn’t enough.
She broke away with a mock-serious look. “Dusty,” she said in a soft whisper, “what the hell are you waiting for? I’m not a princess or a virgin.”
Okay, he could get with that program. He picked her up and dropped her on the bed and watched her sink into the poufy comforter. She stacked her hands behind her head, giving him a fabulous view of her pert little breasts.
“Ooh, I like this,” she said. “And since I’m here and you’re there, how about you give me the striptease?”
He refused to do some candy-ass, Full Monty dance, but he was happy to get naked. He shucked his pants and boots in world-record time while she giggled like a little sex kitten. When he straightened up, she stopped laughing.
“Oh, Dusty, you are beautiful,” she said on a long sigh. “Come here.” She opened her arms for him.
“Not before I get you naked too,” he said as he tackled her sneakers and then her holey jeans. “Wow, nice panties,” he said when her black, lacy thong was revealed. “I think I want you to keep them on for a while.”
He crawled into the ridiculously sumptuous bed, with the fluffy comforter and a bunch of throw pillows and velvet bed hangings. All that luxury paled in comparison to Amy wearing a black lace thong that he intended to take off slowly—like maybe with his teeth. And then maybe after he’d made her come at least once, he’d get what he wanted more than anything else in the world—to be inside her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Amy awakened to Dusty spooning her, his arms a warm cradle and his breathing deep and even. She settled back and closed her eyes. The sun hadn’t come up yet; she’d enjoy her last few moments before they had to return to the real world. But as soon as she dozed off again, reality arrived in the form of a 5:00 a.m. wakeup call. Now the hard part started.
“We have to go,” he said, and didn’t even give her a chance to pull him back into bed. He headed for the sumptuous bathroom, where the sound of water running sparked all sorts of fun fantasies of shower sex. She let them fill her mind, but she didn’t act on them.
Like Dusty, she had places to be, and work obligations. They had a corporate event at the manor, plus last-minute details for no less than three weekend weddings, one each on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Besides, Muffin needed attention even though Willow had assured her yesterday that the dog would be well cared for.
So she waited until Dusty finished in the bathroom and took her shower alone. Then they drove back to the hospital so he could pick up his truck. The drive took twenty minutes in traffic, and they said not one word the entire way.
But when she pulled the Z4 to the corner so Dusty could get out, she turned to him and said, “Don’t think this was a one-time thing.” She snagged his hand before he left the car. “I have to work today, but I’ll come to your place as soon as I can. I also don’t want you worrying about the funeral details, okay? Let Courtney and me handle them. For the record, I intend to get every member of the Episcopal Altar Guild to send casseroles.”
“That’ll be the day,” he said.
“You think I can’t make that happen?” she said in her best imitation of Aunt Pam’s take-no-prisoners voice.
His mouth quirked at the corner, but maybe not in amusement. “If anyone could make it happen, you’d be the one. But seriously, I don’t need casseroles.”
“Sure you do.”
He leaned in. “No, I don’t. It’s only me in my tiny house. And no one’s going to stop by to give me condolences.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, I’ll be stopping by.”
His eyebrow arched, and she thought he might be about to say something. But instead he cupped the back of her head and drew her in for an erotic goodbye kiss.
Dusty’s reputation as a Casanova was well deserved. He was incredible between the sheets, and Amy wanted a lot more of that. But she also wanted to take care of him because she’d fallen in love with him.
She almost said the words aloud when he broke the kiss and opened the car’s door. The words perched on the tip of her tongue, ready to take flight, but she shut her mouth and swallowed them back. Dusty didn’t need the stress of her love right now. Maybe some other time, after the funeral, after the fallout from the fire died down. And certainly after she’d formally divorced her family and told them all to go to hell.
Or maybe never. Living in the moment seemed like a much better plan.
In any event, Amy had a lot of items on her to-do list. It turned out the Episcopal Altar Guild didn’t think non–church members were entitled to their casseroles, even though Amy had been a member of their congregation her entire life and specifically asked for their Christian charity.
So Amy turned to Gracie Teague and Poppy Braden, both members of Grace Presbyterian, and by Monday afternoon the Presbyterians had come through in spades. So much so that Amy decided to leave the Episcopalians and join the Presbyterians as part of her family divorce.
She also took over the funeral details from Courtney the moment she arrived at work on Tuesday morning, not that Courtney had left all that much for her to do. She put the memorial service on the schedule for the Laurel Chapel on Thursday. There would be no graveside services because Dusty wanted his father’s ashes scattered over the waters of Liberty Run. And everyone decided that an obituary was unnecessary.
