Sweetheart Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  "Maybe this isn't such a great idea," he said.

  "It's an amazing idea," Elizabeth said.

  "I'm not sure we're rating the same idea," Tommy said.

  "There's a bigger park not far from here. Want to try it?"

  Tommy couldn't sort out the jangle of things going on in his body. Common sense was getting crushed out by desire.

  "We can look," he said, confident he wanted this to happen but uncertain about the way they were going about accomplishing it.

  The only sound in the car was the two of them adjusting in their seats, and the tires on the highway. The warm, sexy anticipation that thrummed through him when they'd left the motel cooled as they looked for the park.

  "We can make this work," Elizabeth said when they found the entrance. There were clusters of green trees and shrubs and grassy open spaces on either side of the parking lot. Another car was parked in a one dark corner, so Tommy pulled into a spot on the opposite side.

  There was a long pause while they considered the view, a pair of unlit tennis courts, and across the way, a pavilion where people could celebrate birthdays and graduations. The other car in the lot came to life and slowly drove out, leaving them alone.

  "I can't believe we're doing this in Linda's car," Tommy said.

  "She'll never know," Elizabeth said.

  Elizabeth exited and got back in the back seat. Tommy still hadn't moved. The keys were in the ignition. He did not have the bearing of a man fainting from lust. He acted more like a man who wanted to run away. Maybe she'd miscalculated.

  "We won't do anything too crazy," she said, her words conveying the opposite of what she wanted.

  "What's too crazy for you?" he asked, locking back at her.

  "Come find out," she said, daring him with her eyes. She attempted to convey the magnitude of her desire by sliding her tongue along her lower lip.

  Tommy removed the keys and got in the back with her. He adjusted and readjusted himself before settling next to her. He jumped when she dropped her hand to his knee.

  "How is this even going to work?" he said.

  "Figuring it out is part of the fun," she said.

  "I associate fooling around in a car with making poor choices," he said.

  "So it's not your first time." She lightly stroked the back of her hand over his zipper and was rewarded with a harsh exhale. "Too familiar?" she said into his ear.

  "Come here," he said. "Keep your hands where I can see them." He moved over and pulled her legs over his lap and put his arms around her. She curled into him.

  "Car cuddling is okay, too, I guess," she said, her desire still at a hard boil. She nuzzled his neck and then kissed along his jawline until he tilted his face to hers and kissed her hard. Harder than she expected. She thought she'd been coaxing him along, but instead, it was like he was waiting for the right time to slam into her. His mouth was on her, hungry and insistent. Her dress rode up her thighs. His hand stroked her legs politely. She growled in the back of her throat and shifted on his lap, rubbing the most important spot until he groaned and pulled back, panting.

  She ran her fingers through his hair. "You're cute. Have you had a lot of girlfriends?"

  "I've had a manageable amount," he said. His lips skated over her collar bone. "Lots of boyfriends?"

  "Sometimes more than I can manage," she said and shifted her legs again until he held them in place.

  She found his eyes and made her meaning clear. "I want you."

  "I want you too. But I'm not taking my pants off in a car parked in the city, pretending a few trees around is private," Tommy said.

  "No need to take them off. The entire existence of the zipper is for easy access."

  "I disagree about entire existence, but I see what you're getting at." Tommy adjusted her in his lap, and she became aware of his hand sliding around to stroke the inside of her thigh. "Skirt is easy access, too." She jerked in his arms before letting out a gasp of surprise.

  "Sorry," he said. "Too familiar?"

  She couldn't help but smile. Her eyes slid closed and she adjusted her legs.

  "I want to show you a little trick I learned in the war." His breath was warm, his voice teasing. His hand stroked farther into the crease.

  "You were doing this in the war?"

  "It was all talk back then." He stroked one knuckle lightly over the sweet spot.

  She let out a sharp breath. Her head dipped down.

  "During our down time, we'd talk about technique, possible outcomes, sustainable practices."

  Her eyes opened long enough to give him a doubtful look. "What kind of war was this?"

  "Does it matter?" Tommy said. His hand didn't stop moving.

  Elizabeth shook her head and shifted in his lap. "Come on. I want the whole thing." She wiggled a hand free and worked it toward his waistband, fumbling with the opening.

  He stopped her before she could get her hands on anything interesting. He draped her arm around his neck. "We're not doing that right now," he said in a faintly scolding voice. His hand returned to stroking. "Do you me want to stop this?"

  The best she could do was a contrite whimper. He kissed her neck until she squirmed. He moved his hand to her belly and slid under the waistband of her panties.

  Elizabeth exhaled a long, ragged breath. His fingers curled around, and one slid inside, then another. He stroked at a steady pace, all of her attention locked on the tension blazing inside. She shifted her hips slightly. With her mouth in his ear, she said, "Could you...?"

  He made a clever adjustment, the heel of his hand rubbing across the right place while he changed the pressure and the angle of his fingers, she couldn't keep track. She fluttered her eyes open long enough to see him studying her. She expected him to be gloating over the going-over he was giving her, but the look he gave her could only be considered naked wonder.

