The Last One (21 page)

OVER THE PAST TWELVE years, I’d become an expert at keeping my so-called love life separate from my family life. I guess that’s what they call compartmentalizing. Whatever it was, I liked it fine. I’d go into town one night every week or so and spend the evening with a woman, and then I’d come back home a happier and more relaxed man, able to take on the stresses of the farm and family. I didn’t have to worry about what Ali thought of the girl I was sleeping with or whether that girl would get her nose out of joint when I sat for hours drinking beer and watching a baseball game on television. I didn’t have to take anyone’s feelings into consideration. It was easy. Simple.

The morning after Meghan and I had screwed our brains out on the side of the road, I awoke with a distinctly uneasy feeling. Whatever this was between us, there was no keeping it apart from the rest of my life. I’d not only brought my love life to my doorstep, I’d given her my grandma’s bedroom.

I lay in my bed as the gray light turned pink with the sunrise, wondering if Meghan had expected me to sneak into her room last night. Was she going to be disappointed with me, or pissed that I’d just come up and gone to sleep? I’d never stayed the night with any woman I’d slept with, but Meghan was right here, one floor down. What if she gave me the cold shoulder this morning? And was I expected to do anything special, like take her breakfast or offer to come see her during the day? No way I could do that. I had work to do, a farm to run. I couldn’t hang around here all day.

I got up and showered, still brooding. Standing in the stall, I remembered Meghan spread out on the seat of my truck last night. I’d known from the minute I’d laid eyes on her, passed out in the car alongside the road, that she’d had a good body, but I’d never guessed how completely fucking beautiful she was. My cock hardened, remembering her gorgeous breasts and the long legs that had clutched around me as I drove into her ...

“Shit.” I closed my eyes and leaned one hand against the wall of the shower, wondering what Meghan would do if I just showed up in her room right now, crawled into bed with her and took care of this massive hard-on. For one crazy minute, it sounded like a decent idea. And then I remembered that my sister and my niece were in the house, too, and the thought of getting caught by either one of them skulking out of Grandma’s old room made my erection a little less erect.

I finished in the shower, got dressed and went down to the kitchen. It was silent as it usually was at this time of day. I liked the quiet, because it was when my house belonged to me. Any other time, it was Ali’s and Bridget’s, too, and I didn’t mind that, but it was nice to have a few minutes of peace. I made the coffee and poured it into my mug while flipping through yesterday’s newspaper, catching up on scores and highlights, letting the day settle into my bones.

After I’d finished my coffee, I lingered a few extra minutes, just in case Meghan decided to wake up. If she were mad that I hadn’t come to her room last night, I’d rather know now than have it on my mind all day long. But she didn’t come out. I even crept to the front of the house and put my ear to her door, just in case she might be awake, reading or drawing. But I didn’t hear anything from within.

Finally, I gave up, went out the back door and climbed into the old farm truck. I had plenty to do today, and giving myself over to the normal routines of my work was how I coped. Why should today be any different, just because I’d slept with a girl last night? Or rather, hadn’t slept with her. I’d banged her and then left her with my sister.

“Put it away,” I growled to myself, and starting up the truck, I headed over rough dirt roads out to the stand.

No one was there yet, of course. I was always first on the scene, there to unlock the sliding wall and make sure everything was set up for the day. We had two high school kids who worked for us during the busy summer months, and Ali spent most of her time at the stand, too. But I liked to keep my eye on things, check on stock and inventory as well as basic upkeep.

This morning, after I knelt down to oil the wheels of the slider, I went to the back and examined the supports around one of the shelving units. Last winter, we’d been hit with a massive ice storm, and when everything had melted, water had leaked into this part of the small building, warping some of the wood and making it necessary to replace some shelves. Because this was the area that held our locally produced jams and honey, along with other fairly heavy products, I needed to make sure that the repairs were holding.

Cassie Demeyer showed up just as I’d finished my rounds. She was a pretty blonde girl, with a friendly smile and bright blue eyes that made her a customer favorite.

