by McNear, Mary
But he looked unperturbed. “Give me one reason why not,” he said, sitting down on the blanket and tugging her, gently, down beside him.
“I can give you a hundred reasons why not,” she murmured, as he kissed her neck in that particularly maddening way he had and eased her down so that she was lying beside him. “For one thing, we’re in public. For another thing, just because there’s no one here now doesn’t mean there won’t be five minutes from now. And for another thing . . .” But she stopped when he started kissing her neck again. She knew it was hopeless to even try to formulate another sentence.
She watched now as Walker sat up and knelt in front of her, slowly sliding his hands up the skirt of her sundress.
“First of all,” he said, picking up their conversation again, “it’s a weekday. There’s not going to be a lot of traffic on the lake. And if there is a boat in the bay, we’ll hear its engine.”
“What about canoes?” she objected, though not very strenuously. He was delicately stroking the inside of her thighs now, and it was all she could do not to squirm with anticipation.
“Canoes tend to stay close to shore,” he murmured, reaching up and running a finger under the waistband of her underwear. She sucked in a breath, then watched, fascinated, as he slid the other hand up and, pulling gently, eased her underwear down over her thighs with tantalizing slowness.
“This is crazy,” she said softly, as an unexpected breeze rocked the boat. She squinted at Walker, his silhouette black against the bright sun at his back.
“It’s pretty crazy,” he agreed, mildly. “But it’s no crazier than anything else I’ve done since I met you.”
Allie willed herself to breathe while he slid her underwear down to her ankles, and, pulling them off, tossed them aside.
“By the way,” he said, stroking the insides of her thighs again and making Allie want him so badly that she was afraid she would cry out. “When I first saw that dress, I thought it was a little impractical for the afternoon we had planned. But then I realized something. You were thinking ahead when you put it on. Because now, I only have to take off one article of your clothing to make love to you.”
Allie’s breath caught on his words, and, after an internal struggle that lasted less than one second, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the moment.
Later that evening, standing in front of her bathroom mirror, she was shocked by her transformation. Her hair was hopelessly tangled, the tip of her nose was sunburned, and her lips—she leaned closer to the mirror, studying them carefully—looked swollen. Was it even possible, she wondered, to kiss so hard, and for so long, that your lips actually swelled up? She had a guilty feeling that it was.
Well, there was nothing she could do about it now, she thought, dropping the towel she had wrapped around her and turning on the shower. She had exactly half an hour before Wyatt was due back from Jax and Jeremy’s house, where he’d gone after day camp, and she was determined to look at least halfway presentable by then. She stepped into the shower, and stood under the nozzle, wincing slightly when the hot water touched her sunburned shoulders. Then she massaged shampoo through her hair and tried to think about ordinary things. Mundane things. Like the fact that she needed to buy more stamps. Or the fact that the refrigerator was overdue for a cleaning.
What she tried not to think about was the afternoon she’d spent with Walker. Not that it hadn’t been amazing. It had been. After they’d made love that first time, there’d been more talking, more drifting, more lovemaking. And then, when they’d both gotten hot, there’d been a trip to a secluded cove where they’d skinny-dipped off a small, sandy beach. The skinny-dipping, of course, had led to more lovemaking. Which had led to more drifting and more talking. Which had started the whole cycle over again.
She turned off the shower now, stepped out onto the bath mat, and toweled herself off. She dressed quickly, in blue jeans and a T-shirt, and combed out her wet hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. Then she hurriedly did the things she’d left undone that morning, washing the breakfast dishes, making the beds, and putting in a load of laundry. Finally, she made herself a cup of chamomile tea—on the grounds that drinking it would make her feel calmer—and took it out on the twilit porch to wait for Jeremy and Wyatt.
She hadn’t been sitting there for very long when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel and saw a pickup truck coming up the driveway. It pulled up in front of the cabin, and Allie saw, with surprise, that Jeremy wasn’t driving it. Jax was. She frowned as her heavily pregnant friend slid out of the driver’s seat and came around to the other side of the pickup.
