by Donna Fasano
Heather’s left eye narrowed just a fraction. “But you are having sex with him.”
It wasn’t a question. The jig was up, and Sara knew it.
“Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “Everyone on the deck will hear you. Okay, okay. We had sex. It was only once. Just once. Now shut up about it. He’s coming.”
Cathy’s spine straightened. “But we need more—”
Sara shot Cathy a look that sheared off the rest of her friend’s sentence.
Landon slid onto the bench beside Sara. “That singer is great. He’s done Sinatra, Ray Charles, Tom Jones, Elvis. I’m really enjoying the music.”
Picking up her drink, Sara offered Landon a bright smile, knowing full well it was forced. And just as she feared, he didn’t miss the fact that Heather and Cathy both looked like they were about to implode. There was a question in his gaze when he focused on her.
Sara stood up, still clutching her Orange Crush. “It’s almost time.”
“For what?” Landon asked.
“You two stay,” Sara ordered Cathy and Heather. “Try to get hold of yourselves. Landon, let’s walk out to the gazebo to watch the sunset. Bring your beer.”
He seemed all too eager to escape what could quickly become an awkward moment.
Sara and Landon had barely taken a couple of steps before Heather and Cathy burst out laughing.
“What’s going on?” he asked Sara.
“That seems to be the million dollar question of the evening,” she murmured. She led him down the wooden pier that led to a covered gazebo built out over the bay waters.
“They were looking at me like I was a slab of prime rib on a hot dinner plate,” he said.
Prime rib. Such an apt description, Sara mused.
Just as they stepped up to the railing, he said, “Damn, Sara. Did you tell them? About you and me, I mean?”
“I didn’t have to tell them. They guessed. I can’t keep anything from them.” Sara wanted to be annoyed with Heather and Cathy. She wanted to be angry about their nosiness. But she couldn’t muster up that kind of emotion when it came to her friends.
She sighed and tried to explain. “Then again, they can’t keep anything from me, either.”
At that moment, the 1812 Overture began to herald the sunset. After hearing the first strains of Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece, Landon raised his brows and smiled in pleasant surprise, then he turned to watch the sun slide lower and lower on the horizon in tandem to the music. The sky glowed with radiant shades of yellow, red, and purple, and Landon reached down and curled his fingers around Sara’s hand. She inched closer until the full lengths of their arms were touching. Just as the sun disappeared, the sound of cannon fire exploded through the night. The crowd behind them cheered and clapped their approval.
Landon bent over and rested his elbows on the banister, keeping hold of her hand as he did.
“Well, that sure was something to see,” he said. His dark eyes took in every aspect of her face, and he slowly lifted her hand and planted a warm kiss on the backs of her fingers. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”
“I’m happy you’re here.” Even as the words were slipping off her tongue, she knew she’d never uttered a truer statement. She was happy. Happy that she was with Landon. Happy that he held her hand. Happy that he seemed so pleased to be with her.
“Now,” he said, softly, “about your friends. Do I need to worry? I mean, are they going to give me a hard time about, you know…” He pointed at her, then at himself. “You and me.”
“Oh, who knows what’s going on in their heads? But you won’t be their target,” she told him. “I’m the one with a bull’s eye on her chest. But I don’t mind.” She chuckled as she shrugged. “’Cause I would be doing the same to them. In fact, it may sound crazy, but teasing the hell out of each other is how we prove our love.”
Landon laughed, then he did the unexpected—he hugged her. Instantly, Sara feared she would tense up, graceless and stiff, against him because she knew her friends must be watching, but that wasn’t what happened at all. No, she melted into him as if it were second nature and thought, Let them look.
Chapter Eight
It was nearly midnight when the first group text arrived.
Heather: Can’t sleep. Hope I didn’t wake you. Been laying here for an hour wondering.
Cathy: About what? U okay?
Sara: Yeah, what Cathy asked. You okay?
Heather: Fine. Just restless. Thinking. Making love/having sex. What’s the difference? Opinions, pls.
Cathy: Oh, come on. What r u? 12?
Sara: lol You need the birds and bees talk?
Heather: I’m serious. As long as you get your rocks off, they’re the same, right?
No new texts posted for a long, drawn out moment. Both Sara and Cathy had been married at one time, and although Cathy’s marriage hadn’t ended well—oh, hell, it had ended horribly—both of the women had loved the men they had married.
Sara held her phone to her chest, staring at the shadows stretching across the ceiling as she thought about making love with Greg. God, how she had loved that man. They had been sweethearts all through high school, and they had married soon after graduation. Greg had made her feel safe and secure. He’d made her feel cherished.
Now Landon, on the other hand, had brought out in her a pure, unadulterated horniness the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in… ever.
Sara’s phone trilled.
Heather: ?????
Almost simultaneously, Sara and Cathy answered.
Sara: Not the same.
Cathy: No. Not the same.
Cathy: As much as I hate to admit it.
Heather: ?????
