by Nina Strych
Should he tell her? It made him feel needy and he didn’t like that at all. He knew she could fix his problem in a heartbeat and she might even offer to, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to face his problems and deal with them.
He needed to shed some baggage.
He’d had a hard time going back to plant those first young trees. Unable to stop looking at the clearing where his home had been, he’d stayed at a friend’s house rather than camp on the property as he’d intended. Mike simply couldn’t bear to be near it.
He knew he needed to sell the groves. He had just hoped to make it better before he did. Put it off so that he didn’t have to think about it. But look what he’d been doing in order to pay for it. If running away to the other side of the country to become a paid escort wasn’t an escape from problems, he didn’t know what was.
“I can lay here for a shockingly long time,” she said, smiling a little.
He chuckled and tapped the tip of her nose. “I guess I was hoping to put off you finding out all the not-so-great things about me until after we left paradise.”
That clearly got her attention and she stuffed the pillow under her head more firmly, a little frown on her face. It wasn’t a displeased frown, but rather a concerned one. It lifted his heart to see it. She genuinely cared. She proved it with everything she did.
Patting his belly with her hand—it was more like a concerned pat than a sexual one—she said, “Everyone has some not-so-great that comes with the greatness. It’s a package deal. Plus, I feel like I know facts about you, but not so much how you feel about things.”
“What do you mean?”
She pursed her lips to the side, which was a sight with full lips like hers, and thought for a second. “Well, I know you love camping, especially the real kind. That you’re scary good at naming fish and plants and that you don’t just see a shady spot when you see a tree. I also know that you like baseball—for many reasons. I know that you prefer realism to more abstract art styles—”
He pressed his hand over hers and interrupted. “Wait. How do you know that? We haven’t talked about art.”
She grinned a little at him and said, “By the way you lingered over the more realistic pictures, but stood away from the abstracts at the gallery.”
“Aren’t you perceptive,” he half-asked and half-complimented. He’d had no idea he was doing that while they looked at the various art pieces on display. “What else?”
Amy shrugged a little and said, “The rest is just all facts. You’re an only child like me. Also like me, your parents are gone. You went to college on a swimming scholarship and so did your friend Charlie. You’re two years younger than me and you have an obsession with a space TV show that borders on the unhealthy.”
“Only the original series, though,” he said. “It’s an important distinction.”
She laughed and said, “Of course!”
He rubbed the back of her hand where it rested on his stomach and thought about it. They really didn’t yet know that much about each other. Not really. “It seems like we’ve been doing a whole lot of talking over the last few days. We should know more about each other.”
She nodded, but said, “That’s all just time and exposure. We know the best bits. We’ll get there.”
When Amy said that, he knew she meant it. She was telling him that they were together, that they would be together when they left this island and long after. All the rest was details.
She pinched the skin of his belly softly and said, “And you’re going to tell me about this farm.”
Mike shook his head. She was persistent for sure. He snuggled down under the sheet and rolled so that he could face her, both of them nearly buried in the big pillows and surrounded by clean white cotton. Amy must have sensed his difficulty, because she shifted her hand to his upper arm and stroked him softly, gently. It was comfort and support.
“Okay, it’s pretty simple really. My groves were actually our family’s groves and orchards. They put me as a partner after college because it’s safer…in a legal sense. The drought had been going on for so long that things were very dry. Other groves near us had actually been bulldozing older sections of their groves up. We were shifting to a micro-irrigation system, which basically means we were shifting our watering habits to accommodate the drought and be more environmentally friendly, but that meant everything not at the roots of the trees was dry as a bone. With me so far?”
She nodded, but said nothing to break the flow of his words.
“Well, I was gone for a long weekend with friends and a lightning strike started a fire between our property and the next groves over. There was a stand of trees between us that used to be watered by a little stream, but it was dry that year. It just swept through on the winds. It was so fast that it was an issue of containment rather than putting it out. When all was said and done, there were a whole lot of smaller growers who were out of business for a while.”
“That’s terrible,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Yep, it was. My parents were still in the house.”
She put her hand to her mouth and gasped, “Oh no.”
He reached out to squeeze her arm, to let her know it was okay. It wasn’t okay, but it was long over now. “I’ve been trying to replant and stuff, but I can’t stand to be there. I’m selling, but I’ve been putting it off. It’s time.”
“Is that why you did this job?”
He laughed and said, “In a way. But I think I was just sort of running away. Getting as far from the problem as I could get. As strange as it sounds, by being with women like I was, I actually felt less alone too. But in a safe way. Does that make sense?”
She quirked an eyebrow up at that and said, “Well, let’s hope you don’t need any more safe escapes like that. You don’t, do you?”
He tugged her closer on the bed and kissed her temple. “No. I don’t at all. We’re safe with each other.”
She tucked her head under his chin and they held each other, arms tight around the other, her feet pressed onto his. It was perfect. Mike smiled at the scent of her hair, washed last night but still carrying a lingering hint of the salty ocean. Her skin was smooth and warm from sleep, her body a perfect fit to his. This was safe and very good. Whatever it was she saw in him, he would gratefully accept his extraordinary luck and be the best man he could be.
