by Lee Winter
Instead, Catherine said, “Look, we can pick up something back home sometime in the next three months. It would’ve been nice if Cedar Rapids had something we liked, but we’ll figure it out. It’s not a problem.”
“Yeah,” Lauren said, with little enthusiasm. “By the way, I texted Josh some pics of me in the outfits from the change room. You know, just to see if I was going crazy about how awful I looked in those suits. He agreed they all were terrible. Well, of course they were—they’re made for broad-shouldered men with no hips or boobs. And I can’t help I happen to have my fair share of both.” The darkness of her mood was sinking its teeth into her. “I think what makes it worse is I’m so used to this…us…not being an issue.”
“LA and DC are like living in a bubble, where familiarity often breeds acceptance,” Catherine said. “I’d hoped it might be better here by now.” She paused. “Actually it’s obviously better, given how helpful some people were. Remember the manager in that second store? She was charming.”
“Yeah. But it only takes one ass to ruin our day. Or in our case, two.” Lauren sighed. “You know, I’m a little surprised you didn’t go all Caustic Queen on their asses.”
Catherine’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I promised to be nice.”
Lauren gave a wry huff. “Is that what it was? I’ve been wondering all afternoon whether you didn’t think any of this was worth your breath. Like, their attitude didn’t even bother you.”
“Oh, it bothered me.” Her voice dropped to dangerous. “Say the word, and it would be my pleasure to return to both those establishments and point out how their store’s hick inbreeding program is yielding excellent results.”
Lauren laughed. Being with Catherine Ayers was like having a pro wrestler in your corner, itching to be tagged in. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll keep you in reserve for when it really counts. And these people? They don’t even know us.” She took Catherine’s hand and ran her thumb over the knuckles. “They don’t understand what we share. I love you.”
Catherine smiled, eyes sparkling. “Now there’s a coincidence.”
Leaning into her, Lauren soaked in the warmth and solidness of the woman she could not imagine living without. “By the way, Josh says he’s got an idea on how to help. He says he’ll get back to us.”
“I sense a colorful wedding outfit submission in our future.”
“Probably rainbow pants for me.” Lauren winced. “Great.”
“That’d be cute. I always said we need more clashing primary colors in the wedding party.” Catherine’s lips quirked.
“I’m not sure we should let Josh solve this, because he’s a handbag man not a dress designer.”
“A valid point.” Catherine’s look was soft. “Lauren, I know the day hasn’t been the greatest, but I may have a way to cheer you up. While you were trying on suits in the last store, I made a call.”
“Who to?”
With a Cheshire Cat smile, Catherine simply said, “You’ll see. Let’s head home.”
Meemaw headed them off at the front door when they reappeared with little to show for their day.
“Welcome back.” She gave Lauren an appraising look. “Catherine tells me you had a hard time of outfit hunting’?”
Lauren grimaced. Wasn’t that the understatement. “It was so bad.”
“We met the full cross-section of Iowa today,” Catherine explained. “Along with a few Biblically inaccurate quotes and other unimaginative insults.”
Meemaw’s expression turned fierce, and she sucked her breath in, her impressive bosom expanding with her anger. “Well now, there’s always some fool out there giving nice Christian folk a bad name. One thing I know for sure is Jesus only had a mind for love, not hate. But they tend to gloss right over that part, don’t they?”
Lauren’s heart lifted. The day she’d come out to Meemaw, all she’d said was that God’s children made a colorful and interesting family…and that she already knew. “Thanks, Meemaw.”
“I only stated a fact.” Her gaze shifted to Catherine. “Did it go any better with the wedding venues? Got your fancy ‘I do’ spot all picked out yet?”
“Not yet,” Catherine said.
“Pretty sure Mrs. Potts thinks we’re too picky,” Lauren said. “She gave us a bunch of addresses and left us to our own devices after our tenth no.”
“You want what you want, I expect.”
