by Erin Quinn
“Yesterday,” he said softly, “up at the cabin? I heard his voice.”
Her gaze sharpened and focused on his face. Madison had a way of looking right into him—not through him—but down deep.
“What did he say?” she asked, sipping her wine. Noticeably not asking who the “he” was.
“Whatever he felt like. There was no shutting him up.”
That got a grin. “I’ve seen him a couple of times. Mrs. Shelton says he visits her.”
JT’s jaw dropped. “You’ve seen him?”
“Is that any less believable than hearing him?”
JT shrugged. “I guess I expected you to laugh at me, not confirm my delusions.”
“Some of us think he’s watching out for us. Plymouth Rock’s guardian angel.”
The image of Gramps with a halo and wings filled JT’s head and made him laugh. Yet, he could imagine the old man as a guardian and it made him feel better, like his passing had been with a purpose.
“He was my sounding board—my hero . . . . . And he was so . . . much.”
A soft smile curved her lips. “Yeah. That’s a good word for him. Too much to contain. Too much to lose.”
Her eyes had gone misty and when she lowered her lashes, JT was moved by just how much Gramps had been loved. He was such a good man and JT . . . he feared he’d never measure up.
Henry reappeared at the table, staring from one to the other while he set the dish of mussels down beside a basket of steaming bread. He mixed olive oil and spices for dipping, topped off their wine glasses, and returned to the kitchen.
For awhile, they fell silent while they enjoyed the mussels—which were, indeed, fit for a king—and then some more wine.
“So I hear you and Cody had a rip-roaring time last night,” Madison said, leaning back.
So much for moving on to a safer subject.
JT grimaced. “Rite of passage.”
“What to get the man who’s just passing through?” she said with an arch of her brow. “So, how is Cody?”
“You haven’t talked to him?”
“I’m friendly with Kelly—she has a mail order business. Custom cookie jar lids. They’re pretty cool. Cody and I have never been in one another’s orbits, though. I know Kelly was torn up over the divorce, but she said it was for the best.”
“Pretty much what Cody said. I tried to talk to him about it last night, but he only had a few cryptic comments to offer. Mostly, he wanted to drink.”
“So I hear.”
“I wish I knew what was going on with him. He seems . . . I don’t know. Adrift.”
“Really? I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing about you today.”
JT narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She waited for their waiter to clear the empty mussel dishes before she leaned in. It was a lure he couldn’t resist, even though he knew danger was coming.
“I get the distinct feeling you’re here looking for something, JT. I just can’t get a read on whether or not it’s an open door or closure.”
He shook his head, surprised that she’d clearly seen something that he’d only just started to realize himself. But she was right. She’d nailed it right down to the crossroad.
“Are you discovering that the great big world isn’t as wonderful as you always thought it would be?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said.
Leaning back, he finished his wine and poured them each some more, emptying the bottle. Henry must have given instructions to keep them coming, because within in minutes, their waiter brought another. Good. The way this night was going, JT thought he’d probably need a lot more wine.
Madison watched him over the crystal rim of her glass.
She smiled, then. A big, wonderful smile that made him feel warmer than the rich wine.
“What’s so funny?”
“You look worried.”
“That’s what happens when you’re adrift.”
She smiled bigger. “You want the good news?”
He smiled, in spite of himself. “Lay it on me, baby.”
“It’s impossible to be adrift for too long in Plymouth Rock. There’s always someone around willing to set you straight.”
“Like you?”
“At your service.”
He laughed, because she looked so mischievous, and without knowing why, his heart felt lighter.
“You’re home now. Maybe this is your chance to figure things out.”
Maybe it was. He hoped so. But deep down, JT feared that what he’d learn wouldn’t make either one of them happy.
Chapter Nine
Dinner became after dinner drinks and conversation flowed as easily as the beverages. Madison felt as if each word uttered became part of a sticky web that ensnared her more completely, reminding her of all the reasons she’d fallen in love in the first place. JT was a thoughtful, intelligent man. Even at twenty, he’d known that football would not be his endgame.
“You helped me make that decision,” he said now.
“I did?”
“The same way you pushed me into admitting how disconnected my family has become tonight,” he said, with a lopsided grin. He caught her gaze and held it. “You keep asking questions until I can’t not see the answers anymore.”
Unbelievably touched and shaken by his admission, she looked away. He saw way too much when he looked in her eyes.
Around them, the employees of Venti’s had begun to clean up.
“We should probably go,” he said softly.
“Probably.”
“You still set on heading straight home?”
She smiled. How could she not? “I might be persuaded to change my mind.”
The wicked sparkle in his eyes let her know she was playing with fire. But who cared? As Chris had said, the end result would be the same whichever choice she made. Why not quit worrying about a heart that was destined to be broken and focus on the heart that was overflowing right now?
