Sweetheart Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  He'd resisted the inevitable long enough. He pulled out his phone and pushed Linda's contact. She answered right away.

  "Are you on your way back?"

  "Almost?"

  Linda made an unhappy sound. "You're not on your way back."

  Tommy cleared his throat.

  Linda repeated the unhappy sound. He could picture her, one hand covering her face, sagging shoulders, the appearance of being too tired to be as angry as she should.

  "What is going on with you? You're handling the insurance tomorrow, right? You promised—your words. I have no time and less patience. I need to count on you, why can't I count on you?"

  He admired how quickly the words came out, as if she'd rehearsed them. He had a long history of avoiding duties, performing the minimum while relying on Ester and Rayanne to fill in when it was all he could do to get through the day.

  "Have you ever been able to count on me?"

  "Oh, Tommy." Linda managed to convey a lot of emotion in those three syllables.

  "I need to stay," he said.

  "Trust me when I tell you that fleeing your problems never works. It creates even more problems and then you get insomnia and your digestion goes to hell and your memory gets fuzzy. It's a cycle of bad."

  Tommy waited for her to finish. Down on the access road, a tour bus, the tall kind with tinted windows and a shiny white paint job, pulled up. Bright blue script announced Valley Motor Coach Adventures. He'd always wanted to drive one of those, not as a job, but for fun. It would be like riding a dinosaur maneuvering one of those through the streets.

  "Enough about me," Linda said. "What happened with the museum?"

  "Granny won't leave," he said and caught her up on what had happened, including the run-in with security.

  Linda laughed at that. "She has no fear of authority."

  "As we've seen," Tommy said. "Dr. Murray is working on it, but she can't promise anything. How do we convince Granny to go home?"

  "You can't make Aunt Dotty to do anything," Linda said.

  The bus's pneumatic door floated open and a tall, thin man in a navy-blue suit popped out and dropped a little footstool at the base. A young woman in a navy-blue pantsuit hopped down to join him. The passengers began to exit. Most were seniors but younger than Granny. Only a few used canes. They carried notebooks and had travel bags slung across their chests. They gathered next to the bus.

  "We can't leave her here," Tommy said.

  "No, you can't," Linda said.

  "You can forgive me?" Tommy said.

  "I wouldn't go that far," Linda said, but her voice had lost its gloomy edge.

  When the group was complete, the young woman lifted a bright purple flag and walked toward the museum, the group trailing after her. The man returned to the bus.

  "What do we do?" Tommy asked.

  "No one wants to disappoint an elder, especially not that one. Maybe you're trying to solve the wrong problem."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Maybe what you should be doing is getting the museum to show you her regalia."

  The tall man exited the bus again, this time with a folded camping chair. He set it up under a tree and pulled out a newspaper.

  "We tried that," Tommy said. "Is there some official tribal person who could call and tell them to show it to us?"

  "The Tribe has a cultural resources program but I'm sure it takes more than a phone call. You could always make a scene."

  Tommy groaned. "A protest?"

  "Nothing like a chanting crowd with signs to grab attention. You could get some journalists and TV cameras there and have a terrific time." He could hear the smile in her voice.

  "I've designed my life to do the opposite of make a scene. Even talking about it makes me feel sick."

  Linda said, "You asked me for ideas. That's what I've got."

  Not the solution he hoped for. The tall man set the newspaper on his chest and closed his eyes. A nap in the park, under a shady tree, with his arms around Elizabeth. That's what he wanted to be doing.

  "What are you going to do if I don't come back?"

  "Ever?" Linda said. "You have my car."

  "You're getting your car back. I meant if I'm delayed. Granny said she would wait until the museum lets her see it. Do you have to fire me?"

  Linda let out a long, loud breath of air. "When was the last time you took a day off from work?"

  "Never. What would I do with a day off?"

  "You could do any number of things. Many adults find fun activities to do in their spare time."

