Goodbye to You

by A. J. Matthews

  “I miss you too, Mama Hattie. Sorry I haven’t been around much. Got a lot going on.” I pull away from her surprisingly strong embrace, and turn to Shay. His lips are curled into a slight smile.

  I sweep my hand to direct Hattie’s attention to him. “Mama Hattie, this is my friend Shay. Shay, this is my dear friend Mama Hattie Owens.”

  She sweeps an appreciative gaze from his head down to his toes. She leans in and squeezes his arms. “Oooooh, sugar, if this is what ya been busy with, I’m surprised ya came up for air tonight to visit old Mama Hattie instead a stayin’ hunkered down under the covers with this one.”

  Shay is adorable when he blushes about twenty shades of red at her words.

  I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to suppress a laugh.

  He takes her teasing in stride though, and returns Hattie’s bright smile. He tilts his head in my direction. “If this one hadn’t already caught me, I’d be coming over here to hunker down with you, Miss Hattie.”

  Hattie slaps at his arm, but looks at me. “Woohoo, baby girl, ya got a saucy one here.”

  I nod in agreement.

  Hattie shakes her head. “Boy, you couldn’t handle the goodies old Hattie can still dish out. Just ask Old Man Knox and he’ll tell ya.”

  Enjoying her flirtation with a man young enough to be her grandson, Hattie takes Shay by the arm and leads him to a table in the back of the restaurant.

  A small round booth in the darkest corner of the joint.

  Hattie winks at me.

  I slide into the tight space and my bare calf brushes against Shay’s hair-roughened leg, sending currents of electricity tingling through my entire body.

  “Whatcha drinkin’?” Hattie pulls out a pad to jot the order down.

  “Sundrop for me. I’m the designated driver tonight.”

  Hattie nods at Shay.

  “Beer. Whatever’s on tap.”

  Hattie puts her hand on one hip, looking exasperated. “Well, Mr. Fancy Pants, we don’t have any taps. Can or bottle. Your choice.”

  Shay laughs at Hattie’s sass. “Well, beautiful, why don’t you just bring me whatever your favorite is.”

  He winks, and Hattie swats at him with her notepad. She’s as crazy about him as I am.

  We both examine the extensive menu, and when Hattie returns with our drinks, pen poised over pad, Shay sags against the cushions, his eyes blank.

  “Know what you want?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “No idea. What’s good?” He replaces the menu in the pocket on the wall behind the booth, tipping his head at me. “You know what? Surprise me.”

  I crook my finger at Hattie and she leans down. I whisper the order in her good ear. She nods and exclaims “ooooh!” and “there you go, child!”

  Shay presses his lips together and draws his brow up. “What the heck did you order?

  “You’ll see!” I give into temptation, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he turns his head the split second before contact.

  Our lips connect, and the spark burns just a little brighter. We kiss softly for a few minutes, and then someone plops some change in the digital jukebox I convinced Hattie to get last year.

  One of my favorite singers asks for his own country girl to shake her bootie for him.

  I can’t resist the request, so I jump up and join a couple other people treading the boards in the middle of Mama Hattie’s Country Kitchen.

  I’m positive Shay’s never had a Carolina girl shake it for him like I’m about to.

  ***

  Shay

  I didn’t think people line danced anymore, except at weddings, but Thea and some other patrons are shooting holes in my assumptions.

  The dancers turn and stomp, rattling the floorboards. They clap to the beat, turn again, and then all the ladies stop in place and shake their hips at the singer’s request.

  Her purple top clings to her perfectly, her breasts shimmying in time to the music. I cover my eyes, not sure how much longer I can take the torture of watching her move, knowing how hot she is underneath the thin layers of clothing.

  Good grief. If this song doesn’t end soon, she’ll keep shaking what her mama gave her and I’ll pass out from lack of oxygen to the brain.

  Because all the blood flows to my crotch, giving me the stiffest erection I’ve ever had.

