by Mara Jacobs
But he always went back to Detroit for training camp. And she wouldn’t hear from him again except through Lizzie, Katie, or a group email to the whole gang.
She slid off her panties, trying not to notice her other achy parts. Peeled off her socks and pulled on her flannel pajama bottoms. She went to the drawer in the dresser where she’d hurriedly thrown a bunch of things this morning. Damn. She’d forgotten to throw in a pair of her fuzzy sleeping socks.
No way in hell was she going back in there—she’d just suffer through cold feet tonight.
Chase her? Right. He’d never chased a woman in his life—had never needed to. He just sat back and waited as they flocked to him, his good looks and sports-star profession doing all the heavy lifting.
She pulled down the comforter and top sheet and slid into bed. She knew she’d need to use the restroom and brush her teeth at the very least, but right now she didn’t want to go anywhere near the hallway bathroom. Not that she didn’t trust herself. No. There was no way in hell she’d make her way back to her room. Still, it might be best to wait for a while. Until she absolutely had to use the bathroom.
She rolled onto her side, trying to ignore her body’s cravings. Trying not to think how close she’d been to…all of it. Holding on tight to this new side of him and doing exactly what he told her.
She couldn’t even blame his aggressive behavior on pain meds. He’d never been like this with her before when he’d been home for a stay.
Oh, but wait. He wasn’t going back to Detroit this time. This wasn’t a summer break, but the end of his life as he knew it.
Ah…seemed like some ego functioning at play. Because he’s lost control of his life he needs to be in control elsewhere.
With perhaps a dollop of transference thrown in. He wouldn’t be tussling with defensemen on the ice anymore, so why not….
And oh, the tussling had been very, very nice.
But tussling with Petey had been nice…both times. Or at least what she allowed herself to remember from the night of Katie’s wedding. The actual tussling wasn’t the problem.
But you couldn’t spend your whole life…tussling.
Eight
If one does not understand a person, one tends to regard him as a fool.
~ Carl Gustav Jung
Eighteen Years Ago
Alison looked around at the stragglers still at the party. Lizzie had left hours ago, wanting to be with the boy she was currently dating. Some guy named Finn that Alison and Katie hadn’t even bothered to meet. Didn’t seem worth it—he was older, from Houghton, and Lizzie would have some fun with him for a couple of months, tops, then they’d all head off to State.
Katie had left, too, with her boyfriend of the moment. Alison had ridden out to the Lily Pond with them for their graduation party but had assured them she’d get a ride home with someone else when they’d wanted to leave a couple of hours ago.
Not having a boyfriend to go make out with, Alison wanted to spend the evening chatting with friends around the bonfire and having some laughs while remembering the past thirteen years.
The Lily Pond was a public-access area about ten miles out of Hancock off the road that ran alongside the Portage canal. By day, it was used for people to launch boats onto the canal, since it was only a mile or two downstream from the entry to Lake Superior. By night, it was where high school kids came to party. Not to make out, as it wasn’t private enough for that. It was really nothing more than a large circular parking lot, a long dock and boat launch and—and this was a godsend to said partiers—public johns.
They’d all had their various graduation parties and open houses earlier in the day. Those were the events for relatives and your parents’ friends. Alison’s older sisters had come home for their baby sister’s big event. They were several years older than she was—she’d been a change of life surprise to her parents—and both had husbands and children. Her grandparents were long gone, with Alison’s parents being so much older than her classmates’. She hadn’t wanted an open house, had wanted the freedom to visit all of her friend’s events. After Alison returned from hitting those up, the Jukuri family had gone out to Gino’s for a celebratory dinner.
Which quickly turned into a lovefest for Sherry and Janis, who were very close but hadn’t seen each other in a year. Alison loved her sisters, but she hadn’t known them very well, being only three when Sherry left for Central Michigan and five when Janis had gone off to Ferris State. Both had met their future husbands at school and had never returned to Hancock for anything longer than a week here and there in the summer. They came back a bit more frequently once they’d had children, so her parents would get to see their grandchildren. Alison’s oldest nephew was only seven years younger than she.
So, even though the family dinner was in her honor, she’d felt like an invited guest to the Sherry/Janis reunion. Still, the ravioli was good, as always.
Once the mandatory events were over, the majority of the small class met out at the Lily Pond for their own party. Somebody’s older brother had bought the keg, and Alison had nursed a red plastic cupful for most of the evening. She’d had a great time chatting up her longtime classmates, most of whom she’d known since kindergarten. Small town, small graduating classes, meant you grew very close. That’s why so many of them dated kids from different grades, or neighboring towns.
Which is what Lizzie had done last year with Petey Ryan. They’d dated a few months, gone to the junior prom, and then at some point decided they’d be much better friends than lovers (not that they ever were actual lovers—that wasn’t in Lizzie’s “plan” until college). By that time, Petey had become tight with Lizzie’s twin Zeke, so he kind of became another brother to them all.
So when Petey loped up to her at the Lily Pond, announced he was leaving and asked if she wanted a ride, it was no big deal. He’d driven them home from places lots of times. She couldn’t remember ever being alone with him, though.