Courtney, Willow, Grace, and Poppy sent e-mails and text messages to all of Dusty’s friends. No need to let anyone else know where or when the memorial service would take place, not with some folks so upset about Ryan Pierce’s injuries.
So living in the moment was easy. But even so, when Amy and Muffin arrived at Dusty’s house on Tuesday evening bearing a huge shepherd’s pie, she didn’t know quite what to expect. Would he push her away or welcome her in?
He opened the door and greeted her with, “Oh, crap. Not another casserole. Did you actually make that?”
She shook her head. “Um, no. Antonin did, but it’s shepherd’s pie.”
He chuckled, the sound like music. “Good. We can eat that right now because I’m not a big fan of tuna surprise. And my tiny refrigerator is already filled to overflowing.”
She moved forward, but before she could cross the threshold, Dusty snagged her around the waist and pulled her up into one of his signature kisses. Muffin immedia
tely sat down and gave a small woof of approval.
* * *
Amy stayed with Dusty on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. They made love. They held each other through the night. They settled into a mini-routine that grew more comfortable with each day.
Then on Thursday morning, Amy sat beside Dusty during his father’s memorial service at Laurel Chapel, attended by about fifty people—members of the Eagle Hill Manor family, a few of Dusty’s friends from the landscaping company where he’d worked before, and at least twenty members of the community, every single one of them a serious fly fisherman.
After the religious service, a small group of close friends accompanied Dusty on the walk down to Liberty Run, where he scattered his father’s ashes. The funeral was short and somber, and everyone, including Dusty, remained dry-eyed.
No one mourned Greg McNeil for long. By noon everyone, including Dusty, was back at work because of the killer weekend schedule followed by the Vegas Girls three-ringed circus on Wednesday. The decorations for that event would require an incredibly quick turnaround in the Carriage House.
Even with that much work on her plate, Amy needed to act on her divorce plans. So Friday, Amy drove up to the vineyard during lunch for what she had started thinking of as “the final confrontation.” She found Daddy in his office on the ground floor of the gigantic house that he now lived in all by himself. The door was open, but she knocked on the doorframe and said, “You got a minute?”
Daddy gave her the patented Lyndon scowl. “Are you here to apologize for your rudeness on Easter Sunday and your behavior since?”
Amy would have laughed, except that laughing at Daddy would only annoy him further, and she’d come on a mission that would probably do a whole lot more than annoy him. So she said nothing as she crossed the deep-pile carpet and ensconced herself in the leather chair set in front of his desk.
Her heart beat ferociously, making her hands tremble as she reached into her purse and pulled out her platinum Amex card and her personal cell phone. She laid both on the table like offerings. “I’m not here to apologize,” she said in a surprisingly steady voice. “I’m here to give back the phone and the Amex card.”
Daddy straightened in his chair. “Amy, I told you I didn’t care about the goddamn credit card bills. I was wrong about that. I shouldn’t have yelled at you about the bills. And I shouldn’t have kicked you out of the house. I just thought that—”
“You thought I’d go running to Grady, right? But I didn’t, and that should tell you something right there. And besides, you were right to yell at me about those credit card bills. I didn’t realize how meaningless my life was until I had to sleep in my car for two nights. So you did me a favor. I know you don’t see it that way right now, but I hope one day you will.”
“Okay, I’ll take the card, but not the phone. I have a good idea what your salary is, and you can’t afford a cell phone, but you need one for safety.”
“I’m fine. A cell phone comes with the job,” she said, proudly showing her father the iPhone Willow had put in her hands the first day she’d started as an event planner.
“But—”
She held up her hand. “But nothing. Daddy, you’re the one who said I needed to stand on my own two feet. What you didn’t comprehend was that standing on my own means I can’t marry Grady.”
“Wait, no. It means no such thing. You can be independent and married to Grady. Honey, Grady is a great guy. The whole family approves of him.”
“Yeah, Daddy, he is a nice guy. But I don’t love him. And here’s the important thing—I. Am. Not. Mom.”
“What does Mom have to do with this?”
“Everyone in the family has always said I’m like her. And she stayed in a marriage that made her unhappy. She continued living with a man who cheated on her, and—”
“Wait. What?”
She folded her arms across her chest. This was a very awkward conversation. “Daddy, I know you were unfaithful to Mom.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because when you and Mom argued, you shouted, and Mom always brought it up.”
“It was a long time ago. Before you were born.”
“Doesn’t matter. It was an issue. And frankly, Mom should have left you long ago.”
“You’d never have been born if she’d done that.”
