by Nikki Duncan
“You won a contest established by Byron, Harold and Errol.”
“Where’d you hear that?” And she knew exactly what was coming next.
“Vic hears things. And you know you’ve been set up, right?”
She wanted to argue, mostly because she was tired of being nice. She’d been nice to everyone for days, but it didn’t make sense to argue the truth. Especially with Hauk, who had fallen victim to Byron’s schemes too. “Byron’s not as subtle as he thinks.”
He laughed. “You say that like it’s a death sentence.”
“Hauk.” She rested a hand on her friend’s wrist. “You say Ryan’s adjusting. I say he’s smothering. I’m on the verge of forgetting what it’s like to be alone for five minutes.”
“He can’t be that bad.”
“He carries me to the bathroom instead of letting me use my crutches.”
Hauk raised a Nordic blond brow, lending a wicked gleam to his smile. “And you haven’t put him on crutches yet?”
“I’m trying to be nice.”
“Oh, honey. You’re sunk.”
“What?” Sunk? As in love? “No way.”
“You’re only nice to children and animals. With everyone else you call it as you see it.”
“I’m plenty nice,” she argued.
“You’re right. You are. You cheer people up when they need it. You help when you can. Through it all, everyone who knows you knows they’ll get the blunt truth if they ask for your opinion.”
“So.” Man, she was in a mood to argue. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Hauk leaned forward and took her chin between his fingers. “Honey, that’s one of my favorite things about my wife. It’s a great thing.”
“You’re not asking me to go easy on him?”
“Why should Ryan have it easy? None of the rest of us do.”
She wrapped her arms around Hauk’s neck and squeezed. “There’s a reason you’re one of my favorite people in this town.”
“Right back at you.” He hugged her back and spoke against her hair. “I’ll make one suggestion.”
“What’s that?” She pulled back and returned to her food.
“Take your time getting off those crutches, and when you do don’t get hurt again for a little bit. We men don’t handle it well when the women we care about are injured.”
The women we care about. The words looped in her mind long after she’d finished eating, said good-bye to Hauk and returned to work on the pictures. They were still looping in her head as she finished the chickadee. They were still looping, along with the resulting questions about Ryan caring, when he returned to take her home.
Carmen was so caught up in the idea of him caring, like Hauk did for Vic, that she didn’t protest when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the truck. She’d called it from the first day on the beach that Byron had set them up, and if things worked out well, she’d owe the old meddler a thank you.
If his scheme was successful, he’d have given her everything she’d wanted when she came to town. Inclusion. Community. Friends. Family. Love.
The temporary wall circling the gazebo had been replaced with a curtain hanging from scaffolding. Only the slightest tug would reveal the people filling the square to watch the parade’s progression. When Carmen reached the square, she would exit the convertible and cross the lawn while Byron, Errol and Harold made a speech about the landscaping contest. On their cue, Carmen and several helpers stationed around the outside of the drape would tug on the cord that held the curtain in place.
With that tug, the entire thing would fall to the ground leaving only the scaffolding frame standing. People on all sides of the gazebo would be able to see the work they’d done immediately.
In his dress blues, Ryan stood at attention in the center of the gazebo. The cheers from the crowd beyond the curtain grew louder as each passing float was announced by the grandfathers. Every announcement brought the parade’s end closer. The closer that came, the more his knees and insides shook.
His heart raced. Sweat ran down his neck and along his spine. He’d been trained to ignore distractions and discomfort, like the too tight collar of his jacket, so he stood firm and counted the floats announced. Only three remained.
“You really ready for this?” Josh asked from Ryan’s left.
“One hundred percent.” Ryan didn’t nod or shift his gaze away from the spot where Carmen would be standing when she dropped the curtain.
“She’s going to cry,” Aimee said from where she stood to his right. Kendall was with Hauk and Vic, who would join them all soon enough. “If she doesn’t I will.”
“It’s what you women do,” Josh said with a smile at his wife.
The last actual float was announced. The high school band marched in, playing “The Maine Song”. The lyrics had never mattered much to Ryan, but suddenly they did. Like the song said, he’d sought far and wide, but his search had been in vain, because there was no place for him like Maine.
The band stopped playing, and Ryan could picture them lowering their instruments to stand at check until their next cue.
“And now,” Errol spoke energetically into his microphone. “Turning the corner in our customary 1955 convertible, donated for use each year by the Ruth family, is our mayor and the winner of the town square landscaping contest.”
“We had thirty entrants,” Harold said, taking over the speech, “and the decision was a tough one. In the end, Carmen Smith, one of Whispering Cove’s newer residents, submitted the winning design. You may have been keeping up with the updates in the paper and are curious about what this young lady and our head landscaper, Ryan Alden, have been working on.”
“Carmen’s heading this way,” Byron stated. “Where’s Ryan? Gunny,” he called to the crowd. “Where are you? Step forward.”
