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Her gushing thanks followed him out into the sun.
* * *
“Stop! Stop! I’m gonna pee!”Christy and Sharon’s gales of laughter echoed off the barn walls like bubbles of joy, and Sharon could hardly bring herself to ease up her tickling fingers. She knew Christy though, and that was no empty threat. That woman’s bladder was directly tied to her laughter, and she learned the hard way not to take the warning lightly.
“Let’s see how you like it.” Never one to play fair, Christy took advantage of Sharon’s slackened hold, surged her hips up, and flipped them both until she now straddled Sharon. With victory gleaming in her laughing eyes, Christy planted her knees on either side of Sharon’s hips, manacled both wrists, and brought them over her head. Christy leaned close, slowly, drawing out the moment, and the laughter in Sharon’s expression melted under the rising heat of desire.
“God, Shar,” Christy said reverently. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Her full, soft lips brushed against Sharon’s and made her gasp. Then she trailed them along one cheek to whisper in her ear. “And, good Lord, you always smell so amazing.” She nuzzled in the tender hollow of her collarbone and took exaggerated sniffs. “And you’re always so soft. So perfectly silky.”
Sharon bit her lip as Christy scraped her teeth down Sharon’s neck then sucked on the point where her heartbeat was going a million miles an hour. “I keep telling you. Cocoa butter is your friend.”
“Oh yeah.” Christy smirked knowingly. She knew she could do whatever she wanted right now, and Sharon would lie back and purr. The woman reveled in the power she had to make Sharon quiver for her. “So you’ve always said.” There was a wicked smile in her voice that had Sharon’s senses on high alert. Christy was fire and passion and uninhibited sensuality when they were together, and it intoxicated Sharon.
“Let go of my hands,” Sharon panted, her body ready and eager to participate. “I need to touch you.”
Christy lifted her head just enough to brush their noses together. “No,” she told her then took a playful nip. “I like having you under me and squirming. If I tell you to keep your hands where I put them, will you be a good girl and obey?” she asked in her syrupy southern accent. Sharon groaned. It worked. Christy grinned in feline triumph, relaxing her grip, and Sharon braced her feet on the floor and flipped them in one mighty heave. They were both laughing and squealing again as Christy—wrested from her place of power—now scrambled on hands and knees to escape Sharon’s grappling tackle.
“Oh wait! I think I found my Fosse!” Christy’s frantic bid for freedom had taken her to the farthest corner of the hay loft, and their tussling had unearthed something that glinted in the sunlight streaming through the high window.
“How’d it get way over there?” Sharon wanted to know. “What’d you do, chuck it across the room or something?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense but— Hey.” Christy picked up what looked like a wad of dirty jeans wrapped around…
“What is that? A knife?” Sharon got a very bad feeling in her stomach. “Christy? Tell me this is a farm thing and that all country barns have giant hunting knives wrapped up in bloody rags. Please tell me that.” Christy’s expression showed more confusion and puzzlement than Sharon felt, and it was anything but reassuring.
“I dunno, honey,” Christy answered, turning the bundle in her hands this way and that like she was trying to make sense of it. “Maybe they use this for the animals? Maybe?”
Sharon could tell she was reaching.
“To what?” Sharon wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Like, do they kill their own meat or neuter them or something? Why would it be way over here, hidden away in the corner?” Maybe she watched too many crime dramas on TV. Or maybe it was those dead girls who kept popping up all over the whole damn county, but those were definitely a pair of old jeans wrapped around that knife, and not even Christy had come up with a reason why someone would keep what clearly looked like bloody jeans with it. Any normal person would wash them out, right?
“Well, that’s a shame.” A soft male voice broke into the hush that had fallen between them. “I planned to only have to take care of the one of you.” Darkness fell slowly as the barn doors closed like the fall of night behind him. “The way I had it figured, if you—” He pointed at Sharon. “—were gone, then Logan’s mother could break free of the spell you cast over her and repent. I could sufferyouto live, since he’s so happy to have his mother back.” He picked up the big, impossibly heavy beam of wood that worked as a lock and slid it into the door slots. And just like that, they were trapped. “But now I see I was mistaken. You have both provoked temptation, and clearly God has passed his judgement. As sad as it makes me to hurt my friend, it looks like both of you have to go,” Abram said. “Pity.”
