by Zoe Dawson
She wrapped her arm around my waist and squeezed. “You are so generous and sweet, and kind.”
“Shh,” I said, “You’ll ruin my rep.”
She laughed. “Oh, we can’t have that.”
“Let me show you where to put it,” Dr. Rust said, and was actually rubbing his hands and cackling while he scurried up the sidewalk.
We waited until the delivery guy had placed the machine exactly where the doc wanted it.
When the delivery guy left I thanked him. Then we walked back to find Doc just staring at the new machine. “This is going to save my patients a lot of trips.”
I reached into my pocket. “Doc, the x-ray was for the practice. This is for you.” I handed him the envelope.
He opened it and took a quick, indrawn breath. “This is so generous. I don’t know what to say.”
“I have heard enough talk on that bar stool at Outlaws how you wanted to fish marlin in the Keys. Now’s your chance. When your replacement comes, you can get away. It’s an open ticket.”
“I’ve never flown first class in my life.”
“There’s a first time for everything. Enjoy your trip.”
I shook his hand and Aubree hugged him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for the town and for me.”
He nodded, still a bit overcome.
I ushered Aubree out of there. I kissed her just shy of the front door, her mouth eager, lush and moist, and I wanted to sink into her and stop thinking, stop analyzing and just feel her.
I kept her next to me until we got into my car. The drive through the bayou made her sigh, and I could tell she was glad to be home.
She leaned over the console and kissed my face, trailing more kisses down my neck.
I drove with one hand, the other in her soft hair.
Finally at the house, she came around the car, and we stood in the dark garage, kissing each other like there was no tomorrow.
“I missed you, so much.”
“I missed you more,” she said.
We went into the house, and just inside the kitchen stopped as she pulled me against her and kissed me deeply. The moon glowed throughout the room, and I stared down into her eyes and felt the power of our connection, her gaze setting off a crazy, wild need in my gut. A fierce longing spilled into my bloodstream, a longing to touch her, to be held and touched back, to feel her warmth and softness around me.
I pushed my thoughts away, pushed everything away, especially the pain of the thoughts Dr. Rust had dredged up…thoughts that were going to take me some time to sort out.
I let it go for now because I needed her. Besides, it was fundamental. We always seemed to be in a mess.
#
Aubree
I was finally where I wanted to be, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Booker was wrestling with his own uncertainties. What a pair we were. Taking his face between my hands, I kissed him with all the love and longing welling up inside me.
His chest expanded as he inhaled raggedly; then his arms came around me in a crushing embrace as he took what I offered. His jaw flexed beneath my hand as he moved his mouth against mine, the thoroughness of his hot, wet kiss setting off a wild frenzy in my belly.
Shifting his hold, Booker caught me around the hips, drawing me flush against his pelvis, and my breath caught on a rough sob, the surge of sensation making my lungs falter. He tightened his arms around me, holding me with familiar fierceness, his mouth hungry. His need merged with my own, and I went all soft and willing in his arms, a liquid weakness spreading through me.
With a shuddering intake of air, he dragged his mouth away. He stared down into my eyes, his gaze offering a strange mix of contradictions. Verbal silence, but silent communication. Distance, but a strange kind of closeness. I drew on his silent strength, repeatedly trying to reassure myself that everything would be all right.
“I love you, Booker. Don’t ever doubt that.” I cupped his face between my hands and said fiercely. “Ever.”
He looked away, the muscles in his throat convulsing, and this man just stripped me bare. How could I ever have defenses against him? He was a treasure.
“Ah, geezus, Aubree,” he whispered, his face contorting with raw emotion. “I don’t doubt it. I just got…sidetracked. I thought I had somehow lost you.”
“No, never.”
He crushed me even closer.
“It’s okay, babe,” he said softly.
I tightened my hold on him and made a low, urgent sound, a crazy kind of fear claiming me. I pushed off his jacket and unknotted his tie, brushing my mouth against his. With urgency, I undid all the buttons and pushed the shirt off him, then stroked his lean muscles all the way to his waistband.
It was as if he felt the same thing, and with a hoarse growl, he tipped my head back and found my mouth, his savage kiss tasting of tears and pain and fear-driven desperation.
For me, there was a taste of hope in the way he kissed me. I latched onto it, because I trusted in Booker, trusted him with my life, with my heart, with my very soul. He dragged his hand up my back, molding us together in a crushing hold, his other hand immobilizing my head as his mouth turned hot, hungry, and ravaging.
Widening his stance, Booker dragged me up into the cradle of his thighs, the hard ridge of his flesh meshing with my softness, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, for the thick, pulsing urgency swelling within me.
Booker groaned and dragged his mouth away, his breathing ragged as he lifted my hips up and against his, a violent shudder coursing through him. With his merciless hold fusing us body to body, I wrapped my legs around him, giving him full access to the heat denied him by the barrier of our clothing. His breathing harsh against my ear, he gripped me around my hips, locking me against him, his body thrusting, driving, urgent against mine. I clung to him, my senses sucked into a mindless need, and I dragged my hands up his bare back, my fingers digging into his straining muscles as I twisted my body against his, trying to bring him closer.
