by Selena Kitt
“Ha.” She laughed. “Well I guess, we’ve officially christened Betty Blue.”
“She’s a hell of a ride.” Doc grinned, putting the car in gear. “But so are you, Mrs. Baumgartner.”
She rolled her eyes, but she laughed as he eased the Mustang back onto the little barely-two-lane road. When the drive was over and Doc pulled into a parking lot, cutting the Mustang’s engine, she didn’t want it to end. She could have ridden with him in Betty Blue all the way to the ends of the earth and back again.
“Where are we?” she asked, but the sign in front of the restaurant announced that clearly enough. Birches on the Bay. The log cabin front was quaint, but the cars parked in the lot—BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars—told her this was no little backwoods diner.
Doc had made reservations and they were seated almost immediately at a terrace out back. The sun was low on the horizon, setting the lake on fire. The air was much cooler than it had been during the day, but the terrace was equipped with tall space heaters and the waiter offered her a light blanket for her bare legs, which she was grateful for.
Most of the tables were full—the place was clearly popular with the tourists. They ordered dinner and drinks—a Pina Colada for her and a Tom Collins for him—and sat together at the table, just smiling at each other in the orange glow of the sun.
“Look at that garden,” she exclaimed, pointing to a stone path leading down from the terrace that ended at a low brick wall, clearly a drop-off, where the view of Lake Michigan was spectacular.
“We’ll go for a walk after dinner,” he promised.
Funny how a long drive could work up an appetite, even when you weren’t really doing anything physical. She ate almost all of her filet, giving Doc the rest. The rosemary potatoes were like creamy bliss in her mouth and the grilled asparagus was fresh and delicious.
“Dessert?” Doc asked her as the waiter approached.
“I’m full.” She sat back and rubbed her belly like Gordon had earlier that day, although, even slightly distended, hers was far less obvious.
So Doc paid the check and, as promised, he led her down the stone walkway through the garden. There were ferns growing on each side, and hostas, too. Most of the flowers had faded along with the summer, but the tree leaves were turning glorious shades of color over their heads, making a multicolored carpet on the grass as they walked to the very edge to look out at the water.
There was, indeed, a drop-off, one so steep it made her feel dizzy looking over the wall. Down there was the tan sand of a Michigan beach that stretched as far as she could see in either direction. It was too cold to swim, even though it had gotten up to seventy-four degrees that day, unusually warm for autumn. The water would be much, much colder.
Two kids, probably eleven or twelve, were feeding quarters to the binocular machine, taking turns looking for boats out on the lake.
“You miss that?” Doc asked, putting his arms around her waist from behind, smiling over at the kids fighting over whose turn it was.
“A part of me does,” she admitted. “But… I think it’s just nostalgia. I’m happy, Doc. I really am.”
“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Because you scared the hell out of me earlier.”
“I’m not leaving you.” She turned in his arms, putting hers around his neck, her eyes soft, serious. “Not ever. You’re the only man in my life, and you always will be.”
“You mean that?” He tilted his head with the question.
“Yes,” she breathed. She’d never meant it more.
“Good, because I have something...”
“To tell me?” She cocked her head, smiling. “Is it nuclear bomb time?”
“Maybe.” He took something out of his pocket, getting down on one knee in the grass.
“Doc!” She glanced around, seeing others, gathered to watch the sun set over the horizon, now watching them. Her gaze returned to her kneeling husband, and it dawned on her what his posture and the box in his hand meant, but she asked the question anyway. “What are you doing?”
“Marry me,” he said.
They had a real audience now. People were gathering to watch them instead of the sunset.
“But we’re already...” Her voice trailed off as he opened the little blue Tiffany’s box in his hand, revealing a ring that, she realized in an instant, had to have cost almost as much as Betty Blue. “Oh my God.”
“Marry me again,” he said. “I want to spend every last minute with you, Carrie—you’re the only woman I’ve ever met that makes my life worth living.”
“Are you serious?” she whispered, looking from him to the ring and back again. “You really want to get married again?”
“I can’t think of a better way to start again, can you?”
She shook her head, tears in her eyes, but the words caught at the lump growing in her throat.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Doc asked, his dark eyes on hers.
“Yes!” Her tears fell freely now, and applause erupted all around them, where at least two dozen people had gathered. “Yes, yes!”
She clung to him when he stood to put the ring on her finger. She stayed there, warm in his arms as they stood, silent, watching the sun disappear into the water, leaving ribbons of pink and orange behind, bobbing on the surface.
“I love you,” he whispered against her forehead, planting a soft kiss there.
Carrie felt her purse vibrate, and knew it was Jody, texting her, and she felt a sudden, sharp stab of pain in her chest. Doc had planned this whole weekend, had done all of this for her, to show her just how much of their lives they had left to live—for each other, with each other—and how did she repay him?
By lying and keeping secrets from the one man in the whole world who understood her like no one else.
“I love you too,” she choked out, feeling tears rising again, and she hid those too, pressing her face against his chest and shivering with emotion.
“You cold, baby?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms.
She nodded, lying about that too, letting him turn and lead her back up the stone pathway.
