The True Love Quilting Club

by Lori Wilde

  His mouth found her nipple and she shivered beneath his lips. She tasted so good. This felt so right, and yet at the same time, he felt as if he’d stepped off the sandbar, and gotten pulled down by the undertow of emotions. But he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t turn back no matter how hard he tried.

  She moaned softly, arched her back. His erection hardened. He pulled her closer, ran his hand down her spine, tickling her skin with his fingertips.

  “Mmm.” She sighed into his hair.

  His hand drifted from her back to the round smoothness of her sweet butt. Imperative need sprang up in him, the force of his desire unabated by the sex they’d just had. Need he could not deny.

  Shifting his kiss to her lips, he stroked one palm along her buttocks, the other over her belly. Then lower to that bare area above her thighs.

  Her eyes were open. He felt the heat of her stare. He opened his own eyes and peered into her, felt something monumental. She was his woman. If only for tonight.

  His fingers tiptoed downward and she opened her legs to him. He smiled at her, and her eyes widened as he found her warm, wet entry.

  “Sam,” she whispered again.

  “Emma.”

  “Is it really you? Are we really here?”

  “It’s real, sweetheart.”

  “I thought I’d dreamed you, Twilight, all of this.”

  “Nope.” He kissed her forehead. “No dream.”

  “You mean,” she said, “if I were to do this…” She wriggled away from him, but just so she could push him on his back and straddle his waist. “You wouldn’t disappear?”

  He spread his palms. “Still here.”

  She dipped her head, and her lips took possession of his. He opened his mouth and met her tongue with eager enthusiasm. Impishly, she slid her palms up his arms to his wrist, then encircled them with her fingers and pinned his hands over his head.

  Slowly, she eased herself down over his erection.

  He hissed in a desperate breath. “Emma.”

  She moved over him, her soft body warm and relaxed. How amazing it felt to be inside her. He was lost, washed away in the whirlpool of her mesmerizing eyes.

  Her copper curls tumbled about her shoulders. Her green eyes glistened with fire as fierce as his. Her mouth was puffy from his rough kisses. He’d worked her over fully and she was coming back for more.

  They played and teased until primal need consumed them. They slung pillows, mussed sheets, and thumped the headboard. Sighing and groaning, they consumed each other in the heat of their desire.

  “With you,” she whispered, “the future is today. Tomorrow is too late.”

  What did that mean? What do you mean? He wanted to ask her but his brain was too clogged with testosterone. He was on a mission, driven, driven, driven to find that trigger that would spring a dual release. Him, her, both of them together.

  She was on all fours in the middle of the mattress now, slanting him a look over her shoulder as he grasped her around the waist with one hand and gently used the other to toy with her breast. He spread her legs wider and eased his rock-hard cock into her.

  “Make me come, Sammy,” she said, her husky voice filled with passion. “Make me come again.”

  He couldn’t hold back any longer, he thrust deep inside her and she moaned in pleasure with each thrust.

  “Yes,” she hissed, “yes, Sam, yes,” and pushed her bottom up against him. “That’s it.”

  Deeper and faster and harder until they were both flying. His breath was a freight train in his lungs.

  “Ooh, I’m coming, Sam, I’m coming,” she cried.

  He felt it welling up inside him. The incredible primitive force overtook him, spilled from him.

  Both their bodies jerked in unison, and, shuddering, they collapsed together on the mattress that somehow in the fray had lost its sheets.

  He pulled her to him, curled his body around hers, kissed her tenderly on the nape of the neck, and then he nibbled on her ear, his palm skimming over her stomach.

  Emma reached behind her, tucked her hand behind his butt, pulled him closer, keeping him inside her as long as she could.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  They dozed again and woke just before dawn. Opening their eyes at the same time and finding themselves face-to-face.

  “Morning, sunshine.” He smiled at her.

  “I’m the happiest squirrel in the whole U.S.A,” she said, singing another one of the ubiquitous skating rink songs they’d perverted.

  “Songwriters must really hate us.”

  “I could lie here all day staring at you,” she said. “But I gotta pee.”

