Twisting her diamond ring, a melancholy sigh slipped from her lips.
Rushing across the room, he took her hand. “Come on,” he said, quietly leading her into the bedroom and opening the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed.
She staggered backwards when he pulled out a matte black Glock 17 and held it up to the light. “Where’d you get that?”
“Scheels,” he told her, ejecting the magazine and slapping it back in. “But don’t worry, I took some classes.”
“When?”
“When you were working.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t want to frighten you, but…”
“But this isn’t over yet, is it?” Evy looked up from the handgun.
He returned it to the drawer. “That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Facing her, he held her out by the shoulders. “I just want to be prepared, especially for rabid black bears.” Evy bit back a smile and he pulled her against him, holding her tight and whispering sweet assurances into her hair.
“You need any help?” Trisha called out.
Evy traded a halfhearted smile with him before rolling her eyes. “No thanks, we got it!”
“Listen, don’t let your imagination run away on you,” he whispered. “Because after everything we went through, it’s bound to happen from time to time. Trust me.” Wrapping an arm around her, he ushered her back into the kitchen. “They’re just…weird,” he said, taking a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry.
“Well, how do we get rid of them? I just want to go to bed; I’m exhausted.”
Dean poured chips into a big red bowl while Evy grabbed a tub of guacamole from the fridge. “We finish this guac and then you act like you’re not feeling well. Like maybe the guac was a little off or something.”
She plopped a spoonful into a bowl. “Me? Why me?”
“Because you’re a way better actor than I am.”
Her face soured. “No, I’m not.”
“See? You’re doing it right now. Acting like you’re not a good actor.” He shook his head in awe. “Bravo.”
“You’re not helping.”
“You said you took drama.”
“Yeah, in second grade,” she hissed, pulling wet hair from her face. “Dean, I want them out of my cabin.”
Her words tied his stomach in a knot.
My cabin.
“Okay,” he said, blowing out a slow and low breath. “Follow my lead.”
Back in the living room, Trisha and Jim dove right in, stuffing their faces like they hadn’t eaten in days. “Mmm, this is amazing,” Jim said, grabbing another chip.
Holding a hand beneath her chin, Trisha bit into a loaded chip. “We have this fabulous food truck on the beach in Charleston,” she said, double-dipping back into the bowl. “And it has THEE most amazing homemade tortilla chips and guacamole I’ve ever had.”
“They really do,” Jim agreed, stabbing another chip into the guac. “And their steak tacos are to die for. It’s all they sell.”
“Guac and Roll All Night, and Tacos Every Day,” Trisha said, pausing to swallow. “That’s the name of the truck!”
“I love steak tacos,” Evy unceremoniously added, nibbling on a bare chip.
Trisha looked right at her, face turning eerily grave. “You two should really come visit. You would absolutely love it down there!”
“We’ll have to see if we make it through this vacation first,” Dean replied, grinding his teeth.
Jim stopped a tortilla chip in front of his mouth, brow creasing. “I’m sorry, guys. This is your honeymoon and here we are crashing your party.”
“No, it’s fine,” Evy told him, unable to stop the lie from spreading to her lips. “We’re here all week.”
Shoving the chip into his mouth, he crunched down and brushed his hands together. “We’ll get out of your hair. I think it’s letting up out there.”
Evy turned to the French doors just in time to see a nearby lightning strike illuminate the entire backyard. Thunder clapped its mighty hands, shaking her resolve and sinking her shoulders.
“Hang on, honey!” Trisha said. “We haven’t played our word yet.” Whispering in Dean’s ear, she giggled behind her hand. Dean turned to her with a frown and, using the Y in doggy, she began laying tiles across the board.
Jim cocked his head to one side, stroking his pointy chin. “Randy? Umm, I’m afraid you can’t use proper names, sweetheart.”
“It’s not a name,” Trisha replied, breaking into sophomoric giggles.