  "Like you? Go to meetings, conferences, and planning retreats, or take classes to learn about boring paperwork?"

  Linda laughed. "I should know better than to scold someone on my staff about leisure time. What do you have tomorrow?"

  "A couple of appointments for elders. Basketball we could cancel," Tommy said.

  "I'll ask Ester and Theo about the appointments. You'll need to square off the debt to them. Anything else?"

  "Meet the insurance adjuster at the impound lot."

  Linda made a hissing sound followed by a thump that was probably something thrown across the room. "You're lucky you're cute," she said. "You owe me big time forever."

  "Already do," he said.

  "What about your cousin? Are you dealing with that?"

  "No. My uncle keeps calling me."

  "Alright. It's not my business. You have my sympathies. I have the famous green car of the Warm Springs Reservation, which is about as fun to drive as it sounds. But it runs, and I can get by until you're sorted out."

  "Why do you look out for me?" Tommy asked. "I don't add that much to the organization."

  "Yes, you do. Besides, you're family now, and I'm making sure you turn out okay."

  Tommy wanted to laugh, but the words went right to his heart. The UIC was more like a family than the family he was born into.

  He flashed on the memory of his older sisters in the kitchen with a giant jug of cheap vodka and another jug of store-brand soda. When they watched him, he drank the same thing they did, tall plastic cups of vodka mixed with soda. They had a karaoke machine, and the three of them would slur through one pop song after the other until they passed out.

  Linda was the big sister who saved him.

  "I am okay," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

  "If you were with anyone else, I would throw a fit, but I don't know if I would have ended up where I am now without Aunt Dotty. Besides, helping elders, and preserving culture and tradition, is the heart of what I'm trying to do here. Have you lost faith in me yet?"

  "Not even close," he said.

  "You have to deal with your family eventually."

  "I know."

  The senior group had reached the museum entrance. The purple flag disappeared around the corner. A dark rectangle, like a billfold, lay on the sidewalk near the bus. He headed down there so he could give it to the tall man, maybe ask some questions about the bus.

  "I gotta go. Thanks, Linda."

  19

  Elizabeth couldn't believe it, but Tommy managed to convince Granny to leave the museum.

  "I have a plan," he told her, "but everyone needs to rest before the final battle." They negotiated something out of hearing and Tommy said, "I promise I'll bring you back." Granny took his arm and let him lead her out of there.

  "What did Linda say?" Elizabeth asked.

  "We're trying to fix the wrong thing," he said without further explanation.

  Granny insisted she wasn't hungry, so they brought her back to the motel, where she fell asleep in front of a game show. She put on a good show but this trip was wearing her down.

  Tommy brought in a battered laptop he'd found in Linda's car and he pounded on the keyboard, assuring her he would explain once he had his thoughts organized.

  Elizabeth changed into her pajamas and sat next to him on the bed, one eye on the TV and the other trying to eyeball the computer screen.

 
; "Tomorrow we have to go to a copy place," he said.

  "For what?"

  "Not sure if it will work and don't want to get your hopes up," he said.

  "What hope?" she asked.

  "Exactly. If it works out, there will be a time for you and Granny to step up and do your thing," he added.

  "What's our thing?"

  "Cultural lecturing," he said.

  "Granny lives for that. She doesn't even need to prepare."

  His hands paused and then he was at it again. He was fast for a hunt-and-peck typist. His eyes flicked from the display to the keyboard, his expression absorbed. She wanted those eyes on her, those ridiculous eyes incapable of hiding anything.

  He glanced over at her. "Are you watching me type?"

  She nodded. "You're cute when you're clerical."

  "I'm not sure how to respond to that," Tommy said, returning to his work.

  "It's hot," she whispered.

  "Now you're messing with me," he said, trying not to smile. "Let me finish this. Then I'm all yours."

