A New Hope (14 page)

She heard tapping at her back door and wondered if Ray Anne needed something or if someone was looking for flowers. But she opened the door to Matt’s frowning but so handsome face.

“If you don’t want me in your life anymore, you have to tell me to my face,” he said.

She laughed and stepped back so he could come in.

“That’s funny?” he asked irritably.

“Well, yes. Not talking to a guy never worked for me before. Usually they could care less. I just got home, Matt. You came all this way? I was going to call you.”

“You were?”

“I said I would,” she told him. “And there is no reason I wouldn’t. You came all this way because I got a new phone number?”

“I came all this way because I have to apologize,” he said.

Again she smiled. Their first dinner together, the beginning of a most unexpectedly lovely relationship, had been about apology. “Since you really excel at apologies, I look forward to it.”

He shut the door behind him, slid an arm around her waist and deftly brought her mouth up to his, kissing her. She was bent over his arm and hung on to his shoulders to keep from crumpling to the floor. His kiss was hot and demanding and delicious. Then he moved, his hands on her face, holding her against him, covering her mouth with an almost desperate heat. Her lips opened for him, and he swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and she not only allowed this but welcomed it. She held him close, moaning. Sighing. It was a very long time before he let her go even enough to speak. He panted eagerly.

“Well. You’re pretty messed up,” she said. “We really have to talk. Maybe a little later...” And she went back to his lips, her arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t give you up if I wanted to,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.” Then he sighed and put his lips against her neck, holding her close. “God, I thought you’d given up on me.”

“But you’re the one who disappeared, not me.”

“I know. I know. I’m not good at this, haven’t you figured that out yet?”

She laughed as she ran her fingers through his thick, black hair. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re pretty good...” She pulled back a little so she could look into those troubled, coal-black eyes. “I don’t know what you’re holding inside, but if you don’t get it out pretty soon, you’re going to start getting headaches.”

“Worse headaches. How did you know?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t have headaches anymore.” She kissed his cheek tenderly. “If you can’t trust me with whatever it is, there must be someone you can talk to. A priest, maybe?”

He laughed. “Definitely not a priest.” Then he kissed her neck, holding her against him. “I feel better already.” He ran his hand down her back and over her butt. “Much better.”

“Maybe we could sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

He looked down into her eyes. “Can I have something to drink later? Right now all I want is you. And I want you real damn bad.”

“You should have given me a little notice...”

“For what? You feel like velvet and you taste like...hmm. Heaven. What is that smell in your hair? It’s like dessert.”

“Vanilla. I don’t have any birth control...”

His laugh was deep and a little evil. He looked into her eyes again, and his were getting fiery. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I’m prepared.”

She shook her head. “How does that not surprise me? Don’t most men bring flowers or champagne or chocolates? Okay, forget the flowers...”

“I’ll do that next time. This time—I was in a little panic.”

She pressed herself against him. “I think the panic has passed.”

“Are you ready for this? I’ll be careful. I’ll take good care of you.”

“I trust you, Matt.”

“Then why? Why the phone number thing?”

“After,” she said. “We’ll talk when there’s less distraction.”

“Good idea,” he said, lifting her into his arms. He carried her into the tiny living room, eyed the couch and moved on past it to the bed. He set her down gently, sitting down beside her to kick off his shoes, get rid of his belt and shirt, then turned to take her into his arms again, delivering kisses that were hot and strong. He slid the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, pulled it down and kissed her breasts for a long time. She held his head there, his mouth sucking gently, then not so gently.

She turned into soup. She felt the hot and molten passion inside her flow through her until she was almost aching for him. And that made her squirm. She pulled him down on the bed and reached for his jeans, struggling to find the snap or button or zipper but after a moment of that, he stilled her hands. “Easy,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

“I thought it would be slow,” she said with a shade of embarrassment.

He pulled condoms out of his pocket before tossing the jeans aside. “It’ll be slow next time,” he promised. “Right now I think I should take care of you. Orgasm.” He laughed. “Great icebreaker.”

Her dress came down to her waist, up to her waist, and there she was with a whole bunch of clothing around her waist while everything above and below lay bare to his hungry eyes. “Aw, Ginger, I love those little panties. I think I’ll take them off. With my teeth.”

“No teeth!” she said, laughing.

“Okay, no teeth,” he said. They were white lace, fitting around her hips. He tugged them down and said, “Well now.”

“Natural blonde,” she confirmed.

He got out of his boxers fast. He suited up right away, leaving nothing to chance, then he lay down beside her, brought her into his arms and, kissing her, his hands explored her whole body from her knees to her neck. Finally, frustrated by the cumbersome folds of that discarded sundress, he tugged it lower, down her legs and off. He tossed it. His hands on her were much freer and deeper, and she pushed at him with her hips, so ready. But it was when she tried to close her legs against the pressure of his hand on her that he stopped. He looked into her eyes and said, “Uh-uh. No.” He pushed her legs apart once more and put himself there. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. You want to come, don’t you, my love?”