Dean and Evy traded a queer look, reading one another’s minds. Lightning pulsed and the thunder rolled. The corner lamp flickered and then went out, plunging them into the jumpy firelight. “Oh great,” Dean murmured, getting up from the loveseat. “I’ll go check the fuse box. Probably just a breaker.”
“So Evy, what do you do in Milwaukee?” Trisha asked before she could run off again.
“I-uh-own a dessert bar with my sister, Brooke.” Her eyes trailed Dean across the dimly lit room, silently pleading for help. “It’s called Sugars.”
“Sugars?” Trisha cried. “That is a fantastic name!”
Meeting his wife’s desperate gaze, Dean mouthed I’ll be right back and disappeared down the hallway. This would only take a few seconds. Unfortunately, the hallway was dark as hell and he cursed himself for not keeping a flashlight handy. Feeling his way along the walls, he rounded a corner and found the fuse box in the laundry room which also doubled as a mud room. Digging a lighter out, he flicked the flint wheel. The breakers looked fine, which meant the problem was elsewhere. Letting the lighter go out, he turned to the window in a door leading to the garbage cans around the side. It was pitch black out there and impossible to tell if it was just their cabin that lost power or the entire lake. Probably a nearby transformer. Nothing to be done from here.
“Damn,” he whispered, tiptoeing into the hallway bathroom and quietly shutting the door. Instinctively hitting the light switch, he groaned when nothing happened. He untied his boardshorts in the dark and struck the lighter, using the dim light to control his aim into the toilet. Relief spilled over him, stream gaining strength. Lightning lit up the small bathroom window and thunder rattled the mirror.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, coming to the grim realization that Jim and Trisha might have to spend the night here. His finger brushed against the hot metal guarding the flint wheel. Flinching, he dropped the lighter and peed a little on the floor. “Jesus,” he said, tying his shorts and then carefully feeling around in the dark. Finding the lighter, he washed his hands and turned scenarios over in his mind. He could loan them some umbrellas, or better yet, drive them to their…
The bathroom door creaked open, drawing his eyes. Despite the light from the fireplace around the corner, the hallway was just as dark as the bathroom.
“What happened?” he whispered, knowing Evy was pissed he left her alone with Trisha and Jim. After all, what if she was right and they had something to do with the mysterious plumbing van parked down the street? What if they’re not who they say they are? They don’t seem like the bible-beater type.
Evy shushed him and locked the door before shuffling closer in the dark. Setting a hand on his chest to see where he was, she stopped in front of him, the smell of burnt wood clinging to her hair. Her other hand found his strings and untied his boardshorts.
“What’re you doing?” he whispered.
“Shhhhh,” she whispered back, sliding a hand down his shorts.
The hair went up on his arms as he flowered like a rose inside her soft hand. “You’re out of your mind,” he told her in no uncertain terms, ready to bend her over the sink and give her what for.
“You like that?” she whispered in a shaky breath, jerking him off with eager pumps.
His chest rose and fell. This was so outside of the box he might not make it out of her hand. “I love it,” he panted, tightening his fis
ts.
A knock on the door made her stop pumping. She didn’t let go, just stopped sliding up and down his rigid shaft.
“Dean?” Evy said through the door, knocking softly two more times. “You in there?”
Chapter Ten
NOW YOU KNOW HOW WOMEN FEEL
Dean’s heart threw itself against his ribcage, battering the inside of his chest. Smacking the hand away from his dick, he backed against the bathroom window while fishing the Bic lighter from his only pocket. Another light rap on the door fueled his panic.
“Dean?” Evy said in a louder voice.
Holding his shorts up with one hand, he set his jaw and struck the flint wheel. The lighter sparked but didn’t catch.
She knocked harder. “Dean!”
He spun the wheel again and lightning struck outside, illuminating Trisha’s sly grin. His brow crumpled and she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh before darkness took the room.
“Dean?”
“It’s just me, Evy,” Trisha replied over her shoulder, grabbing Dean’s junk in the dark.
He slapped her hand away and pressed up against the window, fumbling to house his erection.