“Exactly.” Lauren’s stomach rumbled, and she looked at her sheepishly. “And right now, all I want is a late lunch and to forget this morning ever happened.”
“Ah, now on that score, I can help you.” Meemaw reached behind her and pulled into sight a large picnic basket.
It smelled divine. Lauren’s mouth fell open.
“Thank you,” Catherine said sincerely, taking it. “I appreciate it.”
“Happy to help.”
Lauren glanced between Catherine, her grandmother, and the basket. Things were definitely looking up.
Meemaw smiled. “Catherine requested I scare up a couple of your favorite comfort foods, if I had any of them sitting around. Turns out I did.”
“That was brave of you.” Lauren turned to Catherine and beamed. “Since you’ll be the one eating my comfort foods, too.”
Catherine merely smiled and thanked Meemaw again.
“Anytime. Oh, and back on the wedding topic, if you need me to run you up something myself on my trusty Singer, I don’t mind. Did Lauren tell you I made her prom dress?”
Lauren’s smile became fixed.
“Oh, she did,” Catherine murmured. “But it’s fine, thanks. We’ll work something out.”
Meemaw took that as her cue to give them a wave and return inside.
After the door slapped shut, Lauren gasped out a breath. “Oh shit, I saw my life flash before my eyes. It involved a girly pink wedding dress with puffy prom-dress sleeves.”
“Since I refuse to marry Anne of Green Gables, that will never happen.”
“Thank God.” Lauren looked around. “Okay, where are we going?”
“Where else?” Catherine pointed to the distant smudge of green at the far end of the property. “Your dreaming tree.”
Lauren relaxed instantly. “Perfect,” she said.
Damn if Catherine Ayers isn’t romantic as hell sometimes.
Lauren sat on a blanket and pulled out packages from the basket. The deep-fried Southern chicken wings smelled spicy and looked golden and crispy. There was Meemaw’s special-recipe potato salad. A tub containing fresh salad of greens…supplied in deference to Catherine’s palate, no doubt. Warmth spread through her at her grandmother’s thoughtfulness. Grapes, cheese balls, leftover rhubarb pie, and a bottle of homemade lemonade filled out the rest.
“Oh.” Lauren gazed at it happily. “I think I’m in heaven. And you have to try this.” She nudged a plate of fried chicken over and was delighted when Catherine took a piece.
“I think I’m going to have to do some high-octane exercise when I get back home.” Catherine took a cautious bite and then swallowed. “One of those commando trainers who comes by at dawn, calls his clients a variety of unsavory names, and tells them to drop and give him fifty.”
“Please, like you’d put up with that. First time he pissed you off, you’d shred him and he’d crawl out of there, crying like a baby.”
“Perhaps.” Catherine pulled the salad container over. “That might be amusing.”
“You could take up softball,” Lauren suggested. “That burns up a lot of calories. And I’d have someone to practice with.”
“I don’t think it’s for me.” Catherine speared tomato and lettuce on her fork. “Although I did appreciate getting to see you play. Feel free to wear that Hawkeye jersey to bed sometime.” She paused. “Just that. Nothing else.”
Lauren laughed, feeling her mood shift.
> Catherine chewed slowly before her lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Meemaw makes an excellent salad.” Her gaze roamed. “This is so serene. You can’t even see the house from here. I can see why you come here. It’s like being dropped off at the end of the world.”
“I think my dreaming tree is symbolic of why I love Iowa. It’s natural, back to basics, and so peaceful. It’s a shame we have so little time, packing everything in. I’d love to show you around more.”
“Speaking of our wedding planning, what did you think about the venues we looked at this morning? Did you like any?”
“I guess some of those halls were pretty elegant.” Lauren jabbed at another piece of chicken.
“That’s true. But they made me think of business meetings and seminars.”
“What about the hotel ballrooms? The DoubleTree by Hilton was amazing. They do heaps of weddings.”
Catherine finished her salad and put the lid back on the tub. “It seems odd to get married in a hotel that could be anywhere in the US. These places are elegant but generic.” She glanced at her. “Which place grabbed you the most?”