  "I like the sound of that." Elizabeth flipped through the channels and found a crime show that kept her attention until Tommy shut the laptop. He went to the bathroom to change. Every time he crossed the room, she twitched with desire.

  When he returned, he tossed his balled-up clothes to the floor. "I need clothes for this plan."

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "I want to look professional."

  "I can do that," she said, constructing an outfit in her mind. "Jacket-and-tie professional, or nice slacks and shirt?"

  "No tie." He folded the sheets back with exaggerated casualness.

  Elizabeth turned off the bedside lamp, and they slid under the covers. She scooted next to him.

  "Nothing crazy," he said, putting his arm around her as they settled in.

  "You think my clothes are crazy?"

  "You like to stand out. I like to blend in."

  "We can work on it." Elizabeth rubbed one hand over his chest and was rewarded with his quick intake of breath. "You feel good. You work out?"

  Tommy cleared his throat. "I have one of those exercise apps on my phone that rates my progress as I go. I run it five days a week whether I do the workout or not."

  She snickered. "You put it on but don't do it?"

  "Gotta keep the app happy." His hands remained disappointingly to themselves.

  She reached under his shirt to stroke his skin. One finger paused to circle a nipple, and his breath caught again. "This okay?"

  "Couldn't stop you if I tried," he said, his voice sounding funny in his throat.

  "What else do you do?"

  "Basketball." He rolled to his side, so he faced her, their faces inches apart.

  "Are you any good?"

  "If someone's picking teams, I'm never picked first but never last either." He dropped his hand to her waist and pulled her closer and left his hand there, caressing her hip.

  "Picked second?" She brushed her hand over him, keeping her touch above the waist.

  "Third or fourth." He moved his hand up to cup her breast, brushing his thumb across the nipple. He grinned when she shuddered. "I'm good but not great."

  She lined her lips up with his. "I played, too." She kissed him, gently, as if testing it out.

  When she pulled back, he asked, "When were you picked?"

  "First." She kissed him again, harder. His hand stayed locked on her breast like something he wasn't about to give up.

  When she stopped, he said, "Of course you were."

  "It was only third string," she said. "Enough about basketball. I didn't get to do you yesterday." Her fingers dropped to stroke him through his sweats.

  He grabbed her hand. The sound he made was something between a gulp and a gasp.

  "We can't do that with your Granny in the room," he managed to say.

  She tugged her hand loose and brushed her fingers along his forehead before tangling them in his hair. "Not in a parked car. Not with my Granny in the room. So many hang-ups." She kissed a trail toward his ear and ran her tongue around the rim. "She can't hear. She sleeps solid. I once invited a whole mess of cousins to her house after a party. We made bacon and pancakes, watched one of those movies with loud music and fast cars, cleaned it all up, and sent them home. The next morning she got up and asked me what time I got home."

  She found his mouth again and kissed him harder, her tongue sweeping against his. They went at it like that for a while, no sounds but the smack of frantic kissing mixed with their ragged breathing. His hand reached down to squeeze her ass before rolling her onto her back and settling his body between her legs. She ran her hands over his shoulders and along the dip of his spine. The sensations compiled into a dreamy bliss. She considered asking him to finish her off, like in the car before, when he exhaled in her ear and suggested, "Bathroom?"

  She twitched in his arms, the desire unbearable.

  "Yes." The word came out as one long, relieved sigh. She untangled herself from him and got out and darted into the bathroom. She expected him right behind her, but she had to wait, her feet dancing on the cold floor while her body ached for him.

  He jumped inside and closed the door.

  She flicked the light switch and they both squinted in the burst of blinding white light. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, bedhead and wild-eyed. She grabbed at his shirt.

  "Could we take this off?"

  Tommy glanced at the door before pulling his shirt over his head.

  "You're beautiful," she said, running her fingers over him, finally able to see what she'd been touching in the dark.

  "I'm not sure this light does much for my complexion," he said.

