“It’s screwing me over.” Mare scooped up some ice cream and fudge, and then closed her eyes as if savoring it for a moment before she swallowed.
Crash looked down the front of her overalls while her eyes were closed, all that blue lace and round flesh, the shadow of her cleavage, probably damp with sweat and—
Mare opened her eyes. “I asked it for a choice in my life, and it sent me two I can’t take and didn’t offer me the one I need. It’s just cruel.”
“One of them’s me, right?” Crash started on his ice cream.
“Yes.”
“Why can’t you take me?”
“I can’t leave Dee and Lizzie.”
Crash almost said, Bring them along, until he remembered Dee hated him. “You’re going to have to leave them sometime. You’re not going to live together forever until you rot and die, right?” What a waste of all that heat and flesh and—
“It’s complicated,” Mare said. “But basically, I can’t come to Italy with you. I’d have liked it a lot, but I can’t. Sorry.”
Crash nodded, and thought, Maybe. If family was the only thing keeping her back—
It couldn’t be just that. Nobody refused to get married because she couldn’t leave her sisters. It must be something else, the damn secret she could never tell him, the reason he could never stay the night, never climb inside her bedroom. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up back in Salem’s Fork, but he was growing more and more positive that he wasn’t leaving without Mare.
“What kind of cat is Py?” he said, spooning up more ice cream.
“Tiger cat,” Mare said.
“Where’d you get him?”
“Lizzie found him at the zoo.”
“You had that cat the whole time I knew you, and I never asked you anything about him,” Crash said, carefully building his argument, which wasn’t easy with so little blood in his brain.
Mare blinked up at him, beautiful and hot in the moonlight. “Well, you know. He’s a cat. You weren’t a cat person.”
“I’m not a cat person now, but now I want to know because he’s yours. I’ll pay attention this time. Whatever you get from your sisters, whatever you need, I’ll give it to you, I swear. I’ll give you more. You can trust me. You can leave them. I’ll give you what you need.” I’ll give it to you right now, swear to God.
“You can’t.” Mare leaned against his shoulder as she worked on her ice cream, and he closed his eyes because she was finally touching him. “You’re a good guy, Crash, the best, but you can’t make this work.”
Oh, yeah, I can. “I can make anything work. Wait’ll you see this little town I’m living in. You’d love it there. The whole town comes through the shop sooner or later, all of them, grandmas and little kids, too, everybody, because they all love the bikes because the bikes are so beautiful. Ducatis and Moto Guzzis and—”
Below, someone kicked a motorcycle into gear, and he stopped to listen, and she said, “What?”
“Triumph TR6.” He listened as the sound faded into the distance. “Who do you know has a classic Triumph TR6?”
“It must have been Danny James,” she said. “Dee’s guy.”
“Dee’s dating? Good for her.” Maybe Dee would get married. That’d be one down. “My mom heard that Lizzie’s engaged to Charles Conway.”
“That’s off,” Mare said around her ice cream. “He went to Alaska. She has a new guy, though, and I think he’s a keeper.”
“Well, if they’re getting married, you can,” Crash said, the Voice of Reason.
“They’re not getting married.” Mare sighed. “So tell me more about the bike business.”
They sat in the moonlight and finished off their ice cream while he told her about the business and the bikes and his partner Leo and Leo’s wife Amelie and their baby and the little house he owned there—“Does it have a red tile roof?” she asked, and when he said, “Yes,” she said, “Oh,” and he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad—and the sun and the heat and the thousand things he loved about it, and when he was done, they put their cups down for Py to lick and then sat silent in the moonlight. Beneath them, the roof throbbed as if music were playing below, something with a strong bass, but it was quiet down there, just a silent pulsing with a drift of purple smoke around the windows every now and then that Mare said came up from the river, which didn’t make sense. Crash didn’t care, although the throb under him made it hard to concentrate on Italy and almost impossible not to touch Mare.
“So what are your other choices?” Crash said when she’d been silent for a while.
