Hot Georgia Rein

by Martha Sweeney

  “Oh,” Mr. Abney exclaims when he sees us. “Ivy and Henry…well, nice of you two to join us.”

  “Funny, Papa,” Ivy returns, kissing his cheek. She shifts around the coffee table to say hello to Nana and Pops.

  “Hi, Mr. A,” I greet, sticking out my hand.

  “What is this?” Mr. Abney scoffs.

  “His hand,” Ivy confirms, sitting down on the couch.

  “I see that,” Mr. Abney says. “Why is he sticking it at me?”

  “I think he wants you to shake it or something,” Ivy teases.

  “Why?” Mr. Abney quips playfully, inspecting my hand as if it’s something he’s never seen before.

  “Don’t know,” Ivy goads. “I heard it’s a thing some people do.”

  “Well, in this house, we hug,” Mr. Abney reminds, pulling me toward him.

  “That we do,” Nana agrees.

  “I think there’s something wrong with him,” Mr. Abney states, releasing me. He puts his hands on my shoulders as he looks me up and down.

  “Why’s that?” Ivy checks, playing along.

  “I can’t get my arms around him like I used too,” Mr. Abney shares. “I think he’s swollen. Might be ill or something.”

  “I doubt it, Papa,” Ivy laughs.

  “Go lie down next to her,” Mr. Abney directs. “If you’re sick, I don’t want to catch it…but she will. She’s all about cooties from you.”

  “Have you boinked her yet?” Pops, Ivy’s grandfather, asks with a grin.

  My mouth falls open while Ivy can’t help but snicker at his forwardness.

  “Back in our day, we’re were boinking by the time we were fourteen,” Nana adds.

  “That’s because you were already married,” Mrs. Abney reminds.

  “Or were we?” Nana goads with a wink.

  “I think she’s flirting with you,” Ivy teases.

  “Well, if you ain’t boinking her, does that mean you’re going to at least marry her so you can?” Pops directs, staring me down.

  “Pops,” Ivy defends. “He just lost his wife.”

  “Wouldn’t stop me if I married the wrong woman,” Pops replies. He looks to Nana. “If I did, the second she was gone I’d marry you like a hobo on a ham sandwich.”

  “Same for me,” Nana returns with her own grin.

  Ivy blushes a little.

  “We’re just waiting on Grady and then we’ll eat,” Mrs. Abney announces, changing the subject.

  “Where is he?” Ivy inquires.

  “Don’t know,” Mrs. Abney replies. “He doesn’t tell us much of what he does or doesn’t do.”

  “Do you need help, Momma?” Ivy checks, standing up.

  “No, Sweetpea. I’ve got it all covered. Thanks,” Mrs. Abney refuses. “You hang out with your guest.”

  Ivy nods and sits back down.

  “Guest?” Grady questions from somewhere outside the dining room. “Who’s our guest?”

  I stand up when I see him enter the kitchen. “Hey, Grady,” I greet. “Good to see you.”

  “Hey, man,” Grady replies, eyeing Ivy for some reason. “What are you doing here?”

  “Brought Ivy home since it was raining,” I inform.

  “Told ya it was going to rain,” Grady teases, swatting at her before giving me a hug.

  Since Ivy left for college, Grady and I’ve become closer. It took some time for him to open up, but he’s a good guy. Grady feels like Ivy can do no wrong in the family’s eyes, which I can see since she’s the only daughter and the oldest, but he gets away with just as much shit, if not more than her. Grady’s just never found himself yet, always comparing himself to others rather than to who he is and who he wants to be.

  “Yeah, well a little rain never hurt anyone one,” Ivy quips.

  “Well, Ivy can be just as deadly,” Grady says with some sarcasm, and possibly spite.

  I’m not sure why he’s being mean.

  “Time to eat,” Mrs. Abney declares, ending the brawl that seems to be brewing between Ivy and Grady.

