by Meg Benjamin
“She did.” In fact, Carol had kept her sane, sort of. Or as sane as she could be when she kept having the feeling that doom was heading her way at a fast clip. “I’ll start cleaning up in here.”
“I thought we could all go down to the table to take our bows,” he said slowly. “You, me, and Carol.”
She shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“She knows you’re here, Bec. She’s been making references to it all evening. If you stay up here, it’ll look like you’re afraid to face her.”
Bec gritted her teeth. “I am afraid to face her. She’s right about that.”
“You shouldn’t be. You can’t be. If you want to get yeast from her, you need to talk to her. Trust me, she’s not going to give it to me without seeing you first.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s go serve them their coffee.”
Bec had a sudden wild desire to run away. She could be home in ten minutes if she ran. Where she could hide in her bedroom.
And you’ll never make another barrel of beer.
She closed her eyes for a moment, catching her breath. Then she raised her head. “Let’s do it.”
…
Wyatt placed two china cups, a cream pitcher, and the small French press on Carol’s tray. “Can you carry this?”
Carol gave him a definite eye-roll. “Of course. It’s not that heavy.”
“Okay. You head down and wait by the table. We’ll come down and join you.”
Carol frowned. “All three of us?”
He nodded. “All three.”
She glanced at Bec, who was carefully loading the dishwasher and just as carefully not looking at either of them.
“Come on, Bec. It’s time.” He tried to make his voice matter-of-fact. No point in sounding like the crack of doom if he didn’t have to.
Bec slid one last plate in place, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Carol was still watching her with a concerned look, but Wyatt handed her the tray. “Time to take our curtain call.”
On one of his many trips down the slope that evening, he’d lit the hurricane lantern he’d found for the table along with the candle. Now it glowed warmly in the velvety darkness, casting a radiant circle around Abe and Angel. Wyatt blinked. He could swear that Abe had been holding her hand just before they’d heard the door open.
Mission accomplished? Actually, he’d argue that the mission was complete whether or not Abe had held Angel’s hand. After all, he’d promised a romantic dinner, which he’d definitely delivered in spades. He hadn’t promised romance exactly—that was up to Abe. There was only so much Wyatt could do.
He tightened his own hold on Bec’s hand. He didn’t really expect her to back out now, but he figured a little support wouldn’t hurt. In front of them, Carol’s white shirt glimmered in the reflected light from the kitchen door and the hurricane lantern. The kid was giving it her all, carrying the platter in front of her like an offering.
“Show time,” he murmured, tugging Bec’s hand lightly so that she’d move behind him. He walked carefully down the uneven ground of the slope.
Abe and Angel were both concentrating on Carol, who was pushing down the plunger on the French press. Abe looked like he’d like to take over the operation himself, but Carol wasn’t giving her job away to anybody. “There. Shall I pour?”
“That’s okay, we can manage,” Abe said quickly. Wyatt guessed he was hoping Carol would head back up to the kitchen to leave him alone with Angel again.
Vain hope. Wyatt stepped next to the table, pulling Bec’s hand around his elbow, bringing her beside him. “Evening, folks. How was your meal?”
It was the same question he’d asked a hundred times at Quaff, but this time he really wanted to know.
“Great.” Abe leaned back in his chair to smile at him. “Tasty. And it was nice being outdoors, too.”
Angel gave a small shrug. “It was good. I enjoyed it. Thanks.”
“Glad to hear it.” Bec’s hand felt icy. He gave it another quick squeeze. “It was a pleasure serving you.”
Angel raised her head to look at him, her smile dry. And caught sight of Bec.
Her eyes flashed. “You were there. I knew it. I knew you were up here with him.”
“Bec was helping me out in the kitchen,” Wyatt said quickly. “I convinced her to come down and take a bow with Carol and me.”
Angel kept her gaze on Bec, ignoring him. “Why did you do this?”
“I… Wyatt had the idea,” Bec stammered. “I work here during the week. I make cheese.”