“Jax,” Allie protested, coming down the cabin’s steps, “you said Jeremy would drive Wyatt home. Otherwise, I never would have agreed to this.”
But Jax held a finger to her lips and opened the back door of the pickup. Wyatt, strapped into a car seat, was sound asleep.
“I’m sorry,” Jax said softly. “I tried to keep him awake on the drive here. But I think a whole day of being Jade’s best friend has practically done him in.”
Allie laughed, in spite of herself. “I can see that,” she said.
“He’s really dirty, too,” Jax added, apologetically, reaching to lift Wyatt out of the car seat. “I made him wash his hands and face before we left, but they were playing capture the flag before dinner and—”
“Jax? Are you crazy?” Allie interrupted her. “You’re not carrying Wyatt into the house. He’s way too heavy for you right now.”
Jax shrugged unconcernedly, but she let Allie lift him out of his car seat and carry him inside. Allie took him straight to his bedroom, pulled the covers back on his bed, and laid him down on it. As she took off his shoes and socks, she tried not to think about the fine layer of dirt covering him. No harm done, she thought. Tomorrow morning, he would go straight into the bathtub and his sheets straight into the washing machine.
She pulled the covers over him, kissed him on his cheek, and turned off his bedside table lamp. When she came back into the living room, she found Jax sitting on the couch, tiny but for her enormous belly.
“Jax,” she said sternly, “you shouldn’t have driven him home.”
But Jax held up a hand to stop her. “Allie, it’s okay. I wanted to drive Wyatt home. I needed to think, and driving, for some reason, always helps me think more clearly.”
Allie looked at Jax closely and realized that she looked tired. Tired and something else. Anxious, Allie decided.
“Jax, is everything okay?” she asked, sitting down beside her.
“With me? Of course?” Jax said, with a quick smile. “I’m just at the point in my pregnancy where I’m starting to feel like a beached whale.”
Allie smiled, halfheartedly. But she didn’t feel reassured. Typically, a pregnant Jax exuded good health. As if pregnancy agreed with her. Which, of course, it did. But tonight, there was a strained quality about her. Fatigue around her eyes. Worry lines on her forehead.
“I remember the last few weeks of my pregnancy with Wyatt,” Allie said, squeezing Jax’s little hand. “They were not pleasant. But, Jax? Promise me, no more driving alone at night, okay? I mean, you’re what, eight and a half months pregnant now? You could go into labor at any time.”
Again, Jax waved away her concern. “I have long labors, Allie. Freakishly long. Even with Jade, my third child, I was having contractions for a couple of days before she was born. Trust me, when I do go into labor, I’ll have plenty of time to get to a hospital.”
Allie nodded. But privately, she didn’t feel reassured. She wasn’t an expert on childbirth, but she knew that each labor and delivery was unique. Could Jax really predict what this one would be like?
“So are you going to tell me how the picnic today was?” Jax asked.
“The picnic?” Allie echoed, stalling for time. She was still composing her thoughts about it.
“You and Walker did go on a picnic today, didn’t you?” Jax asked, amused.
“Yes, we did,” Al
lie said, flushing hotly. She saw a mental snapshot of the two of them from earlier in the day. They were fresh from their skinny-dip, naked, lying on a blanket they’d spread on a bed of dry pine needles, in a little clearing near the sandy cove where they’d anchored the boat. She could still feel the warm sun dappling their skin, still smell the clean, dry pine needle scent. Still hear the soft, but urgent murmuring of their lovemaking.
“And . . .” Jax prompted. “How was it? The picnic, I mean.”
“It was really nice,” Allie said, suddenly examining her fingernails with interest.
Jax laughed. “You are a lousy liar, Allie Beckett,” she said.
“I know,” Allie said, blushing harder and glancing up, briefly. “I am a lousy liar. The picnic was pretty amazing, actually.”
“And I’m guessing you’re not referring to Caroline’s potato salad?” Jax said, her blue eyes dancing mischievously.