Chapter 22
Andie stood in the nursery for the first time since she’d come home from the hospital. She’d been so afraid of this room. Terrified of the pain it contained within its four walls and tragically empty crib.
Kiki had painted a delicate mural that spanned the ceiling as well as the walls from the floor up. She created her own version of a Grecian heaven in here, with clouds of pinks and blues and lavender hues that bled into gold. Soft peachy undertones and buttery warm yellows brought an otherworldly warmth that surrounded you with comfort the moment you passed the threshold. There were pale pillars in creamy shades of white and beige that looked so real a person would think they could grab onto them. Pegasus and unicorns frolicked with cherubs, and goddesses and gods seemed to drift in and out of the room as if they were in motion, their delicate togas trailing in a tropical breeze you could swear you felt when looking at it. It was a magical space decorated with furniture the same golds and peachy tones that were on the walls.
She had been afraid there’d be only pain in this barren space now, and the pain was there, but she found there was also a sort of comfort as well. The glider Luke had bought her for breastfeeding sat overlooking her garden patch, and Andie picked up the ultra-soft stuffed bunny in it and cradled its plush body in her arms as she took a seat. This room gave her the thing her heart craved most—proof of life. Here was the reassurance she had sought. Her baby hadbeen. She’d been expected. She’d been loved. She’d been alive and anticipated, and here was proof that Andie hadn’t been the only to have loved her.
Kiki’s art surrounded her. Luke had not only bought her this ridiculously expensive chair, but he’d given her the crib that had been his as a baby and he’d used for Logan as well. He’d even lovingly sanded and refinished the frame, so the wood gleamed in the soft afternoon light. Jax had given her the bunny she cradled, and even Logan surprised her with his first baseball mitt. He’d told her boy or girl, any sibling of his was gonna love baseball and had a big brother to make sure that happened.
“You were loved, my angel,” she whispered. “You were here, and you were real, and you were loved. I’m gonna love you forever. I promise, I’ll never forget you. Never.”
A soft tap on the doorframe had her lifting her tearstained face and turning to see Luke framed there. He looked as stoic, solid, and unflappable as always. This strong, dependable man with sensuality boiling under his calm no-nonsense demeanor. Dear God, she loved him.
“Hi.” Luke was trying to look unruffled, but even from across the room, she could see tears in his eyes.
“Hi yourself,” Andie whispered back. “I was wondering when I’d see you again. I’m sorry I was distant for so long.” Sitting there on her porch swing, trying desperately to hold on to every moment of her pregnancy and commit them all to memory. Her frenzied attempt to somehow hold on to her child.
“No, don’t apologize to me about any of this.” Luke stepped into the room and was at her side in two long strides. “Ever. None of this is on you. You got that?”
“I know,” she told him, “but you’ve been so great through all of this, and then after I got home, I just sort of shut down and wouldn’t see you, even when you came over and—” The touch of his fingers to her lips stopped her flood of words.
“Ever. We’re good, Andie. We’re great.” She’d known he was there every day at the farm, and if it hadn’t been for him taking over, who knows what it would look like today. Andie had never wanted to talk to him though. He greeted her every morning before he started and told her goodnight every evening before he left for the day. It had been clear he was allowing her to set the parameters for their interactions. She’d only nodded mutely at each of his greetings and never opened herself up for conversation or invited him to join her. She needed to be alone in her grief, needed that time to mourn even as she understood his grief was just as real and important as hers. Until today though, hers was all she’d been capable of handling. As she gazed up into his earnest and openly entreating expression, Andie realized she was ready for what came next in regards to their relationship as well.
Luke took a deep breath, braced himself, and then looked around the room. “I haven’t been in here since we set up the crib.” He cleared his throat, sniffing roughly at his tears, impatient with them. “Kiki really is talented; I wish I had known her when Logan was little. This is like walking into a book.” Luke picked up a stuffed giraffe and brushed his fingers over the fluff that ran along its long, spotted neck. “She would have been the happiest kid on earth in here. I can’t imagine a child ever feeling sad in this room, can you?” Too choked up for words, Andie shook her head mutely. With another sniff, Luke set the toy carefully back in its spot and meandered his way around. His eyes seemed to take in every detail, and Andie thought he just might have been trying to memorize the space and cement it in his memory the way she had.
