Conditional Offer

by Liz Crowe

  You love him Suzanne. He is an amazing man. Don't ruin this with your bullshit. You deserve this. So does he.

  But a small, niggling, familiar voice of worry crept into her brain. Marry him if you must, but he will want a family. You don't even know if you are capable of that.

  She shook her head ordering the voice quiet and just kept watching him--the man who had befriended her, made her laugh, made her sing with pleasure, and now was back in her life once again. After nearly thirty minutes of nonstop crawl, then breaststroke, he stopped, hanging on to the edge of the pool with one hand. He wiped his face, took off his goggles and the look of joy on his face when he saw her nearly made her weep again. But, she stood, holding out a Big House Brewing tee shirt. "Suit up hot stuff, we have work to do."

  * * *

  It was brutally hot at the festival, as usual. Something like a hundred and six degrees in the shade, but that did not stop the masses of beer fans. So after a few mishaps getting the draft systems set up, Suzanne, Craig, Evan, and Julie were pouring, talking, and passing out temporary tattoos with the distinctive Big House logo to the thousands that descended on the event. Jack would be along later, he claimed, after he dropped Katie off at Sara's. It was the little girl's birthday tomorrow and Craig would be going to the party. Suzanne was determined not to let that bug her. The potential connection to Sara Thornton was one thing that hovered around Craig, like a sort of low-level haze, and she needed him to shake it off. Now that he was back, he'd get pulled back into that life, with the little girl who could potentially be his biological daughter. It did bug her a lot. But she was determined to talk to him about it, and not let it dig any further into her psyche.

  She stopped at one point, heard a low rumble of thunder and wiped the sweat from her face. Craig had taken over the temp tattoo station and was flirting his adorable ass off with every young woman who presented her chest, or hip or face to him so he could press one of the damn things to her skin with a wet sponge. He looked over at her and winked. She rolled her eyes and resumed the pour-talk-pour-talk that was the main work of any beer fest. A flash of lightning made the crowd gasp. The loud clap of thunder that followed made her jump, and as festival goers crowded into the three tents it got darker and darker. The rain, when it finally came, was a positive deluge as if the very heavens were pouring buckets of water straight onto them. She looked down at one point and discovered she was standing in nearly four inches of water.

  "Here," Craig handed her another cup of beer. "Might as well drink." He downed his and refilled it.

  The rain pounded on the tent, and continued to swirl around their ankles. The crowd got ever more raucous. The beer, heat and emotion she'd been suppressing for so long made her dizzy. The thunder and lightning headed east but the rain remained a steady downpour. She stared at it, took another drink, and set the cup down. She grabbed Craig's hand. "C'mon," she tugged him away from the festival bar. "Let's cool off."

  He grinned tossing the temporary tattoos down and ran out with her. She splashed through puddles and mud, waved at all the various brewers and brewery owners calling out to her as she and Craig ran like crazy people towards the river that bordered the edge of the park. Her heart pounded in her ears but she was happy, honest-to-god happy, for what felt like the first time in years. She pulled her hand out of his and stood, lifting her face to the cool rain. Then looked down to find him staring at her, breathing heavy, the grey brewery shirt molded to his amazing torso. "You look like a centerfold," she yelled out to him over the various noises.

  "You should get a load of yourself," he nodded to her, laughing. She looked down. Her own thin tee and bra were soaked, and there was no disguising the hard peaks of her nipples underneath. She looked over and saw ten or twelve of her colleagues huddled under a tent and giving her thumbs ups. She flushed red, and then looked at Craig, his long blond hair dripping and his dark brown eyes glistening.

  "I missed you," she whispered, and before she could say another word, he had her scooped up and tossed over his shoulder in a fireman's carry to the hooting and loud applause of the nearby tent.

  He jogged along the Huron River shore, taking them some distance from the crowds. Then he put her down and laid a kiss on her that made tears spring to her eyes. She leaned back against an ancient oak tree, pulling him with her. The rain kept up and got even harder, but she didn't care. His lips, his hands and body pressed to hers- that was what she felt, what she needed to be whole. He broke the kiss. She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and kept him close. "Kiss me like that some more."

