Her mind scrambled around quickly, desperately trying to put a clearer meaning to his words, but she couldn’t. She kept drawing a blank. Fear was holding all her thoughts prisoner.
“Tell you what?” Holly finally asked.
Again she felt his words rumbling against her cheek. “You know.”
Holly raised her head to look at him. He wasn’t teasing her or playing some guessing game. He looked serious and—unless her perception was off—uncomfortable, as well.
She knew it.
She just knew that when the heart-racing frenzy had lifted, Ray would be uncomfortable around her because they’d been intimate.
Was she going to lose his friendship because of her misstep?
Oh, God, how did she turn this around?
“If I knew,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper as she measured out her words, “I wouldn’t be asking you what you meant. I don’t play games, remember? How long have you known me?”
She was trying to use the time factor to her benefit, to remind him that they had been friends for years and years, and lovers for under an hour. With her head clearing, she didn’t want to sacrifice their friendship for an exquisite hour of pleasure, no matter how wonderful it had been—and it had been really wonderful. But wonderful or not, she wanted Ray in her life beyond tonight.
Then you should have gone home, she upbraided herself angrily.
“How long have I known you?” Ray repeated. “I don’t know. An hour, maybe less.”
Now he had really lost her. Was this some game after all? “What are you talking about? You’ve known me for years and years.”
“I thought I knew you for years and years,” Ray corrected. “But obviously, I never did. This is a whole new side of you that I don’t know. And you never once broached it,” he pointed out.
“Broached what?” she cried. That she loved him? That she wanted to be with him? That she couldn’t stand listening to him talk about other females when she ached to be the one in his arms? The one he made love with and wanted to have children with?
It took him several tries to tell her. Each time he began, it was as if his tongue went numb. “That you— That you were— That you were a virgin.” He all but expelled the final word.
She stared at him. Was he complaining about her lack of experience? Had she wound up disappointing him in the end? Was that what this awkward conversation was about?
Exactly when did he think she should have announced that little piece of information? “Not exactly a conversation starter,” she bit off as she struggled to sit up. Once upright, she reached for her discarded uniform on the floor. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”
“Disappoint—” He swallowed the rest of the word, stunned. “That’s not what this is about,” he told her, frustrated and angry at the same time. Frustrated with her for not telling him she was a virgin, angry at himself for what he’d just gone and done.
“Then what is this about?” she asked.
Didn’t she understand? Why did he have to spell it out this way? “Damn it, Doll, I took something from you,” he shouted. “I took your innocence, your virginity,” he specified helplessly.
He wasn’t feeling disappointed, he was feeling guilty, Holly suddenly realized.
“You didn’t ‘take’ anything I didn’t want to give you,” she insisted. Taking a breath, she let her voice drop a couple of decibels. Maybe he just wanted her to sweep it all under the rug. She could oblige him—or pretend to.
“Look, what happened here happened. We’ll just move on,” she told him, praying that they could, that he wouldn’t just distance himself from her the way he had from the other women he’d been involved with.
“Don’t you understand?” he asked her, struggling not to take out his anger on her. “You should have told me you were a virgin.”
Let it go, Ray, let it go. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we weren’t doing all that much talking at the time. Look, if you feel like you wasted your time, I get it. No words needed—”
“Wasted my time?” he repeated. “Holly, I wasted yours. Your first time should have been special.”
She looked at him, knowing she was risking everything by what she was about to say to him. But knowing, too, that she had to be truthful with him. Being truthful was the definition of who and what she was. If she turned her back on that, she would be turning her back on her soul, as well.
Her eyes met his as she said, “It was.”
She totally disarmed him. He had no idea what to say to her. All his fancy speeches, the charm he could pour on so effortlessly, it all deserted him, leaving him tongue-tied and totally confused.
She was his best friend. He’d just made love to his best friend. And he didn’t even have a whisper of intoxication to blame it on.
This, he knew, was going to require a great deal of sorting out in the morning. And who knew if it could be sorted out? But right now, they were here, in this tiny back room, with nothing between them except the heat they’d just generated.
This wasn’t the time to be going by the rule book. This was a time to start making up new rules.
“Miss Joan ever come back here after she’s left for the night?” he asked her.
Holly thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not that I know of,” she confessed. “I’ve only closed up a couple of times before. She’s never mentioned coming back. When she leaves for the day, Miss Joan spends the rest of the night with Harry. She’s mentioned a couple of times that she feels like she’s shortchanging him by working all those hours.” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “Why?”
“Well,” Ray responded, picking his words slowly—almost as slowly as he feathered his fingers through her hair, “I just wanted to be sure that we weren’t going to have to go scrambling for our clothes because she’s come back to the diner to get something.”
“Well, there is always that chance, I suppose,” she guessed, doing her best to hide the amused smile that rose to her lips.
It was going to be okay, her heart sang.
