“Parents, sisters, and everyone you met tonight.”
Cedra slipped her heels off and stretched her legs. “Well, your life here seems nice.”
Lorrie sipped her drink. “I always thought so.”
“I’ll bet you were one of those girls who cheered the high-school football team on, fell in love with the tight end and had a June wedding with family and friends and—let’s see, lavender-and-white flowers, bridesmaids in satin dresses, and then you lived happily ever after.”
“Almost,” Lorrie said, uncomfortable that her life should look so cut-and-dried to this woman. “Dan—and Tom’s mother’d had a stroke and wasn’t doing well. We had a quiet wedding performed by a justice.”
“In June?”
“First of August.”
“Oh. A honeymoon?”
“Just a short one. But we did take a cruise on our tenth anniversary. He surprised me with flowers and the tickets.”
“Seems real nice.”
“It was.”
“I mean him.”
Lorrie glanced over. “Yeah. He is.”
“Sorry about kissing him earlier.”
Lorrie couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips, remembering the look of surprise and then guilt on Dan’s face. “No hard feelings."
“Good.”
“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Lorrie added, “now that you know the difference.”
Not taking offense, Cedra smiled. She offered her glass and Lorrie clinked hers against it. “I would have figured it out, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“That he wasn’t Buzz. I’d have known he didn’t kiss the same."
“Would you?”
“Sure. Guys are all different, aren’t they?”
Lorrie shrugged, a niggle of self-deprecating doubt creeping through her. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that different kisses meant different brothers?
“I guess a marriage that couldn’t handle a little thing like that wouldn’t be much of a marriage, would it?” Cedra asked. “You seem like a confident person.” Lorrie traced a rivulet of condensation down the side of her glass and took a sip.
“I don’t know. I have my share of insecurities.”
Cedra gave a dismissive little wave. “Oh, show me someone without an insecurity and I’ll show you a psychopath.”
Laughing out loud, Lorrie discovered that she liked this woman and her straightforward conversation.
“No, seriously. We live in a society where we see everyone’s highlight reel on social media, and our behind the scenes real life isn’t as glamorous. Speaking of that, where do I find a new phone around here?”
“In Omaha. It’s a quick drive.” Lorrie didn’t object when Cedra poured her another drink. “Tell me how you met—Buzz.”
“Well, the guy he works for rented a party room at Rocking Em’s for a Christmas get-together. The waitress called in sick that night, so I worked the room. After their party, Buzz hung around at the bar for a while, asked me to go have a sandwich after the place closed, and we did."
“So you liked him right off?”
“Oh, yeah. It was Christmastime, you know, and people without families, well, they either hang out together or end up alone. Holidays alone pretty much suck, I can tell you. Buzz told me he never saw his family, and he didn’t talk about you.” In contrast to her dark hair, her skin appeared pale in the moonlight.
“He wouldn’t have known I married into the family,” Lorrie said. “I didn’t marry his brother until after he was gone.”
“But he never contacted his dad or Tom in all those years. Weird, huh?”
“I guess he didn’t want any part of the orchards, and he made darned good and sure he got away.”
“I still think it’s weird. Why couldn’t he just have said he didn’t want to work here, and still kept in touch with his family?”
Lorrie shook her head. “I don’t know. Gil was a lot more demanding back then. So was my father. Maybe the times have changed, or something.”
“Thank goodness,” Cedra responded.
“So you’ve been together since then?” Lorrie asked.
The other woman nodded. “He hasn’t always been easy to live with. Gets a little moody now and then. We fight. We make up. The sex is great.”
Lorrie took another drink.
A choked little sound escaped Cedra and Lorrie quickly glanced at her. “Dammit, it hurts that he doesn’t remember any of this!”
Without hesitation, Lorrie reached over and placed her hand on Cedra’s arm. “He will, hon. He’ll remember you. I know it."
Cedra released an embarrassed laugh and swiped at her eyes. “Yeah.” She patted the back of Lorrie’s hand. “Thanks.”
They spoke for another half hour or so, until Lorrie couldn’t control her yawns and excused herself. She made her way upstairs, washed and undressed and slid into bed.
Dan was hovering on the outer rim of sleep when Lorraine slid behind him, her silky skin warm and... bare. She fitted her knees into the curve of his bent legs, and her breasts flattened against his back. Between his shoulder blades he felt her breath and the touch of her lips.
She hooked her arm over his and stroked her palm across his chest. “Are you awake?” she asked.
“I am now.”
Her fingertips brushed back and forth across his sensitive skin. Dan’s body responded immediately. How he loved it when she touched him. These past days and nights had been a living nightmare. He’d been dreading her distaste for him, fearing her rejection and knowing he couldn't live without her love.
He raised his hips and assisted her in slipping his briefs off. She caressed him and he clenched his teeth in pleasure. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he turned and took her in his arms. She tipped her face up and he touched his lips to hers. “Are you drunk?” he asked with surprise.
“A little.”
He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her tipsy. Neither of them drank more than an occasional beer or after-dinner drink. “Are you sure about this?”