“Morning, Sam.” She slammed the door of her old Buick. “Are we all set?”

“Yeah, I think so. Jim Newman says he’ll be bringing the first of the semi-freestone peaches over today. I looked at them yesterday, and I think it’s a good crop this year. Make sure you push them with customers who’re looking for local fruit.”

We talked about pricing for the peaches and what produce was reaching the end of its season, so she could try to sell out what we had on hand. As soon as Lynne Bower, another of our high school employees, pulled up to join Cassie, I left them to their work and headed out into the fields to do my own.

By four-thirty that afternoon, I congratulated myself. I’d made it through the day without obsessing over Meghan; even if she’d crossed my mind once or twice—every hour—I was still willing to call it a victory. I could do this. Whatever this was.

I drove back to the house, parked the truck and went through my normal wash-up routine at the outdoor sink. I was just drying my face when I heard steps behind me. I turned to see Meghan coming up the path that led to the house from the stand. She was carrying a basket of peaches, and her eyes were fastened on me. Or more accurately, on my chest, still damp from the splashed water.

My heart thudded as I watched her approach. She wore a paint-spattered blue tank top, and it clung to her in a way that made me hope she hadn’t seen any men today. None at all. And those shorts ... they were almost riding up her ass. I felt myself harden, and it only got worse when she stopped a few feet away from me and ran her tongue over her lips.

“Hey.” I shut off the water and leaned against the sink. “Where’ve you been?” I heard the words come out of my mouth and hoped they didn’t sound as accusatory as I feared.

Meghan’s lips curled into a smile. “I went over to help out at the stand for a while this afternoon. Bridget stayed with me in the morning so we could do some drawing, and then I walked her out there after lunch.” She lifted the basket of fruit. “They were still busy, so Ali sent me home to put on the chicken for dinner. Oh, and she had me bring us some peaches, too, because they’re selling fast.”

“Good.” I slung my sweaty shirt over my shoulder. “So are you, uh, okay today?”

“Okay? Why?” Her forehead furrowed, and then smoothed as understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh, you mean after last night.”

“Yeah. Last night.” I nodded like a freaking bobble-head doll.

“I’m good.” Her smile widened to a grin. “I don’t want to disillusion you, Sam, but that wasn’t my first time.”

“I know. But it was your first time with me.
Our
first time.” My voice was rough with remembered passion. “And I was gone all day. I didn’t know ... if you expected anything.”

Meghan set down the peaches and put her hands on her hips. “Anything like what? An engagement ring? A declaration of undying love? I thought we’d worked out our expectations yesterday.”

“No, not like that. I mean, like for me to be hanging around. Or ...” I glanced toward the house. “Or coming to your bedroom last night. Sleeping with you. Staying the night.”

She laughed. “Oh, Sam. You’re making this so much more complicated than it needs to be. Were you worried all day that I’d be mooning around the house, waiting for you to show up and be my boyfriend?”

“No. Yes. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never done this, been with a girl who lived in my house. It’s—” I glanced around, searching for the right word. “It’s weird, is what it is. I have no clue how to treat you. How you expect to be treated. Do we hold hands at the dinner table? Do I kiss you goodbye in the morning before I leave for the fields? Do you want me to check in at lunch time?”

“What do you want to do? Because that’s what I want, too. I don’t want you kissing me or holding my hand or anything because you think it’s what you’re supposed to do. Only do it if you want.” Meghan took another step closer to me, her eyes roaming down my body again. “For instance, how would you feel if I saw you washing up out here, and I just waved and walked right into the kitchen?”

I considered. “I guess I’d feel okay with it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Right. Because that would be natural for me to do that. But what you don’t know is that every single time I see you here at the end of the day, stripping off your shirt and getting all wet, the only thing I want to do is ... this.”

