Spicing Things Up

by Judi Lynn

  She reached for him again, and while her hands explored him, his hands explored her. When his nimble fingers unhooked her bra and freed her breasts, she gulped with pleasure. His lips grazed her nipples, and she sucked in air. His fingers teased one breast while his mouth played with the other. Her nerves sizzled. Then he unzipped her jeans and tugged them and her undies off. His followed. Skin, glorious skin. Daphne’s hands explored every inch of him—the hollow of his back, his perfect ass, his sinewy muscles. Tyne interlocked arms and legs with her and kissed deeply, their bodies pressed tight. He licked the hollow of her neck. She gasped as pleasure shot through her.

  When every inch of her strained for his touch, he shifted away, and his hand dove between her legs. Blood pounded in her ears. His fingers moved inside her, and his thumb found her passion spot. Her body stilled as tension coiled tighter and tighter until she arched her back and screamed. “Now!” She wanted him now!

  Tyne growled as he entered her. They moved together, demanding more and more. They exploded in unison, and Tyne sagged onto his elbows, his breath ragged.

  She smiled at him, raised her hand to touch his strong jawline. She tugged at his chin strap. He lowered his face and nuzzled it against hers.

  “I love you,” he said.

  Everything in Daphne stilled, holding its breath. Had he really said the words? Did he mean them?

  He moved back so that she could see him. “I love you, Daphne. Marry me.”

  Tears slid down her cheeks, and she didn’t care. “Yes!”

  He chuckled, and she loved the sound. “I fly to California next week. Let’s make it our honeymoon.”

  “So fast?” What would her parents say? What would people think?

  He frowned. “Would you rather wait? Have a traditional wedding?”

  “No, I don’t care about that. But . . . are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure.” It was his turn to worry. “I don’t want to rush you, though.”

  Rush her? Was he kidding? She wanted to lock him in this cabin and never let him leave. “I want you here, with me, in my bed, every night.”

  He grinned. “We could do that anyway. We could live in sin until we made it legal.”

  “I want it legal. Let’s go to the justice of the peace.”

  Tyne nodded. He bent to kiss her again, and his kiss lingered, intensified. They took it slow this time, more gently. This time was more about awe than lust and need. They spooned together for another half hour before Daphne’s stomach rumbled.

  Tyne laughed. “That reminds me. You owe me a supper.”

  “It might be edible if you help me with it.”

  They showered. That took more time than usual, then padded into the kitchen together. They made a good team. Tyne told her what to do, and she did it. And the meal turned out perfect.

  “Shadow likes filets.” Daphne tossed him the last bit of her steak.

  “He likes shrimp, too.” Tyne gave him a tiny bit of his.

  Tyne helped with cleanup, and pretty soon their hands were where they shouldn’t be again. When their breaths finally slowed, she clung to him. “Can you stay the night?”

  His arms tightened, smashing her to him. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “People will notice. They’ll talk.”

  “Art and his kids are already rooting for us at the grocery store.”

  “They are?” His chin grazed her hair as he shook his head. “Hell, most of Mill Pond probably knows I stayed here too long. They’re all talking by now. Let’s make it official.”

  She lay against him as they watched TV to unwind before they returned to bed. They were tired, replete, so Tyne left the door open and let Shadow jump up with them. When Tyne rolled to his side, Daphne pressed herself against his lean, strong back. He put a hand over hers and instantly fell asleep. Daphne tried to stay awake. She wanted to make this night last, to remember it forever, but with the stress washed out of her life and her body so relaxed, her eyes drifted shut, and she couldn’t fight sleep.

  Chapter 48

  Ian and Tessa, Paula and Chase, and Harley and Kathy came to stand behind Tyne in the office of the justice of the peace. Daphne’s parents and Miriam came to see her married. It was a short ceremony, but Daphne had bought a new, white dress for the occasion—knee-length, but classy. The dress made her feel like a princess with its form-fitting top and full, gathered skirt. She’d pulled her thick, wavy hair into a loose chignon and worn the pearl earrings her mother had given her when she turned twenty-one.

  “You’re beautiful,” Tyne told her, gazing at her as she studied herself in the mirror.

  “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony,” Daphne protested.

  He grinned. “I’ve seen everything else. Why not this?”

  She had to laugh. He had a point.

  He’d bought a new sports jacket to wear with his favorite khakis. And, as always, the man looked good. He refused to shave his chin strap, though, even though Paula had bugged him about it. It had finally grown back.

  “I like your whiskers,” Daphne told him. So they’d stayed.

