by Norah Wilson
“Compared to this, yeah. Very flimsy.”
She shuddered. “What would they have done if a band of coyotes like we saw tonight turned up?”
“Coyotes wouldn’t have been a worry. They’ve only been here for fifty years or so. And wolves were already long gone. Bobcats and lynx would be too shy to show themselves.”
“What about bears?”
“They’d shy away too, I think. It wasn’t like now. We hadn’t yet infringed on their habitat to the point they’d lost their fear.”
“What about human predators? Unaccompanied women, stranded on the road...”
“That was probably their biggest worry, after the police. And while they didn’t pack guns, I gather they packed a maple baseball bat. A three-pounder.”
“Yikes.”
“Exactly.”
“So what happened in the morning, after they put in a long, scary, possibly cold night?”
He shrugged. “Someone would eventually come along and either fix the problem, or dispatch an actual mechanic when they got back to civilization. I think the old truck needed to be towed to a garage at least once, but I gather that was on a return trip and they had no contraband aboard.”
“I can just imagine.” Her excitement practically vibrated through her hand. “Young ladies stranded way out here in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but blackness, or maybe some moonlight or starlight.”
“Like this, you mean?” He released her hand so he could turn the key to auxiliary. A second later, the tinted sunroof slid back, leaving the clear moon roof between them and the outdoors, but still revealing an oblong of star-studded sky.
“Oh, wow. It’s so beautiful.” She turned to look at him, and her face was clearly visible in the dashboard lights. “Very romantic.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure you thought so too when you opened it.”
He smiled. “I guess I did. I couldn’t resist.”
He heard the distinct sound of her seatbelt releasing and retracting.
“I’m glad.”
She got up on her knees in the bucket seat and leaned across the wide console. Pulling his face closer, she pressed her lips to his, caressing and tasting. Nothing in the world could have stopped him from sinking both hands into that hair and returning the kiss. Her taste was so familiar now, etched in his memory like the scent of her hair, the silkiness of her skin. But there was an edge of something else tonight. A spice of daring.
Then his own seatbelt, which she must have released, retracted, snagging on his forearm. It was the work of a few seconds to free his arm to let the belt finish rewinding, but it was enough of an interruption to jolt him to his senses.
“Ocean.” He used his hands now to hold her back. “I’m sorry. I got carried away there. I know this isn’t part of our deal. I’m supposed to be showing you the moonshine route, and here I am—”
“You said we’re close to the border, right?”
“Right.”
“And there’s just more of the same? More narrow, bumpy road?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then you can consider the tour finished. Now, kiss me again.”
“But—”
“Titus Standish, if you say that’s not part of the deal one more time, I might have to scream. Everything doesn’t have to be a damned deal. Especially this. I do not trade for sex. It’s freely given, or not at all.” She bit her lip, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “Can’t we just take this, for us? Don’t you want to?”
Dammit, she was killing him. “Ocean, of course I want you. So much I can hardly think. But I’m leaving within the week. I really care about you and I don’t want to hurt you.”
She made an exasperated noise. “What are we? Victorian?”
“Huh?”
“Titus, I’ll have plenty of time to miss having sex with you after you leave. I can’t think of one good reason to start missing it before then. Can you?”
Suddenly, he couldn’t think of one either.
Okay, maybe he could. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I do.” She reached for her purse and pulled out a small paper bag from Parker and Ward’s Pharmacy.
Lord, she’d bought those in Harkness. Given how much time he and Ocean were spending together, there were bound to be some educated guesses about who she was using them with.
Coward.
He caught himself. Damn, she was right. He was getting all worked up like the prude she’d accused him of being. They were both consenting, unattached adults. If anyone thought he was giving Ocean the hit-and-run treatment, screw them. He knew better, and more importantly, Ocean knew better. No one else mattered.
He keyed the ignition, bringing the truck to roaring life.
“Titus?” Her voice was uncertain, as though she thought he was going to drive on.
He reached for the temperature controls and bumped up the heat. “I want you naked, so we’re going to have to warm it up a bit in here.”
She was already toeing off her runners and shrugging out of her jacket. God, but he loved her eagerness.
“Given the space limitations, I think you’re going to have to be on top,” he warned.
“Gladly.” She eyed his seat even as her fingers started working on the buttons of her shirt. “Can you push that thing back and flatten it out to make more room?”
He answered by doing just that.
She laughed. “Sweet.” The shirt had come off and she was reaching behind her for the clasp of her sexy black bra.
“Leave it on,” he said, hearing the thickening in his own voice. “I want to take it off you myself.”
“Works for me. I want you fully dressed. Just unzip for me and push ’em down a bit.”
His cock, already hard, jumped at her words. He followed her instruction.
Naked but for her bra, she tore into the box of condoms and retrieved one. Then she eyed the wide console as though trying to figure out the logistics of the situation.
“Let me.” He took the condom from her.
No sooner was it in place than she climbed over to sit astride him, trapping his erection against his belly. He palmed her breasts, squeezing them lightly through the fine material.
“Ah, this feels so good.”
