The Café between Pumpkin and Pie

by Marina Adair

  He gently tugged her panties to the side and, watching her watch him, delivered a kiss that was almost as hot as the big ball of fire raging between them.

  “God, don’t stop,” she moaned, and, man of big words, he did not. Using his tongue, his teeth, teasing and tempting, he set a delicious pace that had her pressing against him. Harder and faster, he launched an all-out attack until breathing became nonexistent.

  He got her body so primed it was humming and, in an embarrassing amount of time, he had her careening toward the finish line.

  The finish line was good. The finish line was great. She hadn’t crossed that line in a really, really, really long time. It almost pained her to stop, but Mila was a team player and determined that, when those champagne bottles exploded, they’d fly high together.

  “Come here.” She fisted her hand in his shirt, yanking him forward and his shirt up and over his head. She made quick work of his belt and jeans, then slid her hands down the front to his—my word, indeed.

  “Mi,” he breathed, so she did it again, only this time beneath his BVDs. Pushing his jeans around his ankles with one hand, she kept up a steady pace with the other.

  “Slow down,” he groaned, but she noticed he didn’t make a move to stop her, instead pushing harder into her palm. “One more stroke, and it’s game over, Buttercup. I’ve waited too long to have it end in three seconds.”

  She gave a little squeeze. “Big words go both ways.”

  Okay, more than a little squeeze, but he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes darkened. His expression was dazed.

  “Is anyone home?” Not that it would stop her now, but she was looking for an uninterrupted, dusk-to-dawn meet-and-greet.

  “No. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, and before she could stop herself she asked, “For how long?”

  “However long it takes,” he said, sculpting her hips and yanking her forward until she was teetering on the edge, literally and metaphorically. “Now, unless you have any more questions.”

  She grabbed his face. “Lucky for you, I’m done with words.”

  * * *

  Thank God, Hudson was fluent in silent communication, because all it took was a single look from Mila to snap the waist on her teal thong, then—holy shit—lift her hips in silent invitation.

  Hudson RSVPed to that show-and-tell in no time flat, easing his thumbs under the waistband and slowly tugging the thong down her legs. The lower he went, the harder he got, until she gave a little shimmy that had it sliding. All. The. Way. Off.

  Hudson couldn’t look away, because she leaned back on her hands, giving him a no-lace-required view that officially blew his mind. Then, back to that non-communication, she fisted her hands in his hair and locked her ankles around his back, holding him there, as if he didn’t already know what she wanted.

  He knew all right, and he was going to give it to her.

  Then her lips crashed down on his, and while she was kissing him he grabbed a condom, was covered, and—miracle of all miracles—slid home in a single, earth-shattering stroke.

  She groaned. He dropped his head to her shoulder. Just absorbing the feeling of finally, finally, being inside her. Being with her like this. She was silent and he wondered if, like him, she was taken by how right everything felt.

  He wasn’t sure how long they held each other like that, but suddenly the sky had grown dark, moonlight glowed over her silky skin, and she shifted—ever so slightly. Not enough to be considered a first move, but enough to know she was giving the green light.

  Wanting to check off every box on her list, Hudson took control. Gentle at first, building from a slow burn to surface-of-the-sun. They moved together, faster and more frantic, their momentum catching fire. Desperate for leverage, he leaned her back against the table, and they quickly became a sweaty tangle of arms and legs.

  Touching, sliding, exploring.

  He knew when it happened, when she forgot about tallies and checkmarks and gave herself over to the possibilities.

  Gave herself over to him.

  Her hands slid up and down his spine, her eyes shining up as she started to tighten around him. The air burned his lungs, so he gave up on breathing. His chest felt too big for his skin, his knees began to buckle, and he wanted to run away and come home all at the same time.

  Her legs pulled him down until there wasn’t even a breath between them. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, holding him as though he was one of the good ones.

  For the first time in his life, he was determined to be that guy—to erase every hesitation she’d had about them.

  “I’m almost there,” she moaned, clenching and drawing him all the way in, which drove him right over the edge.

  The pressure built, hotter and higher, and he fought to keep himself in check, but her thighs tightened around his waist until he thought he’d pass out and then, hallelujah, she began to shake. She pushed up as he came down, sinking so deep he knew he never wanted to leave.

  Then the sexiest thing he’d ever heard broke from her lips: “Hudson.”

  A-OK with him, since he was mumbling her name as everything narrowed, came into focus, and they both fell at the same time in a shared kind of raw tenderness that had so many feels going through his chest, it made speaking impossible.

  Not that there were any words to describe what had just happened.

  * * *

  A long time later, after they’d shared dessert and he’d given her a double helping of dessert, Hudson lay on his back, with Mila snuggled against his side, fast asleep.

  He watched the stars above with a big, goofy grin on his face. They hadn’t made it to the bed. They were still on the back porch and Mila had stolen most of the blanket, but he wasn’t complaining.