Codiacs was just down the street. JT held her hand again as they walked together. Even through gloves, it was bittersweet and tumbled her down a well of memory. Before he’d left, the two of them had been inseparable. And if they were together, they’d been touching.
Cody’s place was deserted on Monday night—not surprising. But she saw a familiar face at the bar talking to Cody.
“Chris,” she said and pulled JT in their direction, not noticing until they were almost upon the two that the conversation seemed very intense . . . and personal. Surprised, she paused, but Cody caught sight of them and stiffened, stepping back from where he’d been leaning on the bar with the guilty look of an employee caught loitering by his boss. Except Cody owned the place.
“Hey, there,” he said loudly. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
Madison sent Chris a curious glance. For once, his expression was closed, though. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to hear what they’d been talking about.
With a smile, she introduced JT to Chris, while Cody made them his specialty—Irish coffees. But after a few minutes of awkward conversation, Chris stood and said goodbye.
“It’s early,” Madison commented.
“Up with the sun,” he said. “You know me.”
She did, and Cody was not exactly Little Mary Sunshine every morning. She took the hint and let him leave, but caught a lingering glance between him and Cody before he walked out the door.
That was new . . . .
JT took their coffees and led her to a booth against the wall. The only other people at Cody’s sat on the other side of the dance floor. It couldn’t get much more private.
“I can’t believe you never met Chris before,” she said, taking a drink of her coffee. It was delicious, of course, and the whisky sailed through her veins, unraveling the last vestiges of resistance that had dared to linger.
“You’ve been friends for a long time?” he asked, drinking his, too. The thick dollop of whipped cream on the top coated his upper
lips. He licked it off and something tightened deep inside her. As if she’d sent out a signal, his eyes met hers and fanned the heat between them.
She nodded, because speaking suddenly seemed a challenge.
“Ever anything more?” he asked casually, those blue eyes hot on hers.
“More than friends?” she said softly. “Ah, no. Chris is gay.”
For a half a beat, JT said nothing. Then he smiled, that slow, seductive JT smile that stole her breath every time. “Good.”
She was nodding again. She just didn’t know why. She lowered her lashes, hoping he couldn’t see how unwound she’d become.
After another drink of her coffee, she looked up again and caught a pensive expression on JT’s face. His gaze strayed to Cody, who was making himself busy behind the bar.
“Did you get the feeling we were interrupting something when we walked in?” JT asked slowly.
“A little bit.”
“You don’t think . . . .”
She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
Another beat, while JT absorbed that. Then he laughed softly. “Yeah. Stranger things.”
“Would you have a problem with that?”
“I love Cody like a brother. If trying to be something he’s not is what put those shadows in his smile, then all I can say is I’m glad he’s making changes. I hope they make him happy.”
And just like that she toppled head over heels.
“I saw the box you brought the coffee in yesterday,” he said. “It was pretty cool.”
“What about the pumpkin bread?” she teased, embarrassed at how pleased his casual praise made her.
“I ate the whole loaf. I’m going to be fat before I leave. Tell me about your business. How’d you start with that?”
“Grandma gave me the idea. She ran Lane’s for forty years after grandpa died and started recycling boxes almost at the start. She had a room in the back where people brought their old ones after Christmas and birthdays, and where they could rummage for new ones when they needed it.”
“A conservationist ahead of her time.”
“Right? After she got sick and I came home, I needed something to occupy my thoughts so I dug a few out, decorated them, and used them to put gifts I’d bought her in. It seemed to cheer her up. One time, I posted one of my masterpieces on Pinterest and someone contacted me and asked for one. Before I knew it, I had more orders than time. Crazy, huh?”
“Ever thought of expanding?”
“Interesting you should ask. My boxes are hand designed and one hundred percent recycled or natural materials. Earth friendly, just like the name. If I expanded, it would have to stay that way and I don’t know if there’s enough of me to manage that kind of an operation. Besides, I don’t want a big business. I don’t need the money or the stress. But just the other day, one of my customers asked about franchising, and I’m thinking about that. Train others on what supplies they can use, share my brand.”
“That’s smart.”
“And maybe it will save a tree or two.”
His gaze moved slowly over her features, lingering on her lips. She licked them, the reaction as much a hardwired reflex as breathing. JT leaned forward and that small action drew her like an orbiting moon. Gloves off now, he took her hands and held them.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She was already sliding out of the booth, the time for indecision long gone. She wanted him. She wanted to be with him. Right now, consequences be damned.
They stood, finished their coffee in a gulp, and waved at Cody. The other man didn’t ask where they were going, and Madison wondered if there was a big bubble over her head that said, “Yeah, I’m taking him home. Get out of my way.”
The night outside was bracing cold. All the feelings churning beneath her skin were icy hot.
They reached Cranberry Street, where they both lived, neither talking. The cold made small plumes of their breath, but Madison didn’t feel the chill. JT’s mother’s house was straight ahead. Hers, three doors to the left. Their steps slowed. JT waited until she looked up.