  “Taking things slow” might not last past tonight, if that’s what she wants.

  I can’t wait anymore. The six weeks since I’d last touched her soft naked skin was like a lifetime, and I never want to go that long again.

  If I didn’t have two left feet, I’d join her on the creaky, worn boards, press myself against her lush bottom, and whisper in her ear what I would do to her when I got her home…

  “What are you going to do when you get her home?”

  Hattie.

  Crap. I’d been mumbling my thoughts. They weren’t just in my head.

  “He-hey, Miss Hattie. Nothing.” I grab my beer bottle and take a long swig of the smooth local craft beer. “Can I get another?”

  She eyes me suspiciously before nodding and walking off. People seem to scrutinize when Thea’s around.

  She’s well-loved and her friends want to protect her.

  I understand, because I want to protect her, too.

  I wasn’t sure I could ever relax enough to let this kind of love in.

  Hattie sets another beer down on the table, grabbing my empty.

  The song ends and Thea slides back into the booth, laughing. She’s flushed and glowing, heat emanating from her body from the exertion of dancing. Her straightened hair is frizzing again, wisps curling around her heart-shaped face, framing her enchanting blue eyes.

  She’s never been prettier.

  Just as Thea sits, another server approaches the table, arms laden with dishes of buttery, gooey, greasy goodness. He sets the food on the table. Food? More like heart attacks on plates.

  Mac and cheese with a crusted top, greens swimming in liquid gold, some breaded meat, fried okra, and biscuits. Lots of biscuits.

  I can’t come here too much or else I’m going to start packing on the pounds.

  I shake my head and pick up a paper napkin to wipe the sweat that’s trickling down my neck. The air is comfortable in here, and I’ve endured worse in Key West in the middle of summer, but whenever Thea’s around, the temperature climbs to sweltering-rainforest level.

  We finish off the food, and I’m stuffed. Against my better judgment, I order my fourth beer. Everything is going down so easily tonight, and a sense of calm sinks into my bones.

  Hattie returns and smiles proudly when she sees Thea curled into my side, as though she somehow played a part in the intimacy with her magical cooking.

  Maybe she did. The food was mighty satisfying.

  “All good here?”

  Thea sits up, and I miss her warmth immediately.

  She rubs her stomach. “Yes, Mama Hattie. So wonderful. We’ll take the check now. I don’t think we can eat anymore.”

  “Consider it all on the house if you promise not ta be a stranger, girl.”

  “I promise. I’ll be back soon.”

  “You better be child. Don’t make me come huntin’ for ya. Ya know they took my driver’s license from me, said I was too old, but that won’t stop me from comin’ ta find ya.”

  We laugh, and Hattie moves her gaze to me. “Young man, you bring her back around soon. I like seeing that pretty smile on her sweet face. Been missin’ too long. Don’t ya do nothin’ ta take it away.”

  I wonder what she means. Thea’s graced me with that beautiful smile since the moment I met her, and I’ll never do anything to make her sad.

  At least I’ll try not to.

  The jukebox played all through dinner, and now a slow song vibrates through the room. I stand up and bow in front of Thea.

  “May I have this dance, my lady?” I sweep my arms in a flourish. She rewards me with a hearty chuckle.

  “I thought you don’t dance
.”

  “I can hold on and sway. This song was made for moves like mine.” I stand to my full height again and extend my hand.

  She beams and accepts the invitation.

  I circle my left arm around her slender waist and hold her left hand with my right.

  We move in slow circles, and her soft, warm body presses closer to me with each turn. My senses are filled with warm raspberries and the smell of her shampoo. I‘m lightheaded. It’s all so new—every sensation and emotion seems heightened in her presence.

  She lifts her face to me, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I think we’re late for the movie.”

  I laugh lightly and let go of her hand to touch her face, cupping her chin in my hand. “I don’t care. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

  Her hands slide up my back, and then dip down, slipping into the waist of my shorts.