There was murmuring and shuffling, but Ryan didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t even let his lips curl with the knowledge that the only people on to his game were in the gazebo with him.
“I guess he couldn’t be here,” Harold said. “Carmen, grab that rope.”
The fabric moved as she brushed against it on the other side. Ryan’s heart sped another pace.
“One,” Harold spoke into the microphone.
Faster.
“Two,” Errol said.
Faster.
“Pull!” Byron called.
The Velcro fastening at the top popped and crackled beneath the pressure of several hands pulling at once.
Ryan’s heart stalled. The fabric fell, revealing Carmen from head to toe.
She froze. Her eyes widened. Her mouth gaped.
Then, slowly, like in a dream, she stepped over the fabric and walked toward him, with the flared skirt of her white fifties-style dress bouncing and the red-and-blue ribbon in her hair blowing in the breeze. Ryan dropped to a knee.
Her hands were shaking visibly as she stepped up the stairs and stopped before him. Her gaze went from him to Aimee to Josh to the Justice of the Peace standing behind him and back to Ryan.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was a quivering whisper.
He wasn’t sure his would be any stronger so he cleared his throat. “Carmen Smith, we haven’t known each other long.”
“Duh.”
“Our relationship has been contentious and angry at times.”
“No kidding.”
“But it’s been silent and fun at others.”
She nodded.
“Even when you’re not speaking to me or falling asleep in my arms I want only to be with you.”
“Ryan.” She swallowed, but it did nothing to stop the tear slipping down her cheek.
“I love you, Carmen Smith.” He pulled a ring from inside his belt and offered it. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She looked from him to the Justice of the Peace and back. “Now? Here?”
“Yes.”
“We can’t. We have to file paperwork and get blood tests.”
>
“So it’s an unofficial marriage for a few days.” He took her left hand in his and brushed a finger along her palm. “What do you say?”
“You make me miserable when you’re not making me laugh. You’re stubborn and will have to learn I am not a grunt you can command.”
“If you’ll allow me to make one command, now, I’ll take an answer.”
Aimee sniffled from his side, but he only watched Carmen. She only watched him. Then, she nodded slowly. “Yes. I will marry you.”
He released a whoop as he stood and pulled her into a hug. His hand was shaking as he slipped the engagement ring on her finger. His body was trembling as he picked her up to kiss her.
The band blew to life with a rousing round of their fight song. He’d heard it for years when the football team made a touchdown. It was sort of like a homecoming to hear it being played for him. With Carmen at his side he knew he was home and he would never doubt his place again.
“Go, Gunny!” Byron cheered in the microphone. “That is how a public declaration is made. Wouldn’t you say, Errol? Harold?”
Chapter Nine
Carmen had been dreading the parade, and had grown sadder the closer she came to the reveal. Ryan had said that morning he had to take his dad to a doctor appointment and might not make it back in time, but then he’d been there, ready to surprise her, when she revealed what they’d worked so hard on. He’d made her prouder than she thought possible. And happier.
Almost as soon as she’d said yes, the crowd had parted and his mother, father and sister had joined them in the gazebo while friends gathered around the outside edges. The ceremony had been short, and Carmen didn’t even care that he wasn’t officially her husband in the state’s eyes. She would never again wonder how he felt about her or how she fit with him. The man she’d fallen in love with between fights and voicemails had given her the gift of a loving family.
Ryan wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they neared her apartment. “You’re shaking.”
“Still in shock I guess.”
At the door, he turned her into him and kissed her. In the last month the only time he’d touched her in public was when she’d hurt herself. Every other touch had been private, and while that was fine with her, there was an excitement in having him kiss her and hold her where people could see.
Carmen moved her mouth beneath his, opening for him when his tongue pressed against her lips. He tasted of the apple pie he’d found at the parade, saying it was the best substitute to a wedding cake.
Her hands rested on his stomach, her fingers curled into the thick coat he’d worn all day without complaint. Easing back, she looked up at him. “You look really sexy in this uniform, Gunny.”
“You look pretty damn amazing in that dress, Woman. So proper I’ve wanted to dishevel you and lead you to disgrace since that curtain dropped.”
She smiled and played with one of his buttons. “Would you mind unlocking the door so we can get inside?”
“My pleasure.”
“It will be, as soon as we’re inside.”
Ryan unlocked the door and pushed it open. Wasting no time, he swept her into his arms and carried her inside. He kicked the door closed and carried her to the bedroom. “I’m not tucking you in and leaving tonight. Or ever again.”
“Proof that God is real.” Carmen took the cover off his head—he’d corrected her earlier on the terminology when she called it a hat—and set it upside down on the table as they passed. She wanted her hands in his hair and on his body and everything she’d learned about him said he wouldn’t be dropping his uniform like he might a T-shirt and jeans.
In the bedroom, instead of laying her down on the bed, he stood her on it. Lowering to her knees, she unhooked his collar and eased the gold button below it free. He instantly rolled his neck and blew out a long breath.