  "I will, don't worry. But first, my question." He propped his hands on either side of her and stared deep into her soul. "Will you marry me?"

  She gulped. Her entire body tingled with something she chose to identify as fear. "I can't…I mean, let's just …. Damn." She looked away. He stood back up, glaring at her. The rain slowed to a drizzle. "Craig," she grabbed his arms. "We have too much to sort out – we can't just jump into marriage. Not yet."

  "No one is jumping into anything. I want this and so do you. Why wait? What's the point of that?"

  "You still have feelings for Sara." She blurted out, and then slapped her hand over her mouth.

  He ran a hand through his dripping hair and took a step back from her. She grabbed him again, kissed him with an urgency born of desperation. "It's okay." She said, muttering into his rough jaw. "You just need to get past it. Then…then we'll talk more. Until you do, it won't work. You will always be wondering 'what if' about her. She and Jack can't seem to get their damn act together. She's alone with Katie. And you – you could well be that girl's father."

  He tried to escape her grip but she held on and felt the anguish rise in her throat nearly choking her. She kept whispering in his ear. "Decide how you really feel about Sara now that you're back and then come to me. I'll be here." She kissed him and ran, as fast as she could, splashing back through the puddles and mud, skidding to a stop behind her own bar again.

  She didn't see him again for nearly a month. By then she'd decided to tell him everything, how she got the scars, about Blake, all of it. Then he could run away if he wanted…but at least he would know everything.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Their lives led them on different paths. Craig's killer schedule as an intern at the busy University of Michigan Emergency Room led to stress that settled right between her eyes and would not let go. She'd done this – this forced retreat was of her own design and she knew it, but she also knew it was true. He had to get past whatever residual shit he had with Sara. In the month after the beer fest they talked a few times on the phone, exchanged some texts, and saw each other once. The exhaustion and anxiety in his eyes while he sat and drank a few beers at her bar made her heart ache. She was doing it again. Throwing away a perfectly good man thanks to her own … what? Inferiority complex? Inability to commit? Shit. She slumped down in the chair after he'd given her a noncommittal brush of lips and left, claiming he had early rounds in the morning.

  The day after that encounter her phone buzzed as she worked her way through some inventory problems. She frowned at it – why in the world would Sara be calling?

  "Hi Suzanne." The woman's voice was firm and clear. "I wanted to invite you and Craig up to the lake house this weekend."

  "Oh, um, well…" she hesitated.

  "I know he has three days off and thought we would….you know, get together, all of us. Away from Ann Arbor."

  "I don't know…."

  "Listen, you probably realize better than anyone how I feel about Jack. You have to believe me when I say that is real. Anything with Craig was…is gone. He's a friend. But I want him to be happy."

  "Well..." she closed her eyes, let her brain visit the fact that it just might work.

  "I'll talk to him. Thanks for the invite and for telling me that. It means a lot."

  "I know it does. I can't think of two people who deserve happiness more. Take it from me – delaying that will only lead to disaste
r."

  She hung up and sent him a text. "So about this lake weekend? You were going to mention that to me at some point?"

  He responded quickly. "Yes. But I need to go there by myself, I think."

  Her heart sank as she typed. "Oh."

  His reply was fast again. "It's time for me to let her go, like you said. And I will, but want to talk to her first."

  "Ok." She decided to leave out the fact that Sara already considered it. Realizing the decision did have to come from him, from his heart.

  * * *

  Craig stood, his heart pounding, staring at Sara. The kiss she'd just initiated as they walked along the Lake Michigan shoreline had been epic and he was about a half second from stripping her naked on the Lake Michigan beach and fucking her silly. But she'd stopped him. And he was truly grateful. "Go to her," Sara told him. And he turned and sprinted up the beach, took the steps up to the house two at a time not even hesitating at the thought of another three hour trip back to Ann Arbor.