  Her slender fingers trace circles on my skin, setting off a fire that can’t be put out.

  At least not here.

  I lean down, nuzzling her neck, the silky strands of her hair tickling my nose. “Wanna go?”

  She nods.

  We retrieve her purse, and I drop a twenty on the table to tip the staff for a night well-done.

  Now I plan on making the rest of the night one Thea will remember for as long as she lives.

  Chapter 12

  Thea

  The drive back to my place seems soooooo long, but I’m glad we went out of our way.

  I chose Mama Hattie’s because I wanted Shay to try some authentic southern cooking, and I wanted him to meet my surrogate grandmother.

  Hattie has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and for some reason I wanted her to meet Shay.

  Maybe because I want him to be a part of my life for as long as I live.

  Shay fiddles with the radio, and I can’t help but admire his long fingers as they push the buttons and turn the dial.

  Bennie had texted me while we were out, and said she’d stay at Leesh’s tonight, just in case I “got lucky.”

  Which it looks like I will.

  I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair. Deep yoga breathing does nothing to calm my nerves.

  Key West had been a fantasy.

  This is real.

  My truck, my friends, my home.

  He’s here.

  Holy shit! He’s actually here.

  I need to tell him about the surgery.

  Soon. Soon, I promise. I’m not sure to whom I’m promising, but I need to say the words, even if they’re in my head.

  The gravel of the drive pops under the truck tires as we wind to the back of the house. The night is cloudy, and the weak bulb outside the door faintly illuminates our path.

  I’m thankful Bennie flipped on the switch before leaving, or else I’d be tripping over my feet to get to the door.

  Shay holds my hand, and we walk slowly. I’d expected him to pick me up and carry me. If he wants me as much as I want him, that’s what I would have expected.

  It’s like he’s savoring the moment.

  I want him so much. I don’t know how much longer I can contain my desire.

  I know nobody’s perfect, but I have yet to find the flaws. I’ll find his defects if he sticks around, but for now I’m happy with the illusion of the god-like status he earned in Key West.

  We get to the door, and I look up at him, his face shadowed. He looks almost fierce, but the slightest question remains in his eyes.

  I nod.

  “Are you su—”

  I cut him off with a kiss. No more words. Only touch and taste and smell.

  Talking later.

  For now, all I want is to feel.

  My hands shake as I try to unlock the door. Shay closes his strong hands around mine and takes the keys from me, unlocking the door and closing it behind us.

  I flip the switch to the overhead light so we don’t trip on the furniture on the way to the bedroom.

  His nimble fingers are soon on the hem of my shirt, easing it over my head. He dips his head to my neck, kissing the sensitive hollow. I shiver as he draws circles with his tongue. His hands reach up to cup my breasts. I gasp when his thumbs graze over my nipples, the friction from the satin of my bra and the heat of his hands tightening the flesh to tight peaks. A bolt of lightning shoots to my core and I lean against the door for support.

  His hands slide to my waist as he presses the length of his body into mine. He kisses my forehead and looks into my eyes. I’m drowning in the green-gold glow of his eyes as his gaze falls to my lips. He bites his own lip, and all I can think of is him nipping at the tender flesh behind my knees, on the backs of my thighs…

  He’s looking in my eyes again, but this time he’s not asking for permission to do anything. I’ve already given it with my hands, kneading at the muscles of his back. With my legs, as I lift one and wrap it around his hip.

  His hands move to my face, cupping my jaw as his mouth inches closer. I shut my eyes and wait, my heartbeat counting the seconds.

  The gentleness of his lips on mine, a mere whisper, is maddening. I want to drink in every inch of him. I let him lead. So much time. No need to hurry, no matter how much I want him naked over me, under me, and behind me.

  He moves his lips to my temple, across my cheek, and I arch my head back, inviting him to take whatever he wants.