“Quite liked that pink barn.”
“Of course you did.” Catherine smiled.
“It was very…festive. And you have to admit, even you weren’t thinking about cows in there.”
“No, I was thinking ‘it is simply amazing how perfectly this barn matches my fiancée’s prom dress.’”
“There is that. Anyway, I’m just teasing. I didn’t really love anything. Nothing was really us. God, I had no idea weddings were this much work.”
“Little wonder Mrs. Potts told us to come over sooner rather than later.” She slid the salad container back in the picnic basket. “What is ridiculous is we’re in such a beautiful part of the world, but there’s nowhere suitable to get married.”
“Beautiful part of the world? You wouldn’t mind getting married outside?”
“Why would I mind?”
“Well, it’d be freezing in November.”
“So, we could find a place that comes with an indoor option, too. We could have some nice scenery outdoors for the vows and photos and then head inside to warm up.”
Lauren sat up straighter, eyes bright. “Then what about the river place? Do you remember? We drove past it on the way to the third place?” She recalled the quaint little restaurant by the water, a small jetty, and a stunning backdrop. It was a little off the beaten track, which meant it would be peaceful, too.
“You don’t mean the Jumping Frog?”
“That’s the one.” Lauren grinned. “It has a lovely outlook. I went to a friend’s wedding there when I was in college. It was gorgeous. Can you imagine it at sunset? The river sparkling, the trees swaying…”
“What was the food like?”
Lauren shrugged. “I don’t remember throwing up later.”
“There’s a fine endorsement.”
“The backdrop to the wedding photos was stunning.”
“Well…the river vista does qualify as dignified,” Catherine said after a pause. “And that’s all I wanted.”
“Yep.” Lauren whipped out her phone and did a search for Jumping Frog. After a few moments, she said, “I’m emailing them now to see if they have any November dates free.” She thumbed the send button.
“For some reason, I doubt the Jumping Frog has a line out the door of hopeful brides.”
“Ha. You love saying the name, don’t you? And I promise it’s really beautiful inside, with restored riverboat memorabilia. Awesome for the reception.” She flipped her phone around and showed Catherine the website photos.
“That does look…surprisingly refined.”
“No higher praise.” Lauren’s phone pinged, and she checked her inbox. “Ooh. Someone was sitting on their emails. The manager says they only open for weddings twice a month. The first date’s gone, but they’re free on Saturday, November 18. They take parties up to eighty and require a twenty percent deposit.”
“November 18…” Catherine exhaled. “Tad told me that’s the date of Joshua’s launch.”
Lauren bit her lip. “Yeah, I guess that clinches it. They really won’t be coming.”
“No.” She gave Lauren a curious look. “Were you holding out hope?”
“Perhaps a little. A thin sliver. Even though it was stupid,” Lauren admitted. “Like maybe they’d fly in, fly out on the same day, and surprise us or something.”
“Oh. I just assumed no meant definitely no.”
“Well, it really does now. So, shall we do this? The little jetty where they marry people is gorgeous. See?” She pointed to the sunset photo.
“Why don’t we book it now to ensure our spot and then visit tomorrow and make sure we love it before we pay the deposit?”
Lauren tapped out a reply quickly, accepting the date. “Done and done.”
Catherine smiled. “Good, that’s sorted. So it looks like today wasn’t too terrible after all.”
“Nope.” Lauren’s phone pinged in confirmation. She went to switch it off when a news flash caught her eye. “Hey, some senator just got caught with his sixth DUI.”
“And we care about that because…?”
“He’s on a road safety commission. And ooh, it’s Davidson. He’s one of my best contacts. I have his home number. Wow, this is gonna blow up so big.” Lauren wondered if she could quickly write up the story and…
“Phone away,” Catherine said, eyes half-lidded, looking greatly amused. “If I have to, then you do, too.”