Oh, who was she kidding? She’d have definitely remembered some quality alone time with Petey Ryan in a truck. She’d developed a super-huge—and super-secret—crush on the hulking boy when Lizzie’d dated him. One she would have never acted on while her friend dated him, and one she didn’t know how to initiate once they’d become just friends.
Besides, boys like Pete Ryan didn’t date brainiacs like Alison. They really didn’t even date nice, cute, but no-great-beauties like Lizzie. She had to admit, Petey’s stock soared in Alison’s estimation when he had dated Lizzie, she so seemingly not his type. Though now she suspected that Petey was originally drawn to Lizzie by her niceness. He didn’t know that a boy and girl could be only friends so tried to pursue her in a romantic sense before realizing he really just wanted the deep friendship that Lizzie offered just about everybody.
No, boys like Petey tended to date stunning girls like Katie, but to Alison’s knowledge, Katie and Petey had never felt drawn to each other. Which raised his stock a little bit more in her eyes.
But if drop-dead gorgeous Katie wasn’t who he wanted, and neither was everyone’s best friend Lizzie, there was no way in hell that smart—and smart-ass—Alison stood a chance.
“Yeah, sure, a ride would be great, thanks,” she told him when he asked. She emptied her cup into the bushes then threw the cup in the garbage bin as she followed him across the lot and to his truck. She half expected to see the other Houghton boys who had good-naturedly crashed their party an hour or so ago follow along with them, but they stayed behind. Must have driven in separate cars.
Petey held the passenger-side door open for her. She’d noticed that about him, that he had good manners. It was a big red Ford truck and usually when he gave them a ride home, Lizzie or Katie, or even Zeke, would give her a boost up. But they weren’t here and she hesitated for a moment and then felt his hands on her hips helping her up. As she moved into the seat, one of his hands slid from her hip to her ass, but that was surely only to help guide her. Wasn’t it? It really wasn’t differ
ent from when Lizzie would do it.
But it felt very different.
In fact, the whole truck felt different. Smaller somehow, when it should have felt bigger with just the two of them instead of their entire posse. He got in and started the truck then looked over at her. “Are you cold?”
She shivered as she shook her head. He chuckled and turned on the heater. It was early June, but summer was slow to come to the Copper Country this year. She’d worn jeans and a tee-shirt but had brought a fleece pullover with her, which she’d put on a while ago. He wore jeans and a long-sleeve gray tee with some hockey equipment company’s logo across the front. “I’m sorry I don’t have a jacket to offer you. Wait,” he said and turned to rummage in the space behind the seat, allowing her a look at his long back and tight butt. Levi’s were made for a body like his.
He turned back around and handed her a plaid flannel blanket. “Here you go,” he said turning the heat up even more.
“Really, I’m not that cold,” she said but took the blanket and placed it on her lap. It had been a cool evening, but that wasn’t why she’d shivered.
They pulled out of the circular area and drove down the quarter-mile dirt road back to the main road, which would lead them back to Hancock.
When they got to the road, Petey stopped, looked both ways, then put both hands on the steering wheel and looked over at her. “Right or left?”
What was he talking about? He had to know this road as well as she did. Right was the direction back to Hancock. Left took them further out on the canal road, eventually to Lake Superior and then Calumet.
“Right or left?” he asked again. “You decide.”
Decide. Choose. So he wasn’t asking her for directions, but rather asking her where she wanted to go. With him. Alone.
“Left,” she said firmly, and he quickly pulled the truck out onto the road and away from their hometowns.
They rode in silence for a few miles, past the entrance to the state park. About a half-mile farther, he pulled the truck to a stop. Which was fine to do on this low-traffic road, in the wee hours of the evening. “Left or straight,” he asked.
Straight would take them in a more direct route to Calumet. Left would take them eventually to Calumet, but via a road where at points you could pull over and view Lake Superior. Not that there’d be any viewing this late at night.
“Left.”
He turned.
They both stayed silent, which was unusual. She usually always had something to say about everything, and Petey was typically the life of the party. But on he drove, not saying a word.
She still didn’t have a good bead on what was going on. Was he just bored and not ready to go home, looking to extend the evening with a game of “you decide where we’ll end up”? Or was it something more?
And was he leaving that up to her to decide? That thought scared the bejeezus out of her. When they got to the Calumet Water Works public area, she was about ready to jump out of her skin wondering if he’d…yep. He stopped the truck, again in the middle of the road, and said, “Left or straight.”
“Left,” she barely whispered. He pulled the truck into the deserted area, coming to park facing the lake. He put the truck in park, then placed his hand on the key.
He looked over at her, made sure she was watching him, watching his hand, and softly said, “On or off.”
She swallowed. Crap, why was he making her make all the choices? What if she was building something up in her mind that wasn’t going to happen? What exactly would happen? And why now? Why after a whole year of hanging around together?
Damn him, she didn’t want to have put herself out there like this.
“Alison?” Her name had never sounded so soft and tempting as when he said it. “On or off?”
“Off.” He turned the ignition off and the truck went silent. Except she was sure he’d be able to hear her heartbeat, crazy fast as it was. He turned, leaning his back against the driver’s door, his arms open wide, one along the door, resting on the dash, the other along the top of bench seat.
