Feeling It Page 12
Then he stood up and extended his hand to help me to my feet, but I just shook my head, pulling my legs up as I leaned back against the tiles.
He laughed and reached for the shampoo. I just sat there and stared up at him, captivated by the sight of the man I loved, naked in front of me. He washed his hair before lathering his body with soap. My eyes trailed downward as he held his cock in his hands, and instinctively, I licked my lips. He caught that and laughed at me, shaking his head.
“You’ve worn me out. Little Logan needs a rest, at least for a while,” he said playfully, winking at me.
“Little?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I stood up again.
“Aw, you’ll make me blush,” he grinned.
We finished our shower and got dressed, the unmade bed beckoning us to lie back down again, but we resisted the temptation. We needed food as we were both famished.
“Do you know if Cheyenne is working today?” I asked.
“No, I don’t,” Logan replied. “She works different shifts.”
“I’m not sure it’s the best thing for us to be walking into the diner together this morning,” I said.
“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to care,” Logan replied, and he proceeded to tell me about how he saw her with Parker.
Grinning, I shrugged. “What can you do?” I asked. “She’s been crazy about him since high-school. I’ve never seen the appeal myself, but the heart wants what it wants, or so they say.”
Logan made a face. “He’s not a bad guy,” he said, “he’s just a little dull. What are they going to talk about? Golf?”
“And burgers,” I said, and he threw back his head and laughed. It made me smile. I loved seeing him laugh as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Back on the bike, we rode out of town, on our way to have breakfast. It was nearly ten, and there was still plenty of time before the restaurants would switch to their lunch menu. One of the first things I learned when I started college was that when it came to eating out, to never trust any eatery that offered a full-day breakfast. It meant most of the food would sit there congealing for a whole day, whereas, a bistro that changed menus and stuck to a proper schedule, would be where you want to eat; only the freshest food was served at all times. Or at least, that was the theory.
Logan knew of a little country inn not far out and I was happy to leave town and not have to face having to eat breakfast at the diner.
The Ivory Tree Inn was beautiful, with sweeping green lawns and a well-kept garden. They were more than happy to serve us breakfast. The wait staff was friendly and our food arrived in no time.
Logan looked over at me as he drank his coffee and grinned. “Maybe we should come here sometime for a weekend getaway.”
I nodded, but my smile was not as broad as it had been earlier. I knew that I’d be leaving soon and that the ‘getaway’ might never even happen. It was clear that he had the same thought as his eyes darkened and his smile faded.
Neither of us wanted to talk about it, but both of us silently knew that we didn’t have much time before we would be apart. After all, my father was getting better and I did have a job back in Montpelier to get back to.
He reached for my hand, stroked it, and gave me a wry little smile. Then he changed the subject, for which I was grateful. “Are you going to bake something for the May festival?” he asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it, but I think I just might,” I replied.
“Other things on your mind?” he winked.
“Maybe,” I said. “It’s the weekend after next, right? I guess I could rustle up a pie or two. Maybe even bake a cake.”
The Vergennes festival occurs every year in August, but in recent times, my little town had adopted an unofficial event in May, too. We’ve often joked that, rather than waiting for the leaves to change, we might as well celebrate them arriving as well.
Spring in Vermont is beautiful, lush and green, and the Vergennes May festival had become my personal favorite. I’d missed it for the last few years and was glad that I would be around to experience it before I had to leave. At least I had a little more time left to spend with Logan before I had to head back home.
But, until then, I wasn’t going to think about Montpelier. For now, everything else could wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LOGAN
†
BY THE TIME WE left the inn, I was hungry again, but not for food. As we got back on my bike and headed into town, the feeling of her breasts against my back and her thighs pressed tightly against mine was enough to make me hard once more. I wanted to take her back to the apartment, but we didn’t make it that far.
I’d dropped by the shed to check whether the roof was still holding up from when I’d patched it the last time. As soon as I was done, I made my way back to the bike. Caitlyn was leaning against it, waiting for me. I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.
I walked over to her and unbuckled my belt.
