by Sharon Sala
“That’s a gift, you know.”
“What’s a gift?” Marilee muttered as she poured some of the milk into the roux she’d just made and then resumed her stirring.
“Making good gravy.”
She looked at him and then grinned.
“How do you know it’s going to be good?”
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his forearms and fixing her with a devilish, green stare. “I may not know how to cook, but I think I know a good cook when I see one.”
She smiled briefly, then turned back to her task, unwilling to admit, even to herself, how inordinately pleased she was with his comment. A few minutes later the last dish was prepared. When she handed him some plates and cutlery, he took them readily and began setting the table, realizing that he was suddenly starving.
Marilee carried the food to the table, and as she did, it hit her that in the years since she’d lived in Amarillo, he was the first guest she’d ever had to dinner.
“Please sit,” she said.
“After you, honey. My mother didn’t teach me how to cook, but she did knock a few manners into my head.”
Looking at his smile had been deadly. She was lost, no matter what life had taught her about good-looking men who lived without promises. She sat, trying to ignore the heat of his hands against her back as he scooted her chair toward the table.
“I can’t believe you cooked all of this in such a short time,” Justin said, admiring the ham steaks, mashed potatoes and gravy and the small bowl of green peas.
Pleased with his praise, Marilee smiled as she passed him the ham. After that, the meal went smoothly. They talked as they ate, like old friends with a lot of catching up to do.
About halfway through the meal, it occurred to Justin that he’d never been so at ease or had this much fun with a woman and not been in bed. Not in his entire life. The women he dated were all about what he could do for them and how much he was willing to spend on them.
“Want some more coffee?” Marilee asked as she got up to refill her cup.
“Please,” Justin said, holding out his cup as she lifted the carafe from the coffeemaker. As she began to pour, he looked up and grinned. “You know something, Marilee? You’re real good at pouring coffee. Ever think about becoming a waitress?”
She laughed as she spun around, replacing the carafe without wasted motion.
“Do you think?” she said, and then returned to her seat. “It’s weird, you know...how people come to the jobs they have. It’s not like I grew up wanting to be a waitress.”
Justin had just finished the last of his food. Curious, he pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table.
“What did you want to be...when you were a kid, I mean?”
Marilee thought about the chaos of her childhood and then shrugged.
“I just wanted to grow up and get out,” she said. “Obviously I didn’t think my choices through very well, did I?”
Suddenly Justin wished he hadn’t asked. He didn’t want her to think he looked down on her choice of occupation.
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” he said quickly. “I was just curious, that’s all.”
She nodded, then made herself smile. “I know. No offense taken. What did you want to be?”
“Anything but an only child.”
The conversation had taken a serious tone that neither had expected, but the ease with which they confided was comfortable.
“Pressure?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I figured as much. Knew a girl back in high school who had everything money could buy...except the freedom to make her own choices. Her mother and father had run her life as competently as they ran their real-estate business. Then one day I guess she had enough. She ran away with the town bad boy. I never did think she really loved him. Always had the feeling she’d done it out of spite.”
“Yeah, I can understand that,” Justin said.
“So...are there any revolts in your past, or have you been a good boy?”
Justin shrugged. “A few revolts, but nothing drastic, and I have to admit I like what I do.”
“Which is?”
“Run my ranch, raise my cattle and ride my horse.”
“So that hat and those boots you wear aren’t all for show after all. You not only talk the talk, you really walk the walk.”
He grinned. “You are a sassy thing, aren’t you?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I just call ’em like I see ’em.” Then she stood abruptly and began clearing the dishes. To her surprise, he began to help, carrying plates and bowls to the counter as she began to put away the leftover food. Within minutes the dishes were done and the table was clean.
Marilee reached in front of Justin’s chest to hang up the dish towel and felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Although her heartbeat skittered once, she didn’t let on.
Dusting her hands against her pants, she turned and found him staring at her.
“What?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“I don’t know yet,” he said cryptically, and then frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets as if he’d suddenly said more than he should.
The lights flickered briefly and then everything went dark.
“Well, poop,” Marilee muttered. “Don’t move. I’ll get some candles.”
Justin grinned. Poop? He chuckled softly.
“Nothing is funny,” he heard her say.
“I’m not laughing.”
He heard a soft snort of disbelief and then another word, much stronger, that sounded nothing like poop.
“I heard that, too,” he said.
“Don’t suppose it’s the first time you’ve ever heard it.”
“No.”
“Good. Then I won’t have to sleep with the guilt of your moral downfall on my conscience tonight.”
He laughed aloud. There was no getting around the fact that Marilee Cash was fun.
Suddenly a match was struck and the first bit of light began to burn at the end of a big, red candle.
“I was saving it for Christmas,” she muttered as she carried it to the kitchen table, and then she rummaged in a drawer for others.
Soon the kitchen was bathed in the soft, warm glow of candles that she’d set about the room.
“I don’t know about you, but it’s too early to go to bed, and watching television is out. So...how about playing a game?”