Good? It felt like heaven. He pulled her down so he could release the clasp at the back. The bra fell forward, straps sliding down her arms. She lifted her arms so it could fall away.
“You’re so beautiful here.” He lifted one breast and kissed the smooth, white slope. “And here.” He took her pebbled nipple into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue.
She arched back, letting him kiss and suckle her. Then she leaned in and drew his head up and kissed him hungrily. They kissed like that for long moments, tongues tangling.
Lord, but he loved having her on top. It left his hands free to run through her hair, over her back. And he loved how she moved so sinuously against him. But before long, kissing and caressing weren’t enough. When he thought he’d explode from sheer want, she grasped his member. He helped her raise herself up so she could ease down on him.
Her gasp echoed his own guttural groan as he slid home. He held her still for a moment, hands locked on her hips. Then they were moving together, straining in the cramped quarters, panting. The tension coiled higher and higher until he felt it start to break. Dammit, too soon. Too soon. He tried to choke out a warning, but to his undying relief, her own climax hit her.
Afterward, she lay draped on him. Her solid weight, the trusting warmth of her languid body, was the sweetest, most precious thing he’d ever held.
“See?” she murmured against his throat. “No humans were harmed during the making of this love.”
She lifted her head to look down at him. Her face was in darkness above him, but he knew his own face would be somewhat illuminated by the pale moonlight coming through the side window.
Dammit, it was too much. He couldn’t stay. Couldn’t be wit
h her like this a moment longer, in case he lost himself altogether. Jesus.
He touched her back through that mass of hair. “Ocean, honey, you gotta move. I have to deal with this condom.”
“Of course. Sorry.” Her languor evaporated instantly. Awkwardly, she maneuvered back into the passenger seat. As soon as she was clear, he put the seat back into its upright position and got out of the car.
Sweet Jesus, what was the matter with him? When had he ever let sex rattle him?
Dealing with the condom gave him something to focus on. Like any bodily waste, it needed to be buried so as not to impact the habitat, neither attracting nor repelling wildlife. If he’d been camping or out on a search and rescue mission, he’d have a proper tool to dig a “cat hole.” As it was, he had to use the toe of his boot. It took a few moments to carve out a sufficient deep hole in the hard dirt of the ditch, then scrape the dirt back into it.
He’d just finished tamping the soil down and kicking debris over it when Ocean climbed out of the truck fully clothed again. He was back on the road surface by the time she came around to his side of the vehicle.
She moved into his arms as though sure of her welcome, and he enfolded her automatically. With a will of their own, one hand closed around her waist and the other pressed her face to his chest.
“Thank you.”
“What for? Retracing the old moonshine route or the sex?”
“Both.” She leaned back to look up at him in the dim moonlight. This time, he could read her features. “From a research perspective, this has been fantastic. I can’t thank you enough. And as for the other...like I said, there’ll be lots of time for missing the sex when you’re gone, right?”
“Right.” Except there was no way he was making love with her again. And he had to admit it—at least to himself—that the decision had nothing to do with wanting to be fair to her, or sheltering her from gossip, or any of the other things he’d told himself.
“Ready to head back?” he said. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup. Straw’s coming in the morning.”
“You’re the boss. Let’s get going.” She kissed him quickly, then ran around the truck to climb inside.
He drew a breath. Exhaled. Then he got in the truck, executed a ten-point turn on the narrow road, and headed for home.
Chapter 31
“REMEMBER, JUST ask for—”
“Ask for Clay, got it.” Ocean said. “Drive around back of Drummond’s Meat & Produce to the door marked Pick up Orders. Ring the buzzer marked—now this is the critical part—Buzzer. Clay’ll have the order ready. You told me all this an hour ago when I agreed to do the run into town.”
Agreed to go into town? She’d jumped at the chance. Figuratively, of course. Her muscles weren’t really up to jumping. While the physical work these past days had been grounding, and she’d been glad of the chance to work beside Titus, it had also been challenging. In more ways than one.
“Right. Make sure he knows it’s the order Dad phoned in yesterday and that it gets billed to the farm.”
Hands on her hips, she huffed her exasperation. “See, this is why people consider you anal.” She raked back a strand of hair that had escaped her loose ponytail.
“I’m thorough,” he said. “There’s a difference.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lightly. And released her all too soon. She stepped back. They were standing on the front porch. She leaned against the rail by the stairs, and looked up into those warm brown eyes.
“I appreciate you doing this,” he said.
“What? Riding around in the lap of luxury while you slave away in the fields? Don’t mention it.”
“You’ve slaved away plenty yourself. Take the break. Those soft girl hands aren’t used to this kind of hard work.”
“Soft?” She turned her hands to look at them, then she touched her face, a palm flat to each cheek. She’d been wearing protective gloves—well, most of the time—but her hands had seen better days. “Not as soft as they used to be.”
He took those hands in his own as she lowered them and stroked his work-roughened thumbs gently over the backs. “Lady, I can’t think of a part on you that isn’t beautiful.”