Chapter Four
She didn’t tell him.
They spent a glorious weekend at the bed and breakfast, mostly naked. Except for Carrie’s giant new wedding ring. She told Doc she was going to go around naked all the time now, so she wouldn’t snag it on sweaters and skirts. He laughed and squeezed her ass and told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And she didn’t argue with him. He certainly made her feel that way.
By the time they were driving home in Betty Blue, she was so sore she could hardly walk—not that she cared. She was also exhausted, in spite of sleeping in until noon every day. That was what they got for staying up having sex until four in the morning, she supposed. They’d eaten decadent food, spent hours making love, shopping for souvenirs she could mail off to the kids, and buying things they didn’t need. She had a whole box full of flavored vinegars and oils she couldn’t wait to start cooking with, for starters.
But what they didn’t do was talk about the future. The whole weekend was about living for the moment, in the moment. And they’d made the best of it. She would have told him when they got home, but they had carried the energy from the weekend over, and they’d spent the following week not being able to keep their hands off each other.
Poor neglected Jody had texted her several times, asking what was wrong, and she made time for her where she could. But there was nothing wrong—it was just that Doc had been coming home early, or going in late, and they’d been spending that time fucking in every available room in the house, in every position known to man. And some, she was pretty sure, only known to a few animals.
They’d only been home a week or so when Doc came home and dropped another bombshell.
“Pack your suitcase, we’re going on another road trip.”
“Am I having deja-vu?” She sat in the living room in front of the television, which was on, but m
uted. She gaped at him, holding a glass of wine in one hand, a book in the other.
“Nah.” He laughed. “Last time I came in and said we were going on a road trip, you were naked in bed—and so was Jody.”
“Oh, yeah.” She flushed at the memory. She had been naked in bed with Jody—at least, virtually—just a few hours ago. Tonight was Doc’s late night, and he’d actually come in later than usual—American Idol was on the television. He gave her a knowing look, like he knew exactly what she’d been doing just a few hours ago.
“Where are we going?” she inquired.
“Time-share.” He came to sit beside her, taking the glass out of her hand and taking a sip or red wine before setting it on the coffee table. “Brady wants us to go down and show the house. He wants to sell it as soon as possible.”
“Sell it...” She put her book down in her lap, all the breath gone from her body. She felt paralyzed. It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard Doc when he said Brady wanted to sell his part in the time-share, she had. Maybe she’d been in denial, or maybe she had just glossed over it. But she had heard him. She distinctly remembered him saying it.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” he said.
She nodded, opening her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. The memories they’d created in that time share were priceless to her. The thought of selling it, of never returning to their private beach again, brought tears to her eyes.
“I thought...” She swallowed hard. “Maybe, we’d buy Brady out?”
“Yeah, I thought about it.” Doc’s brow knitted. “But if Gordon wants us to be fiscally responsible, it’s not the smartest thing to do. Brady already sub-let his half of it for most of the year to his niece, but she’s moving to Texas. We’d have to find someone to either take care of the maintenance when we weren’t there, or rent it out… except for those weeks we’d want to use it. Hard to find a tenant willing to clear out a couple weeks a year…”
“I guess you’re right.” She sighed, relenting. “Marcy’s done some real estate deals in Florida. I think she still has her license. I can ask her about listing it...”
“That’s what Brady was hoping.”
“We really can’t afford to buy it?” she asked. “I mean, with our new three-point-whatever-millions?”
“Probably.” Doc nodded slowly, contemplating it. “But it’s not the initial cost that’s the problem. It’s what we’re going to do with it after we buy it where we run into trouble.”
“Right.” She sighed, curling up against him and putting her head on his chest. The thought of giving up the time share was heartbreaking, but Doc was right. What were they going to do with it the other 50 weeks of the year? “Well... I guess we can go down and have one last hurrah...”
“Go swimming nude at night.” He squeezed an arm around her shoulder. “Have sex on the beach.”
“So much happened there...” The memories flooded her, making her chest ache.
“I remember...” He stroked her hair.
“Remember the Christmas we took Ronnie with us?”
“Hell yeah.” Doc chuckled. “How could I forget? She was such a little hottie...”
“She still is.” Carrie smiled, remembering the last time they’d seen their young babysitter. She was all grown up now, but still just as gorgeous—and, thanks to the Baumgartners, just as sexually adventurous.
“How are they doing?” Doc asked, reaching for the remote and turning off the television. Carrie noted that a Viralon commercial had just come on.
“They had another baby,” she reminded him. “A little boy. I showed you the announcement.”
“Oh yeah, now I remember...” He nodded. “Bald little fella, wasn’t he?”
“He’s got hair now.” She laughed. “That’s where we met Gretchen, too, you know.”
“Bet me that’s another wedding invitation we’ll be getting in the mail this year.”
“You think she’s going to marry him?” Carrie looked up at him, curious. Gretchen, who had always been bisexual, had lived with them until the kids were grown and off to college, but she’d flown the coop too. With all of the women that had been in and out of their lives, the two of them were the only constants. They were like one heartbeat now.
