The Last One (22 page)

“SHHH! YOU’RE MAKING THE
chains squeak. Don’t wake up Ali and Bridge.”

I shifted in the swing, trying to keep quiet while I did so. But it wasn’t simple, since I was holding Meghan in my lap at the same time.

“This isn’t as easy as it looks.” I kept my voice to a whisper and lifted her hips to resettle on top of me. “Keeping the swing quiet when you’re one person is hard enough, but when you have a whole other person to balance—”

“Hey!” She leaned back away from me, her mouth turned down and her eyes dangerous. “What are you saying? I’m too heavy to sit on your lap? To be on the swing with you? Are you calling me fat?”

“God, no.” I’d lived with women long enough not to fall into that particular trap. “Why would you think that? I was just saying it’s a matter of finding my center of gravity.”

“Are you sure?” She still looked worried.

“Meghan, are you kidding me? You’re perfect. You can’t really think you’re heavy.”

She stuck out her lip. “My boobs are too big.”

“No such thing.” I hoped she picked up the fervent tone in my voice. “Babe, I fucking love your boobs.” I slid my hands up to demonstrate, lifting them together and then rubbing my palm over the stiff nipples. “If I tell you that the first time I saw you, passed out in your car, I noticed your—um, assets right away, will you get mad and call me a pig?”

Meghan shook her head. “Nope. I’d only ask why it took you so long to actually touch them.”

“Because I’m an idiot, remember?” I lowered my mouth and laved one nipple through her shirt and bra. She moaned a little, just under her breath.

In the ten days since we’d begun ... doing whatever this was, our after-dinner porch time had become the highlight of my day. Unfortunately, it also represented the only private time we’d had, since everyone’s schedules had conspired to keep one extra person at home any time Meghan and I were here together.

I was getting desperate. We’d managed to find some creative ways to get each other off during our porch make out sessions, but it wasn’t the same. By a long shot. I felt like a kid again, stuck with dates that ended in chaste goodnight kisses and blue balls.

Meghan slipped a hand between us, her fingers teasing my stiffened cock over my jeans. “If we were alone ...”

I groaned. It had become a game for us, to drive each other crazy by describing what we’d do if we were alone. She could get me hard just by whispering, “IWWA” when we were sitting at dinner or if she walked past me at the stand.

“Yeah?” I rubbed her nipple between my finger and thumb. “What would you do?”

Her lips curved on one side. “I would sink down to my knees, and I’d unzip your pants. Drag your jeans down your legs ... slowly. Rub my boobs across your boxers, and then I’d take your dick out ...” She increased the pressure of her fingers a little, and I think I went cross-eyed. “ ... and I’d hold you by the base. Cup your balls. Curl my fingers around the shaft and move up ... and down. And then I’d take you in my mouth, swirl my tongue around the head, go down, down, down.” Her voice, already low, dropped to a whisper. “And then I’d suck you on the way back up.”

“You’re going to kill me.” I gripped her ribs and moved so that her damp core sat over my erection. Meghan began moving in slow, agonizing circles, her eyes drifting shut.

Inside the house, a door slammed, and we both startled. Meghan nearly fell off the swing in her hurry to climb off my lap, but I caught her by the waist. “It’s okay. Probably just Ali getting up for the bathroom. She usually has a window opened, and the breeze could have closed the door.”

Meghan dropped her forehead onto my shoulder. “I don’t want to complain, Sam, but I had more privacy when I was in high school.”

I brushed her hair back, letting it cascade behind her shoulder. “Really? Where did you go to make out in those days? The beach?”

She snorted. “Never. Not unless you wanted to end up with sand in some very uncomfortable places. No, we had a few spots. There’s a little apartment above the Tide—it was actually where my parents lived when I was born. When I got old enough that Mom let me close by myself, sometimes I’d take my boyfriend upstairs afterwards. Of course, we had to leave the lights out, because if anyone in town noticed activity, they’d have called my parents.” She smiled, almost dreamily. “But we never got caught.”

“You were lucky.” I wound a curl around my finger.

“What about you?” Meghan drew her knees up to her chest and curled into my chest, laying her head over my heart. Seeing her like that, safe and ensconced in my arms, gave me an odd feeling I wasn’t ready to name yet.

“Ah, you know. The typical. Parking out in the woods, or sneaking off to a barn.”

She frowned up at me. “I thought you said you didn’t have hay in the barn.”

“We don’t. But other farms do.”

“Oh.”

We were quiet for a few moments, enjoying the breeze as it played across the jasmine next to the porch. I ran my fingers up and down Meghan’s spine and smiled at her shiver.

“I have an idea.” It had come to me when she asked about our make out spots. “Want to go out on a date with me?”

She looked up again, eyebrows raised. “A date? Like ... what kind of date?”

“Come on, Meghan, I know you’ve been on dates before.”

“Well, yeah, but at home. Or in Savannah. What do y’all do out here in Podunk?”

I shook my head at her teasing. “You’ll have to trust me. But I promise you, it’ll be like no date you’ve ever been on.”

“Hmmm.” She swiveled so that her chin rested on my breastbone. “Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal. What should I wear?”