He carried me over to our couch and set me down, delving under my skirt, ripping off my panties and unbuckling his belt.
He pushed me back on the couch, and I was vividly aware of the heat and hardness of his honed body.
Awash in a whole storm of emotion, tightened my hold on him, murmuring his name again and again. He came down on top of me, and I cried out, his weight heavy in the apex of my thighs. Sensations and emotions raged through me, and I flexed my legs, thrusting up against him, mindlessly trying to get him inside me.
He met my thrust and slipped inside with a hoarse groan, tucking one arm under my hips and he pulled out and entered me fully in one savage thrust.
I shrieked with delight and arched against him, an incoherent frenzy claiming me. His fingers tangling in my hair, Booker held my head still and covered my mouth with a punishing kiss that blasted into me like a loaded grenade, breaking me, stripping me, making me thoroughly his again.
He thrust into me again with a fragmented groan. Dragging his mouth away from mine, he buried his face against the curve of my neck, a hard, wild urgency claiming him, incinerating the last of his restraint. And then there was no holding back. Raw and violent. Engulfing. Without a trace of gentleness, he came, his body jackknifing, shuddering, his head thrown back.
I rode out that storm with him, rode it out until he finally was spent, collapsed on top of me.
For several long moments we lay there while I just absorbed the bliss of his skin against mine, the warmth of him, his presence. My fingers played in that gorgeous, shaggy hair, heated silk.
Without a word, he got up, kicked off his pants and underwear, picked me up in his arms and walked to the bedroom. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and we settled against the cool sheets.
The sounds of the bayou settled around me, and it was here where I had fallen for my Outlaw, in this house where he had taken my virginity, given me my first taste of womanhood, and become my first heartbreak, and my first and only love.
<
br /> “Come back to New Orleans with me, Booker,” I begged. Expelling a long sigh, he slipped one arm under my head and the other around my midriff, drawing me securely into the curve of his body. Thrown into emotional overload, I tried to turn in his arms, but he held me fast, the arm around my middle locking me against him.
“I think I need to stay here. Let you close out the semester. Things seem like they might be going better.”
I nodded, trying to ease the nearly crippling clot of emotion. I smoothed my hand across the back of his, my voice breaking with strain when I started to speak. “Booker, I’m so sorry.”
Shifting his arm, he pressed his thumb against my mouth, his chest expanding heavily against my back, his voice very gruff when he spoke. “I’m sorry, too.”
I knew Booker had been pushed to the wall, because I needed him to understand and support me, no matter how busy and crazy I got, and he was struggling with that.
Knowing that made me feel very small—because I had given him reason to doubt me. But I wasn’t sure how to reassure him, or how to help him get through the battle he was waging. When it came to my intelligent, cerebral Outlaw, it was best to leave him be. Let him come to his own conclusions. I didn’t want Booker to ever, ever be dishonest with himself, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how things played out between us.
Tightening my hold on his hand, I closed my eyes, the awful ache in my throat too big to handle, grateful he was at least trying.
The thought of making a choice between medicine and Booker was like a twisting, tug-of-war pain in my chest. I’d stopped kidding myself a long time ago. Reality was harsh, but that’s where we all had to live. My first dose of that still haunted a set of bleachers, the second lay on Old Magnolia Road and the third happened when Daniel kidnapped us.
Where I would experience the next dose. I wasn’t sure.
He would always have to be true to himself.
My gorgeous, strong, unwavering Outlaw.
I knew he would always be true to me. Always be honest with me when he was ready to tell me his thoughts.
Always.
#
Aubree
Booker was up when I awoke the next morning. The scent of him, of our lovemaking, still clung to the sheets, and I rolled over onto my stomach, every shred of tension dissipated.
I was going to trust Booker. It felt so good to wake up relaxed and rested.
Sighing, I rolled over onto my back, making a mental list of the things I had to do in the next week before I could come back here, finish our wedding preparations, and get hitched. Dr. Palmer had been more than equal to the task of helping me with o-chem. She asked me point blank if I had a mental block about o-chem, because without a passing grade, I couldn’t get into med school. She wanted to know if I was subconsciously sabotaging myself. I couldn’t sleep when I got home after that discussion, and thought long and hard about what she said.
Then I tightened my resolve and faced that accusation head on. Discovered I was being sabotaged by the fear of failure. I faced it. Brought it out in the open and dealt with it. There was only one way forward, and that was by passing o-chem. My final was this week and I felt ready…shaky, but determined to do my best and let the chips fall where they may.
Realizing I was postponing the inevitable, I reluctantly hauled myself out of bed and got dressed. When I wandered into the living room, I saw Booker in the kitchen. He was drinking a cup of coffee and staring out into the bayou.
He turned when he heard me enter. “Ah, time you woke up and smelled the coffee.”
“When I woke up, it certainly wasn’t coffee I smelled.”