“About what?”
He pressed himself into her belly. “About this.”
“Don’t you want me?”
“Lorraine.” He kissed her and tasted bourbon. “I want you more than anything.”
She raked her nails across his chest and down his abdomen. “What’s there not to be sure of? It’s not like we haven’t done this before. Is there something about this part of our life you haven’t told me?”
“No. I mean are you sure about how you feel about me? About this?” he said.
“No. I don’t want to think about that now. I just want to feel good. And this makes me feel good.”
“You make it sound like it’s just good sex.”
She flicked her tongue across his chest, kissed a path to his chin and wedged her knee between his thighs. “It is good sex.”
Dan caught her chin in his hand. “But it’s more,” he said. “It's love.”
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
He’d never had the willpower to deny her anything. He kissed her gently, but she wouldn’t allow gentleness. She knew all the ways to make him crazy and urgent and mindless. He wanted her to admit she loved him, but she used his weakness to take him in another, more demanding direction.
He gave himself over to her pleasure, because her pleasure was his. He drew her to the edge and waited for those tiny little noises in her throat and the all-over tautening of her limbs.
He pulled away completely and teased her with his hands and tongue. She held his head and pressed herself against him, trembling, her breath in scattered gasps. She was so beautiful in her excitement, so lost to the wonder of what they shared.
Her scent, her movements, everything about her set him on fire. He ran his hands over her, appreciating the soft womanly curves, the weight of her breasts, the turn of her hip beneath his palm. She had a woman’s body now, not a girl’s. She’d given him pleasure and ch
ildren and love.
She reached for him and urged him back into the rhythm that took his breath and sent her over the edge with a wordless cry and an encompassing shudder.
Joining her, Dan waited for Lorraine to say his name, waited for the acknowledgment his heart craved more than this release his body needed. But she didn’t say it.
She didn’t say anything.
He allowed himself the lazy, spent sensation of lying atop her for only a minute before moving to her side. Brushing her hair from her temples with his fingers, he kissed her shoulder.
She shifted to her side, presenting her smooth bottom for him to curl himself around and cuddle as he had hundreds of times in the past. Dan almost wept at the sweet passion and familiarity of his love for her. But he kept it to himself this time.
In seconds she slept.
And in the morning she was gone.
“You know... I really feel like a Buzz. Buzz seems natural to me.”
Lorrie’s tawny eyes revealed no surprise. “You know, I think I’d feel comfortable calling you Buzz. I wonder how your dad would handle it."
He followed Lorrie across the lawn and watched her set the sprinkler and run back before it got her wet.
“I get the feeling that there was a lot of tension before I left. But now, I’m not sure. I wish I could remember, but it seems like the old guy’s just glad to have me here."
“He is,” she agreed. “Very glad.”
“Lorrie, you got anything I can stick under this cast to scratch? I’m gonna lose my mind in about five seconds.”
“Come on.” She motioned him into the house. “We’ll figure something out.” She rummaged in a drawer and came up with a wooden stick.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A shish-kebab skewer.”
He scratched his wrist and as far up his forearm as he could reach. “Oh, yeah...”
Lorrie grinned.
“Is she sleeping?” he asked.
Lorrie glanced up at him. “Cedra?”
He nodded.
“Yes. I got the impression she’d sleep most of the morning.”
“Good. Not that I don’t like her or anything,” he hurried to say. “I just need a little time to think.”
She gestured at the planner, laptop and papers scattered across the table. “Well, take all the time you need. I have a lot of work to do, contacting the vendors for the Festival and giving them their booth assignments.”
“I wish I had this damned cast off so I’d be more help picking.”
“I’m not helping with this last section either. Your brother said his crew could handle it this week. You can go down and help the boys. They’re cleaning out the buildings."
“I’ll do that.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting that cast off pretty soon?”
“Next week.” He held up the skewer. “Can I keep this?”
She curled her upper lip. “Like I’d use it to cook with now. See you at lunch, Buzz. ”
He grinned and headed for the huge barns. Out of everyone at Beckett Orchards, he felt most comfortable with Lorrie. He didn’t know why. Every member of the family treated him well. She just didn’t seem quite as nervous around him as his brother, and not as silent as his father.
It was bizarre having a brother who looked just like himself. Sometimes looking at Tom seemed so familiar, a sense of deja vu would grip him. And then he’d think, well, of course Tom looked familiar: He was a mirror image of himself.
The snippets of vague recollections only made him more confused and frustrated. Like, why had he wanted a slice of that lemon chiffon cake so badly, when his father assured him that chocolate was his favorite? Thank goodness Lorrie let him be himself, whoever he was.
This Cedra gal was not unappealing. Quite the opposite. She had a sexy mouth and a body that invited exploration, and apparently he’d made the venture more than a time or two. Obviously she was crazy about him, and he wished he knew what he’d done to inspire such devotion. He felt incredibly lonely. So out of sync with the rest of the world. Everyone else knew things about him he didn’t. They all had personal knowledge of him—private things he didn’t know himself—and that got him angry.
