by Susan Crosby
“Hmm. One area is warmer than the rest of you,” she said, a smile in her voice.
“You must be wrong. Feels cold to me. Keep on heating me up.” He closed his eyes, savoring her touch as she stroked and swirled, making him arch and reach and try his best to hold back.
“Just let go and enjoy it,” she said, her lips against his neck.
But he wanted to be inside her. He knew her well. Knew she was as ready as he, knew she would climax almost immediately, the same as he would. So he took charge, rolled her onto her back, pressed his mouth to hers, and slowly pushed into her, feeling her clench around him, hearing her make low sounds in her throat.
“Don’t go slow,” she said, entreating him, digging her fingers into his rear, wrapping her legs around him. “Don’t be gentle.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed her hands, linked their fingers, held them above her head and gave her what she wanted and he needed, feeling pulled into an abyss of pleasure, dark and dangerous.
Dangerous. The word echoed in his head even as sensation inundated him, overtook him…devastated him.
He couldn’t look at her, afraid she would see something he didn’t want her to see. Dangerous? He never would have applied the word to her, not in any way—before. Now it was different. Now he knew she was still a danger to his heart, and his plans.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she blanketed him and he could keep her head tucked against him, not making eye contact. His heart pounded. His mouth went dry. He didn’t want to talk. He hoped she would fall asleep.
He closed his eyes, let himself drift….
Dixie felt his body relax beneath her, but she didn’t want to move. It was way too early to fall asleep, although she tried. After a while, he repositioned her more comfortably. “Do you want me to move?” she asked.
“You’re fine. You feel good.”
Now that she knew he was awake, she said, “We didn’t say goodbye. Before. Last time. Either of us.”
“I know.”
So he had noticed. “It’s been on my mind the whole time you’ve been gone, Joe. I’ve been trying to figure out what it means.”
“Me, too.”
“Is this something you expect—” she almost said want “—to continue?”
He was silent long enough that she regretted bringing up the subject—even though she knew she had to.
She moved off him, started to get out of bed, but he stopped her.
“I’ve been trying not to have expectations, Dix. I wasn’t sure you would even let me in, much less sleep with me. So, did I expect it? No. Did I want it? I think the answer is obvious.”
“So, now what, Joe? Where does this leave us?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “This probably seems crazy….”
“You want to continue,” she said.
He nodded. “Until one of us does say goodbye.”
“And when that moment comes, for whatever reason, the other person just accepts it? That’s that?”
“Could you do that?” he asked.
He looked so earnest. Would he feel differently if he knew she still loved him? Had never gotten over him? Had no interest in ever saying goodbye? “So, if one of us starts dating someone else, we say goodbye? Until then we meet for sex when you’re home, but in public no one suspects?”
“Unless you have something else in mind.”
“Do you seriously believe we can get away with that in a town that doesn’t need security cameras? You don’t think someone will see you arrive late at night or leave early in the morning?”
“It helps that you’re in the business district, not a residential area. I’ll be careful.”
She thought she should feel used, but she didn’t. She wanted what he wanted.
She also knew she was only delaying her pain, because he was bound to start dating someone before she did.
“Okay,” she said, and waited for regret to follow. It didn’t.
He pressed his lips to her temple. “So, tough girl, tell me about firing Bruno.”
She told him about standing up to the man and how Kincaid had come to be her contractor. Joe told her about the people he’d met and the places he’d gone, wonder in his voice, pride, too, that his ideas were being so well received and respected.
She was happy for him. For years he’d researched and studied what he was promoting now. He’d tested his ideas in Chance City. Then when other towns in the area had heard about him, they’d hired him to teach them the same things. Community-wide compost programs were established in several cities, his brainchild, his dream. And now his name would become known far beyond their little town. She couldn’t be more proud.
“Look at us, Dix,” he said, well into the night. “Who would’ve thought it?”
“I always believed in you, Joe. Maybe more than you believed in yourself.” But that was changing now. She could see it. See his confidence, acknowledge that he had become separate from her. It was happening to her, too, just as she’d predicted.
They had made the transition, had gone beyond being Joe-and-Dixie.
Now they were just another couple having an affair.
So where did that leave them? How could she say goodbye when what she really wanted was to say, “Be mine, forever.”
Chapter Fourteen
By Christmas Eve, Dixie was running on fumes, fueled by vitamins and caffeine. Everybody wanted a cut-and-color for the holidays, and Dixie was trying too hard to be accommodating. She was aware of it, but couldn’t seem to stop herself, knowing how fickle people could be. If they were forced to find another salon during the construction period, they might not return.
Dixie couldn’t afford that.
So she scheduled appointments back to back to back. Her feet ached, her legs begged for mercy, even her hips were talking to her.
And Gavin was supposed to arrive soon, so she wouldn’t have time for a hot bath.
Worst of all, Joe had gotten home that morning but they wouldn’t be able to see each other because of Gavin, who planned to sleep on Dixie’s couch for the one night he would be in town.
Joe would’ve given her a massage. Among other things.