“There’s no pressure here, Madison,” JT said in a somber voice. “That’s not what this is about.”
It never was. Even when they were horny teenagers in hormone overload. He’d coaxed, he’d even pleaded, but he had never pressured.
She wanted to ask, What was it about? But talking would just get in the way.
“Shut up, JT,” she said and pulled his head down so she could kiss him.
The surrender—the assault—became one and the same as his arms came around her and he took control of the kiss, pulling her closer. She was fine with that. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she went up on tip-toe so she could take more, give more. He parted her lips easily—they’d been waiting for his invitation for years. But the fire he lit . . . she’d forgotten that inferno that blazed between them when he kissed her. Now, she basked in it, uncaring if she got burned. He paused for a moment, using his teeth to tug his gloves off so he could touch her face, her throat, curl his fingers behind her ears and cup her head while he kissed her like she was the only woman left on earth.
All at once or piece by piece. It didn’t matter. Her heart was doomed.
She had no sense of time or place. Her only landmark was JT’s body pressed against hers. He’d managed to unbutton her coat so his hands could slide against her warmth. She’d pulled off her gloves so she could do the same, and now her palms lay flat against the sweater covering his hard chest. His heart thumped mightily beneath her hands. Both of them were breathing hard. At last, he eased back, just a little. Just enough to rest his forehead against hers. Their breath pooled between them, sweetened by whipped cream and Irish whisky.
“You know Mrs. Shelton has her binoculars out, right?”
“I’d be disappointed if she didn’t,” Madison answered. “We could go to my house . . . “
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Taking his hand, she led him to her front door, but her fingers were cold and she fumbled with the keys until he took them and slid them in the lock. Inside, Moof barked with excitement, but before JT opened the door, his gaze snared hers again and she moved into his arms, loving how his mouth came down hot over hers. His hands were warm against her face, his body teasing hers through the thick layers that separated them. When he lifted his head, his breath turned the air white. The blue in his eyes blazed.
She felt his muscles bunch, as if he was holding himself back from pressing her against the door, keeping her there. Captive. Kissing her like they used to in his Jeep on cool fall nights.
“Oh,” she said, or breathed, or simply felt.
He made a sound in his throat that sizzled along her nerve ends and the kiss became part of her, part of them. Past, present, a taste of tantalizing future. It was dark and languid, lightning and quick fire all at once.
His tongue was in her mouth, an electric slide of sensation. Hot and slick, he licked and nipped, until she was boneless and ready.
“God, I thought I made up how good you taste,” he muttered against her mouth.
Moof barked from behind the door again, a sharp question.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
She’d done that years ago and never rescinded the invitation. “Come in, JT. It’s cold out here.”
Still kissing her, he turned the knob and pushed the door open so the two of them could stumble inside. Moof danced happily at their feet, determined to trip them, almost succeeding. No doubt he was confused when JT stripped her coat and threw it on the floor. She did the same to his, excited by the urgency and the need that consumed her.
Her sweater came off on the stairs. His flew over the banister as they reached the landing. His hands were all over her, hot and gentle, rough and wonderful. At the top, he paused, fingers on the buttons of her jeans.
“Which room, sweetheart.”
She’d moved out of her childhood room and into the master bedroom a
few years ago. Now, she pushed him into her inner sanctum. She’d never invited another man inside this space and deep down, it somehow made this moment more special. Like a first time for them both. He closed the door behind them, locking Moof on the other side. It was good thinking.
In the sudden quiet, he stilled, hands on her breasts, gaze fierce on her body.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”
He was, too. His chest was bare, now, and Madison couldn’t stop herself from wanting to kiss every inch of him. She palmed the hard muscle, nipped at the taut flesh. He cursed beneath his breath, and tugged the fly of her jeans until the buttons opened all at once. She eased back to help him. Her skinny jeans weren’t coming off until the boots did.
Without a word, they both stripped their remaining clothes. Quickly, efficiently. Only in those hasty, silent moments did doubt dare to creep in, but she was too far gone, too committed to turn back now. And when she pressed her body against his, skin to skin, hearts thundering, breath labored . . . the ability to think, ceased to exist.
But ever since JT had left her—virginity intact but home fires stoked and burning—she’d thought about this. Touching him. Having free reign over his body. Not making out in the back of his Jeep, but someplace where she could stretch and explore.
She linked her fingers in his, trapping his hands as she worked her way down his body. JT may have given up football, but he hadn’t quit taking care of himself. He was muscle and bone beneath skin so soft and supple that she needed to kiss every inch. He was hard and ready, pressed up against her. When she was on her knees, she let go of his hands and took him between her palms.
He groaned, head back as she gently kissed him there, too. The sound rumbled through her, making her feel strong and sure, silencing the silly voices in her head that chattered about her boldness.
She took him in her mouth, her own eyes closing at the taste and feel of him, here, where he was most vulnerable, most male.