Angel nodded, one brow raising. “I know. My bakery is two streets over. An easy walk.”
“Yes.” Bec was back to biting her lip again. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else at the moment.
“Why haven’t you ever…?”
Her voice was drowned out by a cry of pain. Wyatt stared up the slope at Carol, sprawled across the tufts of grass, her tray on the dirt beside her in a pile of dishes.
He dropped Bec’s hand and sprinted toward the child. “Carol, what happened? Are you okay?” He knelt beside her, joined a few seconds later by Bec, Angel, and Abe.
“My foot slipped.” Carol whimpered, gripping her bent knee. “It stings.”
“Oh, Carol, I’m so sorry.” Bec brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Show me where you hurt.”
“My knee,” Carol said. “I think I bumped it when my feet slid out from under me.”
“Try standing up.” Angel leaned forward to put her arm around Carol’s shoulders. “Lean on Bec and me.”
Bec moved to Carol’s other side, putting her arm around her waist. “Easy now.”
The two helped Carol slowly to her feet while Abe gathered the dishes that had spilled out on the grass.
Wyatt picked up the tray. “You can stack those here. I’ll get them inside.”
Abe placed the dishes on the tray, then turned back to the table to pick up the remaining glasses. “Should we bring the coffee up top?”
Wyatt frowned. “I don’t want to rush you. If you and Angel want to have your coffee in peace, Bec and I can look after Carol.”
Abe’s lips moved into a dry smile. “I don’t think that’s too likely.” He nodded toward where the two women were walking Carol carefully toward the restaurant door. “I think they’ve got other things to think about.”
Wyatt sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Too bad the evening ended with a downer.”
“Oh, the evening was great.” Abe gave him a broader smile this time. “Just like you promised—good food, a chance to talk, beautiful setting. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that. Guess the rest of it’s going to be up to me. You earned the malt tonight.”
“Glad I could help,” Wyatt said, then corrected himself. “Glad we could help.”
Abe’s smile faded. “About Bec.”
Wyatt drew himself up. “About Bec.”
Abe sighed. “She could use a friend. I mean she’s got friends, but she hasn’t been talking to us for some reason. It’s awkward. I get that. But she needs somebody to help her get back on track. Are you a friend to her?”
Wyatt nodded slowly. “I’m trying to be.”
“Good. Now if she’ll talk to Angel, we can get this whole thing back on course again.” He picked up the coffee pot and cups and headed back up the slope toward the door where Angel and Bec had carried Carol.
Wyatt wasn’t sure what whole thing he was talking about, but he agreed that getting Angel and Bec to talk to each other would be a good first step. He followed Abe back into the Salty Goat.
Someone had turned on the lights in the deli, and Carol was seated in one of the wooden dining room chairs with one pant leg pushed up above her slightly knobby knee. Wyatt couldn’t see any obvious injury, but Bec was sponging off the leg while Angel hovered in the background.
Bec looked up at them as they came in, then turned back to her patient. “I think it’s just a bruise, honey. Your mom
can put ice on it if it hurts later.”
Carol nodded, her lower lip trembling slightly. She suddenly looked like a suffering eleven year old. “Okay.”
“Did you do anything else—turn your ankle or bang your elbow?” Angel asked.
Carol shook her head. “I just hit my knee. Hard.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t break the skin. That was lucky.” Bec wiped Carol’s knee quickly with a dish towel, then pulled her pant leg back down. “You better get home now. I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to. I can get myself home,” Carol said staunchly.
“Nope. No way are you going to walk home by yourself after dark. Particularly not when you just hurt yourself.” Bec extended her hand to pull Carol back to her feet.
“We can take her home,” Angel cut in. “We’ll be walking by her house on the way back to my place.”
Abe frowned slightly. Maybe he hadn’t considered that particular route to her house. Or maybe he hadn’t realized he was walking Angel home. But now that the possibility had been presented, he didn’t seem to be too upset about that idea.