“Oh, sorry, Trisha.”
Dean listened to his wife’s footsteps fade down the hall. He struck the lighter again and Trisha spread an impish grin in the weak glow. She tickled the air with claw-like fingers, tightening the muscles down his back. Holding his shorts up with one hand, he spoke in a breathless whisper. “Stop,” he said, moving to go around her.
Blocking the door, Trisha feigned a pounce. The flame jiggled in his hand. She smothered more laughter and teasingly lifted her yellow dress, just enough to reveal a shaggy patch of carpet that didn’t match her curtains. Then, in a horrifying motion, she ran a finger up and down her glistening lips before bringing it to her mouth and sucking it clean. Dean’s heart fluttered. Spinning around, he dropped the lighter and struggled with the window lock. Trisha sank her meat hooks into his butt cheeks from behind. Yelping, he knocked her hands away and wrestled with the stubborn lock. The room became eerily quiet, giving him pause.
Turning from the jammed window, he searched the inky blackness with a deathly quiet buzzing in his ears. He knew she was there but the only thing he could hear was his rapid breathing. “Hey,” he whispered, feeling around in the dark. “You need to leave, and I mean right fucking now.” Blackness swam in front of him, thick as smoke. Lightning sputtered, giving him a glimpse of Trisha standing by the shower before she sank back into the night.
“Trisha?”
She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Gotcha!”
Dean jumped away, swallowing a scream.
Trisha giggled. “Oh, lighten up, Dean. We’re just having some fun.”
“Get. Out.”
He heard her sigh and then the door clicked open and shut. Dean stood glued to the floor, unsure if he was alone or not. She could still be in here, waiting to strike. Lightning cracked, illuminating the empty bathroom. Blowing out the breath he’d been holding, he hurriedly tied his shorts in the dark. He had to get out of here. For all he knew, Jim was mounting an attack of his own. A disturbing premonition of Jim fucking Evy in the living room while Trisha played with herself across the room cut through his mind with a rusty knife.
Quietly pulling the door back, he put on a brave face and stuck his head out. He started down the hallway, mind racing. Rounding the corner, a faint light appeared at the far end. He took slow steps, debating whether or not he should come clean with Evy about what just happened in the bathroom. No, it would kill her. After all, Trisha not only saw him naked the night before, but he almost came in her hand. The floorboards creaked beneath him. The light grew brighter.
Entering the warm living room, he found everyone seated where he’d left them. Trisha looked up from the loveseat, chewing on a pinkie.
“There you are.” Evy frowned. “Where’d you go?”
He thumbed behind him, suddenly realizing he wasn’t wet from the rain and, simultaneously, crushing the lie he was about to spill. Clearing his throat, he shifted gears. “The breakers are fine, so I…I stepped outside the French doors in the bedroom to call the power company.” Pressing his lips together, the color bled from his face. “The power’s out on the entire lake and they’re not sure when it will be restored.”
The fire popped and Trisha shifted on the loveseat, a playful grin eating into her rosy fucking cheeks.
“That figures,” Evy mumbled, sinking into the couch next to Jim.
Dean’s eyes snagged on the picture of the candlelit cabin resting on the mantel, steeling his resolve. “Actually, now might be a good time to call it a night.” He turned to Jim and covered his stomach, ignoring Trisha’s probing eyes. “I’m not feeling very well.”
Jim pushed off the couch. “Say no more, Dean. We will hold hands and make a run for it like two kids in love.”
Smiling politely, Trisha got up and took her husband’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for having us,” she said. “Maybe we can finish our game tomorrow.”
Dean opened the French doors, letting in sideways rain. A bright blast thinned his eyes. Thunder shook the ground beneath his feet. “I think it’s letting up a little,” he yelled over the downpour.
Drawing a courageous breath, Jim turned on the flashlight and tipped his head to Dean and Evy. “Well…goodnight then!” he said, towing his wife out the door.
“Oh, my goodness,” Trisha cried, trying not to trip.