“Last time we talked, she was head over heels for him,” he mused, shrugging. “She’s at that age, you know, when the biological clock starts ticking…”
“Life goes on, I guess.” Carrie smiled, tucking her head back under his chin. Just a few weeks ago, she’d been panicked, thinking about everyone grown and gone, but after their weekend away, Doc had convinced her. Their nest might be empty, but they had a lot of years left together. And they could make the most of them.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll all be surprised when they get the invitation for our vow renewal.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Ha. Probably.” She hadn’t told him she’d already been on Pinterest—why didn’t they have Pinterest when she’d planned her wedding? It was a wealth of ideas, and she’d already found three dresses she liked. “How fast does Brady want to sell it? Maybe we could get married on the beach down there...”
“Hm, maybe.”
“I’d really like that.” She undid the top button of his shirt, looking at the ring on her hand, with its thick, gold band and three carat marquis-cut diamond. “Would be a nice little bit of closure.”
“If we can make it happen, we will,” he assured her, covering her hand with his and squeezing.
“They’re going to kill me at work.” She frowned, undoing the next button of his shirt. “All this time off.”
“Hey, you work on commission,” he said, smiling as she slipped a hand into the V she’d made in his shirt. “You can take all the time off you want, Mrs. Baumgartner.”
“Besides, aren’t we independently wealthy now?” she smirked, letting his chest hair curl around her fingers.
“Well, not exactly.” He laughed. “But we’re a lot richer than we were a month ago.”
Her fingertips grazed his nipple and he made a little noise in his throat, hips shifting.
“You up for another long drive?” His hand moved down her shoulder, fingers slipping under her arm, stroking the side of her breast through her blouse.
“We’re driving?” she asked, surprised. “But wouldn’t it be faster to fly?”
“Faster, sure, but nowhere near as fun.” He grinned.
“You just want to show off Betty Blue.” She laughed, continuing to unbutton his shirt. “Brady’s fine with you taking the time off?”
“Actually, I forgot to tell you,” he said. “He’s training a new guy. Don Fisher—about ten years younger than us. Someone who will likely come in and partner with me when I buy Brady out.”
“When?” She cocked her head, looking at him speculatively. He hadn’t said, one way or another, if he’d made a decision.
“When… if…” Doc shrugged, making another low noise when she deliberately traced his nipple with her fingertip. “Mmmm…”
“You hungry?” she asked, letting her hand trail down his now bare abdomen, stopping when she reached his crotch, feeling his cock growing hard. “I made myself a salad for dinner, but I can heat up the stir-fry I made yesterday…”
“I had Subway for dinner.” He groaned when she squeezed her hand around his swollen cock through his khakis. “Did you talk to Jody today?”
“Uh-huh…” She flushed at the memory, at the way Jody’s cum had erupted over her pumping fist. It had been a day or so since they’d played, and she’d come so hard, the first blast had actually hit her cheek. Carrie shivered, still seeing her licking cum off her fingers. God, how she wished she could taste…
“Have fun?” Doc moved his hips with the motion of her rubbing hand.
“Always.” Carrie half-smiled, using her long fingernail to trace the head of his cock through the material. “Jody thinks you’re sexy.”
“She does?” Doc raised his dark brows. “She told you tha
t?”
“Uh-huh.” Carrie nodded her blonde head, meeting her husband’s lust-filled eyes. God, she loved turning him on, and she knew he loved thinking about his wife being with another woman. And Jody really had mentioning thinking Doc was sexy. Actually, what she said was, “Just looking at that sexy man make me sweat like a whore in church,” but Carrie didn’t tell Doc that. She wanted to tell him more about her Skype session with Jody—Doc called it Skexing, a play on sexting—but she knew heading down that road meant trouble.
“So I guess it’s time to put some more miles on Betty Blue.” She started unzipping his pants and his eyes lit up.
“She deserves it.” He lifted his hips as she eased his khakis down his hips. “You ready for another road trip?”
“I told you,” she said, getting to her knees on the carpet between his legs, his cock springing gloriously free against her cheek. “I’d go anywhere with you.”
* * * *
“So where’s your sexy man now?” Jody was out by the pool when she answered Carrie’s FaceTime call. If the big, kidney-shaped in-ground in the background wasn’t evidence enough, Jody was wearing a red bikini top. And presumably, bottoms, but Carrie could only see so much.
“Out buying stuff for the trip.”
“You two are road warriors lately.”
Carries smiled. “Doc loves driving the Mustang.”
“I can’t blame him.” Jody laughed. “I saw the pictures. That car is almost as hot as you are.”
“Almost.” Carrie sat on the edge of her bed, where her suitcase was almost packed. “You’re looking nice and brown.”
“It’s been eighty here all week.” Jody glanced up at the sky, which was bright blue and beautiful. “You two are going to fry in Florida.”
“It’s supposed to cool down toward the end of the week,” Carrie replied. “Should be in the eighties instead of the nineties. I can live with that.”
“Going to lose those tan lines?” Jody’s finely arched brows rose and a slow smile spread over her face at the thought.
“That’s the plan.” Carrie got up to get another bikini out of her drawer while she was thinking about it. “I can’t wait to lie out on the beach naked.”