Allie shook her head, feeling guilty again. She knew that Caroline had insisted on packing the picnic that Walker had brought for them, but it had sat virtually untouched all afternoon. Not once had either of them even remembered that it was there.
“But seriously, Allie,” Jax said, her tone gentle, “all teasing aside. You look . . . you look different.”
“You mean, like I’ve had a facial?” Allie asked, amused.
“No,” Jax said, shaking her head. “Not exactly. What I meant by looking different was . . . you look happy.”
Allie, whose eyes had strayed back down to her fingernails, looked up again. Jax was smiling at her, her face, though still tired looking, suffused with its own happiness. She’s happy because I’m happy, Allie realized. And then, without warning, she felt her eyes tearing up. She was so lucky to have Jax for a friend. How had she ever managed without her all these years?
“Allie,” Jax asked now, “are you in love with him?”
“In love?” Allie repeated, bemused. “I don’t know about in love. I think in lust is more like it.”
“Well, that’s usually where love starts,” Jax said, smiling.
Allie thought about that. Was it true? It had certainly been true with her and Gregg. Before there had been love between them, there had been pure chemistry. And when it came to Walker, who knew? Maybe their admittedly powerful attraction would lead to love, too. Maybe, on her part, it already had. But that was crazy, wasn’t it?
Jax sighed, a tired sigh, and it interrupted Allie’s thoughts.
“Oh, Jax, I’m sorry,” Allie said. “I haven’t asked you if you want anything to drink. Water, maybe? Or chamomile tea?”
But Jax shook her head. “No, I’m fine. But I better be getting home. Otherwise, Jeremy will worry.” She hoisted herself off the couch, and Allie walked her out to her pickup.
“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Allie asked, again. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Jax.
“Absolutely,” Jax said. She started to open the door to her pickup, then stopped and turned to Allie. “It’s just . . . it’s just that I have to do something I don’t want to do.”
“So don’t do it,” Allie said, automatically. “I mean, you have the perfect excuse for not doing anything you don’t want to do. You’re about to have a baby. Ask Jeremy to do it for you.”
“I can’t,” Jax said, shaking her head. “This is something I have to do alone.”
Allie frowned. She didn’t like the way that sounded. “Are you sure I can’t help you? I mean, if nothing else, I could listen to you if you want to talk about it.”
Jax hesitated. “It’s tempting,” she admitted. “But you’ve done enough, Allie. Just by being here tonight.”
“You’ll let me know if you change your mind?” Allie asked, as Jax got into her truck.
“I promise,” Jax said, turning on the ignition.
She started to drive away, then stopped, and leaned out the window. “By the way, Allie. Just for the record, your skin does look amazing.”
Allie laughed and watched her friend drive away. But she didn’t go back inside the cabin yet. Instead, she sat down on the front steps, and, as the night fell around her, she thought about Jax. About whether or not she should have pushed her harder on letting Allie help her. Of course, there was no guarantee that she could help her. But still, something about Jax had unsettled her. Enough so that she couldn’t shake that uncomfortable feeling for the rest of the night.
The next morning, though, Allie and Wyatt bumped into Jax at the grocery store, and Allie decided she’d been wrong to be so worried about her. She looked fine. Better than fine, really. She looked like herself. And Allie chalked up their conversation the night before to Jax’s feeling tired. Or momentarily overwhelmed. She’d said she needed to do something she didn’t want to do. But who among us, Allie wondered, never has to do something we don’t want to do? That was just life, wasn’t it? And Jax’s life, she reminded herself, was pretty damned perfect. At least as far as Allie could tell.
CHAPTER 25
Miss Jax?”
“Frankie?” Jax said, surprised. And a little miffed. She hadn’t expected anyone else she knew to be at the Mosquito Inn tonight. Except, of course, for Bobby. And he was fifteen minutes late already. She’d been sitting there, tucked into a booth, watching the front door and trying to look innocuous. Or as innocuous as a woman who was eight and a half months pregnant could look in a dive bar at nine o’clock on a Thursday night.