  “Me too.”

  “Bathroom, brush teeth, shower, breakfast,” Emma said. “In that order.”

  “Race you.”

  After a shower together where they lazily played and kissed and cuddled and teased, they wandered hand-in-hand to the kitchen. Sam wore his pajama bottoms, Emma wore his pajama top. It was so big on her petite little frame that the hem reached almost to her knees.

  “You look adorable,” he said as he opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs.

  “So do you.” She grinned.

  “Can you watch the bacon while I feed the critters?” he asked.

  “Will do.”

  He stepped out onto the back porch, cool morning air seeping in. She rolled up the sleeve of his sleep shirt, scrambled eggs and flipped bacon. Within minutes delicious breakfast smells filled the room. She loved being able to cook for him and decided she’d whip up some pancakes as well.

  She heard the back door creep open. “Coffee’s ready,” she called over her shoulder. “But none of that decaf mess, and if you want any, you’re going to have to come over here and give me a kiss for it. I don’t work for free.”

  “Okay,” said a feminine voice. “But I’d really rather just pay for a cup.”

  Emma yelped in surprise and spun around, bacon fork in hand.

  There, looking not much different than she had sixteen years ago, stood Sam’s mother.

  “M…Ma…Mrs. Cheek,” she stammered.

  “Trixie Lynn Parks,” Lois Cheek said.

  “Mom!” Sam exclaimed, darting in the back door. “What are you doing here?”

  It turned out Sam’s parents had just gotten back in town from their two-month RV road trip, and were unaware that Charlie had gone to spend the weekend with his other grandparents. Sam’s mother had come over, unable to wait to see for herself that her grandson was talking again. She handled the fact that she’d caught her son and his lover half naked in the kitchen with unruffled aplomb.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast,” Lois Cheek said, avoiding Emma’s gaze. “Just wanted to let you know we were back in town and our annual Halloween party is still on for tonight. Trixie Lynn, will you be attending with Sam?”

  “Um…um…yeah, sure,” she’d said.

  “Good, I’ll expect you around seven then.” With that, she’d turned and walked out the door.

  Now they were standing on his mother’s front porch. Sam was dressed as a cowboy, Emma as static cling.

  “Lame costume,” she said to him. “The only change you had to make to your regular wardrobe was to put on a cowboy hat.”

  “And the lariat,” he said, tossing the rope around her and pulling her to him. “Don’t forget the lariat.”

  He leaned down for a quick kiss. Her heart hopped at the brush of his lips against hers. Easy. You’re falling too hard, girl.

  The door opened before he had a chance to deepen the kiss, and a billow of fog rolled out followed by Frankenstein. “Monster Mash” was playing in the background.

  “Son.” Frankenstein clapped Sam on the back.

  “Dad, you remember Trixie Lynn.”

  “It’s Em—”

  “Trixie Lynn, welcome.” Frankenstein, aka Sam’s dad, Bill Cheek, shook her hand. His eyes twinkled as he surveyed the
socks Velcroed to her sweat suit. “Static cling?”

  “See,” she told Sam. “He guessed it right off the bat.”

  “And you’re Wyatt Earp again.” Bill Cheek shook his head. “What’s this, five years in a row now?”

  “I don’t have everyone else’s imagination.”

  “You better get inside,” Bill said. “I see a fresh round of trick-or-treaters coming up the walk. There’s punch in the kitchen, and your mother is making a fresh batch of popcorn balls.”

  Sam took Emma’s hand and led her through the dry ice fog and into the living room. Immediately, her senses were assaulted with the sights, smells, and sounds of a lively party.

  There were bowls of candy everywhere and all kinds of kitschy Halloween novelties. Motion-activated skeletons danced. Banshees howled. An automated werewolf sang “Werewolves of London.” Cobwebs dangled from ceilings. Chains creaked. A replica coffin in the middle of the living room served as the buffet table laden with ghoulish treats—peeled grapes that stood in for eyeballs, spaghetti that masqueraded as worms, a small watermelon carved up to look like a brain. People milled around in all manner of costumes from the ubiquitous Darth Vader to over-the-top vamp tramps to circus clowns to Disney princesses. Not so dissimilar from backstage at a play. This was right up Emma’s alley.

