1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  To her mom’s left stands Amanda Crawford, the woman who had made The Haven Creek Inn a reality. She’s Nora’s polar opposite; a tall, slender gazelle to Nora’s energetic pixie. The multimillionaire is also possessed of a classic beauty she maintains through an unassailable combination of good genes, good nutrition and, when necessary, the scalpel of a talented Austin surgeon with whom she sometimes spends romantic weekends she refuses to discuss.

  Caleb kills the truck’s engine. For a minute, the two of them just sit there, staring at the beautiful scene before them.

  “Wow,” Caleb finally says.

  The hill country to the west spreads out before the cabin’s decks like a vast, green sea. In the absence of city lights, a riot of stars is unveiling itself throughout the night sky. Now that they’ve parked, Amber can see more string lights wrapped around the trunks of the live oaks that watch over the cottage like sentries.

  And that’s when the tears start.

  “Hey,” Caleb says quietly, drawing her close with one arm. “Hey, you alright?”

  “Yeah,” she manages, wiping quickly at tears with the back of her hand. “It’s just really beautiful, is all.”

  “I guess she really wanted us to visit,” he says.

  “Together. She really wanted us to visit together. That’s the thing.”

  And then Caleb seems to get it. That every candle, and each string light, and the cottage itself, are all her mother’s way of trying to make up for twelve years of misunderstanding and confusion and thwarted desire.

  “Y’all going to get out of that truck?” her mother finally calls. “Amanda’s gotta get home before her manicure melts.”

  “Tina,” Amanda says, voice smooth as silk, “I do wish you would stop using my beauty against me.”

  “We better get out of the truck,” Caleb says.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Amber’s halfway up the front walk when her mother says, “I don’t see a gun so it looks like I’m going to be okay, ladies.”

  “Hug your daughter, Tina,” Nora cries.

  And so she does. And when Amber tightens her embrace, her mother tightens hers as well. They’ve been about the same height ever since Amber graduated high school. But her mother’s got a lean, wiry frame from the laps she swims every morning. Her mane of salt and pepper hair is healthy and thick, but it’s also threatening to come loose from its ponytail, so Amber adjusts her mom’s scrunchee even as they hug. By the time they’ve parted, her mom’s hair is back together again.

  Tina stares into her daughter’s eyes with newfound seriousness. “See,” she says. “There are some things your mother’s big mouth is good for.”

  “Thank you,” Amber whispers.

  “Don’t mention it,” she says, smoothing hair from Amber’s face. “Just stay a while.”

  Caleb’s introducing himself politely to Amanda and Nora, both of whom have moved so close to the guy it looks like they’re about to manhandle him. When Amber steps up onto the porch, Amanda works to pull her stare from the towering hulk of a man in front of her. Then she places one hand on his shoulder gently as she steps past him. As soon as she makes eye contact with Amber, she wags her hand in the air as if the man were literally hot to the touch.

  “Darling,” Amanda says once she has Amber in her arms. “How you went twelve years without laying a hand on that hunk of burning love is simply beyond my ability to comprehend.”

  “Well, it was pretty weird, Amanda. I can tell you that.”

  “Uh huh. Whatever. Notice we gave you the cabin furthest from the inn. So have at him, sweetheart. Only ones eavesdropping are the birds. And the bees!” She gives Amber a light peck on the cheek. “Lord. I need to go book myself a massage. Y’all have fun now, ya hear.”

  Nora waits for Amber on the top step of the cottage’s front porch, which makes her and Amber almost the same height. Almost. The tiny woman throws her arms out in front of her, shifting her weight back and forth between both feet. As always, Nora Donner’s happiness is a force that cannot be contained.

  “Oh, what do you say kiddo?” Nora cries as they hug. “What do you say?”

  “Oh, you know, just getting divorced and hooking up with the man who used to be my brother. That’s all.”

  Nora cackles.

  “Well, we’re so happy for you,” Nora says, pulling away but holding Amber’s hands in hers. “We are. We are. We really are. I mean, you know, Joel was just…” Nora pauses as if she’s considering whether or not to add mint or rosemary to a glass of lemonade. “Well, he was just such a piece of shit, that’s all. I wish there was a nicer way to say it. But there really isn’t now, is there?”

  “No. There isn’t. He really was a piece of shit. In fact, I was just with him yesterday, and he still is.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey.” Nora takes her hand and leads her to the far side of the porch. “Now listen…”

  “Nora!” her mother calls out when she sees the two of them alone together. By then the tiny woman’s already reached under her polo shirt and removed a glossy trade paperback she’s been hiding inside the waistband of her jeans for Amber doesn’t know how long. “Now if there’s something about Joel that didn’t seem quite right, something that seemed off in a way that was perhaps, nonhuman, I want you to read this book and tell me if any of it makes sense to you. You know, on a personal level.”

  The cover art features a tiny black silhouette of a man surrounded by swirls of star-filled cosmos that partially conceal a giant pair of black inverted teardrop eyes. The book’s title is The Stars Are Upon Us.

