Me: Finish your game
In a million years, I didn’t expect this. Read my text, Colt. I’ll feel like an idiot if he cuts his game short and then finds out it’s just a checkup.
Colt: Wow. Scared me. You’re sure?
Me: I’m fine. Finish your game
Colt: I can still drive you
Me: I’m good. Finish your game.
Colt: Okay. Drive safe.
I read through his texts a few times. My heart racing wildly. I want to be happy, but I also feel like crying. He cares for me. I’m coming to realize the chaotic nature of his life, though. At least when he’s not here. This is not his real world.
But he cares. That’ll have to be enough for me.
I force my concentration back to the tasks I need to finish before leaving. I’ve got to pack eight hours of work into six. Hard enough for me to do on a good day. Nearly impossible when I keep rereading Colt’s text.
I’m a wreck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Colt
I slide my phone into my back pocket, remove my hat, and run a hand through my hair. For a minute, I’d thought something was wrong with the baby, with Charlie. My heart’s still racing like I’d just run ten miles.
Even now, knowing it’s just a checkup, I hate the thought of her driving these roads alone. She’d tell me I’m ridiculous. She’s been driving them for most of her life.
But she’s thirty-five weeks pregnant. A woman alone. On the road. Even a flat tire would be a catastrophe.
I’m still tempted to go in. Try to catch her.
“Forrester.” I’ve been playing golf the last few days with Jeff Carter, one of the surgeons I met on the raft trip. What he lacks in ability, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm. We’re on the green of the sixteenth hole, and he’s been putting around the green for five minutes. “I can’t believe you parred this one.”
I toss my ball in the air and grin. “Skills, Carter. Skills.”
Carter grunts as he records his score.
“You’re a single guy, right?” The question just sort of slips out. Even though we’ve spent quite a bit of time together, both on the river and the course, we’ve never talked about anything personal. But I’m out of my depth with Charlie. I have no idea what I’m doing with her.
“Divorced.” Carter stuffs the scorecard in his back pocket and then glances up. “Twice. Why? Woman trouble?” Carter’s a decent guy. Makes most of his money from the surgical implants he’s designed. But he seems grounded. Something I could never claim.
“Jesus Christ, Carter. Twice?”
Carter hefts his golf bag over one shoulder, and we head to the next tee. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
I shake my head. God. Two fucking wives. I can’t even fathom it. Except I’ve started having these fantasies.
About Charlie.
About coming home to her every night. About having kids with her.
Before I went on the road, I was in a somewhat serious relationship. Serious for me. Ashley lived in L.A. and I’d just signed to go on our first world tour. We’d been booked to open for Blake fucking Shelton. God, what an opportunity. Ashley and I decided to try the long-distance thing.
It lasted all of one week. I was twenty-two, and women were throwing themselves at me. Not just one. Hundreds. I’m not exaggerating. This is the excuse I’ve always made for myself. Truth is I’m an ass who can’t keep my dick in my pants. I didn’t even bother breaking up with her. She found some pictures posted online and broke up with me via text.
“Yeah. Whenever things get quiet I have this bad habit of proposing. You don’t want to marry me, do you? Forrester?” Carter laughs at his own joke but then gets serious. “This about the little pregnant gal you’re seeing?”
I groan. We’ve tried to keep our “thing” under wraps. Apparently, we haven’t done a good job of it.
I’ve only known Carter a week. Not sure how much to divulge, but I’m floundering around in the dark. “You have any kids?”
He smiles “Two. Jackson is nine. He looks just like me. And a pistol. Oh, man. He’s gonna be tough to keep out of trouble when he gets older.” And then he frowns. “His mom lives in Chicago.” And Carter lives in Denver as I recall. “I get him every other Christmas and six weeks in the summer. I try to see him when I can, but…” He shakes his head. “It’s tough. Gloria remarried a few years ago, and Jax calls her new husband ‘dad’ sometimes. Doesn’t mean to, I can tell. But it just slips.”