  “I wish I’d had more time to come up with a better costume,” she whispered to Sam.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” She grinned.

  Sam reintroduced her to his brothers. Ben, the oldest, wore a three-piece suit.

  “CEO?” Emma guessed.

  Ben turned around to show her a pillow strapped to his behind painted yellow and black.

  “I get it.” She laughed. “A corporate drone.”

  Sam’s second oldest brother Mac was dressed as a banana, and his cute girlfriend, Coco, was a chocolate chip cookie.

  Jenny and Dean were Raggedy Ann and Andy.

  Emma met Sam’s baby sister, Katie, whom she remembered as once having a penchant for Barbie dolls. Katie was dressed as a 1970s stewardess in go-go boots, a straight blond wig, and a miniskirt. “Coffee, tea or me,” she teased.

  And Sam’s younger brother, Joe, looked like a California surfer dude with his wavy golden hair, tanned skin, and straight white teeth. He put her in mind of Matthew McConaughey—leanly muscular, charming, devil-may-care. He wore green surgical scrubs and a stethoscope, and he tried to give her one of those complicated handshakes that Emma fumbled miserably.

  “I have a feeling you and Sam have the same minimalist outlook on costumes,” she said.

  “Yep.” Joe nodded and slanted her a lady-killer grin. “Where do you think I got the scrubs?”

  “He’s a klepto, that one,” Sam said. “You better keep your eye on him.”

  “Speaking of, can I steal my big brother for a minute?” Joe asked Emma.

  “What did I tell you?” Sam grinned and punched Joe lightly on the shoulder. “Watch yourself. He can coax a snake out of its skin.”

  “Emma!” Sam’s mother called and waved her over. Lois was dressed as Lily Munster with a long black wig and a glowing shroud of a gown. “There you are. I’m sorry I called you Trixie Lynn before. Jenny tells me you changed your name.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Would you mind helping me in the kitchen with the popcorn balls? The trick-or-treaters love them and we’re about to run out.”

  “Sure, sure.” She waved good-bye to Sam as Joe pulled him in one direction and Lois Cheek led her in another.

  His parents had updated their kitchen since the last time she’d been in it. But of course, that was sixteen years ago. The countertops were granite now, instead of tile. All the appliances were stainless steel and the walls were a popular shade of fawn, where they’d once been sunshine yellow.

  “I like what you’ve done with the kitchen,” she commented.

  “Bill got a nice severance package when he took early retirement. We redid the kitchen, bought the RV.” She tossed a package of popcorn at her. “You pop the corn. I’ll cook the candy syrup.”

  Emma didn’t mind helping but she wondered why Lois hadn’t recruited one of her daughters. She measured out the popcorn oil and put it in the kettle to heat before adding the popcorn.

  “I’ve been getting reports about you from my sister, Belinda.”

  “We’re in the quilting club together.”

  “I heard. I also heard about the quilt you made Charlie, and I could tell from the minute I laid eyes on Sam that Charlie wasn’t the only one you’ve charmed.”

  Emma didn’t know what to say to that, so she concentrated on shaking the kettle so the popcorn wouldn’t burn.

  “I want to thank you for bringing my son out of his shell,” Lois said. “I’ve never seen him so lively. He’s smiling, teasing, winking. I even heard him whistling. He was always a guarded boy, and that was one of the reasons I wasn’t thrilled with his marriage to Valerie.”

  “Oh?” Emma raised her eyebrows.

  “It wasn’t that I didn’t like her or that she wasn’t a good person. She was. But they were too much alike. Both of them cautious to the point of letting life pass them by.”

  “If Valerie was so cautious, why did she join the reserves?”

  “To pay her way through nursing school. Honestly, she never thought she’d get called up.”

  “She probably could have gotten out of it, since she was sole support of her son.”