He grinned. Game? “I think the last game I played was Spin the Bottle.”
She rolled her eyes and pointed toward the table.
“Sit. I’ll be right back.”
She picked up a flashlight and walked out of the room. Outside, he could hear the wind whistling beneath the eaves of the little house, yet he felt a sense of safety and comfort, the likes of which he’d never known. Before he could decipher the feeling, she was back.
“Monopoly,” she said, and then slammed the game box in the middle of the table and lifted the lid.
CHAPTER 2
Candlelight flickered, casting shadows on Marilee’s face as she grabbed the dice and rolled.
“Four!” she crowed. “I got a four!”
“You also have every danged piece of property but Boardwalk,” Justin muttered as he watched her count off the spaces.
“I won! I won!” she shrieked, and jumped up from her chair, her arms over her head in a jubilant gesture as she danced a little jig.
Justin grinned. He didn’t like losing at anything, but the unabashed joy on her face was too great to ignore.
“Yeah, so you did.”
Marilee turned, her delight still evident as she then leaned forward, palms down on the middle of the table.
“I wiped you out,” she said.
Justin found himself looking up at her lips, only inches away from his face, and acted on an impulse that had been with him all night. Within seconds he was on his feet. With the table between them and t
heir fingertips touching, he slanted his mouth across her lips and kissed her hard and fast—before she could move.
Marilee inhaled sharply beneath his mouth and moaned. Every dream he’d been in, every fantasy she’d ever had about this man was nothing compared to this searing kiss. When he thrust a hand through her hair and cupped the back of her neck, tugging her forward, she followed. Monopoly pieces went flying as she shoved them aside and crawled across the table to meet him. Justin groaned beneath his breath and took her by the shoulders. Within seconds she was flat on her back on the kitchen table and he was on top of her. Brief moments of sanity came and went. Enough to know that his hands were tracing every curve that she had and his mouth was ravaging every bare inch of her skin. After that, she discarded all caution.
There was one moment when Justin knew he was losing control and seriously thought about stopping, and then Marilee moaned. The knowledge that she was as moved by what was happening as he was, was an aphrodisiac he wasn’t prepared to fight. Instead of stripping her bare and taking her there on the kitchen table, he slid off the table then picked her up in his arms.
“Bed,” he mumbled as her fingers tugged at the buttons on his shirt.
“Go left,” she whispered, and then groaned when he nipped the curve of her neck just below her chin.
Within moments he had her flat on her back in the middle of her bed, stripping her clothes as he went. Hers came off first, then his followed. Outside, a gust of wind rattled the old panes in the windows beside her bed, but neither of them heard it. The storm outside was nothing compared to what was going on within. When Justin began ravaging her body with his lips, she gasped. She wasn’t a virgin, but no one had ever touched her this intimately, and in so many places.
“Oh, Justin, I—”
He hushed her words with another searing kiss. By the time he lifted his head, she was past help and so was he. Never in his adult life had he so completely lost control. There was nothing on his mind but getting inside this woman’s body and seeking that soul-shattering pleasure of physical release. Then, because Justin Wheeler always got what he wanted, he plunged himself into Marilee and took them both into sexual bliss.
They turned to each other over and over throughout the night, sometimes tenderly, sometimes ravenous for the body-to-body connection. It never occurred to Justin that Marilee was giving him more than just a bed and a tumble. He didn’t know that she’d given her heart.
* * *
It was the absence of sound that first awakened Justin to the new day. Then he heard Marilee’s gentle breathing. He raised up on one elbow to look down at the woman beside him. There was a part of him registering the fact that she was as beautiful now as she had been last night while bathed in candlelight. But there was that other part of him that was thinking what in hell had he done? He’d not only gone to bed with a woman who was a virtual stranger, but he’d said and done things to her that he’d never said or done to another woman.
Ever.
And it scared him.
Without wasting another second, he slipped out of bed and began putting on his clothes. When he was down to his boots, he picked them up and started out of the room, then paused in the doorway and looked back.
Marilee was still asleep, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed, the other pillowing her cheek. The covers had slipped off one of her shoulders and the slim, creamy curve reminded him of the beauty of her body, still hidden beneath. Twice he started to go back to kiss her awake and tell her he would never forget her or the shelter she’d offered from the storm. But he was afraid if he did, he would not be able to leave. So he wrote a quick note, leaving it in the middle of the kitchen table among the scattered Monopoly money. Then he put on his boots, grabbed his coat and his keys and let himself out of the house.
To his relief, a snowplow had already made a path down the street, although he had to wade through a good foot of snow to get to his truck. The engine started easily. Thankful for four-wheel drive and a three-quarter-ton rig, he backed out of Marilee’s driveway and drove away without looking back.
He was already at the outskirts of Lubbock when Marilee woke up. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew he was gone. The bed was cold and so was she—all the way to her soul. With a muffled sob, she rolled onto her belly.