  "Never mind." She gnawed on his earlobe and tried to steady her breath. "You're good," she said, fighting to get the words out.

  "Beginner’s luck," he said.

  "You're no beginner." She hid her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like boy and something that reminded her of home. "If you keep it up like that I'm going be screaming my head off in about thirty seconds," she whispered.

  "You want me to stop?" he said.

  She shook her head.

  "You have to scream on the inside."

  She alternated between high-pitched gasps and throaty laughs, like the quiet laugh shared in a darkened theater. Tommy nudging her gently, a simple query, and her response a shuddering sigh. She threw her head back, and a loud moan slipped out. "It's always the quiet ones that surprise you," she exclaimed.

  Tommy kept his hand moving but he used his free hand to turn her face to his, and he jammed his tongue in her mouth, which made her laugh again. Like it was that easy to quiet her. She caught it between her teeth, and he twitched against her, long enough to miss a beat.

  He pulled back and whispered into her mouth, "You can't make noise like that out here."

  "No one will hear me," she said, her voice unsteady, echoing through the car.

  "Hold it in," he said in her ear.

  "Nope." She pressed her lips together and rocked against his hand, her arms around his neck. Usually, at this moment she let her mind drift, but this time she was focused entirely on the control he had over her.

  "You're beautiful. Kiss me again," he said. When she turned her face back to him, he licked her lower lip and then bit it, and she groaned again. "Not helping." He dipped his tongue in her mouth while she panted into him. She couldn't think straight any longer, she just kept grinding her hips, her face buried in his neck, holding in the screams that burst from inside. The heat built up and flashed through her and she was gulping and trembling in his arms.

  Once she finished, she collapsed into him, tilting her head up and planting a dizzy kiss on his cheek. She untangled herself from him and fixed her skirt and curled up next to him on the seat, her head on his shoulder
, her hand in his.

  "Sleepy?" he asked. The vibration of his voice was warmly reassuring. She was surprised by the surge of feelings, much more complicated than pure satisfaction and more like she'd shared something she didn't expect.

  "I'm recovering. No one's ever done me like that before."

  Tommy kissed the side of her head. "Glad you liked it."

  "As soon as I regain consciousness, I'm going to be liking you."

  He exhaled sharply with what she hoped was lustful anticipation. "Looking forward to it," he said in a hoarse voice.

  It was a perfect moment, even if they were in the back of Linda's car. The night was quiet except for the sound of traffic. She wanted to say something about them, but she wasn't sure what. One of Tommy's hands reached for her nape, and a finger drew lazy circles at her hairline.

  Suddenly someone pounded on the roof of the car and a flashlight blazed through the window. A loud voice commanded them to get out of the car.

  Tommy inhaled sharply and his body froze.

  "Uh oh," she said, stifling a giggle, "busted. At least you don't have your hand up my dress."

  "Don't joke around," he said. He climbed out of the car and helped her out.

  "Park is closed," the officer said. He looked like every cop she'd ever seen, angry and humorless. A female officer stood back by the police car.

  "Sorry," Elizabeth said. "I wanted to park here. He tried to talk me out of it. He said this was a bad idea."

  "He was right. You talk to Officer Duran while I talk to this guy."

  Elizabeth let go of Tommy's hand.

  "You been drinking?" the officer said to Tommy.

  "Not for five years," Tommy said.

  "Drugs?"

  "Not for five years."

  Before she could hear what else he said, Officer Duran was interrogating her with the same questions about alcohol and drugs and confirming she was safe. It didn't take long, and they were back in the car and on their way back to the motel, neither of them saying a word.

  Back in the motel room, Tommy went into the bathroom to change into his sweatpants and brush his teeth. When he came out, Elizabeth went in, the two of them still quiet.

  Every time he replayed the sound of the police officer pounding on the car roof, he went cold again. He couldn't calm the tremor in his hands.

  They had a tiny room almost precisely the size of two queen beds. A small gap separated them. Granny was bundled up in one of them, lightly snoring. He crawled into the other bed, the sheets scratchy and the flimsy coverlet smelling vaguely of unwashed human.

  Elizabeth finished in the bathroom and crawled into bed, leaning her warm body into his. How was he supposed to return to his old life without the endless thrill of Elizabeth? Every minute it was something new, the endless amusement in her voice, and her serious eyes when she listened to him. Right now, the sense of her next to him, more than lust, a tightness in his chest.

  "What about Granny?" he said when she wrapped an arm over him.

  "She won't care. She'd be more surprised to find me in the same bed with her in the morning."

  He wasn't about to argue. He gathered her into his arms, their bodies pressed tight down to their toes, overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment that had previously eluded him.

  "I heard what you said to the cop," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  His heart sank again. Drinking. Not drinking. It always had to be part of the conversation. He should have told her at the beginning.

  "Normally I don't hide it. I guess I was afraid of what you would think. You know, rez life."

  "You got your act together."

  "I'm not fun anymore, " he said.

  "You are plenty fun, Mr. Magic Fingers."

  The motel room was dark except for the light from the parking lot that leaked around the curtains. She propped up her head with her hand. "Does it bother you to be around people drinking?"