  “Now don’t read it late at night because it might frighten you. But what it makes clear, darling, is that the infestation is already underway. They’re already at the highest levels of government. There’s evidence they’re crossbreeding us. It’s got pictures, see, in the insert in the middle. Pictures of the hybrid children. And honestly, I was thinking about Joel’s facial structure and comparing it to some of these drawings and I think it’s very possible he could be a hyb—”

  “Nora, get that alien nonsense away from my daughter! She’s on vacation!”

  “Now your mother thinks this is nonsense,” Nora explains gently. “But what I’m trying to say is don’t blame yourself if you end up being taken advantage of by one of them. They’re everywhere, you see. And they don’t think and feel the way we do. It’s not about Republican versus Democrat, sweetheart. This is about us versus the stars!” Nora points an index finger skyward and nods solemnly.

  “That’s really sweet of you, Nora, but I don’t think Joel was an alien. I just think he was an asshole.”

  “Even so, read the book. It’s very important.”

  “Nora Donner, men in white coats will be the least of your problems if you don’t stop with that this instant!”

  “Your mother likes to threaten me because she can’t bear the truth,” Nora says gently.

  “I understand. Thanks for the book.”

  Nora gives her a peck on the cheek and more of that big smile, that smile Amber can never get enough of. Then, like a chastised dog, she walks into her best friend’s outstretched arms, which curl vise-like around her upper back and begin guiding her away from the cottage.

  Amanda has just pulled up next to Caleb’s truck in one of those golf carts the staff uses to get around the property.

  “Dinner service starts at six,” Tina calls back over one shoulder.

  “Please,” Amanda purrs. “We’re not going to see those two for hours. Days, even.”

  “Oh, you hush!” Tina hisses.

  She and Caleb stand together on the porch like new homeowners, watching the golf cart speed off uphill.

  “What was Nora going on about?”

  She hands him the book. “She thinks you might be an alien.”

  “A good alien or a bad alien?”

  “I’ll have to thoroughly examine your body to be sure.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Caleb says with a grin.
<
br />   He takes her by the waist and leads her into the cottage. On the console table inside the front door is a map of the property, across the top of which someone, presumably Nora, has drawn a giant smiley face next to the word, Welcome! Most of the cabin is decorated in creams and light browns, with sliding glass doors that lead to an expansive deck offering views of the sunset’s last, dying rays. In the bathroom, the Jacuzzi tub is flush up against a plate glass window that looks out over treetops.

  “Can we do my alien examination in this tub?” he asks.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He takes her in his arms. Their lips are inches apart. “That’s turning into a refrain with you this evening.”

  “What can I say? You’re just bursting with good plans.”

  He kisses her, gently at first, then harder. Then he’s holding her so tightly he’s lifting her up onto the balls of her feet, and she realizes this is going to be one of those things he does that drives her wild. One of the many things he does that drives her wild.

  “Easy, big boy,” she says when they both come up for air. “We plan on taking a bath in that thing we better start filling it up now.”

  “Why? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  “Clearly, cowboy, you have little to no experience with Jacuzzi tubs.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.”

  Twenty minutes later, or as she’d prefer to think of it, three and a half make-out sessions later, they’re sitting on the edge of a half-full tub, watching the water line rise gradually even though the faucet’s gushing.

  “Damn,” he says. “You weren’t kidding.”

  “Toldja.”

  “Alright, well, it gives me time to prepare something.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see. I want you naked and in that tub by the time I come back.”

  “Is that an order?”

  He grins, rises off the edge of the tub. He grips the back of her neck gently, then firmly. When she doesn’t wince or ask him to stop, he tilts her head so she’s staring up into those blue eyes she’s spent so many years not looking into.

  “Would you like it to be an order, little lady?” he asks in a deep, gruff voice.

  Shivers dance down her thighs. The heat in her belly is poised to spread throughout her body. Images from the fantasy she still hasn’t shared with him swirl across her vision before she blinks them back.

  “That feels like a yes,” he says.

  He tightens his grip a little more. She gasps.

  “I think I’m getting closer to that fantasy you don’t want to tell me about. Am I right?”

  He tightens his grip a little more.

  “Am I, little lady?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  He releases her suddenly, takes a few steps backward, and says, “Good. Then get those clothes off and get in the tub. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  On his way out of the bathroom, he dims the light.

  Technically she’s alone, but the act of undressing feels deliciously naughty given she knows who she’s doing it for.

  She leaves the faucet running as she sinks down into the warm water. A few minutes later, Caleb walks into the bathroom wearing a cowboy hat and nothing else. Their first lovemaking was so frenzied and rushed, she didn’t have the time to study his body. Now she can clearly see every ridge of muscle, the light tattoo of old scars from his years of hard labor, and the heft of his cock and balls, which swing as he walks. Surrounded by the opulent bathroom’s marble and polished stone, he looks like he walked right out of the dark woods and into her most secret chamber.

  Only once he’s settling into the tub across from her does she realize that his nudity was also meant as a distraction. In his right hand, he holds several sheets of hotel stationary and a slender coffee table book he lifted from the living room. And a pen.

