Tight Quarters: Strangers on a Train

by Samantha Hunter

  “Reid.” She looked past his shoulder, concerned if anyone else was around.

  “No one can see.” He made sure of that, turning her inward toward the wall.

  When her back hit the hard surface and he pressed into her, Brenna froze. Then his thumb moved over her nipple, and her mind blanked, but not from fear.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just don’t stop doing that,” she said as she pulled him down for another kiss.

  It was amazing. The kiss, the touch, and how much she wanted to just let him take her right here—not possible in this semipublic space, but so tempting.

  Reid apparently had other ideas as he pressed a thigh between hers. She gasped, and he swallowed her moan as he found the right spot, his hand traveling down to her backside, helping her move against him as they kissed.

  The small, dark space of the alcove, the possibility of being seen—all fell away as she gripped him tighter and gave in to the need, her hands clawing into his back as she let a swell of release shudder through her.

  He kept kissing her even as the sensations ebbed, his hands soothing her back, lips gentle. But when he backed away, his eyes were hot.

  “I love making you do that,” he said, tilting his forehead against hers. “You’re so soft, so responsive.”

  “I’m a fan too,” she said shakily, and felt his chest rumble. “I’ve always fantasized about that, being up against a wall, but I couldn’t… Now, here…with you. It’s amazing.”

  “Anything I can do to help,” he said with a wicked smile as they walked out of the alcove. “Sex therapy for phobias? Maybe we’ve stumbled onto some new cure.”

  “But we can’t be sure yet, so we should keep doing it.”

  “No argument from me.”

  Brenna laughed, feeling light. As they walked out into the sun, people they passed seemed to pause and take them in. Brenna felt like she was shining from the inside out.

  It was Reid. If not for him, she’d still be sitting in her berth back on the train, curled up into her own fears. Instead, she was out here, living her life.

  As they made their way into the restaurant, she took his hand in hers. She liked that he squeezed her fingers back as they walked to their table.

  “So, you’re retired. Are you just living the easy life, or are you starting a new career as a sex therapist?” she asked when they’d settled in.

  “I think you might be my only client for that,” he said with a wide smile. “But I have a few other ideas. I grew up in the city, but my parents used to take us up to Vermont and Maine, all through New England, for vacations. I thought maybe buying a hotel or an inn might be interesting. That’s where I’ve been living, for now. In Burlington.”

  “I live right next door in Plattsburgh. I thought ex-cops all became detectives, private security or at least opened up bars,” she teased, somewhat surprised at his new interests.

  “Many do. But there’s no reason I couldn’t do both—you know, run a small inn and solve a murder now and then. Just like in the detective novels. It would probably make my family happier.”

  “They don’t approve?” she asked more seriously, remembering he had said something about that the night before.

  “They don’t understand why I would quit. I think it disappointed them, on some level.”

  “That’s too bad. Will they come around?”

  Their lunches arrived, and their conversation paused as Reid looked out over the gardens before picking up his burger and taking a large bite.

  “It’ll be okay. We’re not estranged or anything, but it’s that elephant in the room, their disapproval of me quitting the force, as if I’m letting the family down or something. My father thought I was in the closet when I told him I might move up here and open an inn.” He gave a rueful shake of his head.

  Brenna rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s an older generation. My parents try to be supportive, but sometimes I wonder if I’m claustrophobic because of the car accident I had as a teen or because they kept me so close to home after it.”

  “Yeah, I, um, I looked that up online. It looked pretty horrific.”

  “You looked me up online?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry, sort of the downfall of being a former detective. I was curious who I was sharing a space with. I wasn’t sure I was safe with you.” He gave her a dangerous smile, making her chuckle.

  He made her laugh more than she could remember doing for a long time.

  Brenna thought about that for a moment, then returned to her lunch. “I suppose it makes sense. For all you know, I could be a fleeing felon.”

  “Good thing I brought the cuffs then.”

