The Summer He Came Home (17 page)

Shit. He grabbed the closest one and raised an eyebrow at the name emblazoned along the side of the box in bold neon green, Rough Rider. It was somehow…appropriate. A grin cracked his face and he chuckled. It was one of the studded brands. Why the hell not?

Another box caught his eye. He hesitated and then grabbed it too. He’d never even heard of a vibrating condom ring before, but hell, it couldn’t hurt to try. He smiled wickedly at the thought. It sounded very interesting.

He turned and nearly ran over Mrs. Lancaster. The woman was scrunched near the display of antifungal creams, and there was no way he was getting around her. He was about to head the other way when she spoke.

“You played football, didn’t you, Cain?”

He glanced down at the box in his hands and froze. The neon color seemed to pulsate beneath the harsh fluorescent lights above. Damn, anyone other than her and he’d have been fine. But Mrs. Lancaster? The pastor’s wife?

“Cain, are you deaf, my dear?”

He turned, kept his right hand behind his back, and smiled. “Mrs. Lancaster, sorry, didn’t see you there.” He nodded. “Sure, I played some ball.”

“You ever get the jock itch?” She straightened and peered up over her glasses.

“No, ma’am.” He chuckled. “I never had a problem in that area.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Hmm, well, this isn’t common knowledge, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep it under your hat, but my Franklin sweats a lot.”

Okay, that’s not what he’d been expecting to hear. “Ah, sorry to hear that, Mrs. Lancaster.”

“Yes, well, it’s been his cross to bear”—her eyebrow arched—“so to speak.” She pointed toward the display behind her. “I Googled it.”

“It?”

“Jock itch. He’s got this rash, and it’s something fierce to behold.”

“Oh.”

“Playing football and all, I thought you might have a suggestion as to which antifungal cream or spray is better.” Her face was screwed up into an intense frown, as if this was a life-and-death decision. “There’s powder too, but I’m just a little confused.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Lancaster, I don’t know which is the best, but I’m sure they’re all equally effective.” He shrugged. “Maybe a cream?”

Or
a
shot
of
something
in
the
ass?
He hid the smile that accompanied that thought.

She nodded. “Yes, that’s what I was thinking.” She shrugged. “He’s an old man with an itch. This can’t be rocket science.”

“Well, I’ve got to get going, so…”

She grabbed a tube of cream and chuckled. “Goodness, of course. I’m sure you’ve got much more important things to do than discuss such a thing with an old lady.”

Cain let her pass, his face hot. He swore everyone in the damn store was staring at him. He clutched the box in his hands tightly. Mrs. Lancaster kept up a pleasant chatter all the way to the front cashier, and he followed behind.

“I hope Pastor Lancaster feels some relief soon.” He smiled tightly. Crap, Rebecca Stringer was heading his way. He needed to get the hell out of the store.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Cain stepped by her and stood just beyond the cash register, his intent to inch past.

“I’m sure he will, but Cain, you might want to pay for those before you leave.” Her gaze moved to his hands, and she smiled, a devilish twinkle in her eye. “Stealing is a sin, son, among other things.”

He looked at the shiny black box in his hands and swallowed. Not cool to be caught by the pastor’s wife with a box of big-ass studded condoms, and a vibrating condom ring to boot.

Rebecca was nearly to the cashier, a determined look on her face. His blood pressure rose significantly. He so didn’t want to deal with her right now.

“Do you want to…” Mrs. Lancaster motioned in front of her. “I’m sure you’re in much more of a hurry than I am. Why don’t you pay for your purchase first.” She winked and whispered, “You might want to ask for a paper bag, though you should know they charge a quarter for them now.”

He forced a smile and clutched his Rough Riders.

Sure, he’d get right on that.

Maggie had changed at least six times in the last half hour, and at the moment, her bedroom was a disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and shoes littered the floor. She didn’t have a whole lot in her closet, so the mess represented most of what she owned.