She squeezed her eyes closed and just nodded.

“Good idea,” he whispered. “You first.”

He entered her slowly, watching her face the whole time. “Perfect,” he said. “Perfect.” Then he began to move, creatively at first, listening for the response that said he’d found the sweet spot. There was only the slightest whimper but she held his shoulders in a death grip and inhaled sharply. Her heels dug into the bed and she pushed against him. “There it is,” he whispered against her lips. “There it is.” And he slid down her neck to her breasts, licking them and sucking them while he pumped his hips.

Ginger wasn’t sure what hit her—she was full of him. Full and aching and tingling and spiraling, hanging on for dear life, letting go of every other thought and focused only on one thing—let it go, let it go, let it go. And then it came, hot and hard and sweet and she pushed her pelvis against him suddenly, holding him there.

He slid a hand behind her, under her butt, and pressed himself deeply into her, his thrusts smaller and deeper, and she felt her insides grip him. Grip him, hold him tight, tremble, spasm. She heard him moan appreciatively and then it started to subside. She couldn’t believe her own ears when she heard herself say, “More.”

He chuckled. “We can do more.” His mouth latched on a nipple and sucked hard while he pumped his hips anew, hard and deep, and in just a second she had another one—so deep and hot and heavenly she thought she might faint. She relaxed beneath him, still quivering. “More?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

“I’m good,” she whispered.

“You are that,” he said. “Hold me.”

Her arms tightened around his torso, her legs came up to wrap around his hips, and she held on. For him. He rode her, thrusting deep and hard, groaning loudly, murmuring little victory shouts and calling her name. And then she felt him stiffen, harden inside her and spill in what seemed like a million short bursts. It went on longer than she was prepared for, long enough that she started to get turned on all over again while he throbbed inside of her.

Finally he quieted and just moaned, but it was a very happy moan. She stroked his back and loosened her legs. And he put soft kisses on her lips.

“You are not quiet,” she finally said.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “It was that good.”

“It was. I think you growled. Maybe barked.”

“I didn’t bark!” he said, laughing.

“You prayed,” she said.

“Sort of,” he admitted. He rolled to one side, trying to keep them together a while longer, but nature had its way and he slipped out of her. “Listen, probably this should have come first. I think I love you.”

She was quiet a moment. “Do let me know when you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I love you. Scared me a little. I can’t think of any reason it should scare me, but all of a sudden I froze up and worried about ridiculous things. Like what if it couldn’t last, what if I’m kidding myself, what if I just don’t know what I’m doing and make the same mistakes over and over again? What if it’s me? Do you understand? Am I just crazy?”

“I don’t know, Matt. I won’t know until you tell me your story.”

Twelve

M
att excused himself from the bed and returned a few minutes later with a couple of beers. He sat down on the bed and put the bottles on the bedside table. “I can drink one or even both of those if you’re letting me stay.”

She leaned against the headboard, the sheet covering her breasts. She looked down at herself. “I’m naked and just had wonderful sex. If you leave me now, I might change my number again.”

“So, it
was
because of me,” he said, handing her a beer.

“Only a little bit,” she said, shaking her head. “Look, we hadn’t professed our love, hadn’t been intimate, hadn’t made promises. If you got busy or sidetracked or just plain lost interest and decided not to call after all, that’s your option. Right? I think I know how things work—women usually prefer to lay it on the line, say things like, ‘I don’t think this is going to work for me,’ while men tend to say they’ll call, then they just don’t. Obviously I could’ve left my number just the same and if you didn’t feel like going any further with me, you wouldn’t call. But I wanted to hear from you. I reached out once and didn’t get much of a response and it made me very sad and moody. Not the end of the world, right? But I saw a reflection of what I once was. I was that way with Mick—so desperate for him to show me he cared. Obviously I don’t feel that for Mick anymore but I was not going to get into an identical situation with you. I had to put a stop to it. So it wasn’t really about you as much as about me. Do you see? I didn’t have enough willpower to forget about you, so I cut myself off. I knew you could find me if you wanted to, but it helped me stop watching the phone.” She touched his hand. “I’m sorry if I hurt you by doing that.”

He shook his head a little guiltily. “I told myself it was because you heard from Mick and were cutting him off.”

“A little of that,” she said with a shrug. “But truthfully, Mick isn’t that hard to get rid of. Just tell him you don’t live for the chance to worship him and he’s long gone. I’m sure I’ll never hear from him again.”

“Did he ever offer to support you and your child? Did he ever try to save it? The marriage?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t what he wanted. He wants to be a star. He’s perfectly willing to take me along for the ride. He always said he made some of his best music with me.”