“Okay, I concede that point. But Mom stayed in a marriage that made her miserable because she didn’t have the courage to face life on her own. So when you, and everyone in the family, compares me to Mom and then tries to marry me off to some rich guy I don’t love, you ought to understand why I’m not happy about it.”
Her voice wavered. “So I’m taking a break from the family. I’m doing what Jeff and Danny did,” she said.
“What does that mean? Are you telling me you’re moving to California? Tell me how running away makes any sense at all.” His voice reeked of condescension.
What the hell? Did he think she was having a little temper tantrum that would pass like a summer thunderstorm? Well, he could think again.
“No, Daddy. As usual, you’re not listening. I’m not running away. I’m not even leaving town. I have a job at Eagle Hill Manor that I like. A lot. But from now on, I won’t be coming to dinners or holiday events at Charlotte’s Grove or up at the winery. Not after what all of you did to me at Easter brunch this year. That was low and mean. Not just to me, but to Grady too.”
“Amy, don’t be ridiculous.”
Damn, damn, damn. Always the same thing. She stood up and leaned on his desk. “Daddy, I’m telling you that I want a divorce,” she said.
“You what? Amy, you can’t divorce a family. Don’t be silly.”
Did he think that calling her names would change anything? Probably. Daddy loved her, but he didn’t respect her intelligence. She bore some responsibility for that. Like Mom, she’d drifted through her life until recently.
“I’m not being silly. The fact is I love you, but we have irreconcilable differences.”
“Good grief, Amy. What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that everyone in the family has taken to calling me names and challenging my intelligence. But here’s the thing. Maybe I am a stupid ridiculous idiot, but I am also a free American woman. And that means I have the right to choose the person I love.”
He glared at her for a long moment, his jaw flexing. “Amy, we’re trying to protect you. I know you don’t feel like a rich person right now, but one day you will be worth a great deal of money, and there are unscrupulous men who would—”
“Daddy, I get it.”
Yeah, he definitely had the angry-daddy face going now, but this time she had no intention of running away from it. She could do this. She could hold her own with him. “I’m free to choose love over money if I want to.”
His forehead lowered. “You think you can live without money? You think Dusty McNeil would be better for you than Grady Carson? Is that it?”
“Yes. I love Dusty.”
Whoa, she’d said the words right out loud. Good thing she hadn’t slipped up and said them to Dusty. If she ever did that, she had a feeling he might disappear faster than a package of Oreo cookies on Netflix night.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Amy, you’re being—”
“Stop. Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. Love is love, Daddy. And I’ve fallen in love with Dusty. He’s the guy I want in my life. And if you’d give him a chance, you might change your mind about him. But I see now that you’re never going to do that, so I have to make a choice. And I’m choosing Dusty instead of the family.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scattering Daddy’s ashes didn’t end Dusty’s troubles. On Friday morning, his insurance company called to let him know that his liability coverage might be limited because the Jefferson County fire inspector had notified them of an arson investigation.
Since the building wasn’t insured, the idea that someone had burned it down
with a profit motive made no sense. Dusty carried an umbrella policy on the property, of course, in case someone injured themselves. And obviously, he and his insurance company were responsible for Officer Pierce’s injuries. He’d already been in touch with Ryan’s mother and offered to help with any and all medical bills. But if his insurance company refused to cover the claim, he’d be in deep shit all the way around. So he wasn’t in the best frame of mind early Saturday morning when Jamie Lyndon darkened his door, wearing a take-no-prisoners expression on his face as he strolled into Dusty’s small office, closing the door behind him.
“You’re in a heap of trouble,” Lyndon said, pointing out the obvious as he made himself comfortable in the chair in front of Dusty’s desk.
“How so?”
“Chief LaRue is hopping mad at you. Paul can sometimes lose perspective on things when it comes to the guys on his force. He’s determined to make someone pay for what happened to Ryan Pierce, and you’re the one in his gun sights.”
Dusty leaned forward in his chair and crossed his arms on the desk, assuming a pose of strength. “Mr. Lyndon, are you here to talk about the fire at the foundry building or the fact that Amy has been sleeping at my house the last few days? Because if you’re trying to threaten me over the fire, it ain’t working. I didn’t set that fire, and I’m sure the investigation will show I had nothing to do with it. I’ve already been in touch with Ryan and his family about the medical bills.”
Lyndon gave Dusty a feral smile. “The two issues are conflated.”
“How so?”
“Because with the chief of police against you, living here in Shenandoah Falls is likely to become less and less attractive. Add Amy to that mix, and it’s likely to become intolerable. The fact is, you need a fresh start in life. And I’m here to make that happen.”
That was a surprise. Was the old guy coming around? “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m prepared to make a very generous offer for your land.”