Her fingers smoothed the soft lines of the skirt she wore. She’d forgotten about it, mostly because she’d had no reason to wear it for the last few years. It was an older piece, but hugged her curves in exactly the right way. She glanced around. The mess was worth it. She felt sexy, anxious, and excited. Things she hadn’t felt in years.

Her hair was loose, fell past her shoulders in a curtain of crimson that she’d carefully straightened. The subtle highlights Lori had added shone like slivers of gold, and when she turned her head, her eyes were luminous, emphasized by the new makeup she’d purchased.

It was amazing how a little bit of mascara coupled with dark, smoky shadow made her eyes pop. Light blush across her cheekbones and some gloss on her lips, and she was good to go.

The skirt was a wraparound, plain black and short, falling halfway down her thigh. She’d joined it with a soft green silk halter and black sandals that she’d borrowed from Raine. She was braless and a little nervous about the fact, but she didn’t have one of those fancy crisscross halter bras.

Her fingers ran over her chest lightly, and her nipples hardened, their rigid tips very much in evidence. She thought of Cain’s hands on her and blushed when she thought of how boldly she grabbed him between the legs. He’d felt so big and strong.

As the image lingered, the slow, heavy ache she’d been fighting for days intensified. Good God, she had no need for color on her cheeks. Her natural embarrassed tone would be more than enough.

A stab of fear shot through her, and she blew out a nervous breath. All she could think about was sex. With Cain. Her mind had been filled with erotic images of him since Sunday night, and she groaned as her hands rested against her heated cheeks.

She couldn’t do this. She was no practiced actress or knowledgeable model. Heck, she only knew of one way to do it. What if Cain expected something…spectacular? What if there was some new way to do it that she’d never heard of? Some weird, kinky thing that was all the rage with rockers and models and…

You
sure
as
hell
had
no
problems
with
inhibitions
the
other
night.

The thought snuck into her mind and her blush deepened.

The
things
I’m going to do to you, Maggie, just might be illegal in some states.

His words echoed in her head, coiled around the heat in her belly, and kick-started her into action. Cain would be here any minute.

She grabbed the pile of clothes off the bed, stuffed them in her closet, and threw the shoes in as well. She could deal with putting them away properly tomorrow. A giggle escaped, and she made a face. If only her clients could see her now.

Her gaze fell to the red tulips on the small nightstand beside her bed. They’d arrived a few hours earlier. A classy arrangement in a beautiful crystal container. There was no card, but she knew who’d sent them. It was a simple gesture but one that meant more than Cain could know.

Tulips had been her mother’s favorite.

After straightening up the mess of makeup in her small bathroom, she slipped into the delicate black sandals and straightened the corner of the comforter. The bed was a king-size monstrosity and filled a good portion of her room. It had come with the house, as had most of the furniture. The mismatched sheets she had didn’t exactly fit properly, but it had never been an issue.

Because she’d never had a man back to her house before.

Maggie bit her lip. Should she change them? Did it matter?

She took a step toward the bed and froze as the doorbell ripped through the silence of her home. Her heart beat a furious rhythm, and her skin rippled with another wash of heat. She shivered from a violent chill and hated the way her stomach tightened, full of nerves.

For one second she considered staying put, pretending she wasn’t home. What if people started talking? What the hell had happened to her need to lay low and blend in?

The bell sounded again, and she closed her eyes. Was it so awful to want something special for herself? To want Cain as much as she did? Her resolve faded as the doorbell echoed once more.

“Don’t be a coward,” she whispered, and followed the fading echo of the bell out to the small foyer. Her tongue darted across her lips nervously, and she yanked the door open before she lost the nerve.

She was sure the birds still sang, that Mrs. Johnson’s lawn mower still mowed, and the laughter from the children a few doors down still echoed in the street. And yet she heard nothing.

Everything faded away like fog rolling across the road in the early morning. Just like in the movies. There was nothing but Cain. He was larger than life, and in that moment, she could acknowledge wholeheartedly he was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.