  In a neat pile, he sets all three items into the space between the window and the edge of the tub. Then, with a beaming smile, he slides them toward her with one arm. Before she has time to respond, he finds her wet, eager folds under the surface with one big toe and begins prodding at them gently but insistently.

  “What could possibly be in that head of yours that you think I’d be too afraid to try?” he asks.

  “Caleb…”

  “Alright, well, if it’ll make you feel safer, I’ll add some ground rules. For me, I mean.”

  “Go ahead,” she says.

  “No other people. Although I’ll be happy to play more than one role, if you like. Oh, and I won’t draw any blood. Not ’cause I’m judgmental but because I don’t trust myself to handle that kind of situation in a way that’ll keep you safe. I’m just not experienced in that manner is all, and I’m not confident I’d be able to keep you safe.”

  “Caleb Eckhart, what kind of girl do you think I am?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

  “What I think, Amber Watson, is that with me, you’re allowed to be any kind of girl you want.”

  The expression on her face is the one he wanted to see because he smiles warm, sinks further down into the tub, his big toe finding and then gently grazing her nub.

  She picks up the pen, but the sight of the empty page terrifies her.

  “Maybe if it wasn’t the stationary for my mother’s hotel.”

  “Come on now,” he says gently, and just then his big toe finds her clit and begins rubbing lazy, gentle circles around it. “Just turn the paper over if it bothers you.”

  His voice is something between a growl and a purr. Between its lustful timber and the job he’s doing on her under the water, she can barely see straight enough to keep the pen steady.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

  “My writing assignment or your big toe?”

  “Either? Both?”

  “Just promise me something.”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t want you doing it if it’s not something you want to do,” she says.

  He nods solemnly, but she can tell he’s sure there’s not a chance in hell he won’t want to do it, no matter what it is.

  “You promise me?” she asks.

  “I promise,” he says.

  “Okay,” she says. “Now quit it with your foot so I can concentrate.”

  He jerks his foot back so suddenly it sloshes the water in the tub, which causes both of them to crack up for several minutes. Once they manage to calm down, once she takes a deep breath and finds herself staring again at the blank, empty page, she finds the courage to say, “Why is this so important to you, Caleb?”

  “Because after what you went through with songbird, I don’t want you to be afraid to ask me for anything.”

  And just like that, she’s writing. She’s writing without regard for how he’ll react when he reads it. The fantasy isn’t really all that outlandish or kinky. Girlfriends of hers have shared far stranger ones with her over cocktails. But this one involves dark woods, woods as dark as the ones Caleb got lost in on that long ago night. True, it also involves being found. Hard. Still, it seems like a cruel trick of fate, the fact that her most private, unrealized sexual fantasy could trigger one of Caleb’s most painful memories. But maybe she’s overthinking it.

  By the time she’s done, she’s filled two pages with her hurried block printing.

  Her heart hammering, she slides the coffee table book and the pages back across the edge of the tub toward Caleb, who dabs his hands dry on a nearby towel and picks up the pages gently and carefully, as if they were made of old, thin parchment.

  She watches his face as he reads, watches the tense set of his jaw, the focus apparent in his dazzling blue eyes. Watches him suck in a deep breath through his nostrils when he gets to a certain line—she has no idea which one, but she’s got a few guesses. Is it stirring painful memories for him or something else?

  Look down and see, genius, she realizes.

  The head of his majestic, swollen cock just pierces the water’s surface.

  “Oh, Amb
er,” he growls, still reading. “Amber Louise Watson.”

  It’s been forever since anyone’s used her middle name. This must be serious.

  “What?” she asks.

  He sets the pages aside.

  “Get ready, baby,” he says. “We are so doing this!”

  Chapter 13

  Are we really going to do this?

  Amber’s lost count of how many times she’s asked herself this question in the past thirty minutes. It would have made more sense to ask Caleb back when they were still plotting out the details. But she’s on her own now, making her way through the woods just below the cottage, bound for the spot Caleb marked on the map Nora left in their room.

  When she’d asked him how he’d ensure their privacy, he’d told her not to worry, that he’d take care of that part. That he’d take care of everything. All she had to do was trust him.

  They’d agreed on two safe words. Slow down was leaf; full stop was Chevron. But still, the thought of him asking Nora or—oh, dear Lord, no—her mother to keep one of the hiking trials clear just so the two of them could do some outdoor role-play leaves her flush with shame.

  The wrong kind of shame.

  Of course, he’d probably try some sort of cover story. But it wouldn’t matter, because neither Nora nor her mother would believe it for a second.

  Her flashlight beam bounces across the old, capped wellhead he marked on the map. Rustic benches sit on either side. A dense canopy of interlocking oak branches filters the night sky above. If she keeps walking, she’ll hit woods too dense to move through without a machete. Now she realizes why Caleb picked this particular location. It’s the dead end of a hiking trail, a long distance from the inn’s main building, but closer to their cottage if things go wrong.

  She’s here. She’s got everything she needs—the blanket, the box of condoms, the flashlight, and the T-shirt they’ve already tested out on her wrists. She can turn the shirt into a makeshift pair of cotton handcuffs, easy to escape if she gets cold feet, just tight enough to give the illusion she’s actually restrained.