“Don’t you want to finish your coffee?” Bec asked.
Angel shook her head, then turned to Wyatt. “It was great. Truly. I loved it. But we need to move on now.” She smiled up at Abe, her eyes glowing. Abe suddenly looked a little like a man who’d taken a body blow. Angel’s smile was a potent thing.
He held up the coffee pot and cups in Bec’s direction. “Here’s the coffee stuff. Where should I put it?”
Bec stepped forward. “I’ll take it. Thanks.”
Angel frowned. “Did you get my purse?”
“You had a purse?” Abe suddenly looked slightly dazed, but Wyatt figured that might be the lingering effects of Angel’s smile.
“It’s probably still down at the table. I’ll go get it.” Angel moved for the door again.
“I’ll go down there with you,” Abe said.
Bec headed toward the kitchen. “Let me get rid of these things.”
Wyatt suddenly found himself alone in the dining room with the unsurprisingly dry-eyed Carol. “Remember to grab the left knee.”
She grimaced. “I know that. I’m not an idiot.”
“You were leaning to the other side for a while. You’re okay, right?”
“I’m totally okay.” She gave him a shrewd look. “Somebody needed to break things up. Angel looked like she might say something nasty to Bec. Then Bec would have run away, and the whole dinner would have been for nothing. Falling down was the best idea I could come up with.”
“It worked.” Wyatt extended his hand. “Nice going, kid. You earned a bonus.”
“No problem.” Carol grinned as they shook, then dropped his hand as Bec came through the kitchen door at almost the same time that Angel and Abe came through the back.
Angel paused for a moment, looking a little expectantly at Bec. “You want to have a cup of coffee sometime?”
Bec watched her a little nervously. “Sure. I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.”
“How about tomorrow morning? Around ten?” Angel folded her arms across her chest.
Bec blew out a long breath. “Absolutely. We can do it here. I’ll take my break.”
Angel nodded once, her shoulders loosening. “Good. See you then.” She turned to Abe. “Are we ready to go?”
“Oh. Sure. Absolutely.” He extended his hand to Carol. “Here you go. Take it easy, okay?”
Carol took his hand, moving slowly to her feet. She was careful to keep her weight to the right. “Thanks.”
Angel moved to her left side. “Here, kid, lean on me. We’ll get you home all right.”
Carol gave her a brave smile, squaring her jaw in concentration. “It’s okay. It only hurts a little bit now.”
The three of them started their slow progress toward the front door as Bec moved to unlock it for them. Wyatt watched them head down the street together. Carol’s imitation of Tiny Tim struck him as a little overdone, but maybe she didn’t get the chance to play this particular role all that often.
Behind him, Bec sighed. “It worked. I didn’t know if it would. But it turned out well in the end.”
Wyatt nodded slowly. “It did. Better than I’d hoped.” He turned to look at her as she switched off the dining room chandelier.
In the dim light shining through the kitchen door, her hair was a glowing flame. His body hardened almost instantly. He’d spent the evening worrying about her, but he hadn’t really taken the time to look at her. Now that he did, he wondered how he’d managed to cook a meal without once trying to pull her into a darkened corner for a quickie.
Of course, if he’d done that, the meal probably wouldn’t have worked out as well as it had. Maybe his lack of concentration was a blessing in disguise. But the time for concentration was clearly over.
“We need to clean up the kitchen,” Bec murmured, her voice slightly husky.
Right. They’d promised Ruth that she’d never know they were there. That meant running the dishwasher, wiping down the counters and stove, and maybe mopping up. Normally it might take an hour.
Bec gave him a long, level look. “How fast can we do it?”
Wyatt took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But I plan to find out.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wyatt tasted like caramel. Just one of many revelations Bec had during the evening. She ran her tongue along the line of his ribs, tasting, tasting, tasting. Maybe it had something to do with his cooking. Maybe it was just Wyatt. Whatever it was, she wanted more—lots, lots more.