  She couldn't tear her eyes away from him and not just the bulge in his sweats. His body was amazing. He wasn't huge, but muscular—like a martial artist or a rock climber.

  "No one is looking at your complexion," she said.

  Tommy couldn't get enough of her greedy hands, as if she was afraid of missing something, and she made quiet murmurs of approval along the way. Elizabeth pushed him against the counter and leaned into him, kissing a soft spot under his chin and trailing more kisses down his neck. The sensation of being touched was a wonder after a long dry spell. In the past, there were many drunken hookups, but in sobriety, he'd had a tougher time knowing how to act around women.

  "You're crazy sexy," she said, her eyes shiny, her hair tumbling around her face. Her hands hesitated. His back was to the mirror and she stared at their reflection. Her fingers ran up his back and slowed to trace over one shoulder blade.

  "Are those scars?" she whispered.

  He couldn't help flinching. He grabbed her chin and looked into her eyes. "It's a sad story and a boner killer. Some other time."

  A kind-hearted smile touched her lips but her eyes were wicked. "No boner killers here." She dropped to her knees. "This okay?"

  Tommy managed a nod. She took her time pulling his pants down and carefully inspecting what she found, before using her mouth. The sight of her going down on him was electrifying. She caught his eye and winked, and a puff of air hissed from his lips. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands and finally settled on putting them on the counter to hold himself up.

  He grunted quietly with his teeth ground together, every sound amplified in the tiny room. Elizabeth's hands kept busy, too, and every few seconds his belly clenched.

  When he pulled her back up, she said, "Quiet one, aren't you?"

  "There's an elder sleeping about three feet from here," he said.

  She gave him a giddy smile. "I told you she can't hear us." She stroked his belly with hot hands. "Should I try something else?"

  He held her face a few inches from his. "Slow down a little."

  "Like this?" She jumped up on the counter and turned him around and pulled him toward her. She slammed her mouth over his and wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips rubbing against him.

  He groaned. "You're about th
ree steps ahead of me. Let me catch up."

  She reached for him again and studied his reaction. "You're not that far behind."

  He fretted about matching her enthusiasm. "Hang on a sec." He turned on the shower. "Low-tech soundproofing."

  She nibbled at his lips and kissed the corner of his mouth. "That better?"

  He responded by leaning her back, pulling up her shirt. He worked his way to her breast and slid his tongue over one nipple until she whimpered. Then he transferred his attention to the other side.

  He moved his mouth aside long enough to ask, "Is this okay?"

  "It's barely enough," she squeaked.

  He fisted his hands into her shirt and yanked it over her head. He lifted her off the counter long enough to tug her panties off, and she let out a little yelp.

  "Your butt cold?"

  "Who cares?" she said, giving him a look of pure lust.

  The sound of the shower hummed in the background while the throbbing inside of him grew unbearable. "Where—?"

  She slid the condoms over.

  "I haven't done this in a while," he said, tearing open the package.

  "I can help you put on a condom," she said, feigning misunderstanding.

  "I got that part." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I like you. A lot." It felt like the wrong kind of honesty in the moment they were having, but his chest ached to be as close as that.

  "Show me," she said.

  He rolled on the condom and grabbed her ass with both hands. He pulled her to the edge of the counter and, in one swift motion, filled her up. He wasn't sure whether the animal sounds came from him or from her.

  Her eyes were half-closed and she coaxed his tongue into her mouth while their hips searched for the right rhythm. Once they found it, her head dropped back. She shivered in his arms, every hitch of her breath a delight to his ear. Sweat accumulated in the place where their bellies met. In the mirror, Elizabeth's body jolted with each stroke. Every adjustment he made brought a new reaction, a giggle, a yelp, a hot sigh.

  His senses jumbled into a white-hot daze. He barely heard Elizabeth repeating his name while she spasmed in his arms. He pounded into her, growling when he lost control. His legs were shaky when he came back to himself. He hung on to her to keep himself upright.