Six months later
It was five minutes to 6:00 p.m. and the main dining room of the Roadrunner was bustling with locals as well as the first wave of vacationing tourists. The day had been unseasonably warm for May with no signs of cooling off. Marilee reached above an empty booth on the west side of the room to lower the window shades and winced as her belly bumped into the back of the booth.
“Sorry, baby,” she muttered as she gave her belly a pat.
Even though she’d had six months to get used to the idea that she was going to be a mother, she sometimes still forgot to accommodate her new shape to old habits.
“Marilee, I’ll get those shades,” Dellie said, giving Marilee a quick pat on the back.
“I’m not crippled,” Marilee grumbled.
“And we’d like to keep you that way,” Dellie said with a wink.
Marilee smiled and went to fill water glasses instead. It wasn’t the first time the other waitresses had jumped in and taken a job off her hands that they considered too strenuous for her. She appreciated their thoughtfulness, but didn’t want Calvin to think she couldn’t handle the work. If she lost her job, she didn’t know what she would do.
“Order up,” Calvin yelled, and rang the small bell at the pick-up window.
Marilee saw the four plates were hers and began loading the tray to carry them to the table.
“That’s gonna be pretty heavy,” Calvin warned.
“Not you, too,” Marilee said.
“It’s just ’cause we care, honey.”
Marilee smiled her thanks, but loaded the tray the same way she always did and took off across the room with it shoulder-high.
Calvin frowned as he watched. She’d never said one word about her condition or about the man who was responsible. One day she’d just shown up in a maternity top, her eyes brimming with unshed tears and her head held high. No one had asked and she hadn’t offered an explanation. After a few days it became a matter of course. They now knew the baby was due around the last of July or the first part of August and that Marilee was saving every penny of her tip money to pay for the upcoming hospitalization. Beyond that it was all a mystery.
And while Calvin was keeping his personal thoughts to himself, he had a real good idea who the father might be. Justin Wheeler had been a weekly regular until the night of the snowstorm when he’d gone home with Marilee. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since.
“Worthless cowboy,” he muttered, and went back to his grill as Marilee carried the orders to her customers.
“Chicken-fried steaks all around,” she said as she laid the plates in front of four hungry men.
“Thanks, honey,” one of them said, and then smiled. “I can see you’re packin’. Is it a boy or a girl?”
She sighed. “Best guess is a boy.”
“You mean you ain’t had one of them pictures took of your belly? My wife did with every kid we got. She don’t like surprises.”
Yes, surprises can be a bitch, Marilee thought, and then said, “Had one, but they couldn’t be sure. How many children do you have?”
“Four,” he said, and then grinned a little wider. “All boys. She wants a girl—but not enough to take another chance.”
“I sympathize with her decision,” Marilee said. “Will there be anything else?”
“Got any Tabasco sauce?”
“Coming right up,” Marilee said, and turned away, glancing toward the entrance as she headed for the kitchen.
At that moment, she knew the rest of her day wasn’t going to go as smoothly as it had started, because Justin Wheeler was walking in the door. Her thoughts went from shock, to panic, to anger and then numb. But it was the anger th
at finally resurfaced. She lifted her chin, snatched a bottle of Tabasco sauce from beneath the counter and put it on the table.
“Enjoy your meal,” she said, and then hissed at her friend Dellie as she passed her by.
“Dellie, do me a favor, please?”
“Name it, honey,” the waitress said.
“Take that man’s order.”
Dellie turned, looking in the direction that Marilee was pointing, and then frowned.
“But he’s sitting at your table, honey. Are you sure you—”
“If he came in here to eat, then someone else is going to have to serve him,” Marilee snapped. “I’ll catch this couple for you instead,” and went to get menus for a couple who’d just sat down.
Realization hit as Dellie turned to stare. She didn’t know his name, but she would bet a week’s worth of tips that he was the man who’d put that baby in Marilee’s belly. She snatched up a menu from the end of the bar and then stomped across the room.
* * *
Justin Wheeler was a little antsy. It had been a long time since he’d been to the Roadrunner. Long enough that whatever panic or embarrassment he might have felt at seeing Marilee again had been replaced by pure shame. He’d known within minutes of leaving her house that morning that he should have awakened her first. And all the way to Lubbock he’d told himself he would call. Only, he hadn’t. Then, when Christmas drew near, he’d started to send her flowers, just as a thank-you, of course, for the shelter from the storm, but that good thought had come and gone without any action, either.
One thing had led to another and the weeks had turned into months. The excuses he’d made to himself as to why he was circumventing Amarillo on his way home from Dallas had begun sounding lame, even to him. Finally, on this fine spring day, he’d made up his mind that he was going to stop in and say hello, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that she didn’t matter—that the dreams he’d had of her every night since he’d left were nothing more than just flights of fancy.
When he walked into the restaurant, he realized that he’d actually missed coming here. The food was good—well above average—and the people were always friendly. The fact that he’d chosen to sit at one of Marilee’s tables was simply because all—well, most...uh, some—of the other places were taken.