  Tonight had been, hands down, the best night of his life. For the first time since enlisting, he had clarity. The soul-deep, without a doubt, conviction that he was in the right place. And Mila was the right woman. Only he didn’t know where her head was at.

  He knew where her body stood, but her heart was a whole other matter. And that made him nervous.

  “I can almost hear you thinking,” she said, her sleep-roughened voice making him ready for another helping. “What’s up?”

  He looked down and lifted a brow. She laughed. “I mean besides the obvious.”

  “I was thinking about how good this feels, you in my arms.”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled deeper and his heart rolled over.

  “And that I want more of this,” he continued. “More of you.” He felt her grow still and he closed his eyes with a grimace. This was why he shouldn’t ever talk when sex drunk. It rarely turned out well. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, it’s not that. I want more of you too.” Her arms tightened around him. “But I heard back from the job this morning.”

  “The one in L.A.?” His chest pinched painfully.

  “Actually. I heard back from two jobs.”

  “Two?”

  “Turns out that the Moonbright Community Theater is looking for an art director. It doesn’t pay as much as an assistant set designer, go figure, but it’s a bigger title. I’d run the entire art department.”

  And she’d stay right here in Moonbright, with him.

  “What about L.A.?” he asked, working really hard to smile. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with hope. “They want to do another interview with me on Thursday. There are still a ton of people left to interview, but that I made it this far is pretty cool.”

  “It’s amazing.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You’re amazing.”

  “Tonight was amazing.” She slid her thigh over his and straddled him, the moonlight casting a glow over her naked body.

  “It’s getting better by the moment.”

  He brought her down for a languid kiss before he said something that would influence her decision. “Art director” might be a bigger title, but their small to
wn didn’t hold a candle to the experience she’d get in Hollywood.

  He knew how hard she worked, making everyone else’s life fuller and better. It was about time she was able to make her own dreams come true. If anyone deserved some happiness, it was Mila.

  Watching her tonight, working to get her parents’ house ready for the holidays after putting in a full day painting windows, was an emotional game changer. It made him realize that this was about more than proving that her Mr. Right list was complete BS. This was about becoming the kind of man who deserved to be Mila’s Mr. Right.

  He’d finally found the woman he wanted for the long haul, only there was a big TBD in her flight plan.

  Chapter 8

  Mila was glowing.

  It had started Friday morning when Hudson fed her breakfast in bed and lasted straight through the weekend. It stuck with her during Monday and Tuesday’s mural painting at the Bellaluna’s Bakeshop, Wednesday’s pitch to become Rose Cottage’s official window artist, and this morning’s house tour at the new retirement development—her dad liked the simplicity of the condo and her mom said over her dead body would she be denied a garden.

  It had even withstood the winter storm that had blown in.

  This was more than a sex glow. Of that she had no doubt. It was an inside-out, axis-tilting kind of glow that made her a believer—in the legend, in soul mates, and in true love.

  And therein lay the problem. Mila was, head over heels, totally and completely, forever and ever amen, in love with a man who was so perfectly wrong, he couldn’t be more right for her. Which was why, after her two interviews that afternoon, the first with the community theater and the second with the production company, she’d called an emergency meeting at the Corner Café.

  All life-changing decisions were best made in the company of good friends and a slice of Nan’s pie. Today’s special was cran-apple cobbler served warm, with a generous helping of cinnamon ice cream. A favorite, but Mila couldn’t seem to find her appetite.

  “Okay, spill,” Dakota said.

  “Who said I had anything to spill?” Mila asked, because now that she was there, she didn’t want to talk about the interviews.

  Dakota laughed. “The constipated look you always get when you’re overthinking plus the fact that you haven’t touched your pie.”

  “I had another interview with the company in L.A. today. The entire executive team was there. It’s down to me and three other candidates. They said, either way, I’d hear back by the end of the week.”

  “This is great news,” Kira said.

  “It is?” Mila hadn’t meant for it to come out more query than statement, but it was hard when she’d been questioning her next move all week. Painting windows had never been more than a means to an end until her parents were settled and something better came along.

  Then again, means to an end hadn’t exactly worked out as planned for her lately.

  “It is if you want it to be,” Dakota said. “Do you still want it to be?”

  Mila snorted. “Of course I do. I mean, it’s my dream job. I’d be stupid to pass it up for a small-town community theater.”

  “Not necessarily.” Kira covered Mila’s hand with her own. “The beauty of dreams is that sometimes they change and we have the choice to change direction with them or stay the course.”

  Mila thought back to her time on Hudson’s island and how one impulsive decision had led to a day of excitement and rightness. Standing there in Hudson’s arms, being open and vulnerable with each other, had changed her. She wasn’t sure if the things that had made her happy before would make her happy now.

  And she couldn’t forget the generous job offer here in town, which would provide a new challenge for her. It wouldn’t give her the chance to network or make the kind of connections she could in L.A. and the growth potential was minimal, but it would allow her to stay in Moonbright.

  Maybe even buy her parents’ house. They were moving on to a new chapter of their lives, and so was she. Why couldn’t she start hers with the man she loved in the house she adored?