  I’m confused by their behavior. Ivy’s finally home. You’d think that he’d be happy to see her since it’s been years. I know they only go up to see her a few times each year which gives him more attention here. What I hate is that she’s going back in about a week. Maybe that’s why Grady’s upset. Ivy got to escape this town while he feels like he’s been left behind. I know the feeling and empathize with the guy for that issue, but I’ve accepted my choices and plan to make changes. I’m not so sure I can say the same about Grady.

  Dinner with the Abneys is great as always. While we have one of Mrs. Abney’s famous pies, Grady starts acting a little weird again. Most of the topic of conversation revolves around Ivy, so I can see where he might be resentful, but it’s not like they talk about her incessantly when she’s not around. I would know since I’ve had many dinners with them over their years where they’d talk about Grady and encourage him in something they saw or heard.

  “Did you tell him yet?” Grady asks, looking to Ivy.

  “Grady John Abney,” Mrs. Abney warns.

  “What?” he feigns.

  “Your sister is home for two weeks,” Mr. Abney reminds. “There’s no need to be picking a fight that you will lose.”

  “Who says I’d lose?” Grady quips.

  “When your mother and I are your contenders?” Mr. Abney directs. “Me.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Grady cowers though I see irritation in his eyes.

  After dessert, I stay and finish watching the baseball game while Ivy helps her mother clean up in the kitchen. I’d normally offer to help, but I don’t want to make Grady feel uncomfortable and want to give Ivy and her Mom some time alone, even if it’s just in the next room. I look back on them from time to time, catching them chatting and giggling on occasion. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it feels really good to see Ivy back in this house again.

  Pops falls asleep in his chair and Nana covers him with a blanket before shuffling off to their room which is just beyond the far side of the living room. Grady disappears sometime before the game ends, and Mr. and Mrs. Abney just bid goodnight, leaving Ivy and me the last two awake in the room.

  “It’s odd,” I say, turning to face Ivy more as she sits on the opposite end of the couch from me.

  Since entering the house, she’s avoided me a little bit. I’m confident that she’s not sure how to act around me in front of her parents. I don’t blame her. It’s like we’re sixteen all over again.

  “What is?” Ivy asks, looking up.

  “Seeing you in his house again,” I share. “Seeing you here and in general.”

  She nods but doesn’t say a word.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” I admit. “Clearly.” I chuckle. “Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks.”

  “Yeah,” she hums lowly, picking at the ends of her shirt.

  I want to ask her about when she’s planning on going back to New York, but I think it’s still too soon to discuss. Plus, I don’t want to really think about it. I’d rather get in as much time with her as I can to convince her to either stay or to see if maybe I could go back with her.

  Pops snorts, waking himself up. Ivy and I laugh at the sound.

  “You okay, Pops?” Ivy checks.

  “Yeah,” he replies, looking around the room.

  “You need help to get to your room?” I inquire.

  “Nah,” he refuses. “Just a hand up.”

  I move to him, smiling at Ivy at how Pops contradicted himself. Once in front of him, I pull Pops to a standing position after I’ve got a good grip on his arms.

  “Thanks,” Pops huffs.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  Pops looks at my hand and then up at me.

  “To make sure you stay upright until you reach the door,” I remind.

  Pops offers me a smile and then starts to shuffle toward his bedroom. Once I know he’s got a small light on and a han
d on his cane, I close the door behind him.

  “Not much has changed, really,” I announce quietly, sitting down on the couch closer to Ivy.

  “No?” she questions.

  “No,” I confirm, tugging on her sleeve.

  “What?” she asks despite recognizing my arousal.

  I lift a brow in reply.

  “It’s weird,” she returns.

  “We’re not sixteen anymore,” I remind.

  “So?”

  “So, it’s not weird,” I challenge. “So what if someone sees us? It’s no different than what they’ve seen before. Plus, it’s not like I’m married.”

  “It is different,” Ivy claims.

  I hold up my left hand. “I haven’t worn the ring for over a year.”

  “Still doesn’t change the fact that you were married and just buried your wife,” Ivy says.

