At Long Last, a Bride

by Susan Crosby

  Dixie didn’t know whether to be angry. Had she become that stridently independent, not accepting help that people genuinely wanted to give?

  She followed her sister downstairs then out to her car, locking Emma’s carrier into the base while Shana started the car to let it heat up. Dixie shut the door to the backseat.

  “Thanks again,” she said.

  Shana got out of the car and hugged Dixie. Neither of them spoke.

  Dixie stood shivering as they drove off. She went back upstairs, turned on the bathwater, added some liquid bubble bath, then slipped into the frothy water, where she did some of her best thinking.

  Thanks to Shana, she had plenty to think about.

  Chapter Ten

  Another Saturday night at the Stompin’ Grounds. Joe sat in his truck, hesitant to go inside. He’d been kidded and complimented about his haircut all day, so he knew there would be more of that ahead.

  He wasn’t in the mood. He should be home packing for his week in Portland. Plus, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dixie, not after last night.

  She hadn’t been off his mind for a second, had barely slept, and when he did, he’d dreamed about her. Too much unfinished business.

  “I haven’t been with anyone else,” she’d said. He was glad, even as he knew it signaled something deeper—that she hadn’t moved on with her life.

  He could say the same thing of himself, of course, except that in other ways, he was moving on. And now that he was traveling beyond Chance City, he knew he would be tempted by everything new, even other women.

  At least that’s what Jake and Donovan said.

  First he had to get over the fact it would feel like he was cheating on Dixie. Maybe she was feeling the same.

  Joe walked across the parking lot. Dixie’s car wasn’t in sight, but he was earlier than usual. Maybe she would come, see his truck and leave. He didn’t know how she felt about what had happened between them last night.

  “Hey, McCoy,” someone called when the door shut behind him. “Who scalped you, man?”

  Joe grinned, ignoring the rest of the comments shouted out, his favorite from Max Bailey. “It’s about time you stopped lookin’ like a girl!”

  Bubba Krakauer got up from his stool then, all six-feet-five, two hundred and eighty pounds of him, his fists clenched and his ponytail quivering. “You sayin’ I look like a girl, Maxwell?”

  The short, lanky Max shook his head. “Nope. Sure ain’t. Not me, Bubba. Hey, barkeep, give Bubba a cold one on me, okay?”

  Bubba stared Max down.

  “Well, all right, a pitcher then,” Max said. “And a draft for my friend Joe there.”

  Everyone laughed, Bubba nodded and peace was restored.

  A mug came sliding down the bar. Joe caught it, then saluted Max with it.

  “Evening, Joe.” Kincaid took the stool next to Joe and signaled an order to the bartender.

  “Kincaid.” The last person Joe wanted to see. He didn’t want to watch him hanging around Dixie. Joe didn’t want to run off again, either. This was his bar on Saturday. Kincaid was the intruder.

  “How’s the paperwork coming?” Kincaid asked.

  “I can’t get it back to you for at least a week. I’m leaving town.”

  Kincaid took a thoughtful sip, then set his mug down quietly. “You sure you want to sell, Joe?”

  “I’m the one who approached you, remember?” Joe wasn’t about to confide in the man.

  Kincaid held up both hands. “Fine.” After a couple of seconds, he said, “Nice haircut.”

  “Thanks.” Unfortunately, it was too early for the band, and although the jukebox was turned up, it wasn’t loud enough to make conversation impossible.

  “Dixie’s an artist,” Kincaid said, lifting his mug, eyeing Joe over the rim. “Don’t bother to deny it. I saw you go into the shop last night. Saw you shut the blinds.”

  Fire flared in Joe’s stomach. For himself he didn’t care that Kincaid knew, but he did care for Dixie. “Didn’t know you were a voyeur, Kincaid.”

  He waited a few beats. “That wasn’t my intention. Wrong time, wrong place.”

  “And none of your business.”

  “Well, now, Joe, that’s where you’re wrong. Dixie’s become a friend. She’s got a goal, and I’m interested in helping her get there.”

  Joe tamped down his jealousy to appreciate the man’s honesty and integrity, although Joe wasn’t entirely convinced that Kincaid wasn’t interested in Dixie in ways far beyond friendship and concern for her success. But Joe gave the man more of an answer than he’d given to anyone else, including his family. “I wanted my hair cut. I knew Dixie would do the best job. I closed the blinds to protect her from gossip. If you were watching, then you know I wasn’t there long.”

  “I didn’t hang around.”

  Joe’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen. Dixie? Really? “I need to get this,” he said to Kincaid, then headed out of the bar. “Hey,” he said, feeling as if he’d conjured her up by thinking about her so much, talking about her.

  “Are you at the Stompin’ Grounds?”

  “Yeah. How come you aren’t?” It’d crossed his mind that she might avoid him.

  “I decided to stay home. It was a very long day.”

  He reached the parking lot, no longer had to struggle to hear her. “So, what’s up?”

  “Kincaid told me that you haven’t signed the paperwork.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why not?”

  “I took the contract to Laura. She’s looking at it for me, but she’s been swamped since she got back from her honeymoon, and I’m leaving town tomorrow for a week, so…”

  “You’re leaving for a week?”