  It had served three generations of Cramers. Why change a tradition that, so far, had resulted in love and happiness?

  “What does Hudson think?” Kira asked.

  “He said he wanted more. With me.” She shrugged. “But his life is here.”

  “So?” Dakota said. “The question is, where do you want to live your life?”

  Her heart went boom boom boom at the possibilities, at the clarity that came when she chose to take her eyes off the road ahead and focus, instead, on what could be. She’d always dreamed of using her imagination to create alternative realities. How was that any different from creating her own reality, right here, in Moonbright?

  “I don’t know,” she said, but knew it was a lie. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself. There are still three other candidates. Why get all worked up over something that likely won’t happen? Even if it did, the job starts relatively soon and my parents’ house is nowhere near ready to go on the market.”

  Not to mention her heart wasn’t ready to walk away from Hudson.

  “You keep telling yourself that,” Dakota said. “But eventually an offer will come in and, when it does, you’ll have a heavy decision to make. You shouldn’t pass on a job because of your parents or because of a guy. If you pass, it should be because staying here is the right choice for you.”

  A comforting peace filled her heart. She’d spent most of her life making decisions based on other people’s needs. Her family, her friends, she’d even stayed with exes well past their expiration date because she’d been afraid of disappointing them. Maybe Dakota was right, Maybe it was time she started asking herself what would make her happy.

  Hudson made her the once-in-a-lifetime kind of happy that no job could ever match. Moonbright might be her home, but he was her future.

  “I have to go.”

  * * *

  If someone had told Mila that she’d ever consider passing on a job for a man, she would have laughed in their face. But there she was, walking into the hangar, more excited about the prospect of a future with Hudson than the possibility of a job in L.A. He was worth staying for. And yes, while she wanted a life of her own, she didn’t want to live life alone.

  “Hey, Ford,” she said, practically bouncing as she walked. “Is Hud around?”

  Ford smiled. “Hud is buffing his precious baby.”

  “Thanks.” Mila walked to the chopper to find her man, looking mighty fine in his fly-boy gear, his biceps bulging as he wiped down the front of the chopper. “Hey, you,” she said.

  He turned and, with a smile that made her body break out in the goosies, walked over to her, right up into her space, and, without hesitation, cupped her cheeks, giving her a long, delicious, drugging kiss.

  “Hey.” He kissed her again. This one shorter, but not any less potent. “How did your interviews go?”

  “Good.” This time she kissed him. “I should hear back soon from both. But enough about that. I missed you,” she said, even though it had only been three hours since she’d left his bed— for the third morning in a row. But a lot had transpired in that time.

  “I missed this.” He went in for another kiss just as her phone pinged. They both froze.

  “It could be the community theater.”

  “Or not,” he said. “You should check to be sure.”

  “I can do it later.” She went up on her toes, and her lips had just brushed his when her phone pinged again with a reminder that echoed off the cement floor and around her stomach. “I should just . . .”

  He took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You should.”

  Mila pulled her phone from her purse and opened her in-box. And there, in bold text, was an email from the president of the company in L.A. She tapped the screen and, oh my God, it wasn’t about another interview. They’d offered her the job—and for more money than she’d expected.

  “So?” he asked. S
he looked up at him and a smile snuck out. “You got it.”

  “I got it! Well, they want to fly me out for an in-person interview, but if that goes well, then the job is mine,” she said, and for a second, just a second, she hesitated. Ignored the certainty that she wasn’t going to take the job and let the pure euphoria of beating out some stiff competition rush through her.

  She’d done it. She’d landed her dream job, all on her own.

  “They’ll love you.” Hudson’s gaze turned serious, and something flickered in it that gave her hope he felt the same way she did. “I—”

  “You, what?” she asked, her chest thumping hard.

  Instead of saying the three words she wanted so badly to hear, he said, “I’m really proud of you. What are they offering?”

  “Ah.” She swallowed. “Instead of an assistant to a set designer, I’d be an actual set designer. And they offered me twice as much as the community theater position.”

  “You’re worth all that and more.” His eyes remained locked on hers. “I never had any doubt.”

  “I did,” she whispered. “But I’m glad someone had confidence.”

  “I have every confidence in the world,” he said, and she realized he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he appeared resigned, distant even. The emotions she’d seen a moment ago were extinguished, and along with them that small bead of hope.

  “I should email them back.”

  “Wait, before you . . .” He stepped toward her, then stopped and shook his head. “You’re right. You need to email them and accept the offer.”

  “No, wait, what were you going to say before?” she asked, anticipation causing her heart to beat so fast, she was afraid she’d pass out.

  “Just that I’ll help your parents get their house ready and look after them until it sells, so you can get settled.”

  “You’ll look after my parents?” she asked, confused.

  She was ready to stay. Thought that after the past week he’d ask her to stay, maybe even move in with her. Was he being standoffish because he’d had time to think, reconsider what her staying would mean, realize that the things he’d said had been in the moment and their time together hadn’t changed him the way it had her?