Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe (16 page)

I drove our old station wagon into
Landon and then proceeded to the south end of town, out of the way, near the stands of red pines that had stood watch over the town for decades. Blythe was already waiting in his truck, but he climbed down immediately as I parked, and he looked so amazing in the sunset light, so tall and broad-shouldered and beautiful, that my breath caught in my throat. He met me at the door and presented me with a bouquet of fresh daisies, his smile a little sheepish.

“I just picked these,” he explained, ushering me to his truck as I held the daisies to my face and felt a blush seeping over my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I told him as he opened the passenger door.

“You look fantastic, Joelle,” he said, and his tone was so admiring that I blushed even deeper.

I had tried to look fantastic, a little worried that everyone might wonder why when I was supposedly just visiting Leslie, but the impromptu bonfire party had been in full swing as I'd headed back to the café from the house, showered and eyelined, shaved and scented, wearing my sexiest sundress and heeled sandals, and no one had taken particular notice of me. Until this moment, and I was ridiculously glad I'd spent time primping a little.

“Thank you again, so do you,” I told him, and he did, of course. His hair was loose, the first he'd ever worn down it when I hadn't untied it as we made love. It hung in waves over his shoulders, and he reminded me of Hawkeye in one of my favorite movies, “The Last of the Mohicans.” He was freshly shaved, dressed in jeans and a dark shirt that emphasized his shoulders. Though very strong, he didn't have the kind of muscles that body builders do, looking like rocks were shoved under their skin; Blythe was far more appealing than that: lean, lanky, the curves of his arms crisply defined without being ridiculous. He appeared to have actually earned those muscles. His lips curved into a smile and his dimples appeared, and I stumbled climbing into the truck, just looking at him.

“I'm taking you out,” he told me as he bounded inside and started the grumbling engine. “The fanciest place I could find within decent driving distance.”

“You are?” I asked, thrilled. I hadn't been on a real date since…since high school, really. I'd been a mom since then.

“And it's not that fancy, just to warn you,” he told me, and I giggled.

“I don't mind, it's just so good to be here with you,” I told him honestly, and he reached with his right hand and caught up my left, his thumb caressing my skin softly as he pulled onto the highway and proceeded to drive to Bemidji.

We had dinner on the deck at the Sparkling Waters Café, overlooking gorgeous Moose Lake, which lay like cerulean silk in the twilight. I felt light as cottonseed, buoyed with happiness at being with him on a real date. I watched from just across a small, candle-lit table his dimples appear as he grinned at something I'd said, thrilled inside at the way his eyes would hold mine, making my heart kick-start every time. I sipped on a glass of red wine, provocatively, letting the promise for later build within my body. I felt so right with him, certainly not like a woman twelve years his senior; then again, he carried himself with a kind of lazy confidence that belied his years.

“What would you have done if you hadn't gotten pregnant with Camille?” he asked as we shared dessert, strawberry shortcake, at my insistence.

I scooped a spoonful of whipped cream and berries, considering. I finally said, “I'd like to think I would have gone to college, too. I doubt that Jackson and I would have stayed together. He was so ready to go to Chicago and become a wealthy lawyer.”

“Did you want to marry him?” Blythe asked softly, watching me with his long-lashed, smoky blue gaze.

I swallowed and said, “I did, at the time, I did very much. But I wouldn't have if not for being pregnant. Jackson's mother was very insistent that we marry. We did just after graduation that year.”

“I saw those pictures,” he said. And then, startling me, he asked, “Do you still love him?”

He looked out over the lake immediately after asking, his gaze touching the far shore, where stars were beginning to spark in the navy-blue of the eastern sky. But as I opened my mouth to answer, his eyes came back to my face like a compass pointing to true north, direct and intense.

I said, feeling slightly breathless, “If you'd have asked me a week ago, I would have said yes.”

“And now?” he asked, low, and it was as though we were the only two people left in the world. My knees started to shake a little, bare beneath the table.

“I realize that I gave up loving him a long time ago,” I whispered truthfully.

***

“I want to
get us a hotel room,” he said as we climbed back into the truck to head for Landon.

I shivered with pure delight at the thought.

“I want to make love to you in an actual bed,” he went on, “and not just my truck. But I'll take that, for now.”

His words were causing hot little earthquakes all through my lower belly.

“Joelle, your skirt is driving me crazy,” he said then. “I keep imaging you're not wearing panties.”

I couldn't help but laugh at that, although my heart was clubbing. I reached without thinking and with a smooth motion slipped the tiny white panties I was wearing over my hips and then down my legs.