  I nod and stand up, taking that as my cue to leave. I turn toward the door, but spin back around to Ivy, bending at the waist and placing my face just a few inches from hers. “That doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” I reveal. “It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve learned from my mistakes and promise to do right by you and by me for once in my life.”

  Ivy’s eyes glimmer in the low light and I can tell that I have her complete attention.

  “I’ve been miserable since the day you called everything off and only locked it in when I married Julianna instead of fighting for you…fighting for us.” I pause, letting my words sink in a little. “Know this…I will fight for us until the day I die. I don’t care what’s happened in our lives since the first time you went to New York. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is you and me.” I lift her chin with my fingers and press my lips to hers, taking a slow, lingering moment to lock in my pledge to her. When I release her mouth, I turn and head toward the door, leaving Ivy with my heart in her hands, knowing that she’s the only person in the world who will ever have it again.

  13 Ivy

  “Henry,” I call meekly, peering into his barn through the five-inch crack of the door. “Henry?”

  It doesn’t take long for him to pop out from the shadows.

  “Hey,” I greet when we make eye contact.

  “Hey,” he replies with a wicked grin as he gets closer.

  “I’m not here for that,” I claim, knowing we need to talk first before anything else between us happens.

  His smile widens, calling my bluff.

  “I’m serious,” I announce, mustering enough resolve to stand firm to my intention for being here.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t,” he teases, yanking the heavy door to the side so it’ll slide open more and allow me to enter. As soon as I’m in, Henry pushes it back in place.

  I fidget with my hands, trying to figure out my best approach to get things rolling. There’s so much to say, so much to explain, and him being shirtless is very distracting.

  I spent at least two full hours debating with myself after he left the house on whether or not to come over. Half of the time I was trying to figure out what to say and how to say it while the other half was trying to figure out what to wear. The humidity is starting early for it just being spring. I wanted to be comfortable, but not revealing so he’d listen and not try to just have sex—hell, just so I wouldn’t try to just have sex.

  Henry’s never been a person to lie, but he’s never been a person to open himself up to just anyone. He was always comfortable with me, willing to tell me anything and everything because he knew he was safe with me. Tonight back at the house, there was something more in his words than I’ve ever realized. Maybe I’m just over-analyzing it, or perhaps, I’m really hearing him, really believing him this time.

  “Can…umm….”

  “What is it, Firefly,” he asks sweetly, moving closer to me, more than I like at the moment.

  I can’t help but smile every time he calls me that. I don’t really remember when specifically he started using that nickname, but I’ve always liked it.

  “Can we just…you know, talk?” I ask.

  “Is that all you want to do?” he pries, stepping closer and breaking the barriers of personal space. Henry’s amber eyes shine more brightly tonight as he looks down at me. He angles my chin up. Without waiting for an answer, he lowers his lips to mine.

  Henry always had a special way with me, with my body, but something’s changed, something that could undo me completely.

  “Yes,” I reply, suddenly lacking confidence.

  Henry grins, knowing that he’s close to winning our unspoken battle.

  “Can…can you put on a shirt?” I ask, looking to the side, needing to maintain control over my brain and body.

  “It’s hot,” Henry states. “No.”

  “Why didn’t you put a fan in here?” I ask.

  “Usually there’s a good breeze,” Henry replies, guiding my face back toward him.

  “We really need to talk,” I repeat, evading his eyes and hoping that we will.

  “Then talk,” he says, lowering his lips to mine.

  When I turn my head to the side, Henry chuckles. His mouth presses to my cheek, and from the way he lets out his next breath, he doesn’t plan on stopping. Brushing his nose along my jaw, Henry nips at my ear, sending chills throughout my body.

  “I’m serious,” I say unconvincingly.

  “Me too,” he replies with more certainty.

  “This…” I sigh, desperately trying to stay focused. “This part has always been easy for us.”

  “I know,” Henry chuckles, lowering his mouth to my neck.