  The house was in chaos when he hit the door. The seven-year-old girl who was Sara in miniature was screaming her head off. Blake was trying to stop blood that seemed to be coming from her foot. Craig took her, used his best doctor voice to calm her and took the wet rag Blake held out to press to her foot. "I need to look at it honey, okay, so hang onto Uncle Blake's hand for a second." She hiccupped, nodded and did as he said while he pulled the sharp stick out of her instep. She flinched but didn't cry, instead heaving a huge sigh when he smeared antibiotic cream on the wound and bound it with gauze and tape.

  She crawled up into his lap and he had a minute of doubt. He loved holding her small, warm self and the natural caretaker in him tightened his grip on her as she resumed her hitching sobs. This could be his daughter. He shut his eyes at the force of it.

  "Uncle Craig…" the girl whispered. "I missed you, I'm glad you're back."

  He looked up and saw Blake. But instead of giving him his usual positive energy sort of look, he was frowning. He knelt down beside them. "Katie, honey," he stroked her hair and she vacated Craig's lap and launched herself at Blake. "What happened? Who was on the phone before you ran outside and hurt your foot?"

  "Uncle Jack…" she sucked in a breath and buried her face in Blake's neck. He stood, hanging onto her. "He's not coming. I wanted to see him and he's not coming out here like he promised."

  Rob grabbed a phone and started dialing. Craig looked up, puzzled. "Hey," Rob spoke into the phone. Blake and Craig both listened as they got one side of a difficult sounding conversation. When he hung up, his face was pale. "It's Maureen, Jack's sister," he said to Craig. "Well, actually it's her husband, Brandis. He's, uh, he's dead."

  "Shit," Blake muttered and walked out to the deck after handing Katie off to Rob. Craig stood. This whole thing had gotten very surreal but his need to get back to Suzanne was suffocating him. He walked out and stood by Blake. "Why are you even here?" The young man asked, keeping his eyes trained down to the deck.

  Craig frowned. Blake had always been in his corner when it came to Sara. The guy turned to him, his deep green eyes resigned but not completely unhappy. "I mean, why are you not with Suzanne?"

  Craig's shoulders slumped. The ghostly memory of Katie in his arms, the intense but brief moment he'd shared with Sara all roiled around his head. But something else was stronger now – the vision of a petite, vulnerable red head who he wanted to see more than he wanted to draw his next breath.

  Blake put a hand on his arm. "Go. I've got this," he nodded back to the small lake house where they could still hear Katie snuffling her way through little-girl disappointment. Craig felt a shit-eating grin spread over his face. "Jesus, go already. What are you waiting for an engraved invite?" Blake waved him away.

  The wind whipped his face as he sped back the way he had just come, going east now, towards Ann Arbor. His heart was light, his body on fire, and he had one thing in mind. Going to Suzanne, being with her, and nothing else. The thoughts of Sara, the moment with Katie, then Blake's sudden understanding of how it really should be between them all, it all pointed to one thing – he and Sara were well, and truly, over. And now he had to prove it to Suzanne.

  He screeched up outside her house, put his helmet on the seat and then saw her glowing like a beacon in a yellow sundress. "About time," she said as he bounded up the steps, collecting her in his arms and diving right into her, unwilling to ever come up for air again.

  * * *

  He sat, gasping for breath, his brain refusing to process what she was saying. Their bodies had connected, and Craig had never been happier even though it was immediate, quick and right on her front porch. Until words like "rape," and "glass" and "steps" and "dead" rolled through him, as she recounted the whole story of what had happened between her and Mitchell Baxter. Blake had come along at precisely the wrong and the right time for her, and after Mitchell had delivered his final, brutal beating to the small, shivering woman he held in his arms, the young man had landed that asshole in the hospital.