“Dress comfortable.” I wriggled down so that I could reach her lips and kissed her. “Meet me at my truck tomorrow night at eight. And don’t be late.”

I KNEW MEGHAN WOULD be in town at school until at least four the next day, and Ali was working the stand as usual. So after I finished my work in the morning, I drove back to the house and began getting ready for our date.

I opened up the old cedar chest in the upstairs hall and pulled out four old quilts. Dropping them at the top of the steps, I went into the bathroom and dug around the cupboard until I found the bottles I needed. Just before I went back downstairs, I remembered to grab two pillows off my bed and add them to my pile.

It took some doing to get the truck ready, but once it was, I unwrapped a brand-new tarp and spread it over the back. I needed one more trip into the house for matches, candles and the bottle of wine Ali had bought last month. I’d replace it on my next trip to the liquor store. The last item I needed was in Meghan’s room, and I walked in cautiously, as though at any minute she might jump out and ask me what the hell I was doing in there. I hadn’t been inside Grandma’s room since Meghan had arrived, and it was weird to see her things over the familiar furniture.

Blank canvasses were propped up against the hope chest at the end of the bed, and a bunch of brushes dried on a towel by the windowsill. Piles of books dominated the dresser. For the most part, Meghan was neat; there were no dirty clothes on the floor, and her bed was made. But she must have had trouble deciding what to wear that morning, I thought, because I saw a couple of discarded shirts tossed over the coverlet. A pink lace bra sat there, too, and I picked it up, running my fingers over delicate fabric. I’d seen some of her underwear by now, on nights when we got particularly daring on the porch, but not this one. Just imagining her within the cups made me hard.

I tossed it back onto the bed, remembering my mission. Meghan’s music blaster was on the nightstand, and unplugging it, I carried it out to the truck.

Mission accomplished
, I thought. Now I just had to wait until eight o’clock. This was going to be the longest day ever.

“NO, GRAHAM, DON’T TOUCH anything!” I made a desperate grab for the seven-year old terrorizing the kids around him. “Or anybody.”

“I’m a monster!” He roared, darting around the desks and evading me once again.

Truer words
, I thought, but I didn’t have time to laugh. This child was determined to spread his finger paint over everything and everyone in the room.

“Whoa there, tiger.” A tall woman in jeans and boots caught Graham and swung him up, holding him by his middle. “Time to wash up.”

“Thanks.” I hurried over with wet paper towels and wiped off as much of the paint as I could manage with the boy batting and kicking. I glanced up at his captor. “I appreciate the help. Are you a mom? I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“Nah, not a mom. Just an aunt.” She let Graham down, holding his hand in a death grip. “To this little cherub, actually.”

“Oh.” I grinned; it was clear that this chick had her nephew’s number. He wasn’t going to get away with anything. “Everything okay with his mother?”

“Yeah. She’s my sister, and her husband surprised her with a trip to Hilton Head for a long weekend. Anniversary deal. They left this little prize with my mom, and for some reason I’ll never understand, she gave him a donut for breakfast. Sugared him up before she sent him to you. So ... sorry about that.”

“No problem.” I dried my hands. “I did notice he was a little more, ah, active today.”

The woman grimaced. “You’re being too nice. He’s a brat sometimes. He’s the only grandchild, and so he’s more than a little spoiled.” She sighed. “I can’t say anything, I do it, too.”

“What are aunts for, if not to spoil? My nephew is just a little over a year old, and I could just eat him up whenever I see him.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Meghan Hawthorne, by the way. The art teacher.”

“Maureen Flynn. Veterinarian and auntie to horrible monster children.” She shook my hand as I laughed.

“Graham’s really not that bad, not normally. He’s actually got some talent, when I can get him to sit down and concentrate.”

“Doesn’t surprise me a bit. My dad’s an artist, of sorts. He’s a mason, and he designs these beautiful fireplaces or walls for people. He’s got the eye, Ma says.” Maureen examined me a little more closely. “You’re not from Burton, are you?”

I laughed. “No, why? Am I missing a special symbol marking me as part of the town?”

“Nah, I just realized I didn’t know anyone related to you. So what brought you to our bustling city?”

“It’s a long story.” I moved to my desk and began to sort through the day’s projects. “But basically, I’m part of a program that places art students in communities that need them. I’m only here for the summer.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Do you live nearby?”

“I go to school in Savannah, but right now, I’m staying out at Sam and Ali Reynolds’ farm.”

“Ohhh.” A shadow passed her face so quickly, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it.

“Do you know them?” I had a hunch maybe she knew one of them a little better than the other.

“I ... did. Not so much anymore.” This time the discomfort lingered.

I sighed. “Sam? Did you date him?”

Her brow knitted together. “What? Sam? Oh—no. No, I’ve never had the pleasure.” She winked at me. “But by the way your face is turning that lovely shade of red, I’m guessing you have.”

“I’m not—I mean—”

Maureen laughed. “No comment is a perfectly acceptable answer. No, I knew—know, that is—Alison. But it was years ago.” She paused, as though remembering. “We sort of drifted apart. But at one time, I thought she was going to end up part of my family.”