  “Yeah. Portland.”

  “Joe?”

  Her tone put him on alert. “What?”

  “We never said goodbye.”

  He frowned. “Shana showed up. You told me to leave. I left. I figured that—”

  “Not last night,” she interrupted. “You and I talk about things being over between us, and we’re selling the house, but we let the relationship just drift to an end. We’ve never said goodbye.”

  “What’s the purpose of saying goodbye, if we’ll see each other again? It’s not like I’m leaving the country.”

  He heard her blow out a long breath, which usually preceded her saying something crucial that she wished she didn’t have to say.

  “This is important, Joe. I need this. I think you do, too. We need to say goodbye, so that it’ll end. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “Join the club.” But he tested the idea in his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe that was what they needed. Most people who had been together for as long as they had ended their relationship by getting a divorce. Maybe there needed to be something official for couples who hadn’t married. Them.

  “Do you mean, like, a ceremony of some kind?” he asked.

  “Whatever it takes. Something that feels official.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Now, maybe? Get it over with.”

  “Okay.” He wanted it to be done, too. That kiss last night lingered in his mind. “I’m on my way.”

  “I’ll leave the back door unlocked. Just come upstairs.”

  He ended the call as he climbed into his truck then headed to her apartment. He’d almost arrived when he made a U-turn instead. He couldn’t leave his truck there. He called her as he started walking from his house, covering the three long blocks in record time. He went through the door from the parking lot, locked it and took her stairs slowly, aware they would be alone. Had to be alone. Maybe it would’ve been safer to do this in public, but they couldn’t.

  The door to her apartment stood open. She was curled up on her sofa, wearing her usual Wranglers but with a fuzzy pink sweater and matching socks. She didn’t get up, didn’t offer him any refreshments.

  He sat on the same sofa at arm’s length.

  “Thank you for comi
ng.”

  “It’s a good idea,” he said, wishing he could pull her feet into his lap and rub them like he’d done so many times in the past. It had almost always led to more.

  “Any thoughts about what to do next?” she asked.

  “I’ve considered and eliminated several. But the one that got stuck in my head and won’t let loose is that I want to finish the kiss from last night.”

  “It felt finished to me.”

  He smiled slightly. “I’d barely begun.”

  She searched his eyes for a long time, then looked away. He gave her time to decide without trying to influence her. Somehow he didn’t think most divorces ended with a kiss. But then, this wasn’t a divorce. It only felt like one.

  “Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft but sure, her eyes turning the deepest green he’d ever seen.

  He didn’t want to kiss her yet, because then he would have to leave, and he didn’t want to do that, either. But he didn’t see any way around it. They couldn’t just sit here and have a normal conversation.

  “Do you want to stand?” he asked.

  She nodded. He stood, then held out a hand to her, drawing her up, leaving it up to her how much distance should be between them—to start with. She surprised him by getting close enough for her breasts to touch his chest. He sucked in a breath at the sensation, then he cupped her face.

  “I remember our first kiss very well, Dix. Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It started like this.” He barely touched her lips, retreated for a couple of seconds, then returned, pressing his lips to hers a little longer.

  “It ended like that, too,” she said, her eyes smiling just a little. “We didn’t know what else to do.”

  “We do now.” He pulled her closer, sliding one hand low on her back, pressing until their hips touched, then he took the kiss well beyond the simple beginning, involving open mouths and seeking tongues. Her throat vibrated with low sounds of need. Shock waves rolled through him. They’d shared long, hot kisses before, but he couldn’t remember one like this. He didn’t want it to end. She was going to have to stop it, because he couldn’t.

  “Joe,” she said, pulling her mouth free and leaning her forehead against his throat.

  “I’m right here.”

  “I don’t want to stop. I want—” Her breath was hot and shaky. Her fingers gripped his chest.

  “What? What do you want?” he asked, hoping.

  “You. All of you.”

  He knew he should give her a minute to think about it, to make sure she wouldn’t have regrets, but he couldn’t. “How long of a goodbye is this?” he asked instead. “Is this a one-time-then-kick-me-out deal or do we have all night?”

  She laughed softly, turning her face so that her head lay against his shoulder. She toyed with his shirt, unsnapping it, her hands brushing his chest as she went.

  “Dix, you really need to answer the question. If it’s only one time, I have to figure out a way not to put you up against the wall right this second.”

  “Put me up against the wall.”

  All night. They were going to have all night.

  Instead of making him rush, as his body demanded, the idea that he had all night helped him put the brakes on. He wanted to savor. They had the advantage of knowing each other’s needs and desires and arousal points. It could end up being the best sex of their lives….

  And then they would say goodbye.

  She’d finished unsnapping his shirt and was pulling it free. She pressed her lips to his chest, then used her tongue, leaving cold, wet trails.

  He wanted to be skin-to-skin. Needed to. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed as she nibbled on his ear, her breath warm, making him shiver. The air smelled of her perfume, subtle and sexy. Candles, he realized, surprised to see some lit.

  He set her down next to the bed, peeled her sweater over her head, found a matching pink lacy bra underneath that he got rid of right away. Jeans, socks, underwear all came off. She undressed him then. Her hands felt like fire.