“How about it? Do you feel lucky?” Ray asked. He searched her face, trying to read her expression and match his words to it. But he couldn’t quite delve beneath the layers. Was she teasing? Or serious?
“The way I see it,” she told him, “I already am lucky.”
“Okay.” There was pure sensual mischief in Ray’s brown eyes as he said, “So how about it? One for the road?”
“The road,” she told him, bringing her mouth closer to his, “can take care of itself.”
The next moment, there was no more room for words.
He wasn’t clear if he’d started to kiss her or if she had made the move first and kissed him. All he knew was that their lips were suddenly, pleasurably, sealed to each other’s.
Again.
Ray could feel himself instantly wanting her again, wanting her with an overwhelming desire that he’d never experienced to this heightened degree before. He knew, because of the circumstances, that this time around he should be more gentle, more tender with her, but he was more ravenous.
And all the while, a small, unbidden voice kept whispering over and over again, This is Holly, your best friend, Holly. How long has this been going on without you suspecting it was there?
Ray had no clue, and right now, he wasn’t up to solving the mystery. All he wanted to do was to make love with her again, until he was finally, permanently satisfied, the way that he always had been before.
* * *
HE WASN’T GOING to get his wish, Ray thought darkly several days later. He wasn’t going to be finally sated, finally satisfied so that he could just move on. The fact was becoming all too clear to him.
Because every time he made love with Holly—and they had managed to find a way to make love at least once
every day since that first evening—all he wanted was to do it again.
And again.
And when he couldn’t, he could only think about when he could.
What the hell has happened to you? he silently demanded, bewildered and frustrated as he tried to work off his tension by baling hay behind the main barn.
That was where Rafe found him.
Rather than yell out a greeting, Gabe’s twin brother stood in silence for a few minutes, watching a man who strongly resembled his carefree youngest brother take out whatever was bothering him on the bales of hay.
“The hay do something to offend you, brother?” Rafe finally asked as he stepped forward to join Ray.
Ray paused, the pitchfork grasped in his hands suspended in midthrust. He slanted a dismissive glance in Rafe’s direction. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, struggling not to snap the words out at Rafe.
“Well,” Rafe began expansively, “you’re wielding that pitchfork as if you’re intent on stabbing each bale of hay before it gets the drop on you. I was just wondering if they did something to offend you—or if you’ve been nipping at your own private stock of whiskey a little early today.”
Ray was having enough trouble dealing with his feelings and this unfamiliar situation he found himself in—he’d never wanted a woman more after having her. It had always been the law of diminishing returns for him, not this. Having to put up with Rafe’s off-kilter sense of humor was just asking too much of him.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than watch me pitch hay?” Ray demanded.
“No, not at the moment. This is pretty entertaining,” Rafe confessed. And then he became serious. “Something bothering you, Ray?” he asked.
Ray glared at his brother. “Other than you?”
His brother inclined his head. “That was implied, yes.”
“Then no,” Ray bit out. The next hard thrust sent not just the hay flying, but the pitchfork, as well. Ray swallowed a curse, then sent another glare in Rafe’s direction. “Not a word,” he warned.
“Just an observation,” Rafe couldn’t resist saying. “You get more done if you hold on to the pitchfork.”
Stomping over to where the pitchfork had landed, Ray snatched it up and stomped back to where he’d been working.
“Maybe I’ll get more done if I use it on you and get you to shut up.”
“That’s not going to solve your problem, Ray.”
“You’re my problem, Rafe,” Ray snapped.
“No,” Rafe contradicted, then explained to his brother, “I’m what my wife calls ‘the Greek chorus.’”
Rafe spared him another annoyed look. “What the hell is that?”
“Some kind of a writer’s device they used back in the day. It’s to summarize for the audience what’s going on in case somebody who’s watching loses track. They put things into words.”
“You ask me, you’re already using too many words as it is,” Ray snapped, turning his back again.
Rafe shifted so that he was standing in front of his youngest brother, not letting him avoid eye contact.
“Look, we don’t spend enough time together anymore, and pretty soon there’ll even be less time available, what with all of us getting married and such. Don’t waste what little time we have by pretending everything’s okay with you. Word is that you’re not tomcatting around anymore. Wanna tell me what’s up?”
“Not particularly,” Ray said coldly, trying to ignore Rafe again.
“Tell me anyway.” This time, it didn’t sound like a request so much as an order.
Tempted to tell his brother what he could do with his suggestion, Ray reined himself in and just barked, “I’m busy.”
“You were never too busy for female companionship, even when you were in first grade. Now, what’s up?” Rafe demanded, looking at his brother more closely.
“You’ve met somebody,” he suddenly realized. “Somebody serious,” Rafe concluded. “And you’re scared to death.”
“Now who’s drinking?” Ray asked, even as he turned away from Rafe. His brother was getting too close to the truth, and Ray had no desire to go into it at length or even just discuss it fleetingly.
But Rafe circled so that his youngest brother couldn’t avoid him. “Look me in the eye and tell me there’s nobody serious.”