Cathy: Sex is what Brad and I have on a pretty regular basis.
Sara: Cathy, I wouldn’t call once every three months pretty regular.
Cathy: Shut up.
Bradley Henderson was a lifeguard during the summer season and he worked on the OC Emergency Medical Team the rest of the year. Cathy and Brad had dated, off and on through their teens. But then Cathy practically ran off with and married a man who had slowly but surely destroyed every bit of Cathy’s trust in the opposite sex.
Cathy: Sex is what Sara is having with our handy plumber.
Sara: He’s not a plumber.
Cathy: Farmer then. Sweet farmer fornication.
Heather: Cropman coitus?
Cathy: Exactly
Sara: :-/
Cathy: Sexual seeding
Heather: Tasteless Tillage
Sara: Stop!
Cathy: I’m sure it’s both tasty AND tasteless.
Heather: Greedy gleaning.
Cathy: Steamy, hot harvesting.
Heather: Meadow mowing.
Cathy: Mucking the stall.
Sara: Okay, we’re done. I mean it.
Cathy: Passionate plowing.
Cathy: Sorry. That one was too good to waste.
Heather: Sex with Steve was good.
Heather: But it was so long ago.
Heather: Was I having sex? Or making love?
Sara’s heart pinched with pain for Heather. Six years ago, Heather had been wearing an engagement ring on her finger, and she had been right in the middle of planning her dream wedding, when tragedy struck and she’d lost everything.
Cathy: Don’t be silly, hon. You were making love.
Sara: Yes. Not your fault Steve turned out to be an a$$hole of extraordinary measure.
Cathy: Spelled out clearly: he was a huge asshole.
Sara: Making love involves emotions.
Cathy: Emotions. *shiver* Dangerous territory.
Heather: It’s been so long since I’ve felt…
Heather: anything.
Cathy: Liar. You feel emotions every day.
Cathy: Case in point – that kid who peed the bed at the Lonely Loon this week.
Sara: Heather’s head nearly exploded.
Heather: Don’t you think the parents should have
told me?
Heather: Had to have the mattress professionally cleaned.
Heather: Cost me a bundle.
Heather: Yes, I was angry. But I wasn’t talking about that kind of emotion.
Sara: We know. {{{hugs}}}
Heather’s self-esteem had taken such a hit when Steve dumped her, she’d built a wall of steel around her heart. She hadn’t allowed another man to come anywhere near her for fear that she might be rejected again. Sara had hoped that time would heal her body and her heart. Her body had healed—even though Heather wouldn’t agree—but her heart remained shattered.
Cathy: You need to follow my lead. Get yourself a bed buddy.
Sara started a text about Landon, but then deleted the few words she’d spelled out. Something felt wrong about making light of her… friendship with him.
Friendship? Was that the best adjective to describe what was going on between them?
He made her laugh. And when they engaged in serious conversation, he shared intelligent opinions and his attentiveness let her know he was honestly interested in what she had to say. She enjoyed being with him. In fact, he made her happy. He made her smile so often that, by the end of the day, her cheek muscles were often sore. Like a delirious monkey. She snickered.
Instead of mentioning Landon and risking more farmer sex ribbing, though, she decided to keep the conversation fun. Heather needed to be diverted from her dark thoughts.
Sara: We need to hook Heather up. Does Brad have a brother?
Cathy: Yes. Married with kids.
Sara: Bummer.
Heather: No hooking up. Seriously.
Sara knew Heather really was dead set against that idea. Her issues had roots that were deep and strong.
Sara: Heather, not every man is as shallow as Steve.
Cathy: R u sure, Sara?
Sara: You’re not helping.
Heather: I’m going to sleep. 5 AM comes early.
Cathy: You got that right. Good night, my sistas!
Heather: See you in the morning.
Sara: Night.
On a sigh, Sara set her phone on the nightstand and studied the ceiling. Maybe Heather’s heart was healing. The fact that she was wondering about the differences between making love and having sex with a man was evidence of a healthy interest. Maybe her curiosity would grow strong enough that she’d start dating again. Sara hoped so.
Like a slow, relentless rising of the tide, Landon seeped into her thoughts once again. The hug he’d given her out under the gazebo had taken her by surprise. A little burst of joy had exploded like a mini firework in her heart.
Cathy and Heather’s teasing just now hadn’t really bothered her. What did niggle at her was the strong compulsion she’d felt to shut it down. Her time with Landon was finite; she knew that. But for some odd reason, she couldn’t bring herself to treat him like a passing thing or a seasonal fling. Their friendship—their relationship—wouldn’t develop into anything serious. It couldn’t. Not when he would be packing up and driving back to Kansas with little notice.
Still, her heart kept whispering that it wanted him to mean something.
Sara turned onto her side, tugged the sheet up around her body, and did her best to ignore it.