  “Sure is.”

  “So the accident was the trigger for your phobia?”

  “It was the trigger for about a dozen of them. Claustrophobia is the only one I still need to work with. I cycled through all kinds of fears and anxiety attacks, drugs, therapy for post trauma in the years after the accident.”

  He ate, watching her thoughtfully. “You’ve been through a lot. The only survivor too?”

  That still put a knot in her chest, and Brenna knew it always would. But she mentally untied the tightness and took a breath.

  “Yes. My best friend and her brother were killed. He was older, back from college, and we were so young. We had no idea he had been drinking before he got in the car. I still can’t remember a lot of it, just being stuck in there, unable to breathe. It was hot.” Her voice choked a bit, her chest tightening up.

  Reid reached over and covered her hand with his.

  “You don’t have to talk about this.”

  “It’s okay. It’s good for me.” She gripped his hand and took a few breaths. “It was a long time ago, but I suppose in some way, it will always be with me. But not this phobia. I got rid of the other ones, and I’ll beat this one too. I have to.”

  “You’re pretty amazing,” he said, and her anxiety melted away, turning to something warmer and much more pleasant under his admiring gaze.

  “Thanks, but I don’t feel all that amazing most days.”

  “Most people don’t, and they haven’t had to overcome what you have.”

  “You have,” she said. “Do you have nightmares often?”

  She wasn’t sure he was going to answer. He focused on his lunch for a few minutes, then shrugged, setting down what was left of his burger.

  “I did, for a while. Though the dreams always seem to mix up different events. Not just the shooting—that’s consistent—but they bring back other times, other moments, that got stuck in my head too. But they’d gone away considerably after I moved up here. I’d apologize for last night, except I’m really glad you were there when I woke up.” His sidewise grin twisted her heart.

  Brenna had to remember that this was just a weekend fling and not to fall hard for this man. He didn’t know what his next move was, and she wanted a job that would take her away from home often. Not a great time to start a relationship—not that one was being offered.

  Still, Reid was the first man in years to make her think in those terms, and it was very hard to keep hope from sprouting tender roots in her heart.

  “There’s no need to apologize. I was glad too…” she said quietly, their hands still linked. “It was nice to be able to be able to help back. To comfort someone else for a change.”

  They didn’t say anything else for several long moments, unlinking their fingers and finishing their meals as they admired the gardens and each other.

  “What do you want to do next?”

  “I might go to the Yaddo Gardens—it’s an artists’ retreat, but you can walk through the gardens. I think they might have a show there this weekend, displaying some of the work of the artists in residence. It would make a nice write-up for me when I get back. A small article to show at my job interview. But I understand if you would rather do something else.”

  “What interview?”

  “I’ve been working freelance out of my home office,
but now there’s a spot open for a travel writer. It’s domestic travel only, but I’d really like to try for it. Unfortunately, I haven’t done much travel, so I’m trying to prove to my boss that I could do it.”

  “Ah, so that’s why this trip in particular is so important.”

  “It is. She knows about my problems, and she’s sympathetic, but you can’t hire a travel writer who can’t travel.”

  Reid nodded. “You’re doing great so far.”

  “Thank you. I have you to thank for a lot of that. It’s hard to believe I only met you yesterday. It feels like…more.” She felt her face heat and hoped he wouldn’t take that the wrong way. “I mean, not to suggest that—”

  “I know what you mean, Brenna. I feel it too. It’s nice. Let’s just enjoy it.” He stood and pulled her chair out, dropping a kiss on the back of her neck as she rose. “Yaddo sounds like a great idea.”

  He was right. She needed to stop analyzing every moment, every thought, and go with the flow. It wasn’t something she’d ever been good at, but maybe it was about time.

  “Okay, off to Yaddo?”

  “Lead the way.” His hand settled at the small of her back as they left.