“God,” Matt said. “You must hate him so much!”

“No, I don’t care about Mick. So—what’s making you crazy, Matt?”

He instantly hung his head. Then he raised it slowly. “There are two things you have to know, Ginger. Number one, I haven’t told anyone, especially not my family.”

“I’m good at keeping confidences.”

“And number two, I’m not as good at relationships as you are.”

She smiled tenderly. “Oh, you might be just as good. It’s okay to take your time.”

He took a drink and shook his head. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Right where you think the beginning is,” she said.

“Okay. I think I married Natalie because she’s beautiful. And she’s a playful little sex kitten. I think men make that mistake a lot.”

“Well. How’d that work out for you?” she asked, smiling in spite of herself.

“Don’t be sarcastic, because you’re beautiful. And talk about sexy.” He shuddered. “You almost killed me. In the best way. In the way I really want to die.”

She frowned. “I’m sure there was a compliment in there somewhere...” She cleared her throat. “Back to business.”

“Guys looked at me with envy. Some of them, like my brothers, their eyes glowed right before they shook their heads like I was the dumbest ox. I wanted it to work—it made me happy. She wanted to get married and I said, ‘Okay. Why not?’ I wanted a wife. What I’m only starting to understand is that Natalie had an agenda from the beginning—she was going to become my wife and we would begin to do everything her way, starting with getting me off that farm and into a suit. I swear to God, we talked about everything before we got married. We lived together for almost a year and there was a little grumbling about my hours, about the family being overwhelming, but nothing like after we got married. The second we were married we started to argue about how little we had in common, how disparate our lives were. So from the beginning we fought. And my family said, ‘Could have told you that wasn’t going to work.’ They all saw how she grimaced at the goat shit on her designer heels, picked at her food, wrinkled her nose at the smells, screeched if a dog or chicken got close to her, cried for hours before and after we spent some time at the farm.”

“Wow,” Ginger said. “That must have been awful. Even I didn’t cry for hours before and after Mick’s all-night jam sessions or concerts. And I grew to hate them.”

“It just wasn’t going to work, we both knew it. I wouldn’t change, she wouldn’t change. But something happened that finished it. No one knows about this. Natalie had an abortion. She was planning to keep it a secret, sell it to me as a heavy period, but it got bad, she got scared and I had to take her to the emergency room. I left her right after that, as soon as I was sure she was okay. She had gone too far. I was angry and I was through.”

Ginger was speechless. She noticed that Matt had to look away to compose himself. She said nothing for a little while. “Your baby,” she finally whispered.

“Ours. And it meant nothing to her.”

“Oh, Matt. I’m so sorry. How did you find out?”

He took a breath. “I came home one day and found her in bed, gripping her belly with cramps, crying. She was white as a ghost. She said her period was so bad she was scared she was bleeding to death. It was a lot of blood, staining the sheets and a towel and her clothes. I took her straight to the emergency room. I hear a buzzing in my ears when I remember her telling the doctor she’d had a procedure that day and told him who performed that procedure, and heard the doctor say that he’d examine her but a routine D&C for an abortion was often followed by heavy bleeding for several hours. And for a while I just shut down.”

“Dear God.”

“They looked at her, said it had already slowed down, suggested she stay off her feet for a day and if it didn’t get considerably better to come back. They gave her instructions—watch for fever, severe cramping, hemorrhage...I helped her get dressed and took her home but I couldn’t even look at her. I couldn’t speak. She cried and yelled all the way home about how miserable her life was, how unhappy she was and how she felt trapped by getting pregnant. She didn’t know what else to do. I left her the next day, as soon as I was sure she was not going to die.” He gave a lame shrug. “That’s pretty much it. It was already terrible and then it got worse. And these were things I should have known. I should have known how bad it could get.”

“Or she should have,” Ginger said.

“My family can’t ever know about that. They’d hate her.”

“Is there a reason they should still hold her dear? I mean, are they going to run into her at the State Fair livestock show or something?”

“No, it’s just...”

“It’s not just on her. You’re afraid they’ll blame you.”

“Maybe I am,” he said. “It blindsided me, that’s for sure. I felt like a failure and a fool. And of course I knew in five minutes, you’re nothing like Natalie. There was no reason for me to be afraid of getting close to you.”

“Oh, I don’t think you were, Matt. You just weren’t quite done with the last relationship. It’s understandable if you need a little time to be sure you’re ready. You’ve been through a rough time. And with no one to talk to.”

“I couldn’t talk about it. I was too angry. I’m still angry. That was wrong, what she did. And I hate her for it.”

“I can imagine. It must hurt so much. I think you were right in the first place—you and Natalie married the wrong people. No one understands that better than I do—I did that, too. I should have known better. I wish I could explain what makes us blind and deaf to reality.”

