Something Sweeter

by Candis Terry

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Allison wanted to defend her sister’s right to retain the fantasy that her marriage had been wonderful, but it was beyond her how to make that happen when the perfect Andrew Schafer was a big fat undercover fraud. Devastation strangled her, and for a moment, speaking became impossible.

  “How am I going to tell the girls?” Danielle sobbed. “What am I going to do? I thought we’d be together forever. Now I’m just supposed to come up with a whole new way of life?”

  Words spun like a hamster wheel inside Allison’s head. She searched to pull the right ones out of the whirling mass and offer comfort. “Dani, I—­”

  “What did I do wrong?” Danielle wailed. “What did I do to make him do this? I watch my weight. I put on makeup every day. I fixed my hair. I never walk around in stained sweatpants. I mean sure, I collapse exhausted at night, and maybe I haven’t performed a striptease for him in a while, but . . . what the hell did I do wrong?”

  Wait.

  What?

  “Stop.” Allison pushed aside her feelings of despair, cleared her throat, and got her temper under control.

  Now was not the time to sink into her own shattered illusions. Now was the time for understanding and reassurance. When that was done, then and only then, could she plot Andrew’s slow, torturous death.

  “Danielle, you have done nothing wrong. This might affect your entire life, but as crazy as it sounds, it’s not about you. This is about Andrew and whatever egomaniacal selfishness that crawled into his head to make this happen. Sometimes good ­people do stupid things.”

  “This isn’t stupid. It’s . . . shattering. And unforgivable. He was my heart and my soul. And now he’s . . .”

  The fact that her sister couldn’t find the words to describe the man to whom she’d pledged her life spoke volumes. For Allison’s entire life, Danielle had been her rock. Her friend. Her mentor. Her shining example. Her light at the end of an emotional tunnel.

  Now it was time for the tables to turn.

  Allison took a deep breath and continued the conversation with patience, love, and as much understanding as she could find. The more she kept her tone calm and her words reasonable, the more Dani’s sniffing on the other end of the phone tapered off. It would have been so easy to jump on the bash Andrew wagon, but she’d have to deal with that side of the issue another day. Right now she was only concerned with her sister and her nieces’ well-­being.

  “Please don’t tell Dad,” Danielle pleaded. “Please don’t tell him until I figure out what to do. It’s so . . . embarrassing.”

  “Embarrassing?”

  “My husband had an affair with a hooker, Allie. A prostitute. What does that say about me? Our sex life? Our personal relationship? I’ll never trust anybody after this. Never. Mom was right. There’s no such thing as a happily-­ever-­after.”

  Shit. “Don’t you dare go near those waters, Dani. Aside from being a damned good sister, you’re an incredible mother and wife.”

  “Obviously, I’m a shitty and easy-­to-­forget wife.” A loud nose blowing followed that awful statement. “Maybe I should have shown an interest in whips and chains. You know that whole dominatrix thing is wildly popular. There has to be something behind that, right?”

  Yikes.

  This was going from bad to worse.

  Time for a detour.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “They’re spending the night at Sheila Brisby’s house. She offered a sleepover with Courtney before the shit hit the fan. Sheila doesn’t know what happened; only that something did. She’s offered to keep the girls until I can come pick them up tomorrow.”

  “Can you call someone to stay with you tonight? I promise I’ll be on the next plane home.”

  “That’s what you said a few weeks ago. And now . . . when I need you . . .”

  Though she had nothing to do with Andrew’s recklessness, guilt slipped a noose around Allison’s neck.

  “He’ll lose his job,” Danielle announced with an abrupt sidestep in the conversation that had Allison shaking her head. “At the very least, they’ll force him to resign. Plus there will be an investigation, and he could go to jail.”

  Oh God.

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “No. And I don’t want to. His chief came by the office just a few hours ago and personally delivered the information. I asked him to please relay a message to Andrew that he is never welcome in this house again. The chief seemed to understand, but then he delivered another punch by telling me that the SPD has handed the investigation over to an impartial department. They’re holding him until the FBI questions him.”