“You talk with your ex about it?” That would be rough. Hearing your own son call somebody else dad.
Carter shrugs. We drop our clubs and prepare to tee up. “The thing is,” Carter says, “it’s not about me. It’s about Jax. Marcus is good to him. Coaches his baseball team. Takes him camping.”
“You said two,” I remind him. I’m suddenly hungry for this kind of information.
He laughs. “Little Jenny. She’s two. Karen lives in Denver, so I get to see her all the time. In fact, they live just a few blocks away.” The man grew about two inches taller. He tee’s up and takes a few phantom swings. We’ve played this course five times already, so we both know exactly what to aim for. When he finally takes the shot, it’s his best one all day.
“Damn, Carter. That was beautiful.”
He stares down the green for a second. “She’s my good luck charm.”
I tee up and slice the ball to the left. This is probably my worst shot all week.
Back at my cabin, I shower, open a bottle of wine, and pick up my guitar. Melodies have been flowing all week. Not sure why. I don’t want to question it.
Charlie coming into my life has added an entirely new dimension. Color. Textures Dreams I’d given up on.
Life isn’t simple. It’s never easy. Carter’s life is messier than hell, but the look on his face while talking about his daughter made me think it was all worth it to him.
A slow melody, strong major chords. The words come as easily as the tune, and I can hardly write them down fast enough. When I finally come out of my trance, I glance at the clock.
It’s half past six.
She’s later than I thought she would be. My phone’s sitting beside me. The sound’s on. She hasn’t tried to call. No texts. I play around with some rifts and then give up and lay my guitar down.
Quarter till seven.
Finally, a text comes in.
Charlie: I just got back. Let me change and I’ll be right over.
Stupid relief washes over me. And excitement. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I walked her to her cabin late last night, and I miss her like hell.
She won’t stay the night, and I won’t push. I’m going crazy; feasting on her body and then taking long cold showers. Half the time I jack off. Hell, I’m gonna turn into a prune I’m in that shower so much.
But it’s working. I don’t hate myself for touching her.
Tonight feels different. I’m craving her. Not just the physical. I feel a desperation to be with her. To make sure she’s okay. Run my fingers along her jaw, her throat, her lips.
By the time she shows up, I pull her into a hug and study her face. “Everything okay?” I hate the fact that my voice shakes. I know I shouldn’t care this much, but I do anyway.
She looks at me with questions in her eyes. “Everything’s perfect. Mara, my midwife, got called out to attend a birth, so I waited around for the other midwife. Sorry I’m so late.” She’s a little subdued, but even so she’s glowing.
This woman always glows. It’s like the lights in my cabin are brighter now. When she walks in, this place feels like home.
I pour a few ounces of wine for her. It’s all she allows herself. Some nights she doesn’t even touch it. I don’t want her to ever feel like I’m trying to control her. One of the things I love about her is her independent spirit. The way she’s embraced this pregnancy. I just wish she had a better plan for when the baby comes.
Like. One of the things I really like about her.
> She seems tired tonight, so I settle her at the bar and pull out some of the leftovers from last night. A vegetarian lasagna.
“I figure since it’s getting late, we can do Vietnamese tomorrow?” I watch her take a sip of wine. She’s reading from my notebook.
“This is beautiful.” Her eyes shine when she looks up at me. “Did you just write this today?” I nod. This place has been great for my writing. I’ve told her she’s my muse.
“Susan,” she begins, “the other midwife. She did an ultrasound. Squirt’s still feet first, but she says we’ll give him one more week. After that we need to consider other options.”
Charlie and I haven’t discussed the details of her pregnancy so this is new. She has these little concerned wrinkles between her brow. If she wants to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.
“Breech?”
She nods at my question. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I do know the head is supposed to come out first. I make a mental note to google it.
And then I stop myself. I’ll be gone next week.
But I’m here today. I’m here now. “Is there anything we can do? To help the baby turn?”