Dean shut the door and locked it behind them, fogging the glass with a pent-up breath. Evy stopped beside him and watched brightly lit flickers of Jim and Trisha scurry across the yard and slip into the trees. She turned to Dean with wide eyes.
“See? You really can act!”
He snorted, watching for them to come back. This wasn’t over yet. Lightning could strike a tree, bring it down and block the path back to their cabin.
Evy shook her head at him. “That was an amazing performance. You actually look sick!”
Turning from the doors, he stared at the Scrabble board, Trisha’s playful grin haunting his thoughts. “I really don’t feel very good.”
Her face fell. “Oh no, I hope you’re not getting sick.”
Dean took his ballcap off and ran a hand through his hair. “Why does everything have to be so weird all the time?”
“Right?” Evy dropped onto the couch and kicked her bare feet up next to the board game, shaking the pieces crooked. “If they pull another pop-in tomorrow, I will make a run for it in the Jeep.” She swept a hand out over the Scrabble board. “Look at the perverted words they made! Ramrod? Doggy? Randy, but not a name?”
Collapsing next to her, a long breath flapped his lips. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
She turned to him with a worried expression spreading into the lines in her face. “Yeah? What?”
Dean inhaled a deep breath of burnt timber and held it, steadying himself against the guilt clouding his thoughts. He had to pick his words wisely and control the information flow because when it came down to it, he honestly thought Evy was in the bathroom with him. He had no reason to think otherwise. He was innocent. It was pitch black and there was no way to know Trisha was the one stroking his dick. A shudder ran through him. The truth was on his side, but one tiny miscalculated twist of phrase and boom! The whole thing blows up in his face.
“Dean?”
Exhaling, he forced his fists to relax. “After I checked the fuse box, I went to the bathroom to, you know, go to the bathroom.”
The lines in her forehead deepened. “And?”
“And…the lighter burned my hand, so I dropped it and peed on the floor a little.”
She furrowed her brow. “Ew.”
“Then the door opened,” he continued, staring distantly into the flames. “I couldn’t see a thing. It was pitch black and I thought it was you coming in with a plan to get rid of them.”
Sitting up straighter, she toyed with her wedding rin
g. “Okay?”
“Turns out it wasn’t you; it was Trisha.”
A sharp intake lifted Evy’s chest. “What!”
He turned to the horror twisting her face, palms sweating. “She snuck in and shushed me, acting like she was you.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s crazy!” Dean couldn’t stomach the hurt welling in his wife’s eyes because this tale was about to get worse. This is the part where he had to tread lightly. “And then she…”
Evy sharpened her gaze. “Go on.”
“She…untied my shorts.”
She stared hard at him in the thunderstruck silence that followed. “She what?”
“And then she grabbed me.”
“Dean!”
“I thought it was you! It was basically sexual assault.”
“What do you mean she grabbed you? She grabbed your dick?”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I thought it was you. Okay?”
“Why would I ever follow you into the bathroom and do something like that when we have company sitting out in the living room?”
He threw his hands out. “I don’t know! I thought you were being creative, like at the bait shop.” A log shifted in the fireplace, sending embers swirling up the chimney.
“The bait shop was your idea!”
Exhaling a deflating breath, Dean tried rubbing Trisha’s grin from his eyes.
“And then what?” Evy said, honing her pointed glare. “You just let her jerk you off in the bathroom?”
“I didn’t let her do anything!”
She pursed her lips and lowered her voice. “How long did she jerk you off for?”
“When I realized she wasn’t you, I knocked her hand away.”
“How long, Dean?”
He lifted a heavy shoulder to an ear. “A few seconds.”
“A few seconds.” Evy stared hard at him in the nervous light. “Like ten seconds or fifty-three seconds or…?”
“I don’t know, Evy. Until I realized it wasn’t you!”
“And how did you realize it wasn’t me?”
He turned to look at her. “Because you knocked on the door.”
Fate Interrupted_Just Married Page 8