  At the end of the short ceremony, they drove to Harley’s winery to celebrate. Paula had helped Steph and Maxwell make fancy, little finger foods and Harley provided plenty of wine. Her parents felt out of place and didn’t stay long, but at least they’d come. The party lasted a couple of hours, everyone festive, but it was still early when they returned to Daphne’s cabin.

  “What now?” she asked.

  Tyne grinned. “You’d better hang that pretty dress up if you want to keep it in one piece.”

  The rest of the night was all about pleasure. They were officially man and wife now, and Tyne seemed more excited about the idea than Daphne. Daphne liked wearing a ring, but mostly, she just wanted Tyne.

  Her parents had insisted on throwing a reception in their church’s basement on Saturday night, but Daphne didn’t attend the church, and she didn’t want to celebrate with Beatrice. Besides, she was sure that if Tyne met her, he’d have something choice to say to her.

  Chase offered a compromise, and they’d settled on an open reception at his bar. “Just bring yourselves and celebrate with us,” Tyne wrote. “Strictly casual. No presents. We have everything we need.”

  A sign on the door warned that no bar food would be served, that there’d be a cash bar, and the band was still scheduled. Tyne filled three, huge steel pans with brats and sauerkraut, three more pans with Italian roast beef, and three with sloppy-joe mix. He bought mountains of buns and chips and made coleslaw. Mom paid Grams’s church ladies to provide potato salad and three-bean salad. Mom couldn’t wrap her head around the quantities of food, but she happily paid Tessa to make a three-tiered wedding cake.

  People spilled into the bar for the reception and ate and drank. The music started, and Tyne led Daphne onto the dance floor. They dutifully did the wedding waltz first—Mom’s idea. Then they busted out to “Footloose.”

  “That always gets people moving,” Tyne assured her.

  Friends crowded the floor. Steph and Ben came to wish them congratulations. Even Betty and her husband came. They mingled with most of their guests, then Tyne went to ask Daphne’s mother to dance. He held her at a safe distance and behaved like a gentleman. Daphne pulled her dad onto the floor. After that, people started rotating couples, and Tyne danced with Miriam, Kathy, and Tessa. He’d just walked Paula back to her table when Chantelle came to claim him for a dance.

  Tyne hesitated, not sure what to do, when Daphne stepped beside him and shook her head. “Not anymore, he’s mine.”

  Chantelle opened her lips to argue, glanced at Daphne’s expression, and walked away.

  Daphne wrapped her arms around her new husband and Tyne chuckled.

  “You’re not as shy as you used to be.”

  “Your fault.” She leaned close to him on the dance floor. Damn, he felt good. He could hold her in his arms forever. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his ch
est.

  “I like the new you.” His voice rumbled in her ears. “My wife has more sass than I expected.”

  She grinned up at him. “Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He spun her around the floor.

  They’d fly to California tomorrow, and she’d meet Tyne’s brother.

  “Holden will like you, I’m sure. My brother will be happy for me.” Tyne frowned, and Daphne cocked her head to one side.

  “What is it?”

  “My parents will probably want to meet you. Will that scare you? My mom and dad can be intimidating.”

  “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  He grimaced. “Probably not. They never approve of anything I do. That will include you.”

  Sometimes, Tyne could be a bit too honest, but she decided she’d rather know ahead of time. Trying to win them over sounded futile. She shrugged. “You lived through my parents. I’ll survive yours. Even if I don’t like them, and they don’t like me, they’re miles and miles away. How often will I have to see them?”

  “Less than I’ll have to see yours.” He looked at her, surprised. “I’m glad it doesn’t matter to you.”

  “I married you, not them.”

  “Someday, when I’m old and bent, your parents might approve of me.”

  “They like you now.”

  He thought about that. “They are being nicer to me than before.”

  “They want me to be happy,” she told him. “And I won’t be happy without you.”

  He laughed and bent to kiss her. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

  “I do now. You’ve made me feel like a winner.”

  He held her tighter. “You are a winner, Daph, always have been.”

  So was he. She knew his life had taken a detour he hadn’t expected, but she’d come to learn that when the heavens offered you a blessing, why pass it up?

  If you like the sound of the foods mentioned in this novel, I used the cookbooks Essential Emeril, Nigella Kitchen, Nancy Fuller’s Farmhouse Rules, and Geoffrey Zakarian’s My Perfect Pantry for inspiration.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Judi Lynn received a master’s degree from Indiana University in elementary education after attending the IPFW campus. She taught for six years before having her two daughters. She loves gardening, cooking, and trying new recipes. Readers can visit her website at www.judithpostswritingmusings.comandherblogwritingmus-ings.com.