Twenty-Eight
The flight was packed and Amy hadn’t been able to get Mike changed to her flight. She’d originally made sure to book him on a different flight so that there wouldn’t be any awkward meetups after their business was concluded, but she should have thought of flight changes long before their final day on St. John.
He’d laughed as he dropped her at the airport, waving and joking that he was taking up residence and she should visit again sometime.
Actually, that idea was pretty tempting. St. John had given them each other and those soft sandy beaches now held a special place in her heart. But could she live there? Probably not. She liked the fall and spring too much to give it up.
Even though he was leaving later, she had managed to upgrade him to first class. He’d probably be a little irritated with her, but it seemed only fair that he should get to relax since he’d given up so much after knowing her for such a short time. Plus, he’d told her the story of the woman and her not-so-subtle hints about the mile-high club and she’d rather he didn’t have to deal with that again.
Especially with her not there to growl and mark her territory. Amy had never been possessive over a man before, but she was with Mike. She didn’t mind the appreciative stares as they walked on the island or the open-mouthed double-takes when he stripped to his swim trunks and displayed that ripped physique, but she didn’t want some horny woman harassing him for hours on end either. She knew he wouldn’t do anything—and how she’d become so sure of that was a mystery to her—but the idea still rankled her.
As she left the secure area to get her bags, Marion’s shout was u
nmistakable.
“Ooooo….you look like you’ve been soundly bedded!” she shouted, eliciting a whole slew of snickers and outright laughs from the other passengers flowing around her.
Amy shook her head and rolled her eyes. It was like putting her finger into a light-socket after such a laid-back week. “Oh, come on,” she said, shoving her carry-on at her friend and walking on.
Marion kept looking her over as they walked, her grin big and very naughty. “Did you have something done? Your lips are even bigger, for Pete’s sake.”
Amy winked and said, “Only a lot of kisses.”
She squealed and did a strange little dance, like she was taken with the idea of running in place for a second or two, then bumped Amy with her hip. “I have to know everything. Every detail.”
Under normal circumstances, such divulging of details would be a given, but Amy didn’t feel at all like sharing too much anymore. Girl stuff sure, but not in a way that would cheapen Mike or what they had growing between them. Rather than explain that, she merely said, “Later.”
Grabbing her battered bag while fending off Marion’s questions and the curious stares of those standing nearby wore on Amy’s nerves. It wasn’t that she was angry or even irritated, only that she was back in the real world with all its metal and concrete. It was a jarring change and she was tired. And Mike wasn’t here.
In the car, she laid her head back and did her best to ignore Marion’s insane driving, which wasn’t easy when she took corners like a race-car driver and bounced Amy around in her seat. Marion must have sensed that she needed some space, because she didn’t ask any further questions and simply hurried back to Amy’s apartment.
“Are you okay?” Marion finally asked as they dropped her suitcase on the bed. Her crazy ebullience was gone, tempered into real concern. Amy could tell.
Plopping down on the bed, Amy flung her arms out and star-fished onto the mattress, making it squeak and bounce. It was old, like everything else in the apartment, and it was a stark contrast to that glorious bed she’d been sharing with Mike.
“I’m okay. I just…I don’t know. I think I’m just overwhelmed. And Mike isn’t here and I have no idea what will happen and what if he doesn’t feel the same now that we’re back and what if that was all just a vacation fling and he realizes I’m not the woman he wants after all and—”
“Whoa, hold on there,” Marion interrupted. She sat down on the bed near Amy’s head and peered down at her. “What’s bringing this on? You were so excited on the phone not six hours ago.”
Amy moaned and covered her face with her hands. “I know. But six hours is a long time when all you’ve got to do is think and watch all the honeymooners coming home.”
Marion shook her head then levered Amy’s head up from the bed, wiggling under so she could sit with Amy’s head on her lap. Amy let her and then closed her eyes when Marion stroked her hair back and made soothing sounds. Marion was a pistol, but she was also the best friend Amy had ever had.
“It’s okay. Just relax and breathe.”
Amy pushed out a hard breath, then sucked in a long and slow one, doing the exercises her therapist had taught her when her stress got out of control. It worked. Probably not as well as a prescription might, but it worked well enough. Amy’s aversion to the suggestion of medication—an irony considering her line of work—wasn’t some phobia, but merely another indicator of her need to be in control of herself. So, breathing it was.
After a few minutes, she nodded and said, “I’m better.”
Marion smiled down at her and said, “Now, one at a time. Nice and slow. Be clear about your feelings.”
It might have been Amy in therapy, but Marion had learned a lot too. This was the way Barbara had taught her to deal with overwhelming feelings. Take them out, look at them, deal with them one at a time. Not all at once. One at a time.