  “Henry,” I call sternly, pushing on his chest.

  “You’re cute when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, walking behind me.

  “You’re not when you’re not listening,” I challenge.

  “Yes I am,” he goads. “And, you like it.” His hands slide down my arm and back up the sides of my body. “Besides, I am listening.”

  “No, you’re not,” I accuse, finding myself enjoying what he’s doing way too much.

  “Yes, I am,” he claims. “You said we need to talk. So, talk.”

  “You won’t let me,” I complain.

  He grabs my hips, pulling me into him. “Have I really stopped you?” he inquires playfully. “Because to me, I haven’t taken away the use of your mouth…not yet.”

  “You know what I mean,” I counter.

  “Do I?” he mocks, teasing my ear.

  “I can’t stay,” I announce, hoping to break myself from his spell.

  “You can go at any time,” he claims, grabbing my hair in one hand and tilting my head to the side. Henry licks and kisses my neck, purposefully trying to get me to fall under his command.

  “Let’s talk first,” I suggest, gulping back the whimpers that want to be heard. “Then…then we can…do…this.”

  I’m fumbling with my words too much. There’s a good chance that Henry has already won.

  “What do you want to say?” he asks lowly in my ear as his left hand grazes over my breasts. “I’m all ears.”

  “You’re all hands,” I correct.

  “Doesn’t seem like you really mind,” he claims, slipping his hand up my shirt. Henry’s fingers make it past the edge of my bra and find my nipple. “Looks like someone wants to play.”

  I chide my internal thoughts that are dying to know how he’s become more skilled at all of this. We were each other’s first, but I know there were others for both of us. I tried the one night stand thing a few times, but it always felt wrong. Then, I tried dating, but that didn’t work out well either. There’s a stigma with single moms.

  I know that Henry slept with Julianna, at least in the beginning before she got sick, but I don’t know the fullest extent of their relationships. I wouldn’t be surprised either if there were other women he’s slept with just to satisfy his need while I was away at college or before he was engaged to Julianna—perhaps even after.

  I need to appreciate the fact
that he’s more comfortable with sex in general. He wanted it a lot when we were together, but he wasn’t as forward as he is now. He wasn’t as confident to just tell me he wanted me and to actually take me. Henry knew my body, but he never listened to my cues and how to manipulate them. Maybe Henry did, but time and experience are what he needed to be able to perform so well now. It’s intoxicating how Henry dominates me with just a glance. I’m sure that our history works in his favor as well as the fact that it had been a while since I had sex before the night of the wake.

  “We…we need to…talk,” I barely say as he pinches my nipple again.

  “Looks like our bodies would rather talk,” Henry replies deviously. “You can’t stop touching me.”

  “Says the man with his hand up my shirt,” I goad, trying to deny even to myself that my hands are caught up in his hair and the arm that is across my chest.

  “Let me in,” he commands softly.

  “I already have,” I remind. “Twice.”

  “Let me in,” he repeats, dipping his hand to the edge of my shorts. “Let our bodies talk first.”

  “No,” I object though my body is already siding with him. My ass presses harder into his groin.

  “I’m not asking, Firefly,” he states, spinning me to face him. “I know I don’t need to…not with you.” His mouth claims mine and he lifts me up by my waist. Henry uses his free hand to guide my one leg up, curling it around his hip. The other one follows without question, not liking the odd angle.

  “You need to ask,” I challenge breathlessly.

  “Not since you said always yours,” he contends, lowering me to his bed.

  “We need to…” my voice trails when his mouth lands on my stomach as his hands frantically take off my bottoms.

  “We need to fuck,” he growls. “I need to be inside you and you need me fucking you.”

  “After,” I moan in opposition though my body does nothing to stop him.

  “Now,” he commands, grabbing my wrists and securing them over my head.

  My fingers curl around the metal frame of the cot the second I feel him position the head of his cock at my entrance. He teases me, coating himself with my juices before sliding in a little.

  “Now,” he repeats, pushing a little further in.