She heard his quick intake of breath as she moved lower and smiled to herself. This was by way of reward for the whole evening, although she wasn’t sure who was being rewarded exactly. They both deserved it. They’d both been involved. And now they both deserved to relax. He’d pushed her, but she’d pushed him, too, and the two of them made a good team.
No team, Rebecca. No us. He’s strictly temporary.
The thought caused a brief flare of melancholy around her heart. It was all ending. Abe would sell Wyatt the malt—that much was clear. It would be up to her to convince Angel to sell her the yeast, but she was a lot more optimistic about that possibility than she had been before. She might be scolded before she got it, but she could handle a little scolding. And maybe she deserved it. She’d been an idiot.
Don’t be an idiot again. Grab the gusto, toots. So what if it’s temporary?
Wyatt groaned as she touched her lips to the line of skin below his navel, bringing her back to herself again. Ah yes, reward time. Prepare to be grateful, Montgomery.
She slid her fingers to the top of his thighs, pushing him wider so that his cock rose against his belly. Nice to see that he was fully engaged here. She wrapped one of her hands around the base of his erection, the other stroking down his thigh as she moved up his body. She took the head of his cock in her mouth, licking slowly, tasting the drop of pre-come that glistened at the tip.
His breath came faster as he groaned again. “Bec, sweet Jesus.”
She moved her head down, taking him farther into her mouth, one hand running up and down his shaft, feeling the velvet skin smooth beneath her fingers. His flesh was warm in her mouth, silky against her hands. She increased the stroke, moving faster, feeling the tightness in his body.
He was panting with the effort of holding himself back.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “Let go.”
He shook his head. “No. I want to be inside you. Need to be inside you.” His hands pressed against her shoulders, turning her onto her back. And then it was his turn to push her legs wide, to run his hands along tender skin, then slide his fingers into her folds, already wet with desire for him.
“You’re ready,” he said. His voice a rasp in the darkness.
She nodded, well beyond speech. Do it. Take me. I want you to.
He reached for the condom on the bedside table, and it seemed to take far too long. She pulled
the packet from his fingers, then smoothed the latex over his hardened cock, feeling it jump as she touched him. “Now,” she said. “Inside me now.”
“Pushy broad.” But he loomed above her, his hand moving his cock to the opening of her body. He slid inside a half inch, then out again. In, out, and far, far too little of him.
She groaned, pushing her heels into the small of his back. “More.”
He grinned down at her, his forehead damp with sweat. “Wait.”
She shook her head. “Don’t want to.”
He tantalized her again, sliding in a few more inches, then out again.
She gave him a clenched-teeth grin. “Bastard.”
He leaned down to run his teeth along the edge of her ear, sending pinpricks of sensation from her shoulders to her knees. “Hang on, babe,” he muttered. “Time to ride.”
She grabbed hold of his shoulders as he plunged deep, bringing her to the brink almost instantly. Each stroke seemed to go deeper, touching something bright and hard within her, until she heard herself scream, something she was fairly sure she’d never done before during sex.
Wyatt stared down at her, his forehead furrowing, his cock hard and pulsing inside her. “Okay?”
“Just keep going,” she gasped. “Do it, Wyatt.”
He did. She wrapped her legs around him again as his body moved against hers. Aftershocks rippled through her until she felt his shoulders stiffen. He pounded against her, groaning, his body losing its rhythm as he took her with him.
Reason gone, thought gone, plans gone, everything crumbling before the wave of pleasure that pushed them both up again.
She lay still for a long moment afterward, her arms still looped around his neck. As rewards went, that had been an intense one, and she wasn’t sure what to say about it. Jokes seemed wrong for something so shattering, but neither of them was ready for serious yet. Maybe it was best to keep quiet, to not run the risk of ruining everything by saying the wrong thing.
It was never this good with Colin. Admit that, Bec, if you admit nothing else.
“Thank you,” Wyatt murmured.
She blinked. Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t one she’d anticipated. “For what?”