His long legs were covered in faded denim, while casual Doc Martens adorned his feet. He wore a white button-down shirt. It was formfitting and emphasized his wide shoulders and tapered waist. His sleeves were rolled up, and his tattoo peeked out at her, a vibrant picture against his darkly tanned skin.

Her eyes slowly traveled up to his face, and the breath caught in the back of her throat. His hair was still damp as if he wasn’t long from the shower, and the slow smile that spread across his mouth left her weak. It spoke of secrets and desires and promised all sorts of naughty things.

Shit.

“Hey.” His voice was husky, low.

“Hi,” she answered, and took a step back. “Do you want to come in or…” Maggie didn’t know what the heck to say. She hadn’t been on a first date since she was sixteen. But back then things had been different. Expectations were so not what they were tonight.

“I think we should just go.” His eyes glittered, and his smile was full-on devastation. “You look…” His eyes caressed her body with one hot look, and he leaned down close near her ear. “Amazing.” His breath tickled the side of her neck, and Maggie’s mouth went dry. She swallowed, a gut reaction, but nearly choked.

“Let me grab my bag.”

She knew his eyes followed her, and it took a lot of willpower to walk in a calm, controlled manner. She grabbed the small bag Raine had dropped off with the shoes. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Cain smiled and stood to the side. “I hope you’re hungry.” Maggie nodded, but as her belly rolled once more, she doubted she’d be able to eat at all.

She turned the lock and followed him to his SUV. He opened the passenger door and stood back, though his fingers caressed her bare back as she stepped inside. He leaned across and secured her seat belt, and from the wicked look he gave her, Maggie was pretty sure it had just been an excuse to rub his arm across her breasts.

She’d barely been able to contain the hiss that slithered along her tongue.

She fingered her small bag nervously as Cain backed out of the driveway. Luke Jansen was on his front lawn, tossing a ball to his golden retriever, Shelby, though his gaze was fixated on the SUV.

Maggie waved, and Luke paused, ball in hand, his expression hard. He didn’t return her wave.

“He’ll get over it.”

She glanced at Cain. “Sorry?”

“Jansen. He’s got a thing for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I mean, he’s asked me out a few times, but it just…he’s not…”

“He’s not for you?”

She fingered the edge of her skirt. “He’s nice enough and all, but no”—she glanced at him—“he’s not my type.”

He smiled, and her heart quickened. “Good to know.”

Cain turned down onto Main Street. “Mac suggested I take you to Le Rouge for dinner.”

“Oh, I’ve never been.” Which wasn’t surprising, considering one entrée probably cost more than what she made in a day.

“I hope you’re not too disappointed if we don’t.”

Maggie shrugged. “I don’t eat out a lot, so I’m not particularly fussy where we go.”

Cain maneuvered his truck around a parked car that was half in the street and drove down the main drag of Crystal Lake. He pulled into an empty spot in front of a smallish building that stood alone. Above the door was a plain wooden sign: Jack’s Hut. It looked out of place among the elegant buildings that surrounded it.

“This place might not look like much, but trust me, it will be a great. Jack’s been around for years.”

“It looks cute.” Okay, Le Rouge might have been a bit on the grand side. She didn’t expect to be wined and dined, but this place looked a slight cut above fast food.
Very
slight.

“Hey, we can go to Le Rouge if you want.” He flashed a smile. “I just thought our first date could be more…low-key…intimate.”

Cain used his hands a lot when he talked, and she focused on them. The fingers were long, and as they slid along the steering wheel once more, she thought of them on her skin, traveling up her belly. Touching her breasts. She closed her eyes and swallowed a groan. She so didn’t care where they ate.

“Hey, you’re not disappointed, are you?” His concern was genuine, and she shook her head, her hand reaching for the door.

“I’m just happy to be with you.” The admission slipped from her mouth without thought.