“Hmmm? Oh. New York. Jude offered me a job in New York City.”
“Oh.” He shifted on the roof. “Jude’s the guy in the suit at the video store.”
“Yep.”
“You might like New York,” he said, trying to be fair.
“I’d love New York,” Mare said. “But I can’t go there, either.”
You’re twenty-three, he wanted to say, you can go anywhere you want, but he wanted her in Tuscany, not New York, so he didn’t say it. “And the third one nobody’s offered you?”
“My Aunt Xan,” Mare said. “My mother’s sister. I’d kind of like to learn some stuff from her. The only problem is I don’t know where she is, and Dee hates her so I can’t go looking for her.”
“Maybe your aunt would like Italy.”
Mare turned to him in the dark. “Are you telling me that you’re going to support me and my aunt?”
Crash sighed. “No. I’m just trying to find a way to make this work.”
Mare shook her head. “Crash, you don’t know me. At all. You think you do because you knew a little bit about me five years ago but—”
“I know, there are secrets. I got real damn tired of those secrets, of getting shut out, of feeling like the guy you called around when you wanted a good time and then sent home.” He stopped because he was getting mad again, and getting mad was what had kept him out of Salem’s Fork for five years, that “If I’m not good enough to come in the house, the hell with you” feeling that he was old enough now to know was a lot more about pain than it was about anger, not that that made it any damn better. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you don’t need to keep secrets anymore because what I know about you is that it felt right to be with you then, and it’s felt wrong to be without you for the past five years, and now that I’m back, it feels right again, and I’m ready to make this permanent, so I don’t care what your secrets are, I’m for you.”
“Oh,” Mare said, a little breathless. “Oh. Well. Well, you don’t know my aunt at all. She’s a real piece of work.”
“I’m good with little old ladies.”
Mare snorted. “Xan is not a little old lady. Xan is Vampira and Elvira, Queen of the Night and the Dragon Lady and Morticia Addams with a little bit of Jackie Kennedy thrown in to make things interesting.”
“That’s everybody you ever dressed up as for Halloween,” Crash said, his mind flipping through images of the past, each of them hotter than the last, each of them cooling his anger considerably, along with Mare pressed up against him again.
“She’s kind of a role model,” Mare said. “But the important thing is, Xan would have you for lunch. She’s ruthless and dangerous and Dee’s probably right that I should stay away from her, but she knows things that I need to know. And she’s always been very good to me.”
“Her favorite little niece?” Crash grinned at her in the darkness. “I bet you were a cute kid.”
“Not really,” Mare said thoughtfully. “Dee was the beauty and Lizzie was the fairy child. I kind of clumped. I was the Amazon kid. I don’t know why she paid the most attention to me. Maybe because I’m the youngest. The dumbest.”
“You’re not dumb,” Crash said, surprised.
“I’m dumb compared to Dee and Liz,” Mare said, sitting up straighter. “I wonder if that’s it. She’s the one who told me I was the Queen of the Universe. Maybe sh
e has me marked as the weakest link.”
“Weakest link in what?” The roof beneath them began to throb harder, and Crash put his hand on it, distracted. “What is that?”
“Lizzie’s working.” Mare began to gather up the cups. “Well, I’ve got another long day tomorrow …”
She was leaving. Without thinking, he blurted, “How about if I moved back here?”
Mare jerked back. “Here? To Salem’s Fork? You just got finished telling me how much you love Italy. And your business there, everything about it. You’re happy there.”
He was a little stunned himself. “Yeah, but you’re not there.” Now that he’d said it, it began to seem like a possibility. “Maybe we could open an American branch. Be international.”
Mare stared at him, looking hopeless. “You can’t give up your life for me. You don’t know me.”
“Well, come to Italy and we’ll get to know each other again,” he said, exasperated. “I’ll get you a round-trip ticket. You don’t like it, you can come home. What’s the worst that can happen? You get a vacation in Italy.” He leaned closer. “And what’s the best that can happen? Us, that’s what. Have you missed me at all?”