  Lois shook her head. “Valerie wasn’t like that. As I said, she and Sam were two peas in a pod. When she gave her word—just like with Sam—you knew it was golden.”

  “You said their similar personalities was one of the reasons why you weren’t thrilled with his marriage to Valerie,” Emma ventured even though she realized she was treading on dangerous ground. Did she really want to know all the answers to her questions about Sam’s marriage? Why was she getting more entrenched in his life when she would be leaving soon? It wasn’t fair to either one of them. Nor to Charlie, who was getting more attached to her every time she saw him. “What were the other reasons?”

  “Valerie was six years older and she was done having children. I thought Sam deserved to have a child of his own.”

  “Charlie is his.”

  “I know that and you couldn’t ask for a better father. But I wish he could experience the joy of bringing his biological child into the world. There’s nothing like it, especially when you’re married to your true love. And I know that while he and Valerie did love each other in their way, it wasn’t the deep, passionate love he deserves. Valerie didn’t challenge him to try new things. They never argued. It was eerie weird. Every married couple argues.”

  Emma thought of all the arguments she and Sam had had since she’d come back to Twilight.

  “A soul mate helps you change and grow, pushes you to be a better person. Sam and Valerie weren’t soul mates. It hurt my heart to see him settle for less.” Lois paused in stirring the candy syrup and cocked her head toward Emma. “I always thought he really married her because she looked a little like you. Petite, red-haired, great pair of legs.”

  Emma didn’t know what to say to that so she changed the subject. “I think the popcorn is ready.”

  “Yes, you’re good for him.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Sam is good for me too.”

  “I know, but you worry me, Emma.”

  Goose bumps went up her spine. What was she talking about? “Shall I put the popcorn in a bowl?”

  Lois handed her a big plastic bowl. “I think it’s great you’ve put a spring in Sam’s step, and I don’t know how we can repay you for getting Charlie to talk again. But you’re not a forever kind of girl, are you, Emma?”

  Emma dumped the popcorn in the bowl; steam rose up between her and Sam’s mother.

  “Sam needs—no, he deserves—someone who can commit her all to him, and we both know you can’t do that.”

  Oh shit.
What was she supposed to say? Emma gulped.

  “As long as he knows you’re just having fun, well, that’s okay. Does he know you’re just having fun? That this thing between you can never be serious?”

  Silently, Emma nodded. A roaring sound rushed through her ears. “He knows.”

  “That’s good,” Lois chirped brightly. “Because if you break his heart, I will never, ever forgive you.”

  Emma didn’t tell Sam what his mother had said, because in her heart, she knew Lois Cheek was right. She couldn’t honestly give Sam the kind of commitment he so richly deserved. Even if she wasn’t hell-bent on succeeding in acting, she had no role model for how a real wife was supposed to act. She’d grown up motherless and more or less alone. All she knew about family life was when she imitated it on the stage.

  She went back to work on Monday still feeling unsettled, only to find Nina in the theater singing a ditty from The Sound of Music and dancing across the stage like a giddy teenager in love. Such frivolity on the normally elegant older woman took Emma aback. The same feeling of apprehension she’d experienced in Lois Cheek’s kitchen washed over her again. “Nina, are you okay?”

  “Emma.” Nina waved her up onstage. “Come here, I have great news.”

  Leery, Emma approached. The last time she’d gotten great news it had landed her in jail. “What’s wrong?”

  Nina laughed gaily. “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong. In fact, everything is very right.”

  “Okay.” Emma folded her arms across her chest.

  Nina walked over and cupped a hand to her cheek. “Smile,” she murmured. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  “So about this news…?”

  Nina looked around. They were alone in the theater so far, but the other actors and crew would be arriving soon. “Let’s go across the street for a walk in Sweetheart Park.”

  “Um, all right.”

  They left the theater to stroll the park, still adorned with Halloween decorations from the holiday weekend. Workers would be along today to replace the ghosts with pilgrims, the goblins with turkeys. The hay bales and pumpkins would stay. Early morning dew glistened in the grass, and Emma snuggled deeper into her sweater.