  Brenna could get very, very used to having Reid around, and that worried her. She was supposed to be taking this trip on her own—to prove to herself she could do it. Was she using him as a buffer or a crutch? What would happen when she had to do it alone?

  Shit, she was doing it again. Overanalyzing every single stupid thing.

  When she was with Reid—in the berth last night, in the alcove that afternoon, with his hands on her, among other things—she didn’t think at all. She felt, lived and enjoyed. And her phobia disappeared.

  As Reid’s thumb slipped just under the waistband of her jeans and caressed the skin there as they walked, she made herself think about nothing but this moment and this man.

  For now, it was enough.

  Chapter Five

  Reid noticed a change in Brenna after lunch. Her walk was lighter, her smile easier. She’d even pulled him behind a shadowed hedgerow in the garden for a hot kiss and had nearly driven him out of his mind.

  He couldn’t wait to get back to the train. All he wanted was Brenna alone in their berth for the night so they could continue what they had been teasing about all afternoon. He couldn’t remember ever being this hot for a woman. The shooting and his recovery really seemed to be behind him now; life had returned, and he was living it again. Brenna freed up something inside of him—made him feel lighter too—and that was as addictive as anything.

  They made their way back to the train, hand in hand, after stopping for some dinner. Brenna had shopped while he talked to a local innkeeper, and his plan to open his own place had solidified. Cops didn’t make much, but Reid had lived simply, working most of the time, and he’d invested what he could. Even with the market troubles, he’d rebounded and had done pretty well.

  That, with his severance, gave him the chance to do whatever he wanted, and he wasn’t going to waste the chance. Almost dying had driven that point home. He wanted to squeeze every moment dry, including his time with Brenna.

  They approached the train platform to hear music playing, and Reid remembered there was a dance planned in the dining car, which had been cleared out for the event.

  “You doing okay? Need me to cuff you or throw you over my shoulder caveman style and carry you in there?” Reid said as they reached the entry.

  Brenna grinned. “No, I think I’m okay, amazingly. I’m not going to overthink it, I’m just going to walk on inside. I have to be able to do this on my own, or it won’t mean much, will it? Though maybe once we’re in there, you might still have some use for those cuffs, who knows?”

  He groaned with mock distress, hand to his heart, making her laugh.

  “Honey, you’re gonna kill me talkin’ like that, but if you think it wouldn’t trigger your phobia, I’m all for it.” His breath caught as every muscle in his body tightened at the thought.

  “I’m willing to try,” she said, smiling again as she pulled a hand down his chest. “And I love when you go all Brooklyn on me, did I mention that?”

  “Any time,” he said with a grin, and he took her hand, leading her to the doors and up inside the train without a problem.

  Reid found himself impressed and completely proud of her, and as much as he wanted to get her back to the berth and take her up on her offer of using the cuffs, he paused inside the door.

  “We should celebrate this—your success. Being able to kiss me in small spaces and getting back on the train with no problem. Let’s go dance for a while, you think?”

  “I haven’t danced in years, but that would be fun,” she agreed. “I’ll go drop off these packages and change. Meet you back here?”

  “I’ll be waiting at the bar,” Reid said, and watched her walk away, very much enjoying how her jeans fit. She had a cute walk, Brenna did.

  Heading to the bar, he found an empty spot and slid up on the seat, ordering a beer as he studied the cool Art-Deco work on the bar. It wasn’t part of the original train, but it had been built to match the time period, and they’d done quite a nice job. Reid loved vintage design, and the more he thought about it, the more the idea of fixing up old B&Bs or homes appealed. Maybe instead of buying one to run himself, he could buy ones that needed fixing, live in them for the duration, and then turn them over for a profit.

  “Hey, you look lonely.” A woman’s voice interrupted his musing, and he turned as a slim blonde slid onto the seat next to his.

  “Nope, not at all.” He knew the look in her eyes all too well. He’d seen her around, flirting with other guys, clearly on the trip to have some fun and get lucky. Nothing wrong with that, but he’d already won the jackpot.