Desire, never far away, unfurled in her belly. She so wanted to make love with him again, but apart from these stolen embraces, they never seemed to have the opportunity since their encounter in the truck five days ago. She couldn’t even blame Scott for getting in the way. He was splitting his days between the farm and helping her mother. He spent most mornings helping out Faye, but he always came home after lunch to help Arden with packing up the house, and later, driving tractor for Titus. Somehow, though, despite being alone for a good part of the day, they never got beyond playful kisses. Or sweet kisses. Or fevered, passionate kisses. There was always something else, and something else, and something else again that needed doing.
She pulled away. “So, I’m going to need your keys.”
Titus pulled them out of his jeans pocket and held them out to her.
She looked up into his smiling eyes as she snagged them. God, what was she going to do when he was gone? That had been the hardest part, not letting it show how desperately she was going to miss him.
Because, heaven help her, she loved him. No, not the childhood love she’d borne for him, or the embarrassing teenage infatuation. She really, truly, crazily loved him. The more she got to know him, the more they talked, the more certain she was of that fact. He was perfect for her. His overdeveloped sense of responsibility. His kindness. His work ethic. His humor. The way she fit into his arms. The way he growled when he was turned on...
His eyes darkened with what looked like sorrow. Crap! She’d forgotten to guard her expression. Instead of trying to hide or deny her emotion, she smiled sadly. “I do believe I’m going to miss you when you’re gone, Titus Standish.”
“I’m going to miss you too.”
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Okay, enough of that. I’ll be back in a bit, just as soon as I’ve seen this Trey dude.” She ran down the porch steps and started toward the truck.
“Clay!” he called after her. “It’s Clay, not Trey.”
“Ha!” She tossed him a grin over her shoulder. “Gotcha.”
With his laughter echoing in her ears, she climbed stiffly up into the driver’s seat of the big Ford. Damn these sore muscles. Five days—okay, partial days—of spreading straw would do that. And she’d had a relatively easy part. Along with a handful of teenage kids Titus had rounded up for after-school duty, she’d helped load the straw onto the wagon. It was Titus who fed every one of those bales into the mouth of the spreader while Scott drove the tractor. Occasionally, Scott and Titus would change places, but she suspected that was more about Scott needing to work off energy than Titus needing relief. Meanwhile, she and the kids got to kick back on the mountain of straw and wait until the wagon was empty again.
Titus had been so great through it all. The sale of the land had gone through on Tuesday as scheduled. Neither Titus nor Arden had had to go into town, since the title transfer documents had been signed in advance. Just a meeting between a pair of lawyers and it was done. If she’d worried that Titus would lose enthusiasm for finishing the work after the transfer, she needn’t have. If anything, he seemed to find it therapeutic.
She pulled out onto the road and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was just after one. The crew—three of the sweetest high school boys Ocean had ever met—would be there in a couple hours to help Titus put the last field to bed.
And they’d be coming back tonight for a bit of a thank you barbeque and corn boil. It was a harvest tradition. The boys had been thrilled with the chance to earn a paycheck, but they seemed even more excited about the corn boil. Possibly because Titus told them to invite their girlfriends.
That would be hard too. Like Thanksgiving dinner, it would be another last. She was acutely aware that time was running out. She was
already storing memories. One of these days, she’d kiss him for the last time. Touch that muscled chest or the back of his work-hardened hand for the last time.
It made her throat ache to think about it. But she wouldn’t take back this week for anything. Not the days on the mountain, nor the days at the farm. It had been a gift, her time with Titus. One she’d never expected to receive.
And out of it had come another gift—the inspiration for her next play. The story of the moonshining sisters had lit a fire inside her.
Titus had been more than true to his end of the deal. Last evening while he’d driven one of the workers home—the Babineau boy, the only one of the crew who didn’t have his own wheels and who lived in the opposite direction from the others—he’d asked Ocean to wait at the house. She done more than waited; she’d made supper for all of them. Nothing fancy, and certainly nothing to equal her mom’s cooking. But there’d been a whole salmon in the freezer when they’d cleaned it out earlier, and a final bag of last spring’s fiddleheads. Seemed a shame to let it go to waste.
Afterward, Scott had gone out and Titus and Arden had sat with her in the living room. Every scrap of the sisters’ papers, every treasure, every picture and note, was pored over. When they’d finished, Arden had offered to lend it all to her as she worked on her screenplay.
She’d been ecstatic. Thrilled. And long after she’d driven home, kissed her mother good night and retired to her own bedroom, she’d gone through the treasures again. This time, when she tipped the old leather bag to gently slide the contents onto her coverlet, a poker chip slid out. How had they managed to overlook that earlier? The chip was red and black with a hole in the center. She held it up to the light. It was a little irregular to have been drilled. Her eyes widened. Was that a bullet hole? Holy crap! It sure looked like it.
She squeezed the poker chip in her hand. It was going to be her talisman. She knew it instantly. As she held it in her closed palm, she had a vivid flash of her opening scene: the bombshell sisters racing away like bats out of hell from an illegal gambling joint across the border, chased by locals, coppers, and more than a few jealous girlfriends. And laughing all the while.