  “The FBI!”

  “Because of the nature of some of the investigations he was involved in. They said they may have to overturn some of the convictions on his previous cases if this . . . affair was in any way involved.”

  “Dani, I am so sorry. I promise I will be there as soon as possible. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

  “Okay.” Sniff. “Allie? I’m serious. Please don’t tell anyone about this yet. Especially not Mom or Dad. It’s quiet here for now, but the media are going to get wind of this, and as soon as they release the story . . .”

  All hell will break loose.

  And then some.

  “I need time to figure out how to do damage control with our kids, and our friends, and . . .”

  “I won’t tell a soul,” Allison promised. “I’m about to wrap up this wedding, but if you need to talk more, call me. You come first.”

  “Okay.” Her sister’s voice sounded so vulnerable. So devastated. So very lost.

  “I love you, Sis. Hold on. I’ll be there soon.” Allison tapped END CALL, held the phone to her chest, and fought back tears. It would be so easy to dive into her own feelings. Her own misgivings about life, relationships, and trust. About the fact that her one hope had just gone into a death spiral and exploded on impact.

  But this wasn’t about her.

  For a moment, she’d allowed herself to have fun.

  To dream.

  To hope.

  In the end, she’d been taught another nasty lesson.

  Happily-­ever-­after was just an illusion.

  End of story.

  With a satisfied sigh, Jesse took a look around him and smiled. The night air had cooled to a comfortable seventy degrees. The wedding had gone off without any further hitches. Even General Brooks’s hoochie girlfriend behaved herself.

  The whirlwind of activities for the event were a done deal. Now, at the reception being held in his completely transformed backyard, the party had busted out with free-­flowing champagne for the ladies and Gentleman Jack for the men. The rented dance floor was alive with a country line dance to a cover of Kip Moore’s “Beer Money.”

  As best man, for a time he’d been relegated to certain duties. But once the cake had been cut, and he’d raised a toast to the bride and groom, he’d passed the baton to Jackson and Jake to put in their two cents. Now he was free to spend a little time with Allison.

  He’d caught sight of her now and again as she kept the flow of the reception moving forward. He could tell she was in her element, doing a job she wasn’t being paid for. He respected that. And he’d be damned sure to personally thank her when he got her alone.

  And naked.

  A tug on the bottom of his jacket made him look down. There he found Izzy rubbing her sleepy eyes. He swept her up into his arms and kissed her forehead. “You sleepy, little darlin’?”

  “Nuh-­uh.” She rubbed her eyes again and yawned. “Need mo cake.”

  He chuckled, then caught Jackson’s eye as he twirled Abby on the dance floor. Since Fiona was busy dancing with one of Jackson’s firemen buddies, Jack and Abby headed in his direction.

  “I think someone’s ready to pass out
,” Jesse said, handing his niece over to her father. Izzy promptly laid her head on Jackson’s shoulder. Her body went limp, and Jesse would swear she’d instantly fallen asleep.

  “Annie just mentioned that she’s exhausted and ready to go home,” Abby said, gently stroking the toddler’s tired little brow. “She can take Izzy home with her.”

  Something powerful caught in Jesse’s chest as he watched his brother and his brother’s future wife look lovingly at each other. A few months ago, their destiny had been uncertain. Yet here they were now, acting as a ­couple, as parents, who were obviously deeply in love.

  Envy.

  Perhaps a not-­so-­pretty mistress. But that just encouraged Jesse to do something about his own path in life. He didn’t want to spend it alone. He wanted someone to look at him the way Abby looked at his little brother. He wanted to hold the warmth of that woman—­the warmth of his own child—­in his arms.

  He was ready to take that step.