“Holy shit, baby,” he said, and his voice sounded slightly strangled. “Do you want me to drive off the road?”

I didn't think he expected an answer and I thought I would give just about anything if we had a hotel room at this moment, too.

“Come over here,” he commanded, grinning at me and hauling me across the bench seat. I went, willingly, letting the hem of my dress slide up my thighs, and kissed the side of his neck, soft, teasing kisses, before biting his earlobe. My right hand slid over his chest and then down, reaching between his legs, where I cupped him and stroked gently, then with increasing pressure as he grew harder and harder under his jeans. He groaned a little, catching my hand and then bringing it to his lips. He lightly bit my fingertips and then said, his voice husky, “Let me first.”

He kept his eyes on the road as he eased me back beside him and then with his right hand gently parted my legs, skimming his palm along my left thigh as I tipped back my head. His knowing fingers slipped beneath my skirt as I gasped, clenching my fingers around the edge of the seat. He traced around the softness of my flesh, delicately, almost reverently, caressing so gently that I nearly grabbed his hand and forced a rougher touch. But he wouldn't be rushed, teasing with his fingertips before sliding two fingers inside of me and stroking until I saw colors exploding behind my closed eyelids.

“Blythe,” I moaned, wet and aching with desire for more.

“Shit, I can't pull over here,” he said, withdrawing his hand from beneath my skirt as I sank back against the seat and pressed my right palm lightly against my belly.

“Don't stop,” I whispered, my eyes still closed.

“I won't,” he promised, “but I've got to find a better place for us. Come here, though,” and he tucked me under his right arm. He whispered against my hair, “I would very much love to get us a hotel room right now. What do you say?”

“Yes,” I told him.

Twenty minutes later we were guests at the AmericInn of Bemidji; if it seemed strange to anyone that we didn't have luggage, I didn't notice, too besotted with my lover to make any such observation. Blythe took my hand as we headed down the hall to our room, moving with languid grace, but the second we were inside he wasted no time, shutting the door and turning smoothly to collect me in his arms, cupping my face in his hands and studying me with no grin this time, all seriousness and heat. I swallowed, my heart clubbing, my knees trembling again. He bent and kissed me flush on the lips, breathing against me for a moment, before kneeling slowly, watching my eyes every second. I was breathing fast, and reached to curl my hands over the hardness of his shoulders, just where they met his neck, loathe to stop touching him even for a second.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes liquid in the dusk of the evening-lit room. His big hands were cupping my hips, his thumbs moving in lazy circles low on my belly.

“Please,” I whispered, almost gasped, digging my nails into his flesh, and he grinned then, sending a double bolt of lightning streaking through my core.

“Lie down,” he whispered, his thumbs moving lower, still circling gently. I did, bracing on my elbows, my heart ricocheting blood all through my body. He tipped his head and lifted my skirt simultaneously, spreading my thighs with strong hands. He breathed lightly on my bare flesh before lowering his mouth and tracing the same path his fingers had earlier. His tongue was hot and pliable on the center of me, the most sensitive places, and I felt sleek wetness flow in his wake.

“Blythe, oh, Blythe,” I moaned, and he smiled again, I could feel it, before he delved into me once more, so amazing at what he was doing, running his hands lightly over the backs of my thighs, sending shockwaves of feeling through my body. I came against his mouth, crying out and trying to muffle it against my forearm. At long last he emerged from between my shaking legs and then moved fluidly, his jeans around his ankles. I was trembling from the contact, from the release, but I needed more, and I threw my arms around his neck as he moved over me and held him tight, claiming his mouth and kissing him, my legs twining up around his naked hips, where a hot, hard column of flesh was stretching to meet me. He already had a condom in place.

He groaned, holding me just as tight, as I reached down and clamped a hand around his cock and shifted my hips to take him completely. He sank in hard and moaned my name, biting the side of my neck before resuming a vigorous pace, plunging in again and again as I held on for dear life and buried my cries against his shoulder. He kissed me fiercely, his tongue matching the pace below, and I took his bottom lip in my teeth and bit lightly. He shuddered against me and then and came hard, filling me with the tingling jolts of small aftershocks. For long moments we were totally motionless; at last he stirred and planted soft small kisses all along the side of my jaw, then bit my earlobe, and I squeaked.

“Thank you,” I murmured against his neck, where his hair hung hot and wild, and he laughed then, too, lifting his head to give me a sly grin.

“Yeah, you're welcome for the favor,” he teased. “I got no pleasure from that at all. Seriously.”

I tightened my ankles around his hips and whispered, “Really?”

His eyes told me the truth, and he grew hard again almost instantly. I tipped my hips to take him, aggressively.

