Cabana Boy

by Jenny Gardiner

  It was dark when they finished up dinner and finally left Cricket’s folks’ place. As they drove down the long driveway, Fletch reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. He lifted their hands up and glanced at the cheap ring she still wore on her left ring finger.

  “You know, it sort of looks like it belongs there,” he said, spinning it on her finger with his thumb as he drove.

  Cricket cocked her head toward him. “You think so?”

  He nodded. “Except that it makes me realize all the more what a fool I was to give up on us like I did.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” She grinned at him.

  “Way to be supportive.”

  “Just calling it as I see it.” She squeezed his hand. “But seriously—I said before that I got over it and truly, I have gotten over it. And I grew as a result. So while it sucked—I mean it really, really sucked, you jerk!—I took away important lessons, so let’s not minimize that. Besides, what’s done is done.”

  “And maybe I can do other things to make amends for that?”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as... let me sleep on it. But in the meantime, I was thinking.” He turned off the car’s headlights as they approached the barn so as not to arouse suspicion with her parents in case they looked out to see them turning in instead of heading out to the road. “Maybe now’s the time to rechristen the hayloft. It seems the right thing to do under the circumstances.”

  She arched her brow. “And what circumstances would that be?”

  “Well, the circumstances in which we’ve both rediscovered one another and realized that even though everything’s changed, deep down inside, nothing important has.”

  “So, in honor of that, we do it in the barn?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  She shook her head. “It might be a little chilly in there. They’re calling for frost tonight, you know.”

  “I think we know how to stay warm.”

  FLETCH GAVE BUNNY A pat on the flank as they walked by the horses on their way to the stairs leading up to the loft.

  “It’ll be like old times,” he said as they climbed the stairs. “Heavy breathing from us and the sounds of horses down below.” He pulled Cricket toward him and draped his arms around her neck.

  “What makes you think there will be heavy breathing going on up here?”

  “How about I prove it?” He settled his mouth over hers and she opened her lips to receive him, his tongue tracing a path through her mouth before tangling with her tongue.

  “How about you stop talking and start doing?” She laughed into his mouth.

  “I aim to please.” He picked her up and walked her to the wall then began to kiss her again. Light from the full moon streamed in through a nearby window. The soft chuff of the horses below was a welcome accompaniment to the intensifying sound of their breathing. Fletch quickly shoved up Cricket’s skirt, unbuttoned his jeans, and shoved them to his ankles as Cricket hoisted herself up and around his waist. “This is going to be quick, though, to be sure we get in and out before being caught.”

  “I need it to be quick because I want to feel you inside me, now,” she said, her tongue licking a trail along his chin toward his ear.

  “Shit, Cricket, you know that drives me crazy.”

  She nibbled along the shell of his ear and let her tongue follow along.

  “I aim to please,” she said with a grin as he slid himself into her wet center on a gasp.

  Cricket was breathless with the sensation of him filling her.

  “This,” he said, beginning the slow withdrawal, then slamming back into her, pinning her against the wall. “Finally I’m home.”

  With that he quickened the pace, one hand beneath her ass, the other sliding farther up her dress to find her peaked nipples. He squeezed a nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger and she squealed in pleasure. Then Cricket slid a hand down to where they were joined, slicking her finger along her clit.

  “Fuck, Crick, that is so incredibly sexy.”

  She was out of words, so caught up in the pleasure and sensations, the slide of his cock inside her filling her completely, the edge of a climax taunting her.

  “I’m close, Fletch.”

  He buried himself balls deep in her and pumped in and out, then back in once, twice, eventually coming as she released, her body jerking in pleasure alongside his.

  It might have been a weird time to realize it, but it was then that Cricket knew she wanted more than a quick fling with this man she’d loved so deeply for so long. She had no idea if that was even a possibility. And he sure as hell wasn’t showing his hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fletch was reluctant to let anyone know what he’d been working on in secret. It seemed such a long shot to imagine he’d write a screenplay good enough to actually sell. But in truth, he was writing this because he had to write it, to record and process everything that had happened to him since he’d started working for Justine. This was the kind of titillating storyline that could possibly sell. And if he helped others trapped in a workplace hell like this, he’d be thrilled to have done his part. Now that he’d figured out the ending, he wanted some affirmation that it wasn’t complete shit. So he was going to ask Cricket to take a look at it.

  But he had one thing he had to take care of first.

  After dropping Cricket back at her place, he told her he had some work to do and left, heading to the outskirts of town in search of his old classmate Luther Morrison.

  LUTHER WASN’T HARD to find—Fletch figured he’d be at his local bar tying one on, and sure enough he was propping up the bar, a shot and a beer and several empties in front of him.