“What about the story always comes first?” Lauren said with a pout, quoting her fiancée’s most famous line.
“Not when the reporter’s having a romantic picnic.”
“Ahh. I didn’t realize there was a loophole.” Lauren turned off her phone.
“There is. Just that one.” Catherine’s lips curled into a smile. “Although I do understand the temptation to stay in the loop. I’ve forced myself to stop checking in with Neil.”
“You mean he told you to stop bugging him and to have a vacation?” Lauren guessed.
“Something like that. I may be useless at following his requests, however. But I’m trying.”
Chuckling, Lauren flopped onto her back and looked up into the tree. It had an enormous canopy, and on three sides the branches hung down low, touching the ground. The fourth side, facing the rear of the property, was open and allowed in the warming sun.
Lauren had always loved that she could get lost out here, in her own world, far from loud engines or louder siblings. It had been her only place to find peace as a girl. Now, though, it felt wonderful having someone to share her secret spot with. She took in the softness of her lover’s face. “Are you still hungry?”
“Yes. Very much so.” Catherine’s eyes became hooded.
Lauren swallowed. There was no mistaking the timbre of her voice. She shot a furtive glance around. Catherine’s expression told Lauren she knew exactly what Lauren was calculating. They had distance, privacy, and a beautiful setting. But still…
“We can’t…”
“Oh? Why?” Catherine moved the picnic basket off the rug and cleared a space. “We are miles from anywhere. Your father’s in his workshop, under a car, along with your brothers, music blaring. And Meemaw’s in the kitchen, probably figuring out what to feed everyone for dinner. I imagine even if she set her mind to it, she couldn’t walk this far with her arthritis, even if she knew where we were.”
“It’s just…” Lauren swallowed. Her eyes widened as Catherine began to slowly unbutton her ivory blouse.
More and more soft skin began to be exposed, until Catherine finally slipped her shirt off.
“I…don’t…”
“Was there an objection in there?” Catherine asked, voice dropping a register. “You said we couldn’t make love under your fa
ther’s roof. Well, we are not under his roof anymore. Are we?”
“No,” she whispered.
Catherine reached around her back and undid her bra. “Remember two nights ago?” She dropped her bra to the ground, eyes challenging.
Lauren was soon transfixed by her swaying full breasts.
“You were so warm against my back,” Catherine said. “Your skin was burning against mine. I knew how aroused you were. I could feel you. All of you.”
Lauren gasped and tore her gaze away. She made herself look up.
“I wanted to flip you over and claim you until the bed shook. I wanted nothing more than to slide my fingers inside you and take you.” Catherine’s hand shifted to her belt. “But I didn’t.” She slid it out of its clasp. Undid it with a snick. Her voice dropped even lower. “Did I?”
Shaking her head, Lauren stared.
“So…” Catherine’s voice was even, her eyes half-lidded. “Any objections now?”
Lauren’s gaze darted around one last time, satisfying herself they were completely alone. “I… No. But we’d…have to be quick.”
“We’ve been frustrated for three days.” Catherine slid her zipper down and then lay on her side on the rug beside her, adopting a pose like a Rodin goddess. “I don’t think being quick will be an issue.”
“Oh.” Lauren swallowed. “Good point.”
The sun’s dappled light caressed Catherine’s skin. The gentle breeze, making a soft rustling noise through the branches, teased her nipples into hardness. With a knowing look, Catherine slid her fingers over them and sighed.
“Oh God.”
Smiling, Catherine gathered Lauren’s fingers in her own, then slipped both their hands into her unzipped pants and inside her silk briefs.
“I always said you’d get to enjoy these.” The lingerie she’d teased Lauren with before they’d left home had turned damp.
“God,” Lauren said softly.
“He can’t help you.” Catherine’s heated gaze raked Lauren’s. Her eyes crinkled. “I can.” She slipped her own hand out of her lingerie, leaving Lauren’s. Pivoting her hips, she leaned into her, offering a rough whisper. “Now have your wicked way with me.”