  Craig clenched his fists, rose and paced, stared out into the dark. Her voice broke but she kept talking. His jaw ached. He forced himself to stop gritting his teeth. She pulled her legs up close, held onto herself as the story unfolded. Mitchell, home from his stint in the hospital a few days after her. Suzanne, on this very porch waiting for him, and realizing that she had to do something or he would likely kill her the next time. His angry voice, clattering up the steps then with a simple push the man fell back, his broken leg giving him no purchase. And the distinct sound of his skull hitting the large granite banister. He shut his eyes. "Stop," he croaked out, unable to take more.

  "No," she said, her voice strong.

  He took the few steps between them and scooped her up, held her close and kept listening. Blake's insistence on staying with her, her first time having sex after Mitchell's brutality with his body and broken glass, all of it, she spared him no detail. He kissed her hair, rubbed her back as she started shivering. "God," She put her head on his shoulder. "I'm a real mess. You sure you want any part of this?"

  "Go on," he whispered. "How did it end?" His own connection with Sara's brother made him ask. "I need to know."

  She wiped her arm across her face. "I made him go. I…I loved him, like I told you, but he was too much a part of that whole horrific moment. I needed to get my life back on track and every time I saw him, I saw Mitchell…could hear the glass, and me screaming, smell blood. It was unfair to Blake. Totally and completely, and I know it, and am still coming to terms with it but,"

  "He seems to have landed on his feet, with Rob." Craig brushed her hair off her face.

  She sighed and seemed to relax. "Yes. Thank god. I am so happy for them…and it's beyond weird too, all the connections. I mean Rob was one of my best friends in college. And the whole Jack and Sara thing…Jesus…Anyway…"

  Craig held her close again. "So, I'm grateful to Blake then." He said.

  She looked away from him but he turned her chin and made her face him. "He saved your life." He brushed a kiss over her trembling lips. "And I'm grateful for Sara. She introduced us, remember?"

  She nodded and put her arms around his neck, giving him a much more meaningful kiss. He stood and carried her inside. "So now…let me set about proving to you how grateful I am, you sexy ginger girl you."

  Chapter Twenty

  Craig rolled over, draping an arm across Suzanne's hip. She shifted, mumbled and molded against him, bringing every part of him fully awake. The sun pierced the blinds, hitting him square in the eye; he buried his face in her neck, killing a couple of birds with one stone. He let his hand trail along her hip, down one leg then up, reveling in the way she sighed and turned to face him.

  "Mmm…" he sighed into her ear, realizing he'd very nearly missed the night, the opportunity – hell, had nearly missed her. His heart pounded but then calmed when she touched him. He closed his eyes, leaned into the cool palm she put against his face.

  "I'm glad you came
back," her voice tickled his ear as she snuggled in, tucking herself into the curve of his body.

  "Me too, especially if you keep doing that." She trailed her hand across his shoulder, down to his bare hip then forward to grip his morning-hard cock. "Yeah. That."

  She giggled into his chest and kept moving her hand up and down both torturing and pleasuring when she would stop and use his own fluid to lubricate her action. His hips thrust, matching her movements. The sensation of her lips and teeth against his nipple made him moan, but he bit it back, tried to resist, wanting to please her first.

  "Let it go Craig," she whispered, as her lips made their way up his neck. Her firm breasts pressed against him and her hand kept that infernally amazing activity on his flesh. "Come for me," she demanded as she licked her way back down and captured his nipple between her teeth once more.

  "Shit," he grunted and allowed himself the intense pleasure of exactly that. He threaded his fingers in her hair, and leaned his head back as the orgasm gathered strength at the base of his spine then roared up and captured his brain, making him cry out and be momentarily blinded by physical release. "God!" He held her close as his body kept zinging while spasms of pleasure thrummed through every nerve ending.

  "Good morning," she tilted her face up and kissed him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, making him nearly wild with something he couldn't name, but made his head buzz with intensity. He held her close as they kissed, then flipped her over, holding her arms down as he did his own tongue dance down her neck, to her breasts. He sucked first one, then the other luscious nipple before sinking down between her legs and tasting every glorious centimeter of her sex.