Chapter Nine
He had to tell her. It was time. Actually, he should have been completely upfront with her days ago. However, his story was a strange one, and contemplating her reaction to hearing it had caused him to toss and turn every night since they’d nearly devoured each other at her shop. The explosively passionate encounter had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Episodes like that didn’t happen to regular guys like him.
Landon absently stirred the spaghetti sauce that simmered on the stove, realizing that, when Sara turned her green gaze on him, he felt anything but regular. He tapped the large spoon against the rim of the pot.
How could seven short days alter his life so drastically? He drove into this town unsure of exactly why he had traveled out to the east coast, but each day that had passed since meeting this extraordinary woman gave him a peace like he’d never known. The calm seemed to have settled down deep inside him. Being with her felt… right.
Sara wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever met. He hadn’t laughed with anyone as much as he had with her. Her kindness and concern toward others had been proven in the great care and worry she showered on her mother, not to mention the time and attention she focused on her friends. Cathy and Heather were important to Sara. The three women enjoyed a deep friendship—a solid bond—that he truly envied.
He could hear Sara rummaging around in her bedroom down the hall. She was gathering more of her things to take downstairs to her mother’s.
Landon had asked her if he could cook dinner for her, and he now opened a bottle of red wine. The cork made a small pop, and he set the bottle on the table so he could remove the cork from the spiral bottle opener. Today had been the first day they hadn’t spent together; she’d been busy baking in her shop, and he’d made a trip to the hardware store, and then spent hours installing a shut-off valve under the industrial sized sink in Cathy’s restaurant.
Sara was smart. A real entrepreneur. A person had to have a keen intelligence to run a successful business, and the mail order cookie venture she’d recently started showed her to be both ambitious and enterprising.
She had a brain in her head, that was certain, and she knew how to use it.
He’d learned real quick just how attracted he was to smart women.
Who was he kidding? It wasn’t just her intellect he found appealing. The woman was gorgeous. Her green eyes were quick to sparkle with humor, and when she teased him, as she often did, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless. Her golden blond hair framed her face in short, loose curls that invited a man to run his fingers through it. Dressed up in those short pants she wore, capris, he thought they were called, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap for a Saturday at the park, she was the epitome of cute. Decked out in a figure-hugging cocktail dress for an evening out on the town, she was an absolute stunner. She had curves in all the right places and they stirred some purely sexual images in his head that were, well, less than polite, to say the least. Yet, he refused to feel guilty about it. Hell, he was a man, wasn’t he?
Brilliant. Beautiful. Sexy as hell. Sara was all these things and more.
Landon pulled two wine glasses down from the cabinet just as she entered the kitchen, carrying a small suitcase.
“It seemed easier just to pack a few outfits in this.” She lifted the case a few inches, and then crossed the room and set it next to the back door.
He gave a doleful shake of his head. “I really should find my own space—”
“No more of that,” she cut him off. “I mean it. You have no idea how much you’re helping us.”
His fingers curled around the bottle of wine and he arched his brows in question. She nodded, and he poured.
“I’m glad I worked on the plumbing today,” he told her. “I’ve suffered through a few snippy remarks about my work ethic.”
“You’ll have to forgive Cathy.” Sara accepted the glass. “She just can’t help herself.”
Landon chuckled. “How did you know it was Cathy and not Heather?”
“Because Heather has manners.”
Sara grinned at him over the rim of her glass, her eyes glistening with delight, and Landon’s heart ka-chunked.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“I finished up the install at Cathy’s sink. I figured that would be the best way to get myself back into her good graces.”
Sara’s nod told him she agreed.
“She’ll be ecstatic. In fact, tomorrow morning I expect her to serve you a double order of bacon with your breakfast.”
The wine swirled into his glass when he tipped the bottle. “A man can never have too much bacon, and I don’t know where Cathy gets hers, but it’s extra delicious.”
“She makes it herself e
very morning. The secret is brown sugar and fresh cracked pepper sprinkled on thick-sliced bacon, and then it’s baked in a hot oven.”
“I dream about those crispy little strips.”
They both fell silent as they sipped their wine.
He glanced up at Sara just as she let out a deep sigh, her shoulders relaxing.
“I was so busy today,” she said, “it was nearly quitting time before I had a chance to check the clock.” She leaned her hip against the edge of the countertop. “I was surprised that you didn’t stop in for a visit.”
Landon lifted one shoulder. “Well, I knew you were baking. I wanted to… give you some space.”
In reality, she’d been on his mind nearly every minute today.
She met his gaze squarely and said, “I missed you.”
Those three little words sent joy zinging through him to the point that he couldn’t contain his smile. “I missed you too.”
Sara turned her head toward the stove. “That sauce smells wonderful.”
“It’s my mom’s recipe.” He hooked his thumb on his pocket. “She didn’t teach me to cook, per se, but our kitchen was the gathering spot for the family. It’s where we did our homework as kids. It’s where my dad listened to crop prices on the radio, and where the family got together to talk about who would do which chores. I watched her cook this sauce so often, I guess I just learned how to do it through osmosis or something.”