“You feel so fucking good,” he managed to say, breathless, clutching my hips and driving into me, and I curled my hands into his thick long hair, loving the feel of his lips against my sensitive neck. It had been years since I'd felt this way…maybe never…even when Jackie and I had been crazy in love and made love constantly. Because this time I took nothing for granted, understood fully the danger of that. Blythe drove into me and I tightened around him in waves, gasping his name repeatedly.

“Don't stop,” I begged him again, tugging to remove his shirt in between deep, hot kisses. He wrenched free of it and I clutched his huge strong shoulders, sweat trickling between my breasts. His tongue traced the same path in the opposite direction.

“I won't,” he promised for the second time, his voice hoarse, his hands gripping me almost painfully.

My body was so completely in tune with his, I felt close to flying. He shifted fluidly, and I moved on top of him, my hair a hot, humid mass over my shoulders.

“I can…feel you…all through…my body,” I gasped, bracing against his chest as he tipped his head back against the bed, eyes closed, his expression of total pleasure burning into my soul. In all my years of making love with an expert like Jackson, I had never felt such intense passion. Blythe moved again, taking me with him as he sat up and I straddled him, not ceasing the motion of my hips, slick with sweat and the extremity of my desire. His big hands moved along my back, his mouth over my nipples.

Blythe, Blythe, I love you, oh God, I love you,
I thought, wanting to speak it aloud but too afraid. When he came he cried out against my neck and I fell against him, spent and limp.

“Joelle,” he murmured against my skin, holding me tight, and I knew I would never tire of hearing my name on his lips, the way his deep voice made it sound.

“Blythe,” I whispered back, clutching his head against my breasts, twining my fingers into his hair.

And for that moment it was enough.

“I want to hold you while I
sleep,” I told him an hour and a half later after we'd reluctantly dressed and loaded up to head back to Shore Leave.

“I want that, too, sweetheart,” he told me, angling another grin my way. Our hands were joined on the seat, and my panties had been located and were back in place. My insides, however, were not. I was shaken to the core by his very presence, and by the enormity of my feelings for him. And again, Jillian was right. I was going to get hurt, and I couldn't bear to think about it. He added, “Although Gramps would probably knock me out for taking advantage of a lady this way.”

I giggled at that, despite everything. “Rich wouldn't believe the things I want to do to you,” I said, only feeling a little guilty. “I think I'm the one taking advantage.”

“If that's the case then please, by all means, take advantage of me every night,” he teased. We were only a quarter-mile or so from the exit to Landon, and I felt the strain of leaving him begin to gnaw at my belly. I tightened my grip on his hand.

“Do you think the bonfire will still be going on?” he asked, pulling into town and parking again by the red pines at the south edge, where our evening had begun.

I glanced at the dashboard clock; it was only a little after midnight, so I nodded. My throat was tight now that I had to go home and pretend I'd been with Leslie Gregerson all evening.

“Come over,” I said then, inspired. “I'll head home, and you take a few minutes, and then show up.”

He moved his hands to cup my face, and kissed me sweetly and gently. I clung to him, afraid suddenly that I was going to cry, and he held me, whispering, “It's so hard to pretend there's nothing but friendship between us around everyone else.”

“I know,” I told him. “I'm sorry. I don't know what to do.”

“I'll come,” he told me, smoothing my hair and looking into my eyes. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you for the date,” I told him, smiling a little, determined not to cry. “I've never had a better one.”

“Fuckin' right,” he teased, and then added, “Me, neither, sweetheart. Now get home and change into something else or I won't be able to keep away from you.”

I drove over the familiar streets, my insides trembling and exhilarated as I played out our lovemaking again and again. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror as I wound slowly around Flicker Trail, noting that my make-up was basically gone; at least my hair was combed smooth and sleek, thanks to the brush in my purse. I prayed that no one would take especial notice before I had a chance to sneak to my room and change to jean shorts and a sweatshirt.

I pulled into the parking lot at Shore Leave to see the flames of a four-foot-tall monster in our fire pit across the way, around which it appeared an entire village of primitive beings was dancing and worshipping. I smiled at the sight; I could easily slip over the house and change before anyone even knew I was back. The sounds of laughter, shrieks and the local country station on the radio met my ears as I made my way around the far side of the café and paused for a moment to free my feet from the heeled sandals. Barefoot, I ran to the house and up to my room, shucking my dress and pulling on the first pair of shorts I found, then digging around for a relatively attractive sweatshirt. I had just donned a soft turquoise one from my high school years when I saw Blythe's truck pull into the lot, fifty yards away, and my heart began reverberating like a kettle drum.