  "If they keep asking me if I'm sure I don't want a drink—like most of my family and friends back home—then yes. But otherwise, no."

  "How do you feel about it?"

  Tommy searched for the answer she would expect. "Honestly, I wish I wasn't. It's exhausting navigating people and social events. Managing a mask."

  "What mask?" Elizabeth said. "The mask that you're keeping it together? Can it be okay not to keep it together and still be sober?"

  "I think that's what I'm doing," Tommy said.

  Her index finger stroked up and down the inside of his arm, a careless gesture of affection that made him realize how much he was missing, keeping himself closed off for so long. His heart wanted to crack open, even this little bit.

  "What's the worst thing you did while drinking?" she asked.

  That's where people went. Always wanting to know about the worst moments. "I never hit a woman, if that's what you're asking."

  "I wasn't. I don't imagine you're the hitting type," Elizabeth said.

  "There is no hitting type," he said, the words bitter in the back of his throat.

  She cupped his face with her hand, brushing his lower lip with her thumb. He couldn't remember wanting anyone like he wanted this woman.

  "I wasn't a violent or mean drunk. I was a make-terrible-choices drunk."

  She smiled in a way that made his heart squeeze tight. "I've made some terrible choices sober." She sat up and plumped the flimsy pillows together before settling in again. Fitting her body carefully into his, their faces inches apart. He'd never been like this with anyone.

  She asked, "What's one terrible choice?"

  "Why do you want to hear terrible things?" After a brief hesitation, he reached up to brush her hair back.

  "I'm getting to know you," she said. "Maybe I have terrible things, too."

  "Maybe. I had a general poor exercise of judgment. Driving. I always promised myself I would never be the drunk that got behind the wheel, and then it would happen again. How about this? One night I was out driving around town with some people I barely knew, they might have been selling drugs. They had a pistol that we took turns shooting out of the car window."

  "That's pretty bad."

  "At the time it was exciting. I wasn't one of those dull zombies shuffling through life more dead than alive. I was wild and fun."

  "I understand the impulse," she said.

  "I kept telling myself I wasn't that bad. Nothing wrong with waking up hungover every day, staying in bed until three in the afternoon."

  Even now he cringed at the memory of suppressing the daily shame. Begging, stealing, or mooching to get that next bottle. Finding new friends to party with. Waking up in strange places, next to strangers. "I'm terrified of becoming that person, again."

  He was aware of every shift of her body, always finding a way to close the spaces between them, to touch in a different place. Every part of him sang in terror and delight.

  Elizabeth kissed his chin. "What is your plan?"

  "Do what I'm doing. Get through the day."

  "Right, but what is your long-term plan? Where do you want to end up?"

  He hadn’t grown up in a goal-oriented household. Nobody had ever asked him that except Linda, and she hadn't asked in a long time.

  "I'm not good at future plans. My goal is to keep it together." Saying the words gave him a sense of futility, like that was all that he had to look forward to: day after day of simply getting by. "At the moment I need to deal with Angie."

  She didn't say anything, but he felt every inhale and exhale she made. A cool hand reached up to stroke his hair, slide along his brow before her fingers traced around his ear. "Why do you have to deal with Angie?" The words came out light and judgment-free.

  The same question he'd asked himself a hundred times, whenever Angie kept him awake or forced him to abandon his plans. Every time she cried or yelled or asked for money. But what did it say about him if he abandoned her now when she was trying so hard to change?

  "I'm getting sleepy," he said, even though he didn't want
to miss a second of this night with Elizabeth.

  She kissed him gently on the lips. "Turn around."

  He rolled over, and she spooned him from behind, one arm slung around his chest, pulling herself into him and fitting in snugly, and for the first time, he felt like he was in the right place.

  17

  Tommy left Granny on one of the hard, stone benches, the only seats in the museum entrance, and then went to the Lost and Found.

  "This will sound weird, but an elder in my group left her rolling walker here. I don't suppose you have it?" He already knew it wasn't weird because he'd gone back to search for every kind of lost cane, crutch, walker, even portable oxygen cylinders, numerous times in his career.

  The young woman at the counter had her curly hair pinned back from her face. "Happens more than you might think," she said. "Black or red?"

  Tommy let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "You have it? Great. The red one." She brought out a dinged-up cart with a canvas bag fixed to the front. "She'll be so grateful," he added. He wheeled it back to the museum entry hall.

  Elizabeth rushed over as soon as she spotted the walker. "She will take your head off if you bring that to her."

  Tommy shook his head and gave her a lazy smile. "She likes me."

  "She's not the only one." Elizabeth managed to covertly touch him in a private place, her expression innocent, the touch quick and light to remind him his turn would come.

  He jumped back, unable to hide his grin. His mind kept flashing back to Elizabeth shuddering and panting under his touch. He refused to imagine all the things that would have happened later if Granny weren’t with them.

  "You'll see," he said.

  Granny gave the device a hostile once-over, but she let him adjust the handles and then sat down on the padded seat. "Not bad." She opened the canvas bag and inspected the contents. "Cough drops. Wet wipes. Fruit snacks." She closed it with exaggerated defeat and said, "Better than nothing."