“So it’s as uncomfortable as it looks?”
“It’s not so bad when the collar is loose.”
“Which it never is when you’re wearing it, is it?” she asked as she undid the next button.
He shook his head. He stepped out of his shoes, removed his belt and rolled it up as Carmen worked the rest of his buttons free. Pushing the heavy material off his shoulders, she’d expected to see skin, but instead found a black shirt of the material her workout clothes were made of. As tight as a second skin, it failed at pulling the sweat away from him.
She shook her head as she hopped off the bed and went to hang his jacket on the back of her vanity chair. When she turned back, he was stepping out of his pants and folding them at the creases. If he took such great care with his uniform, she could only imagine how attentive he’d be as a lover.
Carmen took the pants, leaving him in socks, boxers and his tight shirt, and laid them over the seat. She hopped back up onto the bed and reached for the bottom hem of his shirt. It took some effort and help from him to get the thing off, but the reward was a gloriously toned torso.
Wide shoulders moved down to the broad biceps she’d only seen hints of since the beach party. His pecs were hard and defined and blended beautifully into his flat, ripped stomach. He’d appeared lean in his clothes, and he was, but the power beneath those barriers… Her skin tingled.
“Damn, you’re sexy.”
He grinned as he tugged the ribbon from her hair. “So are you.”
“You haven’t seen me without my clothes.”
“I saw you in your swimsuit.” He slipped a finger along the strap of her dress top. “My imagination is healthy enough to fill in the blanks of what lies beneath this dress.”
“Fortunately imagination isn’t going to be needed much longer.”
“Carmen.” He kissed her, lingering long enough that her panties grew damp and she leaned into him. “Imagination is always needed in the bedroom.”
He traced the edge of her dress collar, dipped his finger beneath the plunge that showed the top of her cleavage. “What made you choose this dress today? Why white?”
“It seemed fitting for July Fourth.” As if mentioning the holiday was enough, fireworks erupted outside in pops and booms. Flashes of red, green, blue and yellow shone through the arch window top that was uncovered by blinds.
“It was perfect. Is.” He slipped the three buttons securing the top and revealed the strapless bra she wore. “I think it’s time you take it off, though.”
“Okay.” She unbuckled the belt and dropped it to the floor. After opening the single fastener at her waist, the dress would fall to the floor as soon as the straps were lowered from her shoulders.
Ryan stared into her eyes as the tip of his finger swept along the edge of her bra. “How did I stay away from you?”
“I don’t know.” She took it upon herself to reach up and nudge the thin straps off her shoulders. The dress fell in a pile of satin and built-in petticoats to the mattress. She’d told him during one of their shared meals, probably as a result of pain medications, that she’d never met a man who made her feel safe enough to cut loose, at least in a way that didn’t mean losing a part of herself. Until him.
That had been the complete truth, though standing in a strapless bra and matching boy shorts, with Ryan devouring her with his gaze, she felt completely at ease. Like they’d been together a thousand times.
“I encourage you to stop trying,” she challenged.
“Yes, ma’am.” He reached behind her and with a flick of his fingers he released the hooks of her bra.
She gasped, then he again swept her into his arms. The sensation of his chest against hers, skin to skin, warm and slick and right, cascaded through her. Her belly trembled and her panties grew wetter.
Then he laid her back on the bed and trailed kisses along every inch of exposed skin. His thumbs flicked lightly back and forth across her nipples while his fingers danced along the hardening swell of her breasts.
She lifted her hips, bumping him. Attuned to her, he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a condom he’d stashed a few days
earlier. Silently, leaving discussions about birth control and babies for later, he stripped away his boxers and sheathed himself. When he returned to her, she’d shimmied out of her underwear.
The patience they’d had while undressing each other vanished. Carmen spread her legs, inviting him in. Ryan slipped easily into her, going slow. She was tight and he was large, but she adjusted quickly.
After only a moment’s pause, she was moving against him as a storm gathered on the shores of her control. Tension built in her back and legs and stomach and chest. Every part of her was coiled in readiness.
He withdrew and surged, withdrew and surged. She ached for it to last forever. She yearned for the impending release. Her muscles tightened. Sweat popped out at the base of her neck and dripped from Ryan’s forehead.
He gripped her hips and held her steady as he moved in and out, slow and steady, taking her higher and higher.
Fireworks lit the sky outside and Ryan set a torch to her soul as he dropped his head back and gave himself over to the orgasm. She convulsed against him with her own release.
Curled into his side, with his fingers rubbing against her shoulder, the trembles had almost subsided when he asked, “Do you still think Byron set us up?”
She laughed and nodded against him. “I do. And the very next time I see him I’m giving him a big kiss.”
“Not too big,” Ryan said against her temple. “Carmen.”
“Yeah?”
“I really like your new bed.”
She turned over and rested her chin on his chest. “Me too.”
About the Author
Heart-stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline.
Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposés at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour.
The only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist.