  “The stupid sonofabitch,” he was saying to the bartender, who must have heard it all before from Luther and was busy cleaning up and wiping down the bar instead of paying much attention to him.

  Fletcher sat down next to Luther and ordered a beer. He leaned over to Luther.

  “Howdy, Luth,” he said, nodding his way. “I hear you had something to say about me and my boss.”

  The smell of liquor was overpowering, and it was clear this guy lived for his next drink. Which would be perfect for his plan. Luther wouldn’t give a shit about the repercussions of his actions. As long as his reward was looming.

  “I was just saying I’d make a better gigolo than you would.” His eyes were practically rolling back in his head, and he wobbled a bit on the barstool.

  “I agree completely,” Fletch said. “Which is why I’m sending you on a mission to prove yourself to her.”

  Luther sat back and gave him a once-over. “Me?”

  Fletch gave him a broad smile. “I think Justine’s sick and tired of me. She’d love to try some local blood. And who better than you?”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”

  The bartender looked at him and nodded, then went back to work.

  “Here’s all you have to do.” Fletcher wrote down the address of the inn where Justine was staying on a piece of paper and handed it to Luther. “Now Justine loves a good pie. She was expecting me to deliver some to her room, but I know she’ll be thrilled if you do it instead of me. So tomorrow morning when Annie’s opens for breakfast, you need to be there promptly at six a.m. so you can get the Boston crème pie before they run out. You’re gonna take that pie down to the inn, and I’ll let the caretaker know to expect you and that you’ve got permission to deliver it directly to her room. Justine will be waiting for you and she’ll be putty in your hands if you bring her that pie.”

  He stared at Luther. “You think you can follow those easy instructions?”

  Luther returned a glassy-eyed stare. “What’s in it for me?”

  Fletch grinned. “As if an hour of pure bliss with Justine weren’t enough, I’ll throw in a fifth of Jack Daniels for you once you let me know your mission has been accomplished.”

  Luther nodded slowly.

  “You need
me to write down your instructions?”

  Luther leaned his head back incredulously. “You think I’m some sort of dumbass or something?”

  “Oh, hell no,” Fletch said, grinning. “I only pick the best for Justine. And I know she’s gonna love what you have to offer her.”

  “How do I get my Jack?”

  “I’ll be waiting outside in my truck, a block away. You look for me and report back, and the Jack is yours. Deal?”

  Luther nodded. “I love a good bottle of Jack.”

  Anything indeed.

  FLETCH LEFT THE BAR and headed over to his parents’ place. He’d been staying in town because of his work commitments but suddenly needed to sit and talk with his mom, even if it was after ten o’clock. The good thing is he frequently got emails that his mother sent at three in the morning so she’d become quite the night owl. His dad was up with the roosters and Fletch figured he’d already be fast asleep.

  He parked his car and entered through the back door into the kitchen, where his mother was in the middle of baking pumpkin bread. Like who cooks pumpkin bread at that hour of the night? Not that it mattered—he hoped they had vanilla ice cream in the freezer so he could eat some straight out of the oven with a fat scoop of ice cream to melt over top of it. And he hoped it wasn’t that low-fat, low-sugar crap that tasted like garbage—nothing about dessert should ever be low anything, in his opinion. Which made him think about Cricket’s pastries. Boy, he sure could use some more of that chocolate mousse, in precisely the same way he’d used it before. The possibilities of what they could do together with her dessert prowess and his imagination were downright endless.

  “Fletcher!” His mom came running over to greet him. “I’m so glad you finally found some time to get out here.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get over here earlier. Things have been a bit crazy.”

  His mom turned on the electric tea kettle to make him some tea, and they sat down at the table in the breakfast room.

  His mother leaned in a bit and lifted an eyebrow. “So... what’s going on with you and work? Is this still a thing for you? Or did you tell that woman where to go?”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Let’s just say it’s been an enlightening week,” he said, quirking a brow. “And with clarity comes action.”

  “Sounds cryptic.” She got up to pour water into a mug for him and added a tea bag.

  “Or possibly empowering.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to fill me in on anything?”

  He shrugged. “I’m thinking of moving back home.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, really?”

  He nodded. “I think I’ve had my fill of trying to make it in Hollywood, Mom.” As he talked, he drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s a bit of a cesspool out there. At least for me, it has been. It’s not fulfilling. Sure I didn’t achieve my goals, but sometimes you have to recognize that things don’t always work out the way you intended them to.”

  She tipped her head toward him. “Are you okay with that?”

  “More than okay.”

  “I can’t say I’d be sad to see you quit that job. That woman is horrible and I was close to smacking her upside the head myself at the reception. I tried to find you afterward, but you’d disappeared. I’ve since speculated a bit as to where you might have gone. Which leads me to my next question: might this have something to do with someone else as well?”