Cain jumped from the truck and was at her side, his hand reaching for hers, enveloping her own into his warmth. He pulled her close, held her against him, and she felt his arousal. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Let’s go.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she read the “Closed” sign that hung in the window. Inside, the lights were dim. “Are you sure they’re open?”

Cain nodded, a sly smile on his face. “Positive.”

They escaped the warm summer evening into the dark, cool interior of Jack’s Hut. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, her mouth hung open, a soft “Oh” on her lips as she gazed at the room in wonder.

The place was empty, candlelit, and filled with small vases of tulips that were set upon every available surface that could hold them. Music drifted from a jukebox in the corner, blues by the sound of it, sexy notes layered between the rich, throaty vocals of some unknown goddess.

In the middle of the room was the only table. It was set for two and held a small bucket of ice filled with Coronas.

Cain’s face lit up like that of a little boy on Christmas morning. “Now this”—he glanced around—“this is more my style.”

A tall man appeared from the back pushing a cart laden with food. Maggie sniffed a host of aromas and was surprised at the hunger pangs she felt. Considering she’d been full-on nauseous only a short while earlier, things were looking up.

Chicken wings, garlic bread, and nachos.

The gentleman was solid, with a full head of shockingly black hair and bushy eyebrows to match. His bare arms were powerful and loaded with tattoos, some of which were not exactly appropriate.

“Cain! I just finished.” The man’s dark eyes landed on her, and his smile widened. He walked toward them. “You must be Maggie.”

She nodded. “Hello.”

“I’m Jack. Nice to meet you.” He tossed a set of keys to Cain and shook his hand. “Lock up when you leave, and throw the keys back in through the mail slot. I’ve got an extra set at home.”

“Thanks for everything.” Cain followed Jack to the door and locked it behind him. He glanced back at Maggie. “Last chance to change your mind. I can make a phone call and get us into Le Rouge if you prefer.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. The setting didn’t matter.
He
was what mattered, and if she could have him to herself, with no prying eyes, then all the better.

“This is perfect.” And it was.

His warm hand was on her back as he escorted her to the table. Small, spiky shivers of desire leaped across her flesh at his touch.

Cain opened two bottles and handed her a cold Corona. “Do you want a glass? I can grab one from behind the bar.”

Maggie shook her head. “I’m not really a glass kind of girl.” A smile crept over her mouth. “The bottle is fine.”

He held his Corona aloft, and Maggie raised hers as well. “To our first date,” he murmured.

The next three hours flew by. Cain shared a good many details about his life, and she found herself fascinated at the stories he told of faraway places she’d only seen in magazines and of the funny, crazy, and sometimes disturbing intricacies of living out of a suitcase for months at a time.

He told her about growing up in Crystal Lake, of the good times he’d shared, of the Bad Boys, and of the lost one, Jesse. Maggie was enthralled and touched, and laughed until her belly hurt.

By the time they were done eating she was totally under his spell.

“I see why you’re the front person in your band.” She paused, enjoying the way the candlelight danced in his eyes. “Why all the women are thrilled you’re home.”

Cain cocked his head and smiled. “And that would be because…”

Maggie lowered her eyes and ran her fingers along the empty bottle of beer in front of her. “I’m sure you’re a great musician—”

“You’re sure?” he interrupted with a laugh.

“Well, I’m not familiar with your music, but I think it’s safe to assume you’ve got talent.” She smiled and shrugged. “But I think it’s probably more than just the fact that you write good songs.”

He leaned closer. “So tell me what you really think.”

“I think you could charm the pants off just about anyone without even trying.”

Silence fell between them for several long moments, and then he spoke, his voice so low she barely heard him. “There’s only one person I want to charm tonight, and she sure as hell ain’t wearing pants.”

The jukebox had long finished, and the candles flickered in the dark. His eyes were intense, and she felt the change in the air. It was like a physical touch, a caress, and a shudder all at once. He grabbed her hand, his touch gentle and hot. Maggie watched, her breaths falling in jerky spurts as he lifted her fingers to his mouth and slowly licked the last remnants of sticky sauce off them.