She reached out one finger to trace the path of one small water droplet as it ran down from my neck and across my chest. I shivered at her touch. Her fingertip took a detour around my pecs and up to circle one nipple, teasing ever closer to the center of the disc but never actually touching it. I closed my eyes as she ventured farther down, over my abs to stop at the waistband of my jeans.

“The first time I saw you out here washing up, all I could think was that I wanted to come up behind you, wrap my arms around your middle and lay my head on your back. Just to breathe in your scent after a day in the fields, and touch your chest ... your abs ... any part of you ... as long as I wanted.”

My mouth was dry, and my cock strained against the zipper of my jeans. I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. Shit, I couldn’t think of anything stupid to say.

“So if I’m in the kitchen looking out the window when you come in from working, I just might come out to do that. Okay? Not because I think it’s what I should do, or what you expect me to do. But because it feels good. It’s what I want to do.”

I nodded. “God, I hope you want to do that every single day.”

Meghan nodded. “I can tell you it’s a strong likelihood. But don’t worry, if Bridget is out here or in the kitchen, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” She ran her fingers up my arms, and I thought I heard a little hum under her breath. “So what about you? What have you been fantasizing about doing if we ever got together?”

I caught her hand and dragged her closer. “Exactly what we did last night in my truck.”

Her eyes went soft for a moment. “Yeah, that works for me, too. What else?”

I reached behind her head, where her red curls were gathered into a messy ponytail. Pulling out the hair band, I combed my fingers through the strands, gentling when I hit snarls that needed to be unraveled.

“Hmmm ... let me think.” I squinted. “I want to sit out on the front porch with you after dinner. While Ali’s putting Bridge to bed, and the day’s work is done. I want to hold you in my lap on the swing and make out until neither of us can think straight.”

“Didn’t we do that Friday night?” She was teasing, but I nodded.

“Yeah, but when we’re so turned on we can’t breathe, this time I want to be able to pick you up and carry you to your ... hmm. No, that won’t work.”

She tilted her head. “What? What won’t work?”

I ran one hand over my damp hair. “Your room. It used to be my grandmother’s, before she died. And call me crazy, but the idea of having sex in her bedroom just isn’t something I can do. It would be like she was still in the room, you know what I mean?” I shuddered.

Meghan shook her head, an expression of distaste on her face. “Oh, yeah, I get that. Eww. Just even with her stuff still there ... yuck.”

“Which is a problem.” I sighed. “You’re living with Grandma, and I’m upstairs right next to Bridget’s room. I know I said the porch floor wasn’t an option the other night, but desperate times and all that. Maybe I could bring down a blanket.”

“Sam, relax.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed me, just the barest of touches on my lips. “We’ll work it out. Ali and Bridge aren’t here all the time. Right now, for instance, we have an abundance of privacy.”

“Damn, that’s right.” I was mentally kicking myself. “All this time we were standing here talking about stupid stuff, and we could have been taking advantage of this opportunity. I could have you upstairs, naked on your back. Or ...” I smiled, thinking of the possibilities. “Maybe on your stomach, with your ass in the air.”

Meghan’s lips parted, and her eyes dilated. “I like the way you think.”

I was just about to grab her arm, drag her inside to my room and put my plan into action when I heard the sound of voices. I recognized my niece’s excited chatter and her mother’s answer.

“Shit!” I moaned the word and tugged Meghan close to me again. “We waited too long. Listen, the next time I’m about to miss a chance to make love to you because I’m talking too much, stop me. Tell me to shut up and get busy.”

She giggled. “Okay. Same goes, all right?” She made as though to slide away from me, and I caught her arm, lowering my head to nuzzle her neck.

“Porch tonight, after dinner. Yes?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She rubbed her body against mine as I let go of her arm, and my whole body lit up when I felt her little grind over the bulge beneath my fly.

“You’re making me crazy.” I smacked her on that tempting little backside as she bent to retrieve the peaches, making her yelp in surprise.

“Good. It’s all part of the plan.” She winked and skirted around me, making sure to keep well out of my reach.

God, I couldn’t wait until after dinner.