“Let me ask you something. Are you afraid of what your life could become with me?” he asked, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Of course not. But see, I wasn’t afraid of what I’d become with Mick, either. I wanted a different life when I married a man who said he would never go that route. Oh, we have so much in common, Matt,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I wanted Mick to turn into a domesticated husband and father when he promised me from the start that was never going to happen. You wanted Natalie to do the same thing when all she wanted was to get you off the farm.”

“And how is that my fault?”

“Oh, Matt, my sweet, sweet Matt. It’s not about fault. It’s just about understanding. We’re all part of the equation, we’re complicit. Not to blame, but participants. I told Mick I wanted a family and he said, ‘Knock yourself out, but you know that guy in the supermarket with the baby strapped to his chest? I am never going to be that guy.’ He meant it and I didn’t hear him. What the hell was I thinking, being married to him, having a baby with him? What right did I have to expect things of him that weren’t possible? I had to forgive him. It’s kind of freeing.”

“I’ll never forgive her. I hate her. That was underhanded and selfish and cruel.”

She smiled at him. “It was, I agree. I love you, Matt,” she said. “I’ve been honest with you. I swear.” She couldn’t resist—she reached out and ran her fingers through that glorious hair.

“How could you forgive him?” he asked.

“Oh, he can still make me furious—for about twenty minutes. When he called me I was outraged by his self-centered idiocy. And then I just laughed at how predictable he is. I don’t have room in my life for hate. I tried it for a while. It didn’t work. And now I want to be with you and I don’t want hate to be part of what we have.”

“Then it isn’t going to drive you away knowing I’m still a little fucked up over my failed marriage?”

“You’d hardly be the first. It takes time to heal. And I think you’re going to figure it out real soon. At least you can finally talk about it.”

“I’m not sure talking about it got rid of the headache,” he said. “Might’ve been something else,” he said, grinning playfully, pulling down the sheet to expose her. He fondled her breast.

“Done talking, Matt?” she asked, humor in her voice.

“For now, I think. Are you? Done talking?”

“Depends. What’s the alternative?”

He took the beer from her hand and put it aside. He grabbed her around the waist and said, “Come over here and find out.” He pulled her close and just held her tight, held her like he was afraid to let go. After a little while he covered her body with his and smothered her with hungry kisses.

* * *

Ginger wasn’t sure what time it was, but she heard the back door open and close and smelled coffee brewing. Matt came into the bedroom with a small satchel in one hand, his phone in the other. “Your reputation is completely ruined,” he said.

“Is that so?”

“I went to my truck to get my phone and this bag. I went in my shorts, barefoot. There was a gray-haired woman a few doors down tossing trash in the Dumpster and she eyeballed me. I gave her a wave.”

“Carrie,” Ginger said. “She owns the deli. She’s close with Ray Anne.”

“So, that means she’ll call Ray Anne? Will that get Ray Anne upset, that I spent the night?”

“Are you kidding? Ray Anne thinks getting laid is a cure for almost anything.”

“I knew I liked her,” Matt said, dropping the bag and putting the phone down. He shed his boxers and climbed in. “Let’s cure a few things while the coffee perks.”

“You’re insatiable...” she murmured, acquiescing immediately.

“I’m not the one who keeps saying
more
!”

“It turns out you’re up to the job. Are we going to get up?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I am up. Can you get in the mood again?”

“Maybe. How long are you planning to stay?”

“Until the last possible moment. God, why didn’t I think of this weeks ago...?”

He finally stopped talking, and Ginger just relaxed and enjoyed him. He was a powerful lover, but also sweet and sensitive. His hands were a little rough and he apologized for them, but the roughness that came from hard work felt good on her skin. He couldn’t be quiet, always whispering sweet things, always asking her how she felt and serving her needs. His one goal seemed to be making her happy, pleasing her. And when she said
more
! he laughed and seemed thrilled by it.

Ginger hadn’t had a lot of partners in her life. There were a couple of men before Mick when she was right around twenty, guys she knew immediately weren’t right for her. Then there was Mick who, to his credit, was very romantic when he felt like it, but their time together wasn’t a priority for him. And while it wouldn’t be ladylike to say so, Matt’s skill made Mick look like a bumbling lad.

She didn’t even want to know where he came by all this experience and skill. She was a little afraid of the answer.

Limp and satisfied once more, she lay in the bed while he went to get them coffee.

“I have to go to work,” she said. “We don’t open early on Saturdays and there’s no wedding today, but I’m needed in the shop.”

“When do you open it?”

“We’re open ten till four on Saturdays, unless it’s the day before a holiday like Valentine’s or Mother’s Day—then we stay open till six. Today is a short day. I might be able to sneak away early. But I really should shower and get down there. Will you go back to the farm? Is this the last possible moment now?”