*****
After talking for hours, Marion ordered Greek salads from Amy’s favorite take-out place and helped her unpack. Sand drifted out of a rolled up hem and she mourned each grain as it disappeared into the carpet. She was better, but that didn’t mean all those fears were gone. It was like all the tension she had shed for a week had been waiting for her inside the walls of this apartment. Now it all wanted to crowd back into her body at once.
As they drank second glasses of wine and half-heartedly watched a show she’d missed while on vacation, she looked around her dingy little apartment and realized that she needed more changes in her life than a short vacation. She needed a clean sweep.
“I’m moving,” she said abruptly.
Marion clicked the pause button on the remote and opened her mouth to reply, but Amy’s phone buzzed an incoming text and she snatched it up. It was Mike. Landed in Miami for layover. Want to chat?
She got right up to take the phone into the bedroom and said to Marion, “Hold on. Just hold that thought for a while.”
Amy stabbed the call button as the bedroom door shut behind her and he answered immediately.
“Hey you,” he said, that deep and sexy voice reaching right down into her and making her squeeze her thighs together.
“How was the flight?”
“First class is interesting. Certainly quieter. You didn’t have to do that.”
“No, but I didn’t want anyone else hitting on you without me there to punch them out.”
He laughed and if anything, that was even sexier than his words. She sat down on the bed and pressed her hand to her belly where it clenched. She couldn’t even see that dimple in his cheek and it still made her insides do back-flips.
“I like it when you’re all possessive,” he said, his voice low.
“I like it when you possess me,” she answered, her voice also going into bedroom territory.
“Hey, don’t give me a hard-on here. I’m standing in line to board the next plane. What will people say if I walk up with a freaking boner?”
She giggled at the image, and said, “Oh, I think they’ll enjoy the show. I know I do.”
“You’re bad, but in a really good way.” She heard him say pardon me to someone else, then he changed topics. “Are we still on for Wednesday?”
Sighing because that was so far away, she said, “Yep. I’ll be waiting with bells on. And I’ll cook, so you might want to eat first.”
He laughed and said, “I make a mean PB and J, so we’ll be fine no matter what happens.”
Through the phone, Amy heard someone say, “Sir, you’ll need to put away your phone for boarding to keep things moving. You can use it again once you’re seated.”
“Hey, gotta go. Call you later or will you be asleep?”
“Sleep? Forget that, just call me.”
They rang off and Amy sat for a moment, looking down at her phone and thinking of Mike. He was at least on the same continent as her again. That was good.
When she stepped out of the bedroom, Marion asked, “Moving where?”
“Out of this apartment. I need a change. This place was never home, just a cheap apartment where I could sleep and shower and stash my ice cream. I think it’s stressing me out to be here. I mean, that’s all I ever did here, stress out over money and the company.”
Marion nodded, sipping her wine and looking around. “All true. And you’re rich, so you should live in a nice house or something. A big one. And you can hire a handyman and I’ll watch him work with no shirt on.”
“Gah, you’re disgusting. I don’t know what will happen…and I sure don’t know about any fancy house. That’s not my style, you know that. I don’t know what my style is.”
Picking up Amy’s glass and handing it to her, Marion raised her own glass and said, “To figuring out what’s next.”
Twenty-Nine
As Mike parked in the guest spot in front of Amy’s building, he looked around and hoped his car wouldn’t get stolen while he was inside. When Amy said she lived in a cheap apartment, he thought she meant something different than a rundown complex like th
is. It was actually a little scary. He had a hard time picturing her going about her business without having to carry a nightstick or maybe a chainsaw.
She opened the door even before he could knock and his heart almost jumped out of his chest at the sight of her. He’d planned to be courteous and more like a date, but instead he stepped in and wrapped her in his arms, kissing those lips he’d missed more than he could have ever expected.
The kiss deepened into bedroom territory, her lips warm and soft on his, but her tongue urgent when he pressed close, tasting the sweetness of her mouth after three days apart. Eventually, he pulled back a little, not wanting to make her feel like he was after only one thing. He wasn’t. He wanted to take her into the bedroom and strip away the jeans and shirt that accentuated the curvy deliciousness underneath, but it was more than that. He just wanted her.
She sighed, then raised an eyebrow in that naughty way she had. “Is that a tree against my back or are you just really happy to see me.”
He laughed and stepped back, carefully pulling the potted tree from around her. Presenting it with a little bow, he said, “I have brought you apricots. Or rather, future apricots.”
She gripped the plastic grower’s pot in both hands carefully, looking at the little tree and it’s bright leaves with real joy on her face. “This is an apricot tree? How wonderful!”
Moving inside the tiny apartment, Amy carried the pot like it was a delicate vase, her eyes roaming the little trunk, the delicate branches, the leaves. Mike liked to see it. Most people just saw a tree and their eyes moved on, missing the beauty. She didn’t miss it. She saw it for what it was.
Amy put the pot on her small table and stepped back. “It’s big. Does it get bigger?”
He laughed and said, “That’s a baby. It will get bigger. It’ll need to be outside too, and eventually, go into the ground. You’ve got time though. It’s one of my grafts.”
“Graft, as in skin graft?”