Ray pressed his lips together, anger flaring in his eyes. “There’s nobody serious,” he bit off.
Unconvinced, Rafe shook his head and declared, “Liar.”
Fed up, Rae thrust the pitchfork handle at his brother. “Since you’re here and you seem to have all this time on your hands, you pitch hay for a while.”
“While you go visit your mystery lady?” Rafe asked.
“No,” Ray countered. “While I go and look up the name of a good head shrinker in Pine Ridge, because you clearly are in need of one.” With that, he stormed off in the direction of the house.
“Who are you bringing to Mike’s wedding?” Rafe asked, calling after him.
“Holly.” The answer came spontaneously, before Ray could think things through and realize the trap that he’d just walked into.
“Damn,” Rafe cried, stunned. And then he grinned from ear to ear. “Holly, huh? I’m slipping. I should have realized it sooner.”
Ray squared his shoulders like a man about to do battle, but instead, he forced himself to just keep walking. “Nothing to realize,” he snapped out, trying to sound indifferent and detached.
But it was too late. Rafe saw through the smoke screen. “If you say so, Ray.”
He heard Rafe laughing to himself. Ray picked up his pace. Protesting what Rafe was alleging would only make things worse.
For everyone.
Chapter Sixteen
She wasn’t sure, until he turned up on her doorstep, whether or not Ray would come to take her to his brother Mike’s wedding.
Unofficially, of course, the whole town was invited, and she could have gone to both the ceremony and the reception without any problems. No one would have said anything, especially after she’d delivered Alma and Cash’s twins.
But Ray had talked about their going together before they had become lovers, and she didn’t know if, after their relationship had taken this unexpected turn, he would still want her there, or if being with her in public would make him feel awkward somehow.
And, as much as she wanted to attend the ceremony and reception, and as much as she cared about all of his siblings, she didn’t want to be there if Ray didn’t want her there.
So when she heard the doorbell ring, Holly froze before the mirror on her closet door, unable to make a single move because her knees had suddenly ceased functioning.
“I’ll get it!” Molly called out, the sound of her little feet rushing across the living room to the front door reinforcing her declaration.
“No, you won’t, young lady,” Holly heard her mother call out, then order, “You stop right there.”
Granted, this was Forever and doors were left unlocked because everyone knew everyone else. But obedience was as highly prized here as anywhere else, and Molly had been taught not to open the door unless either her grandmother or her aunt was with her.
Martha pushed her salt-and-pepper hair out of her eyes. Moving quickly in her wheelchair, she reached the door just as Molly came to a skidding halt. The little girl looked at her grandmother, shifting impatiently from foot to foot, her little fingers wrapped around the doorknob.
“Now Grandma? Can I open the door now?”
The still youthful-looking woman maneuvered her wheelchair, bringing it to a halt right by her granddaughter. Only then did she say, “Now.”
Molly yanked the door opened with both hands. “Aunt Holly, it’s Ray,” she called out at the top of her four-year-o
ld lungs. “He looks really pretty, too,” the little girl added, punctuating her statement with a giggle she tried to stifle with her hands.
“Well, thank you,” Ray said in his best courtly manner. “This is for you,” he added, holding out a gaily wrapped package. “I just passed this jolly-looking little fat man in a red suit and he asked if I could give it to you.” Ray looked at her solemnly, as if he was quoting chapter and verse of a legal statement. “Said you were extragood this year so he couldn’t carry all your presents at once. Told me he’d be back when you were asleep with the rest of them.”
Molly’s mouth dropped open as her eyes grew huge. “You saw Santa Claus?” she asked in hushed disbelief. “Really?” Disbelief turned to delight as she eyed the gift Ray had in his hands.
“Was that who it was?” Ray asked, looking at her in surprise. Then he nodded his head, as if he’d reviewed the evidence in his mind. “I guess it was, at that. Those prancing reindeer he had with him should have given it away, huh?”
“He had his reindeer with him?” Molly echoed, beside herself with excitement. She looked as if she was going to begin jumping up and down at any minute. “What did they look like?”
“Like their pictures,” Ray answered, smoothly getting out of offering a description he wasn’t prepared to render.
“Aunt Holly, Aunt Holly,” Molly called out when she apparently heard Holly coming down the hallway. “Look what Santa Claus gave me. A present! Can I open it, please?” she begged.
But it was Martha who answered when she saw Holly wavering. “You know the rules, Molly. Any Christmas present you get goes under the tree until Christmas morning.”
Molly sighed mightily, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, forcing her to behave like a responsible adult even when she didn’t want to.
After another sigh, she finally agreed. “Okay, I’ll wait.” Molly looked far from happy about having to follow through with the statement.
“That’s a good girl,” Martha told her, lightly patting Molly’s head.
Neither Molly nor Martha looked as if they were dressed to attend the ceremony. Ray looked from one to the other before asking, “You two ladies aren’t going to the wedding?”
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