Charlie swirls the wine around in her glass. I’ve noticed she’s just as satisfied with the aroma of red wine as she is with the taste. “I’ve been trying different yoga positions for the last few weeks, but apparently, they aren’t working.” And then she bit her lip. “Susan has a bunch of ideas. She says some babies have been known to turn…” A glint appears behind her sapphire gaze. “To listen to music.”
I’m not following her.
“If the baby likes music, sometimes they turn to hear it better.”
Mental image… Uh. Wow.
“You want me to sing into your vagina?” I’ve never considered this before. But if it could help, I suppose I’d be game…
“Or I could just put a pair of headphones down there.” She’s grinning ear to ear. At my suspicious look, she holds up both hands. “Honest, I’m not making this up!”
I glance at my guitar and shrug.
“And if that doesn’t work.” She finally takes a drink.
I interrupt her by stealing a kiss. I can’t help myself. I love the taste of her lips with wine on them. And cherry pie. And coffee. I love the fucking taste of her lips. Period.
By the time I pull away her eyes are heavy with desire. She gets aroused so easily. “And if that doesn’t work…?” I remind her.
“Oh.” She raises the glass to her lips again and inhales deeply. She requires a moment to pick up her train of thought. “Oh, yeah. She said I should try sex. If I lay on my side, she says, it makes the baby a little uncomfortable. Sometimes they turn. Of course, it helps if I have an orgasm.” She caresses the lip of her glass with her fingertip. “Or two. Stimulates contractions to help the baby move…”
I’m blinking into space right now.
The way I see it, if either of these two things could help, we ought to try both.
“No pressure.” She glances at me from beneath long thick lashes. “I could always use my headphones.”
She’s lost me for a second. Oh, yeah, for the music. Not the other.
Except as I contemplate the contents of my shaving bag, I realize I’m lacking a vital necessity.
“Shit.” I pound my fist on the granite counter top and look around for my wallet. “I don’t have any condoms.” Which sounds insane, but I didn’t come up here for sex. I came up here for… well I don’t know why I came up here.
The more I think about it, I haven’t fucked anybody for about three months. Not for lack of opportunity, but for lack of desire.
But at the thought of fucking Charlie. The fact that she needs me to… My heart skips a beat.
I need to find my wallet.
She tilts her head. “Are you… clean?” I’m having a hard time keeping up with her. Hard. The word has only one meaning to me right now.
“Clean?” I blink up at her. And then I get her meaning. “Oh, yeah.”
She tilts her head the other way. “Ya know. I’m pretty sure we’re safe then. Once in a lifetime opportunity for you. One hundred percent fail-safe birth control.”
The oven beeps, and I jump. Why’s it beeping? Lasagna. I was preheating it for the lasagna.
She’s grinning into her wine glass now.
“Are you messing with me?” Except I don’t think she is.
Her smile fades a little. “Just a few ideas… No biggy.”
This gorgeous girl. This fucking incredible, amazing, beautiful girl.
I turn off the oven and meet her gaze meaningfully. “I’m thinking lasagna can wait.”
Her eyes widen and then she blinks at me. She’s happy. I know her happy tears now. She’s teared up a couple times while listening to some of my songs.
Before she can move, I sweep her into my arms. Even eight months pregnant, she doesn’t weigh much.
“You’re sure?” She buries her head in my neck.
God, I love her scent. Sweet, clean. Charlie. “Reach down and you’ll find out.”
I carry her to the bedroom. I want to show her how sure I am.
She’s slipped her shoes off already. With her wearing a little sundress, I won’t have to work hard getting her naked.
Hard.
That word again.
I whip my T-shirt over my head, keeping her in my sights. And then I undo the button on my pants… slide down the zipper.
She’s lying there with her knees folded to one side. “You look awfully prim and proper,” I warn her. “I think we need to do something about that, don’t you?”