“Miss Jax, what are you doing here?” Frankie asked.
“The same thing you’re doing here,” Jax said, evasively, sipping her Coke.
“I’m playing pool,” Frankie said, frowning. He indicated the pool cue he was holding in his right hand.
“Well, I’m meeting an old friend for a drink,” Jax said. An old friend who’s blackmailing me. An old friend who I’ve been having murderous fantasies about.
“This isn’t a good place to meet a friend for a drink,” Frankie said.
“You’re here,” Jax said, a little defensively.
Frankie shrugged his gigantic shoulders. “I come here sometimes, to shoot pool,” he said. “But this is no place for a lady like you, Miss Jax. Especially since you’re . . . you know . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Pregnant?” Jax supplied, amused in spite of herself.
He nodded, embarrassed.
For all his outward toughness, Frankie, she knew, was very shy.
“Don’t worry, Frankie,” she said, glancing nervously at the door. “I’ll be in and out before you know it.”
But Frankie didn’t budge. “Where’s Jeremy?” he asked.
She sipped her Coke again, trying to stay calm. This was one problem she hadn’t foreseen. “Jeremy’s at his weekly poker game,” she said. “And Caroline, bless her heart, has offered to stay with the girls for a couple of hours.” And unlike you, she didn’t ask any questions, she thought irritably. But she immediately felt guilty. Frankie wasn’t prying. He was just being protective of her.
He wavered a little now. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone. But when your friend gets here, you two should find someplace else to go. I mean, right now, it’s pretty quiet here.” He looked around at a mostly subdued crowd. “But later in the night, it gets a little . . . unpredictable.”
“Look, don’t worry about me,” she said, keeping one eye on the door. “Believe it or not, I’ve been to places like this before. I know how to handle myself in them, okay?” And that part, at least, was true. It was why she was having such a visceral reaction to being here now. The smell of stale beer, the clink of glasses, the crack of pool balls knocking together. She’d spent way too much time in places like this when she was a child. When she was a child raising two drunk parents.
“I’ll see you later, Frankie,” she said, pointedly.
He nodded reluctantly and retreated to the back of the bar, where the pool tables were. Thank God Bobby was late, she thought, glancing at the door again. It had spared her the embarrassment of having to intro
duce him and Frankie to each other. Although part of her would have loved to have seen the expression on Bobby’s face when he met someone as big, and as tough, as Frankie. Because for all his swagger, Bobby, she knew, was a coward.
She reached into her purse now, took out an unmarked envelope, and set it down on the table in front of her. It looked innocuous there, but what was inside of it, she knew, might one day cost her marriage, and maybe even her family. She opened the flap on the envelope and took out the check inside of it. It was made out to cash, for ten thousand dollars.
She’d transferred the money between accounts that morning. It hadn’t come from their checking account or their savings account. It had come from a third account. An account they’d set up after Joy was born, at a time in their lives when they were barely making ends meet themselves. But they’d had a dream then, just the same. They’d wanted to save enough money to send Joy, and any other children they might have, to college.
Jax, of course, hadn’t gone to college. Jeremy had gone, but he’d worked his way through and graduated with student loans they’d only just recently finished paying off. They’d both wanted their children to be able to go to their state university full-time, without having to wait tables, and they wanted them to graduate free and clear, without owing any money.
That sounded simple enough, at least on the face of it. But saving the money for their daughters’ educations was more difficult than they’d ever imagined it would be. Life, they soon discovered, was full of emergencies, big and small. A new roof for the hardware store. A new transmission for Jeremy’s truck. A new septic system for their house. The list went on.
Still, the college account grew slowly. Incrementally. Until, this last spring, it had reached the ten-thousand-dollar mark. They both knew that wasn’t enough to pay Joy’s way through college, let alone that of her younger sister’s. But it was a start. And they were determined to do better in the future. After all, Jax knew how to economize. She’d been doing it all her life.