No one will suspect a thing
, I told myself as I ran, literally ran, back in the direction of the bonfire, wanting to wait for Blythe but knowing better. I spied two tents, which looked like pagan structures in the leaping light of the fire, and then came upon my family in their respective chairs. I did a quick inventory, spying Ruthann and the triplets, Ellen, Mom, Dodge, (Gran had been in for the night), Justin and Jilly (engaged in a conversation of their own, each gripping a green bottle of beer). I could hear Tish on the dock, and Clint, and certainly a couple of his friends, but no Camille, and no Noah Utley. For the first time since leaving for my date with Blythe, all of my mother-activated alarm lights began spinning.

“Hi, honey!” Dodge heralded, waving at me from his lawn chair, grinning, a mug of something probably around 100 proof in his grip; he didn't drink often, but when he did, the stuff could singe your nose hairs.

“How's Leslie?” Mom asked.

“Good,” I said simply, tripping around everyone's knees on my way to my sister.

I plopped down on her other side and asked, “Where is Camille?”

Jilly, who never looked flustered, looked slightly flustered. “Hi, Jo, swimming, I think.”

“Where's Noah?” I asked pointedly.

Jilly gave me a look and said, “He went home about an hour ago, said he had to work in the morning.”

Oh
, I mouthed.

“You have a good night?” she asked, studying me minutely. Beside her, Justin seemed unable to take his eyes from her face; he looked like some kind of devil in the firelight, but in an incredibly attractive way…if that made any sense.

“Yes,” I said lightly, but Jilly of all people heard the depth of feeling in my voice.

“Good timing, Jo,” she said then, low but sarcastically, looking past my shoulder.

I spun around just as Mom called, “Bly, hi there! It's about time you joined us! I told Rich to send you over. He wasn't feeling up to coming out tonight, but you're always welcome.”

“Hi, Bly!” Ruthann called, from where she, the triplets and both dogs were sprawled on a blanket, along with bowls of popcorn and a bag of marshmallows.

“Hi Ruthie, hi everyone,” he said easily, loping up and grabbing an abandoned chair, settling in as my gaze absolutely ate him up from the other side of the fire, taking in every detail of face and frame, caressing and lingering and adoring with my eyes. His hair was tied back, his clothes perfectly in place, his lips warm and soft, his eyes the blue of the lake in the early morning. He looked totally innocent, and I imagined being in his arms just an hour ago, taking him joyously into my body, my head flung back as he licked the sweat from my skin and took my nipples between his teeth…

Jillian elbowed me discreetly, and I snapped my gaze away, but only for a second because his skimmed over to me and he telegraphed a private hello with his smoky eyes, before turning to answer Ellen's question about what he wanted to drink.

I was rendered momentarily mute, struck again with studying him, but at that moment Tish came barreling up from the lake, shrieking, “Mom, can we take a midnight canoe trip?”

“Hey, that sounds like a great idea,” Justin, who was obviously not a father and didn't realize that he should always get parental permission before giving the go-ahead, said, “Talk about old times.”

“Dammit, Justin,” I nagged, reaching around my sister to smack his shoulder.

“What?” he retorted, rubbing his arm with mock sensitivity. “We haven't done that in years.”

“You all need life jackets, Joelle,” Mom said with severity, as though this had been my idea. “All of those boys need one, no matter how great they think they swim. We'll have Charlie Evans out here giving us all citations.”

“Yay, thanks, Grandma!” Tish cried, bending to kiss Mom's cheek. She was a mess, fully dressed but dripping with lake water, her pockets inside-out and an earring missing. I couldn't help but feel a rush of tenderness for my outspoken and often pain-in-the-ass middle daughter.

“Boy, help them get going,” Dodge instructed Justin, who rose and gave his dad a crisp salute.

“Jill, come help me,” he added to my sister, and she directed at him a smirk I knew well.

“No way, I'm comfortable right here,” she said, but he made as though to pick her up and she scrambled to her feet to avoid his teasing.

“Jo, I'm not doing this without you,” she said, draining the last of her beer.

“No way!” I said, curling into my chair and hugging the sweatshirt around me. “I am not ending up in the lake tonight.”

Blythe was grinning, watching me from the other side of the fire.

“Mom, we don't want to go right now,” Ruthie told me. “We're going to roast marshmallows. Dodge said he'd help us.”

“That's right, sweetie,” he agreed.

Ellen returned with a couple of bottles of beer and handed them off to me and Blythe.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said, rising to accept it, and then said to me, “Let's go, Joelle, it'll be fun.”