  He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t know if you had noticed.”

  “Not like you’ve been around us this week. But it’s a small town and word spreads fast.”

  Fletch blushed. “You think this is really messed up, don’t you?”

  She leaned over and scratched his head. “Oh, sweetie. Heavens no. Not even remotely.” She sighed. “Fact is, while I understood what you did by breaking up with her originally, I have to admit it broke my heart a bit. I’d be thrilled if you two got back together.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about this. And aside from hating myself for what I did to Cricket, I want nothing more than to get back to where we were. Or find a new place to be that is as good if not better. But... the problem is Cricket is viewing this as a short-term thing and then we go our separate ways.” He sipped his tea.

  His mother laughed. “So you’re her booty call?”

  Fletcher choked on the tea and spat it out on the kitchen table. “Mom!”

  “Oh please, Fletcher. I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m not oblivious to reality. And I know that Cricket hasn’t had a man in her life for a long time. Sometimes a girl has needs.”

  “Mom!”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I think we have different agendas. First off, I realized too late that I still feel strongly for her. And I’m miserable with my life choices right now. But I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself—it’s like I’m flapping in the wind. And I don’t know that it’s fair to impose myself on Cricket now that things are so messed up for me.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.” She placed her hand on top of his. “Just because you’re unsure about your career doesn’t mean you’re some sort of untouchable. If anything, you’ve learned a lot about yourself through this exercise, and you’ve done some serious soul-searching. To me, this makes you even more special.”

  “Then would you mind telling Cricket that?”

  She laughed. “Have you had a talk with her about things?”

  He frowned. “Only when we first discussed what this thing was about.”

  “Sounds like over the course of the week it’s changed quite a bit.”

  “Seems hasty, though, doesn’t it?”

  “I might say yes if you hadn’t spent so many years together before. To me it sounds like you’ve both matured and you’re realizing what you want. That’s a good thing, baby doll.”

  He finished his last sip of tea and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got to get going. But I appreciate your advice, Mom. It means a lot to me.”

  She stood up and gave him a tight hug. “I’m always here for you, Fletch.” She winked at him. “And I’m rooting for you and Cricket getting back together.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fletcher pulled his laptop out of his backpack and went to the pastry shop. It was late, but he hoped he could catch Cricket before she went to bed. He knocked quietly and of course Dingo came charging down the steps and started barking like crazy. Cricket followed in her cute pajama shorts and cami top. She looked a little bleary-eyed.

  “I’m so sorry I woke you,” he said. “But I’ve got something I want to share with you.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “No worries. What is it?”

  He pulled out his laptop. “This.”

  She stared at it. “A... laptop...”

  “No—it’s what’s inside. Something I’ve been working on.”

  “What is it?”

  “A screenplay.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been working on it a bit on the side.”

  “What’s it about?”

  He grinned. “It’s about a creepy producer who sexually harasses everyone in her orbit.”

  “Oh, so it’s autobiographical?”

  “Maybe. Ish. Only in this one, there’s a great revenge scene.”

  “Cool.” She squinted. “I mean not cool that she sexually harasses you but that you’ve found a way to channel that. And maybe you can make some money off of it.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That’s my dream.”

  She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I think you can. I can’t wait to read it.”

  “Good—I’ll expect a report on it by morning.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  He squinted at her. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “Okay... I was enjoying my sleep, but...”

  He started to laugh. “Gotcha.”

  She
rolled her eyes. “Jerk!”

  He leaned toward her and kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got something I’ve got to do. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  As Fletcher walked away, he couldn’t help but think how it would have felt right at that moment to have told her he loved her. As if he’d had a dope slap over the head, it finally dawned on him that not only did he love Cricket Ferguson, but he’d never stopped loving her. The question was, could she ever love him again?

  FLETCH RETURNED TO his folks’ house for a few hours of shut-eye before the early start he had planned for the morning. His dad was already on his second cup of coffee as Fletch attempted to slip out of the house before dawn. His father poured a cup and handed it to his son.

  Fletcher held up his hands. “Thanks, Dad, but I have somewhere I’ve got to be.”

  His father wrinkled his forehead. “At five thirty in the morning?”

  Fletch shook his head. “I know, implausible, but believe me, I have no choice in the matter.”

  His dad stirred two big spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and enough milk to turn it white, then took a sip.

  “Does this have something to do with that woman?”

  He held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Can you maybe narrow that down a bit?”

  His dad grunted. “That woman you work for.”

  Fletch’s eyes opened wide. “How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t but can’t imagine why else you’d be sneaking out before dawn except if you’re up to no good.”

  Fletcher chuckled. “Not to worry, Dad. It’s more like I want to bear witness to something.” He took a sip of his coffee.