Maybe if they’d shut up for a while, quit trying to force things into his head that weren’t there. Nobody wanted him to know all of it any more than he did himself.
But they meant well. And it was plain that they cared about him. It was just so damned hard to feel anything back, when they were all strangers.
He was at ease around the kids, too, so he enjoyed the day helping them sweep and hose out the buildings. None of them had been born before he’d left this place, so he was new to them as well as to himself, and they were getting to know each other in a more ordinary way.
Cedra showed up after lunch. “Want to take a drive with me, Buzz? I’m nearly out of smokes and I need to pick up a new phone.”
What the hell? “Sure.”
She drove her Altima like she did apparently everything, without a whole lot of preparation or thought.
“Would you mind slowing down a bit?” he asked. “I already have one broken arm.”
She let up on the gas pedal. “You never used to mind my driving.”
“Well, I mind it now.”
She shrugged. “No problem.”
In town, she stopped at a convenience store. “Want anything before we head for the city? A Coke maybe?”
“Sounds good.”
She returned with two Cokes and a bag, from which she pulled a pack of cigarettes and opened them. She offered him the first one she loosened.
He shook his head.
A funny look crossed her face, but she stuck the cigarette between her shapely red lips and lit it, then started the engine.
“I suppose I used to smoke?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She maneuvered back to the highway, but a sign caught her attention. “Ever seen this Arbor Day place?”
“Not that I remember.”
“It’s supposed to be a historic landmark. Wanna check it out?”
He glanced over. Her black hair blew all spiky in the wind. She had an uncertain look on her face that she hid when she noticed him looking at her. “Yeah. Let’s stop.”
She smiled, a quick, contagious smile of genuine pleasure that lightened his mood.
Arbor Day Farm grew a miraculous assortment of trees, each labeled with species and origin. They walked the grounds and visited the fuel wood plant that operated the entire conference center. The Lied Center itself was a lovely, environmentally friendly hotel with a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside, including the Arbor Lodge.
The interior lobby had been constructed of breath- takingly enormous timbers, and even the carpets and door handles were of a leaf motif. They wandered in and out of a gift shop and paused in front of a restaurant.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Hungry?”
“I guess I am.”
“Let’s call and say we won’t be back for supper,” he suggested, then thought a second. “Do you have the number?”
“In my bag in the car.”
“Let’s get it.”
He stood in the parking lot, watching her fumble through receipts and makeup. An envelope of photographs tumbled onto the back seat and he caught a glimpse of himself. “Is that me?”
She scooped up the pictures, almost embarrassed.
“Come on. Let me see.” He opened his palm.
Cedra handed him the envelope.
He studied the color photographs carefully, one at a time. Himself watching an older woman blow out candles on a birthday cake. “Who’s this?”
“Em. She owns the place where I work. That was her birthday.”
Another showed himself, Cedra, and several others dressed in shorts and tank tops, holding a trophy and smiling at the camera.
“Our volleyball team,” she explained.
He studied several
more, ending with one of Cedra, dressed in tight jeans and a black leather jacket too large for her, in a sexy pose on a black SXS lowrider. He recognized it right off as the Harley his brother had hauled home in the back of his pickup.
For an instant, he could hear the rumble of the machine and feel the vibrations of the powerful engine.
“The police found some receipts with my things,” he said. “I was in Trousdale for parts. I wonder if they were for my bike or one I was working on."
Cedra shrugged. “It was a Saturday. I was still asleep when you left. The guys at the shop said you hadn’t mentioned where you were going. You’d told ’em you’d be in for a while in the afternoon, then you never showed up. I finally called the shop when it got late and they hadn’t seen you. I didn’t know what to think.”
Her expressive brown eyes revealed things he thought she’d rather not have him see. Like insecurity. Love. She didn’t know if he’d ever remember her or care for her again—if he ever had. How had he felt about her?
“The girls at Em’s said you’d show up after a Saturday-night bender. I couldn’t imagine anything like that. You’d never done it before. But I waited. And when you didn’t come home on Sunday or go to work the next day, I got really scared and called the police. They weren’t too concerned.”
It was so strange to look at this proof of a life he couldn’t recall. There could be no question that he’d been these places and done these things and known this woman. He was amazed at the things he knew and the things he didn’t know. He knew every piece that made up a motorcycle. He could probably order them by part number without looking at a catalog. But he couldn’t remember one specific bike.
Or sex. He had all the images in his head. He knew the textures and scents of a female body, what went where and exactly how great it felt. But he couldn’t remember having sex with a particular woman.
Like this one.…
His glance swept over her luminous cat eyes, her agreeable, luscious mouth and the shadow of cleavage at the front of her summer top. Of all the things to forget.
He took the envelope from her hand, stuffed the pictures back in, and tossed it on the back seat. “Let’s go eat.”
After Tom’s call, Lorrie had driven into town and brought back burgers. The kids were thrilled with her supper choice. Tired from their day’s work, they’d been waiting for the digital release of a movie that was on that evening, and didn’t want dish duty.
A Husband By Any Other Name Page 10