She looked at him with her heart in her eyes, and he knew that she had missed him, knew she still cared, and the last of his anger evaporated, and then the roof trembled under them, and she looked away and Crash said, “What the hell?”
“You know Lizzie,” Mare said. “Something probably exploded.”
She was too far away, but he’d seen the look in her eyes, so he put his arm around her, and when she sighed and put her forehead on his arm, he said, “Listen, you can go anywhere you want. I wish it was Italy, but if it’s New York, you’ll be amazing there, too. You can do anything, Mare. You don’t need your sisters or your aunt Xan or anybody else. You really are Queen of the Universe.”
She turned her face up to him and said, “I love you,” and he kissed her, dizzy with wanting her, loving her, and tasted heat and hot fudge and Mare. He fell into her, felt her yield under him, needing to taste all of her, drink her in, and then she broke the kiss and pulled back, breathing fast, hot and real under his hands, inches away from him, too far away from him. He held on to her, jerking his head toward her bedroom window. “We’re going to fall off this roof,” he said, breathless, “how about you finally show me your room?” and Mare stiffened.
He tightened his grip on her. “Sorry, too fast—”
“The mountain,” Mare said.
He stopped as thunder rolled in the distance.
“Let’s go to the mountain. Like we used to.” Mare stood up, pulling his hands with her, and Py stretched to his feet beside her.
The mountain again. “Mare, it was always great on the mountain, but it’s going to storm—”
“Not until Sunday,” she said. “Not until Beltane. And even if it does, I want to make love with you on the mountain again.” She held on to him in the dark, tugging gently on his hand. “Just like we used to. I want you so much.”
The wind blew her silky black hair across her face, and the moon silhouetted her, tall and round and strong in the darkness, and he wanted her anywhere, any way, always, just because she was Mare and he loved her.
“Let’s go to the mountain,” Crash said.
Crash’s bike was beautiful, even in the dim glow of the streetlights, but then, everything about Crash was beautiful, and Mare was drunk on him.
“It’s a Moto Guzzi Le Mans I,” he told Mare and handed her a helmet. “A guy in Annapolis bought it from us. Put this on. And roll down your sleeves.”
“Yes, sir.” Mare put the helmet on and looked at the bike, trying to get her balance back. “This thing is gorgeous. Should we be riding it up the mountain?”
“Sure,” Crash said, swinging his leg over it. “Test drive. I’ll take it to Maryland before I leave the States.” He patted the seat behind him. “Let’s go.”
“Okay.” Mare settled in behind him, scooting so that she was pressed against him, her breasts against his back, her thighs gripping his, and the memories rushed back, the old heat bubbling in her veins, and she sighed. “No hurry. Let’s take good care of this classic.” She rocked her hips closer so she was pressed tight against him where she fit just right, feeling the good stuff start low.
“You want to make it all the way up the mountain, stop that,” Crash said, and she laughed into the back of his jacket and tightened herself around him again, loving the way he felt against her again. Okay, she didn’t have choices, but tonight she had Crash. That was a hell of a lot.
He kicked the bike into motion, and she drew a deep breath as they rode down the street, closing her eyes and smiling as the vibration made her breathe harder still. “Take Cobblestone Street,” she said, and he laughed and said, “Why?” and she thought, Cobblestones, of course, knowing he knew why, rubbing her cheek against his back because of everything he did know about her, concentrating on the hum inside her as they rode and he turned down the streets, taking the long way, feeling it build until they hit bumpy Cobblestone Street, and she felt the heat rise and twist and thought, yesyesyes and began to shudder and bounce. Don’t stop, she thought, clenching against him, God, yes, drawing in her breath, yes, sucking in energy from everywhere, drawing everything to her, and then Crash cursed and swerved and she cried out as a trash can went hurtling by them.
He slowed the bike. “Damn it,” he said, and Mare straightened away from him, shaken, watching the trash can roll away now that she’d let go, cold with knowledge she didn’t want. “You okay?”