  “Don’t you want music?” he asked. She loved having music on while they made love, always chose it according to her mood.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She hesitated. Finally she said, “I’m afraid one song would stand out. Then every time I heard it, I’d be thinking, you know. About you. About this moment.”

  They had a song, their song, a Bryan Adams tune that had come out the year they were freshmen. It had been playing on the radio when they’d had their first kiss. It had been all for love then, as the song went, and for a long time after.

  She tossed her head, her hair dancing. She looked uncomfortable at his silence, but faced him squarely. “So, if you want music, you’ll have to sing,” she said.

  He moved her onto the bed.

  “She’ll be comin’ ’round the mountain when she comes,” he sang, low and twangy.

  She laughed. “Thank you,” she said, as she shoved the bedding out of the way, her glorious body more perfect than he’d remembered.

  “My pleasure.” There was nothing between them now, not even the pain of the past year. Just the joy of rediscovery, and so much anticipation. Again, he instinctively wanted to ask if she was sure. Was it the right thing to do? He decided to give his instincts the night off. Sometimes need trumped everything else.

  Joe curved his hands over her breasts, feeling her nipples press into his palms. He couldn’t believe no one else had touched her, was irrationally pleased about it.

  He jumped when she touched him then, trailing her fingers down his chest, his stomach, his abdomen…beyond. He clenched his teeth, made a hissing sound, wrapped a hand around her wrist, stopping her explorations. “I wanted to go slow, Dix.”

  “Not me.” She smiled, hot and sultry. “So, just shut up and kiss me.”

  He found a compromise, pulling her down, stretching out next to her, avoiding her touch by overwhelming her instead, which gave him pleasure beyond belief. He cherished every luscious curve with his hands then let his mouth take over, drawing her nipples into his mouth, feeling her back arch, hearing her moan.

  “Please, Joe. Please…” She drew out the word, pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him to move above her.

  But if this was goodbye, he wanted her to remember every minute, every touch. He kissed her, not gently, not restrained, their tongues doing battle. She clutched him as he slid his hand down her, encountering her heat, wet and ready. He rose up high enough to watch her face then pressed a fingertip against her. Instantly, she rose up, called his name, dug her fingers into his flesh as she climaxed, loud and long.

  He couldn’t hold back after that. He settled on top of her, her legs wrapping around him, her hands cupping his face, bringing him down to kiss, openmouthed, demanding. Then he found home, the explosion instantaneous, mutual, infinite, rocketing him to a planet in a faraway galaxy. Extraordinary, he thought as he slowly came back to earth. To life. Real life.

  Extraordinary.

  After he caught his breath, he rolled onto his side, taking her with him, tucking her close. He hoped she didn’t want to talk, because he didn’t have anything to say. There was too much running through his head, words that made no sense, that defied logic.

  She hadn’t relaxed against him, either, but clung hard. He didn’t want to know what was on her mind, either.

  Maybe later, but not now.

  He caught the quilt with his foot and dragged it up, then settled it over them. After a couple of long, silent minutes he stopped wishing she wouldn’t speak. He wanted to know how she felt.

  How does this change things, Dix? Will we be able to see each other from now on and not be either angry or craving, but actually just be friends? Is that even possible?

  If he asked those questions, she would answer him honestly. He didn’t doubt that.

  But while he’d been debating, she’d fallen asleep. He was on the brink himself after his previous sleepless
night.

  He tried to slide out of the bed without waking her. She grabbed hold of him, made a sound of protest.

  “I’m going to blow out the candles,” he said against her hair. “I’ll be right back.”

  Twenty seconds later, he climbed in bed and gathered her close.

  “You’re cold,” she said, sleep in her voice.

  “Warm me.”

  She entwined herself with him, sighed deeply, then fell asleep, her body a furnace.

  Tangled together, he slept, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dixie caught the scent of him first, then his heart beating against her ear, slow and steady. Soothing. Her wrist was resting on his hip, her fingertips grazing his taut rear. She curved her hand over him, stroked his muscular flesh. His muscles twitched.

  He was the same man she’d known her whole life, and yet he wasn’t. Physically, the only difference was that she couldn’t run her fingers through his hair anymore. But beyond that? She couldn’t talk to him the way she used to—openly, honestly, without fear he would misunderstand.

  In fact, they’d both changed. The reasons for her transformation were simple. She was compelling herself to be independent, to deal with her contractor without him calling her “little lady,” to face financial responsibilities she’d never had. And not to be so dependent on the McCoys to fill so many of the needs in her life.

  Then there was Shana, and having to keep her a secret from her parents.

  Yes, Dixie had been forced to grow up and move on. She couldn’t succeed otherwise. And she could not fail. That wasn’t an option.

  She could only guess that, to some extent, the same was happening with Joe. Oh, the core of him hadn’t changed and never would. He would always be kind and generous, thoughtful and responsible. Sexy. But the world was a blank slate for him now. He would become more sophisticated, more worldly—like Jake and Donovan.

  Not that she didn’t adore Joe’s brothers. She did. But they’d lived their lives entirely differently from Joe.