“Dammit,” I said again, though I would have gone just about anywhere or been dumped into any lake for Blythe Tilson. I wondered for a moment was his middle name was. I gave in, instructing, “Tish, get those life jackets from the shed.”

My daughter whooped and ran for the shed, just as Clint and two other teenage boys came into the light of the fire, all of them wet. Clint, characteristically cheery, said, “Hi Aunt Joey! When did you get here?”

“Just in time for a canoe trip, I guess,” I told my nephew.

“Sweet! We're going right now?” he responded.

“Honey, take these guys and get the canoes in the water,” Jilly told her son, and the three boys ran back in the direction of Flickertail Lake.

Blythe made short work of his beer as Tish returned with her arms full of life vests.

“How many canoes do you guys have?” Blythe asked me, after taking two of the vests from Tish.

“Three,” I told him, lingering a little behind the group with him as we made our way to the water. Once out of sight of the fire, he walked closer to me, and I was aware of him along every inch of my skin. The darkness was velvet and hummed with mosquitoes, and I shook my hair closer around my neck. Down on the lake, Clint and his friends were laughing and insulting one another, but they had effectively managed to get our three Alumacraft vessels, plus the paddleboat, into the water.

“Guys, you have to put these on,” Tish ordered, passing out life jackets, and as they all began complaining something struck me.

“Patricia, where is your sister?” I called over to her.

“She had cramps, Mom,” Tish explained for the benefit of everyone. “She went back to the house a little while ago.”

“Gotcha,” I said as Clint groaned.

He said, “Gross, Tish, TMI!”

“Here, baby, put one of these on,” Blythe said, low, handing me a jacket, and I took it, smiling up into his eyes.

“Ride with me,” I whispered to him.

“That's a given,” he whispered back. “You need help tying that?”

“Thanks, I think I got it,” I said, teasing him back, and then we headed for the lake, which stretched silver and ebony and mysterious under the night sky. Jilly and Justin claimed a canoe, and I was ridiculously happy to see how much they were flirting. I was also ridiculously glad that the least observant of my children was accompanying us; I was having trouble playing it casual around Blythe with so much between us thrumming beneath the surface.

“You riding with us, Tisha?” Jilly called to her.

“No, with Clint and Liam,” she responded, splashing through the knee-deep water and climbing aboard a canoe. Clint and one of his pals were taking the bow and stern positions, oars in hand.

“Only three to a canoe, kiddo,” Justin told her.

“No, Rye's taking the paddleboat,” Tish explained, giving him a grin and indicating the boat in question, which Clint's friend was already navigating into the night.

“Whatever,” Justin said, climbing into the back of the second canoe. “Grab an oar, Jillian!”

“No way,” my sister retorted, settling into the front, sans life jacket, fresh beer in hand. “I'm enjoying the ride.”

“Do you want to get us arrested?” he grumbled at her, but pushed off willingly enough.

Clint, Liam, and Tish were already paddling away into the night, in pursuit of the paddleboat, and my sister called, “Stay on the edge, you guys!”

“Like you're so worried about rules,” I teased her, helping steady the third canoe as Blythe gracefully boarded, then returned the favor for me with the oar braced on the solid ground under the water as I hopped into the front.

“Hey, if we see Charlie in his tugboat I'll ditch the bottle,” she said. “And if I fall overboard, Jo will save me.”

“Funny,” I responded, peering over my shoulder to give Blythe a grin as he pushed away from shore and began applying the oar to the water. We moved with considerable speed, following Justin's lead as he took their canoe to the left. It was a clear, diamond-spangled night, and I snuggled into my sweatshirt and tipped my chin to study the sky. The air was still without so much as a breath of wind, the stars brilliant with no moon to overshadow them.

“It's gorgeous out here at night,” Blythe observed, his voice with a tone of reverence, and again I looked back at him, finding his own chin lifted as he studied the heavens, the oar braced over his lap and dripping into the water. We drifted along for a time, listening to the night noises of crickets and frogs, mosquitoes and the occasional owl, amplified as the sound waves bounced across the water. From twenty yards ahead, the kids were laughing about something, and just in front of us Justin and Jilly were bickering good-naturedly.

“Yes, it is,” I said softly, but my eyes were only for Blythe, and he lowered his gaze back to mine and grinned the same way he had the first night I'd met him, slow, easy, smoldering. I bit my lip. It took every ounce of willpower not to close the few feet of space separating our bodies, but I remained where I was, content for the moment just to be near him.

“You're so lucky to belong to this place,” he murmured then.

“I never appreciated it until we would come back here from Chicago to visit,” I said, wrapping my hands around my knees and stretching my back a little.