She smiled at the thought. Two weeks had passed since they’d agreed to see each other secretly, which created a tension between them that they didn’t discuss. He hadn’t signed the paperwork to sell the house yet, either, something else they didn’t talk about.
Kincaid had stopped asking, too.
Dixie dragged herself upstairs to her apartment, then the doorbell rang before she even got to her sofa. Her muscles protested every step she took down the staircase. She was grateful that Christmas came on a Saturday this year, which meant she wouldn’t have to work for the next three days.
“Gavin,” she said, smiling, when she opened the door. It didn’t matter that he ignored his family most of the time—he was still hers.
“Dixie Rae.” He grinned back, then picked her up and whirled her around. As blond as his sisters, his eyes the same Callahan-green, he was tied to Dixie and Shana by their shared upbringing. It was an unbreakable bond, even if it was ignored for months—or years—on end.
“You’ve lost weight,” he said, setting her down, frowning.
“Just a little. But you would, too, if you’d been living my life.” He and Shana had always been naturally thin. “You look fabulous,” she said.
“Do I? I shouldn’t. I guess it’s just seeing you.”
She drew him inside and up the stairs. “Why shouldn’t you look fabulous?”
“Usual doctor stuff. Long hours. Pressure from patients, staff, insurance companies, hospitals. Lawsuit.”
“Lawsuit?” She turned around, walking backward into her living room.
“Malpractice. I’m not allowed to talk about the details.”
“Even with me? Who would I tell?”
“I can’t, Dix. The only reason I brought it up is because I’ve been pretty distra
cted, and I want you to know it’s not personal if I zone out on you, okay?”
She hugged him until he hugged her back. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. It’s a mess.” He let her go. “So, have you got some Christmas goodies to ply me with?”
“Every client I have brought cookies or candy or something fattening and wonderful. Let me get out of my work clothes, then I’ll fix a little plate. Shana should be here in about an hour for dinner.”
“I’m going to get my stuff out of my car. I like your place, by the way.”
Dixie made a quick change into something more festive—a Christmas sweater and black pants—then hurried back into the kitchen just as the door opened.
“Look who I found wandering around outside.” He had one arm around Shana and the other hand gripped Emma’s carrier. “The rebel returns.”
Tears brightened Shana’s eyes. She clung to Gavin, who gave her such a tender look that Dixie almost cried, too. She was happy. Unadulteratedly happy. After all these years, they were together. Nothing could spoil the joy of the moment.
“You’re early,” Dixie said to Shana, opening a tin of Aggie’s thumbprint cookies.
“Joe stopped by and saw how dead sales had been since noon. He sent us home, said he had nothing better to do.” Shana grinned. “We weren’t too sure about leaving him alone and in charge. We don’t think he’s ever run a credit card.”
“Well, then, knowing Joe, he’ll either shut down early or just give the trees away for pocket change.” Dixie kept herself busy opening boxes and Baggies, choosing a few treats from each. But she was aware that Gavin had stopped setting presents around her tiny tree and was watching her. “What?” she asked.
“You’re sleeping with him again.”
Shana gasped. “You are?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Did she sound indignant enough? “Why would you say that, Gavin? Joe and I broke up for good. Didn’t you hear?”
“I keep in touch with Donovan. Yeah, I heard. But I’m looking at your face and listening to your tone of voice, not just the words. You still love him.”
“I will always love him, but hearts have room to love lots of people,” she said honestly. “And since when do you keep in touch with Donovan?”
“Since forever. With Gideon Falcon, too. We started hanging out in kindergarten, you know?”
“Why didn’t you come to their weddings?”
“I was on call.”
“Uh-huh. You didn’t want to mix and mingle.”
“Maybe I didn’t. But I’ve seen both of them. They get to the city occasionally. Nice change of subject, by the way. Smooth.” He came up to the counter and grabbed a couple of cookies while she got the coffee brewing.
“There’s nothing I can say about Joe, Gavin.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Shana looking speculative.
They settled in for dessert before dinner, falling into the sibling repertoire of teasing, insults and memories recalled, comfortable and fun. Emma was passed from person to person, but also set on the floor to play, now that she could roll over and could drag herself along a little. Almost six months old, she needed to be on the move.
“What are we doing about dinner?” Gavin asked after a while. “I need protein.”
“I forgot! I was supposed to call Caroline McCoy when I was ready. She’s catering Christmas Eve dinner for everyone as a fundraiser for her tuition. She’s started paramedic school, did you hear?”
“Donovan mentioned it.”
Dixie reached into her pocket then realized she’d left her phone in her jeans when she changed. “Be right back.” She went into the bedroom and found it, discovering one missed message.
“Hi, Dixie! We’re on our way home. Would you please go to the house and turn on the heat for us? See you soon! We’ve had the best trip, but we sure are glad to be coming home.”
Hunched over as if struck in the chest, Dixie returned to the living room, holding out the phone. “Mom and Dad are on their way home.”
“When?” Shana asked, her face turning white.
Dixie checked the time of the message. “She called an hour ago. She didn’t say where they were, only that wanted me to turn on the heater, which means they can’t have been far.”
“They’ll see my stuff. Emma’s crib.” Shana rose slowly. “I left dishes in the sink.”