  In fact, he wondered what was taking Brenna so long to get back.

  “I’m Susan. Buy me a drink?” the blonde asked with a pleasant smile.

  “Sure, to be friendly. I’m actually waiting for the woman I’m with to join me,” he said, letting her know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t a prospect for anything other than a drink.

  He and Brenna might only be enjoying a weekend fling, but Reid didn’t multitask in that particular arena. He’d never really dated much, in the strict sense of the term, preferring a sort of loose serial monogamy or no involvement at all. At least for the next day or two, he was with Brenna.

  “Oh, you mean that girl with the mental issues? We thought you were just being nice,” Susan said with a sour frown. “Or are you just into that kind of kink?”

  Reid nearly choked on his drink. “Kink? She’s claustrophobic, not crazy. How do you know that, anyway?”

  “Everyone knows. Some of the train staff were talking, and word gets around.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t listen to everything you hear, Susan. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Reid rose, intending to go find Brenna.

  Susan shrugged and muttered something about it being his loss. She moved at the same time he did, their feet tangling them up. Her hand was on his shoulder, and she laughed brightly, tilting her forehead against his chest for a second. Reid put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her while he extricated himself.

  As he turned, he saw Brenna in the doorway, watching him. He paused and took note of the feline smile on Susan’s face out of the corner of his eye. Damn it.

  Brenna looked amazing. She’d changed into a short blue dress that showed off every curve, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Then he remembered Susan was still there. Something cold landed in his stomach—fear that Brenna would think he’d been flirting with someone else the minute her back was turned. But she smiled at him and walked in, linking her arm through his.

  “Time to dance?” She looked up at him as if Susan wasn’t standing right there. Reid decided that was the best plan of all.

  “Absolutely.”

  He took her hand and led her off to the dance floor, where he ignored the fast-paced pop tune that was
playing and pulled her in close, hugging her tight to him before loosening up his hold and leading her in a slow dance.

  “So who was your friend?” Brenna asked.

  “Not a friend. Just a girl at the bar,” Reid said dismissively.

  “So she wasn’t trying to pick you up?”

  “I wasn’t interested.”

  Brenna smiled. “That’s nice, though you don’t have any obligation to me. You can spend your time with other people if you want.”

  “I don’t want. Not that. Just you.”

  Her eyes reflected her pleasure at his declaration.

  “Well, she’s probably thinking you’re one of those guys who’s into crazy,” Brenna joked, and his amazement at the accuracy of the statement made him blink down at her, wordless.

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  “I’ve been this way for over a decade, Reid—all through high school, when everyone knew about the accident. Some people even blamed me for it.”

  “How could they?”

  “They’d lost their friends, and I’d survived. It didn’t make sense, but it just was what it was. I got through it. Then in college, it didn’t take long for word to get around about my issues. Some people are kind, supportive, nonjudgmental, and some aren’t. I learned a long time ago to ignore it.”

  Reid was surprised at her acceptance and her good humor about the situation.

  “You’re really something, you know that?” He smiled, nuzzling her nose.

  “What I know is that when I’m with you, I don’t seem to notice anything else, like how crowded this dance floor is.” She nuzzled him back.

  Her words warmed him, and that quickly turned to heat as they shared secret, intimate touches—the press of her breasts into his chest, the graze of his fingers over her hip, the way she nestled his increasingly hard-to-hide erection in the cradle of her thighs.

  Reid thought he might explode and embarrass himself in public if he didn’t get her back to the berth. Apparently, Brenna agreed, taking him by the hand and leading the way.

  They stopped to kiss and work each other up even more along the way, eventually falling down into a large, luxurious train seat in the empty lounge. Most people were at the dance or had retired for the evening. The train chugged along to its next stop in the Finger Lakes, and Reid pressed Brenna down into the deep recesses of the seat, exploring her mouth as deeply.