  As Jack and Abby walked away with their precious cargo, Jesse spotted Allison coming toward him with a tray of cake slices. The music changed to the ballad “Hey Pretty Girl.” Without a word, Jesse caught her by the hand, relieved her of her tray by placing it on a nearby table, and led her out onto the dance floor.

  Filled with surprise, her smoky eyes looked up at him as he pulled her close. She didn’t fight him. Instead, she sank against him and with a long exhale laid her head on his chest.

  He breathed in her sweet scent and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hampered only slightly by the layered skirt of her peach-­colored dress, his thigh pressed between hers as they swayed together. He wasn’t sure they were keeping time with the music. He didn’t care. She was in his arms after a long day, and that’s all that mattered.

  Too soon, the song ended, and his body went cold as she stepped away.

  A smile that was a lot more edgy than sweet curled her glossy lips as she looked up at him, and said, “Meet me upstairs in five minutes.” Then, with a gentle swish of her dress, she picked up the tray of cake slices and offered them to the guests at a nearby table on her way back toward the house.

  He supposed it was ridiculous and pathetic that for the next five minutes he checked his watch approximately every fifteen seconds. Eventually, the hands on the Bulova blessed him with the allotted five minutes.

  Once inside the house, he passed through the kitchen and thanked the seniors who’d cooked, helped serve, and stayed to clean up. Then he took the stairs two at a time. When he reached his bedroom, Allison was nowhere to be found. He closed the door and went into the master bath. She wasn’t there either. As he passed by the walk-­in closet the door opened. A hand reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him inside.

  “God.” She shut the door, pushed him against it, and grabbed him by the lapels. “I thought you’d never get here.”

  Anticipation and lust pulled him in a million different directions. “Allison, I—­”

  “Sssh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “No talk.” Her hand headed south, cupped his erection, and squeezed. “Just sex.”

  God, he loved this woman.

  He groaned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The next seconds flew by in a flurry of hands, lips, and tongues. Clothes flew off and sailed to the carpet. Before he knew it, he was buried deep inside her with her back to the door and her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands gripped her bottom as her warm skin and pebbled nipples pressed into his chest. The slick, hot, intense friction where their bodies were connected nearly drove him mad as she kissed him with hunger and desperate need.

  He tried to control his thrusts, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  “Harder, Jesse.” Her tongue plunged into his mouth, and the heat of her almost made him come right then and there. She pulled her head back. “Faster.”

  Oh God.

  He shifted his hips, dove in, and gave her what she wanted. Intense pleasure grabbed hold and nearly twisted him inside out. Her breathing broke into little pants. Her moans grew louder. Against his palms, her butt tensed. When her inner muscles contracted and pulled him in tight, she cried out his name. Fire flashed across his skin, and an almost violent burst of heat shot up his legs and into his groin. With a long groan he joined her in that free fall into oblivion.

  Once their racing hearts slowed, and they were able to catch their breath, he eased her feet to the ground.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when she continued to pant.

  She nodded, reached up, and slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. “That was amazing.”

  “You’re amazing.” He kissed her again. “Guess we’d better put ourselves back together and rejoin the party.”

  “You go ahead. It will take me a few minutes longer to pull myself together.”

  He reached for his pants. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” A slow blink fanned her thick, dark lashes. “Go ahead without me.”

  A while later, Jesse found himself stuck in a conversation about ground squirrels that couldn’t have held his interest even if he hadn’t just had hot closet sex. He glanced up to see where she’d gone off to but couldn’t find her. When Charli walked by on her way to another glass of champagne, he caught her hand. “Have you seen Allison?”

  She looked around. “Not for a while. She might be in the house helping clean up. You know how she is.”

  Jesse nodded, but something ominous tickled the back of his neck, and he excused himself from the table of elderly squirrel lovers. Inside the house, the seniors were still busy washing up and packing things away.