Dixie’s phone rang. Joe. He knew Shana and Gavin would be there. “Hey.”
“Your folks are home. Did you know?”
“I just discovered a message from them from an hour ago.”
“They’re trying to park the RV in the driveway, but your dad has needed a couple of tries.”
“Can you stall them? I’m on my way.”
“I can try.” He hung up, not wasting any time.
“Joe’s there,” Dixie said, grabbing her coat. “He’ll try to stall them. They haven’t gone inside yet.” She paused. “Maybe I should go alone.”
“I’ll go with you,” Gavin said.
“Me, too.” Shana stood straight, her shoulders back. “Maybe just me. It’s my problem.”
“One for all, and all for one,” Gavin said. “Bundle up the baby. The parental unit awaits.”
Joe was generally good at small talk, especially in his hometown. He pretty much knew everyone, could find something in common to discuss. With Beatrice and Malcolm Callahan, Joe only had Dixie in common, had being the operative word. Dixie had given him back his ring over a year ago. Joe hadn’t talked to the Callahans since, hadn’t seen them to talk to, even, except from a distance that no one seemed interested in closing. They hadn’t been particularly close. Joe had always resented the way they’d treated Dixie, as if she were just any employee instead of their highly competent daughter, who was a good part of their success.
“Need some help getting lined up?” Joe asked, coming up alongside the RV, where Malcolm was leaning out the window, looking backward.
He stared at Joe as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. “That’d be good, thanks. It’s too dark to see if I’m going to hit that old oak.”
“Let me take a look. Hi, Bea,” he called to her in the passenger seat. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you. How’s everything here?” she asked.
“Um, I’m not sure. I just got back from a ten-day trip myself.”
Joe could tell Malcolm was impatient to be parked and done. Joe ambled to the rear of the unit. If Malcolm moved straight back about four feet, he’d be in good shape.
Joe walked to the driver’s door again. “You need to pull back out and move it to the right about two feet.”
“I do? Thought I had it okay.”
“Not quite. I’ll stand back there and let you know when to stop.”
“All right, thanks, Joe.”
It ended up taking a while, because twice Malcolm had to stop to say hello to neighbors walking by. Each time Joe held his breath, waiting for someone to mention Shana, but Malcolm brushed them off fairly quickly, reaching the end of his patience. Joe was surprised that Bea hadn’t gotten out and gone inside.
He also wondered how Dixie and Shana were going to explain the situation. He knew that Dixie’s original plan was for Shana to relocate before her parents came home, figuring they would have more advance notice than they’d gotten, obviously.
Joe spotted headlights, then recognized Dixie’s car. He decided he’d better hang around in case they needed his truck to haul Shana’s things.
“Oh, look! Dixie’s here,” Bea said, walking toward the car.
Three doors opened. Dixie got out, so did Gavin.
“And Gavin! What a lovely surprise!”
Bea picked up her pace. Then Shana emerged, carrying Emma. Bea stopped. Shana kept coming. Dixie and Gavin moved into position, flanking her.
“Hi, Mom,” Shana said, her voice quavering a little, but otherwise strong. “Hi, Dad.”
“Shana?”
“It’s me.” She took a step forward, away from her protectiv
e siblings. “And this is Emma, your granddaughter.”
Malcolm had come up beside Bea, put his arm around her. “And where might your husband be, Miss Runaway?”
“Emma’s father died. I know this is a shock to you, Mom. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this.”
“Then why did you?” Malcolm bellowed. “Your mother doesn’t need these kinds of shocks.”
“Because you would’ve gone in the house and wondered who’d been living here. I’m sorry. I didn’t get the breakfast dishes done before I left for work.”
Malcolm turned on Dixie then. “You let them stay in my house?”
“She needed a place to go, Dad. There was nowhere else.”
“Your mother talked to you several times on the phone. You never brought it up. Never asked for permission.”
“That’s true. Why don’t we go inside where it’s warm and we can talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Malcolm said. “You, of all people, Dixie. To lie to us, after all we’d been through because of her? How could you? Come, Bea.”
Joe watched it all from the sidelines, had guessed how it would all shake down. He wasn’t surprised that Malcolm was turning his back on Shana—he was the most stubborn man Joe knew. But he was surprised to see Bea go with him. Even if she didn’t want to talk face-to-face with Shana yet, there was Emma, the innocent child. Bea’s granddaughter. Bea had been waiting a long time to be a grandmother.
“Mom!” Shana called. “Give me a chance to explain. Please.”
Bea stumbled. Malcolm held her up, pulling her along and into the house.
Gavin put his arm around Shana. “They need some time, honey. It’s a shock.”
“I brought this on myself. I don’t blame them,” she said, wistful, then her chin came up some. “No, that’s not true. It was their fault, too, that I left. Their fault I stayed away. I knew I shouldn’t have moved in while they were gone. And now what about my stuff? And Emma’s things? Her formula and bottles. It’s Christmas Eve. I can’t buy anything to replace it tonight or tomorrow.”
“I’ll get everything,” Joe said. “You go back to Dixie’s and stay warm. Get Emma inside.”