His cup stopped halfway to his mouth, and he stared at me, the sudden narrowing of his eyes indicating he knew exactly what I was talking about. His gaze fixed on me. He raised the mug to his mouth and took a sip of coffee, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Hot. Very hot.”
Even with the knot of concern still turning in my stomach, I laughed. “You are such an Outlaw, still the astronaut of awesome.”
“Nice to know my…ah…black hole still works.”
I laughed again, and went over to him and slipped my arms around his waist.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
He took a breath. “I started a new book. Lottie has it now. She hasn’t responded to my email yet, and it’s killing me.”
“You finished your book already?”
“No, I haven’t finished it yet. This idea just kinda came out of the blue.”
Really, what is it about?”
“My family saga. A fictionalized version of it, anyway. My attempt to write our history and commemorate Duel Outlaw. A memoir seemed boring to me. This was my answer.”
“It sounds interesting. I can’t wait to read it.”
There was an imperceptible lightening in his eyes, and the taut set of his mouth eased into a soft smile. “I also heard back from the producer. They are optioning my first three books for a film.”
Not wanting him to see how disquieted I was to see him so unhappy and not know how to fix it, I smiled back, overjoyed for his success. “Are you serious?” I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my face against his rough jaw. “That is sensational. I’m so proud of you.”
The tension around his mouth easing a little, he gave me that wonderful, patented Outlaw grin, and it bolstered me.
“Just out of curiosity,” I began slowly, knowing this was the right moment, “have you figured out the honeymoon stuff yet?””
“No, not yet. Why?”
I bit my lip and smiled. “Why? Seven whole days of nothing but Booker? Are you crazy? I want to know where we’re going.”
His eyes twinkled and I liked that so much better. “I’m still working on it.”
“Oh, God. You’re killing me.”
After a while, I said, “I’ve got to get going.”
He nodded and drove me into town, where I got into my car. Through my open window he brushed his hand down my arm. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
He bent down and gave me one last, lingering kiss.
If I needed him…If I needed him…I wondered how to make sure he knew, to his bones, how much I did.
I put the car in gear and drove away, experiencing the strangest feeling in my stomach. I knew that parting comment was meant to reassure me. But what was unsettling me even more was the single touch. Whatever was bothering him, it was chewing him up inside.
I slammed on the brakes and I saw Booker watching me. Throwing the car into park, I opened the door and jumped out, breaking into a run. I got to him and threw my arms around his neck. “I need you, so much. Tell me you know that. I need you.”
“I do now,” he said holding me just as tight, and the terrible feeling in my stomach went away.
Chapter Six
Booker
Staying in Suttontowne while Aubree drove away was the right move. Aubree tied me up in knots, distracted me, made me crazy. I needed to do some heavy thinking, needed to get my head and heart to mesh.
Dr. Rust’s revelations about being married to a country doctor, about what Aubree deserved and needed, would not leave me alone. Even as I said goodbye to her, I struggled with what he’d said, and was pretty sure I had only seen the tip of the iceberg. That Aubree’s journey to becoming a doctor wasn’t going to just limit our time for the next six years, in the end she was going to be the person Suttontowne relied on the most.
That meant I would have to sacrifice my time with her.
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
Aubree had a calling, a gift.
And I had to share her.
I didn’t know if I could handle it.
But the alternative was even more devastating.
Losing her wasn’t an option.
I wrestled with the concept, thinking that I had been selfish and petty. She was doing something for the common good. Something wholly generous and self-sacrificing. It was bigger than both of us.
I had to do some real soul-searching, some deep, deep thinking. Because I would not commit myself to Aubree by a half measure. I would have to commit to her wholly, passionately, without reservations. To her and her choice of profession.
The thoughts shook my very foundations, and I trembled with them.
As the dust of her leaving settled, my cell rang.
Lottie.
My palms got instantly sweaty.
“Booker, are you free right now?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Why? The book. Come over here. We need to talk.”
“All right. I’m in town, so I’ll be right there.”
I disconnected the call and my stomach jumped. Her tone was clipped and…seemed strange. Did she hate it and needed to tell me that in person? Usually Lottie didn’t pull any punches.
When I pulled up to her house, I barely had a chance to knock before she opened the door. She looked disheveled, as if she hadn’t slept, and I hadn’t ever seen Lottie that way before. She was like Aubree. Always put together.
“Get in here.” She grabbed my T-shirt and dragged me inside. She paced and ran her hands through her hair.
“Geezus,” I said. “Was it that bad?”
She whirled on me. “What? No. My God, Booker, this is…this is magnificent. If this doesn’t hit the Times, you will have been robbed.” She paced, then whirled again. “Do you have any more?”
“Um…no…that’s just a rough draft.”
“I want more. I stayed up all night reading it. I need some more right now. When can you have this ready?”
“I’m getting married.” I had to take a calming breath.
Shit. I was getting married, and I still had to work out all these jumbled issues and confused thoughts about commitment and sacrifice. Hard, important decisions, not to be taken lightly.
Finally I said, “I have some summer plans brewing in my head. I don’t know. Maybe the fall.” I smiled feeling a lot lighter. “So you really liked it?”