“No,” she said faintly.
“I’m going to personally go around nailing down every damn trash can in this town,” he said as they turned down the road that led up to the mountain.
That’s the street we were on after prom, Mare thought, trying to catch her breath. I told him to take the cobblestones then, too. I wanted the ride.
I pulled that trash can to us when I came. I sucked in my breath, I sucked in everything, and I pulled it to us, and we wrecked because of me and he left because of me.
Everything was my fault, it was all my fault.
She held herself away from him, trembling, all the way up the mountain, trying to tell herself that she hadn’t known, that she’d always been careful when she’d had sex, always had it outside, up on the mountain under the big oak, where there was nothing but rocks too big to move so that nobody got hurt, that she’d thought the little bubbles she got on the back of the bike hadn’t counted, the real thing was Crash inside her, not just her hugging him, giggling and popping on the back of the bike, she hadn’t known—
My fault.
Crash turned the bike into the violet-filled meadow at the top of the hill and cut the motor, then took off his helmet and turned to her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said, and took off her helmet and got off the bike, hating not touching him, hating herself for touching him. My fault. “No.”
“I know, it was just like prom night,” Crash said, getting off the bike. “Listen, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to—”
“It was my fault,” Mare said miserably. “The accident prom night. It was my fault.”
“It was an accident,” Crash said, sounding confused. He put his hand on her arm. “If it was anybody’s fault, it was mine. If I’d slowed better, you wouldn’t have fallen off—”
“My fault.” Mare put her arms around his neck, keeping her mind in check so that nothing moved anywhere. “It’s my fault you left town. It’s my fault—”
“Hey.” Crash put both arms around her and she drew in her breath as he pulled her close, the bulk of his body a comfort. “It wasn’t—”
“I’m magic,” Mare said, holding on to him. “I make magic. That’s my secret, I’m psychokinetic, I can move things with my mind, that’s why I always brought you up here, because everything up here’s too heavy too move. I came on the back of the bike and when I came, I threw that trash can, and that’s why
we wrecked. It was my fault.”
“Uh, Mare …”
“No, I really can move things.” Mare looked around the clearing. There was the Great Big Rock and the circle of the other Big Rocks, but they were all too big, that was the whole point of being up here, that she couldn’t throw things while she was thrashing around. The wind had picked up, and the tree branches were waving, and there wasn’t anything light enough for her to move that the wind wasn’t already moving, everything was beyond her power. Maybe one of the helmets …
Crash was looking at her with sympathy in his eyes. “Look, Mare, if this is that Queen of the Universe stuff, it’s okay, I believe you.”
“No you don’t.” Mare stared at his helmet, trying to get the weight of it in her mind. She lifted it up off the seat of his bike, but then the wind scooped in under it and it toppled to the ground where Crash caught it and tied it to the seat.
“I really can,” she said desperately, looking for something light enough, anything, maybe she could put a violet in his buttonhole or something, and then he put his arms around her and drew her close again.
“Look, I don’t care,” he said. “Because you know what? Even if you could do that stuff, even if the wreck was your fault, it would be good that it happened. I grew up. I got out of town, I learned things, I made a great life, a life I want you to be part of, I’m ready to settle down now, so it turned out all right, didn’t it?”
Mare bit her lip and leaned against him. “No. No, I missed you too much.”
“I know,” he said, holding her tighter. “I missed you, too. But now it’s our time, Mare. We’ve earned each other.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, but his arms were warm around her, safe, and she sighed into him, grateful to have him at least for tonight, even though she couldn’t keep him, even though there’d be no tomorrow for them and she’d be lost without him again. “You’ve definitely earned me tonight,” she whispered, and then she reached up and kissed him, hard, desperate for him, felt his arms tighten around her, remembered the way he’d felt rolling hot against her, and didn’t care about anything but now. If all she had was now, that would be something. “Come on,” she whispered, and pulled him with her under the massive oak.
Unfortunate Miss Fortunes, The Page 15