  He groans from deep in his chest as I dig my hands into his hair and pull a little, urging his head down, down to the swell of my breasts straining against my bra. I need him to undress me, kiss my naked breasts, and show me how much he loves them.

  I need him to ease this throbbing between my legs. Now.

  He refuses to rush. He kisses the top of each breast, and then laughs lightly, trailing his fingers up my arms, the fine hairs standing on end. He loops one finger under the strap over my left shoulder and pulls it down to droop against my arm. He does the same with the other strap. When I reach behind my back to unhook the nuisance, he shakes his head and clasps my hands in his, holding them above my head.

  “Not yet.” His murmur tickles my cheek.

  His fingers return to my shoulder, and he dips his head to kiss the spot he just caressed then moves across my collarbone and back to the hollow of my neck.

  The delayed gratification is maddening.

  He cups one breast in his free hand, and my flesh tingles in response to his touch. My stupid bra is nothing more than a frustrating barrier between my skin and the rough warmth of his large hand.

  He must be a mind reader, because he finally releases my hands and reaches behind me to unfasten the hooks.

  I tug at his shirt, frantic to touch him.

  The shirt comes off over his head, tousling his perfect hair. He’s even sexier now, mussed up and desperate-looking. I feast my eyes on his hard body, then stroke my hands over his steely forearms dusted with dark hair. I clutch at his biceps, caress the rigid planes of his chest. The muscles flex in response, encouraging me to explore more. His hot skin burns my lips.

  His moan fans the flames of my need for him.

  My hands skim lower, over the six-pack granite of his abs, and I undo the buckle of his belt, slide the button of his shorts open and pull the zipper down. I slide the shorts down over his solid thighs, the soft cotton pooling around his ankles.

  He kicks his shoes off and is standing in front of me in nothing but his boxers. I can see how much he wants me. I want to feel how much he wants me. I cup his hard cock through his underwear and tease him as he did me through my bra.

  He grips my wrist and pulls my hand away.

  Then he picks me up in his capable arms and carries me down the short hall and through the open door of my bedroom.

  He sets me gently on the soft quilt that covers the bed, and I lift my hips so he can slide my capris off. He sits down next to me and cradles my face in his hands as he kisses me again, sucking on my tongue, drawing it into his hot mouth. He works his fingers through my hair, deepeni
ng the kiss even more, and I melt further into a puddle with each groan.

  I can’t tell which sounds are his and which are mine.

  I whimper when he drags his lips away from mine, only to cry out as he takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply as he massages the other breast, his callused hands setting off sparks.

  He runs his tongue along the soft underside of each breast, my hands in his soft, dark hair encouraging him lower still. He kisses my belly as his fingers stroke the heat between my thighs through my panties, stoking the fire that had been raging in me since I left him in Florida.

  He hooks his thumbs into the edge of my panties. Our eyes connect, his asking for permission. I concur by raising my hips off of the bed so he can slide the scrap of fabric off.

  I open my legs for him. Again, he delays his gratification for me. He drops his head, his lips teasing at the damp heat between my legs, nipping at the sensitive bud of my clit. His tongue darts out, stroking the bundle of nerves as he slips his forefinger inside.

  He crooks his finger and massages the nub inside, and my legs shake in mere seconds.

  I claw at the quilt, my tenuous grip on reality slipping through my fingers as wave after wave of pleasure spirals through my body, throwing me into an abyss I never want to climb out of.

  ***

  Shay

  She’s still panting when I stand up and strip off my underwear. I cover her warm, soft body with mine, her tight nipples rubbing against my chest. I’m lucky I don’t come before I can even slide into her. She pulls my head down and kisses me hard, licking at my lips.

  So hot.

  I want to dive right into her, but stop. “Do you have…?”

  She reaches for her nightstand but can’t get to the drawer. I open it and find the box, pulling out a foil packet and tearing it open.

  She parts her thighs, welcoming me, and I ease into her wetness. My arms shake with restraint as my traitorous body threatens to lose control.