  “Have you seen Allison?” he asked them. His only response came from Gertie West, who thought she’d seen her go upstairs earlier. Surely it couldn’t take her this long to put herself back together. Before he’d left the room, she’d looked mussed but still amazing, with a warm flush to her cheeks and lips.

  He took the stairs two at a time, opened his bedroom door, and glanced around at the empty room. The door to the bathroom was open, and the light was off. He opened the closet door, but there was nothing there except the sweet aroma of her perfume and the heady scent of their lovemaking. When he turned to leave the room, he noticed the piece of paper propped up on his pillow.

  Nausea burned his throat as he walked across the room and picked it up.

  Jesse,

  I’m sorry.

  I have to go.

  It’s been fun.

  Thanks.

  A.

  Fun?

  Thanks?

  He reread the brusque, quickly scrawled words.

  Her references didn’t mean what they had was fun.

  They meant it was over.

  His heart sank deep in his chest as sat down on the bed and pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He swept his thumb across the screen, tapped her name in his contact list, and wasn’t at all surprised when his call went straight to her voice mail.

  Memories of the past weeks tumbled through his heart and dropped into his stomach like a lead ball. Apparently, everything he’d been feeling for her had not been reciprocated. While he’d been foolishly imagining their future, she’d been booking a flight out of his life.

  He felt like a fool.

  Maybe he should have taken her at her word when she said she didn’t believe in long-­term relationships, marriage, or happily-­ever-­afters. She’d barely made it with him a ­couple of weeks.

  Sure, he knew she’d go back to Seattle. She had a career. Friends. Family. But he’d thought they’d had something worth working on. He hadn’t dreamed she’d dump him on his ass without at least a face-­to-­face good-­bye.

  Tempted to try to call her again, he tossed the phone on the bed.

  She’d made herself clear. And he’d never begged a woman for anything.

  The hell if he’d start
now.

  Sunday passed in the dregs of a hangover. Once Jesse returned to the reception, he allowed himself a personal pity party. No need to involve anyone else. He didn’t need lectures. Didn’t need sympathy. Only time to lick his wounds and find his way back to the life he’d led before Allison had sauntered in.

  A less-­than-­complete life to be sure. But one in which he’d find a way to survive.

  He always did.

  Twice, he’d broken down and tried to call her. Each call had gone straight to her voice mail. A clear signal she didn’t want to talk. In a morbidly humorous way, he thought of how awkward future holiday gatherings would be if she ever came back to Sweet. Surely, she’d come for their parents’ wedding. But who knew. She didn’t believe in true love, soul mates, or forevers. Maybe she’d just send a gift.

  By Monday morning, he’d helped the party-­rental store load up the tables and chairs. Reno and Charli were happily off on their Caribbean honeymoon, and life went on as usual. Marcy Pettifer brought her cocker spaniel, Buttons, into the clinic for her yearly checkup, and Abby came in with a crate full of kittens that needed exams before she took them to her rescue center to await their forever homes. After quitting time, he had a ­couple of farm calls on his schedule that would keep him and his wandering mind busy the rest of the day.

  The problem was going to be come nightfall. With the wedding complete, he’d looked forward to seeing Allison at the end of the day. He’d imagined bringing her home, sitting out back with a glass of wine, and getting to know her even better. He’d liked that she fit so well into the family, and he’d been eager to finally focus on them as a ­couple.

  Apparently, all that had been a fantasy on his part.

  He didn’t know what had happened to make him fall for her so hard. He only knew that he now needed to rewind and come up with a new plan that didn’t include her smoky eyes, soft skin, witty comebacks, and easy laugh.

  By mid Monday afternoon, he closed his office door, sat down at his desk, and grabbed the stack of mail he’d overlooked for too long. He half-­ass skimmed a brochure for exam tables. After the Great Pyrenees disaster last fall, he’d needed to replace the table in room two even though most of the time he just got down on the floor with the animals. They didn’t like high places, and he believed in a gentler method of seeing to their health and welfare. No need to terrify the little guys more than necessary.