She stretches a little and unties the stings on her dress. She’s on her knees now. And then she shimmies the dress down – revealing her breasts, rounded abdomen, and surprisingly narrow hips. When she crawls out of it, all she’s wearing is a pink strapless bra and tiny little panties.
I’m familiar with her panties, but I haven’t had her like this. I haven’t had access to all her skin like this before.
Have I mentioned how fucking hard I am? And throbbing?
Even so, I’ve begun to analyze the situation. I’m pretty sure the baby’s head is on her left based on the size of the bump there. “You. Left side, I think.”
She licks her lips. I step out of my jeans. So much blood in my cock, my boxer briefs can’t keep it contained. She licks her lips again.
I get rid of the briefs too, still not taking my eyes off her.
When she turns onto her side, I crawl onto the bed behind her.
“Getting rid of this.” I unhook her bra, freeing those glorious breasts. “Are you always this lush? I’m just wondering, ’cause, you know,” I cover her with my palm and squeeze. “These are almost too good to be true.”
And then I pinch lightly. A little harder and she arches her back.
That’s my girl. My cock is nudging the top of her ass. I slide off her panties, she helps by bending her knees and using one foot to slide them down the sexiest God damn legs…
Skin to skin.
Nothing between us.
Nothing.
Not willing to release her nipple yet, I dip my other hand between her legs.
Wet. Soft. Every time for me. I know what she likes. I’m making little circles around her clit. She’s pushing into my hand. “Ah, babe. You’re so fucking beautiful.” She arches her back again. I want to take this slow, but I’ve already been waiting over a week.
“Please.” She moans. “Don’t make me wait, Colt.”
I lift her leg and hook it over my arm. My cock finds her opening easily, and I prod inside less than an inch. “This what you want, babe? This what you’ve been waiting for?”
The sensation of all that wet, warm heat is nearly my undoing. My mouth hovers by the shell of her ear. Breath hisses between my teeth. Hold on. I need to hold on.
“Yes,” she rasps. “You feel so good.” As much as she can, she’s pushing against me. “More.”
I oblig
e a few more inches. I’m halfway there. I pull out and then slide in again. Sweat’s beading my brow. The sensation is insane. Nothing between us.
“You okay?” I whisper. Last thing in the world I’ll do is hurt my girl.
“So okay. Oh, so very, very okay.”
I thrust hard. I’m balls deep. She gasps and clenches around me.
“Good?”
“So good, Colt. So fucking good.” We’re moving together now. My fingers knead her breast and I’m teasing her clit with my other hand. Both of us are close. I feel it.
She whimpers. Mews. Her muscles clench around my cock. “I’m trying to wait, babe.”
“No more waiting.” She pants.
I’m trying to be gentle.
“Fuck me hard, Colt.”
All I need to hear.
The bed’s rocking. So close. She grabs my hand and slides my thumb across her lips. When her tongue strokes it, I’m gone. Deeper. Deeper. This… connection. The words “Two become one” flit through my mind. Her heat. The slapping sounds as I increase our pace. And now. “Fuck. Fuck. God, Charlie.”
I release my seed into a woman for the first time in my life.
This woman.
She’s surreal.
She’s mine.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Charlie
I wasn’t prepared for this. For him. My day was crazy, frustrating. Disappointing. I really thought Squirt had turned. I’d convinced myself of it. When Susan told me he hadn’t yet – after waiting around an extra hour to see her – I lost it.
And then seeing how upset I was, the midwife spent the next twenty minutes discussing things I could try. Admittedly, she told me half of them were old wives’ tales, but – she also told me – old wives’ tales worked sometimes.
She also told me to expect these emotional rollercoasters.
Which is pretty much where I am right now. The news about Squirt. The caring in Colt’s voice when I got home. He sounded like he’d been worried about me.
And now this.
This love making. Achingly tender but also desperate. I don’t know if I’ve imagined it. I easily could have… but… Did I?
The Mile High Madness Page 30