He took a deep breath and his exhale sounded a little shaky, which made her feel both better and worse. “Here,” he said, tucking his chin down to where he sat. “Or there?” He bobbed his chin in her direction.
Holy crap, this was going to happen. Whatever “this” was. She quickly thought out all the ramifications, did some calculations and realized she just needed to turn her mind off for the duration. Yeah, it wasn’t a smart move. She’d just been named the class valedictorian earlier in the day, in theory proving her smarts, but…she wanted this.
“Here,” she said with more confidence than she felt. She moved back on the seat to give him room.
The truck cab was huge—which had been so convenient when he’d played taxi to the whole group—with a bench seat that now seemed very small when his large body moved across it.
He shifted his legs so that they were splayed into her side of the foot area. He slid a foot under hers and lifted so that she moved her legs, one sliding up on the bench, one dangling below. He wedged in, allowing her leg to move behind him, along the back of the seat.
He was so close now she could smell his scent. A little bit of smoke from the bonfire, the outdoors, even the detergent his mother used on his clothes. A heady combination that had her breathing even more heavily.
He reached out slowly, tentatively and put his hands on her waist, catching fleece and denim. The blanket slid from her lap to the seat beside her. As he lifted her slowly, she realized where he wanted her, and put her knee down to leverage herself up enough to straddle him, which she did while he slid under her, essentially taking her spot in the passenger seat.
His right hand left her waist and dropped down, fumbling for…oh, the seat went back. She’d never known that. But why would she.
It didn’t lie down flat, but it did give his long legs more room and tilted her into him in the most delicious way.
She’d had a few boyfriends through high school, and many make-out sessions, but was still a virgin. Somehow she sensed with Petey that this was going to go beyond a make-out session.
It wasn’t like she had a master plan of when she was going to “lose it” like Lizzie did. She probably would have by now, but she hadn’t felt any particular drive to go further when making out with her boyfriends at the time.
Now, she definitely felt the drive to go further. And they’d barely touched. She couldn’t imagine even being coherent enough to say stop when Petey put his hands on her body.
If he ever did.
His head came up from the back of the seat. Even straddling him and sitting up a bit on her knees, she only came up to eye level with him. But it was enough, because it was lip level, too. And oh, what soft lips he had, she realized as he brushed them against hers. It was quick and tentative. And then again, with just a bit more pressure. And then a third time that had her wishing he’d just do it, already.
But no, he pulled back, took her face in his hands and held her until she looked at him.
“Yes or no?” he asked. It would seem to be his final question of the night. And the most important.
She licked her lips, happy to be in this position—literally—but not thrilled about having to call all the shots. She guessed it was kind of chivalrous of him, but really, couldn’t he just start ripping her clothes off?
“Yes,” she said and leaned forward. His hands slid from her face to the back of her neck as they kissed. One hand squeezed, surprising her…in a good way. She squirmed a little and his touch eased.
“Sorry,” he whispered, but before she could tell him it was okay—preferred, in fact—he was kissing her again. Their mouths fit perfectly. And she loved that his body was so big and strong. Very Darwinian, she thought randomly, but she wanted this big, strong boy to cover her up physically. To be on top of her. But she just didn’t know how to convey that message.
So she kept kissing him, which he seemed to like just fine, if his growin
g erection underneath her was any indication. Which of course it was.
She settled down onto him, and rubbed her jeans on his, trying find that…yes, there it was. Good lord, he was large. She’d given Roger Camden a handjob on New Year’s Eve when they’d been dating and there was no way that he’d ever been as big as Petey was even at half-staff.
“Al…yeah…God, that feels good,” he groaned as she shifted again, aligning the seams in the most delightful spot. His hands pulled her tee-shirt from her jeans and then skimmed against her bare waist. Up over her ribcage to her boobs, which he massaged and kneaded all while tangling his tongue with hers.
She let out a soft sigh and played with his hair. So soft, with a nice bit of wave. Moving her hand underneath to his nape, she pulled on him, wanting him to take the lead and lay her down on the bench seat. What would it feel like to have all that male hovering over her?
Or deep inside her?
But he didn’t take the hint, and she wasn’t experienced—or assertive—enough to tell him what she wanted. She wasn’t even sure herself what that was. Instead he lifted her pullover off of her, taking her tee halfway up with it. It felt automatic to try to pull it down, but his hands were already there and stilled hers.
He broke away from the kiss. “Okay?” he asked as they both held her shirt. She nodded and held her arms over her head, like a child. But she was no child and neither was he. And God, how could they have been going at it and she not have her hands on that amazing chest?
It was too early in the year for beach weather, but she remembered that physique from last summer. Almost down to each hard plane and contour of his young body. She grabbed at the cotton of his long-sleeve tee, pulling it hard from his waistband, which caused him to hiss.
“Let me,” he said, and eased the shirt out of his jeans and over his head, throwing it somewhere in the truck. She barely had her hands on his chest before he was crushing her to him and reaching behind her for her bra clasp, which he had undone in a flash. Then his mouth was on her breast and she arched back, the sensation was so intense.