“Get undressed,” I commanded and, although I could see the stunned look on her face, she did as she was told. I dropped my jeans and underwear so they fell to my ankles, bunching up on top of my boots. Then I wrenched down her panties, lifting her up against the bike as she threw her legs around me, her mouth searching for mine.
I entered her with ease, holding her ass in my hands as I fucked her against the large machine, and then I turned her around and bent her over the seat. She held onto the leather and I grabbed her ass and took her from behind. She cried out and gasped in a high-pitched rhythm as I claimed her once more, the bike rocking on its stand in time to my thrusts.
When I came inside her with a rush, I threw back my head and roared so loudly that it caused a flock of birds to flutter high up into the air as they took flight, startled by the sound.
She was so amazingly sweet, no longer a virgin but no less pure and innocent to me, and nobody else had claimed her. She was all mine.
When I suggested we cool off with another dip in the creek, she was horrified and dressed quickly. “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “I’m not falling for that one again.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “It sure won’t be as hot as the shower was this morning.” Grinning, she knew my comment had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
I could have stayed there alone with her all day, but I knew it was time to get her home. By now, Bill must have been wondering where his daughter was. I didn’t want him getting worried.
It made me think of Cheyenne, so I took my cell out of my pocket and pressed the speed-dial, calling her number. My phone call had clearly woken her as her voice was still a little sleepy when she answered. “Hey,” she said, yawning into the handset. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I said. “How about you? Good night?”
“Uh, it was okay,” she said quickly, and I could tell she didn’t want to tell her big brother what might have gone on after I left the bar. I didn’t like to think about her and Parker Liebeck, but I didn’t really have a leg to stand on after taking her best friend’s virginity only hours before. As long as she was all right, that was enough for me. We said we’d talk later and ended the call.
Caitlyn nodded knowingly when I reported on the call. “Last night was all about Cheyenne and Parker,” she said. “Or at least, it was at first. I was only there as backup in case they didn’t get to talking, but it was clear that they wanted time together as soon as we got to the bar. I wasn’t worried. I mean, after a little while I had my own thing going on.”
“Oh yeah, with Moby Dick in the parking lot,” I said, rubbing my chin, my eyes narrowed. “What the hell did you see in that guy?”
“Nothing, but it was enough to get you outside,” she said and smiled as she kissed me. Then she closed her eyes and hugged me, and I liked to think that she was thinking about last night, about what happened once I saw her and insisted she come home with me. I could see the desire etched on her face as I pulled away and I sighed.
I didn’t want her to leave me. I didn’t want to take her home; instead, the fantasy movie ending of riding off into the sunset, not knowing where the road would lead, flashed into my mind’s eye, but it was short-lived. It was back to reality for the both of us.
I knew it was only days before she left again, back to her life in Montpelier. There were sure to be more opportunities for her out there rather than in this small town. As much as I wanted her to stay, there was no chance that one night together was going to change her mind about leaving.
By the time I’d resigned myself to the reality of our situation, I’d safely delivered her to her house. She hopped off the bike and removed her helmet, handing it back to me.
“Now to sneak back in as though nothing’s out of the ordinary,” she said. “I checked my phone and my Dad hasn’t called me at all, so I guess he thought I must still be with Cheyenne. All my life, he’s known to look at your folks’ place if he couldn’t find me.”
She stood there, looking at me. Neither of us really wanted to speak because there was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said, even silently. She stepped forward and pressed her forehead against my chest and I held her, kissing her hair.
The sound of a car engine cut through the stillness. We broke apart just as the car turned into the driveway. I didn’t recognize the car or the driver. As soon as it stopped, the passenger door flung open and out stepped Bill Reid, a sheepish look on his face. He lifted his hand and waved to us.
“Hey,” he said. “Um, I thought you might be out.”
“No,” said Caitlyn. “I’m here. Wait, have you been out all night?”
He looked like a teenager caught with a Playboy and a jar of Vaseline in hand, but it was nothing compared to the look of astonishment on Caitlyn’s face. It was priceless. She craned her neck to look over her father’s shoulder to the woman sitting at the wheel, who waved and smiled. Caitlyn did the same and looked back at her father. “Is that Miss Shriver?” she hissed. “My eighth-grade teacher?”
“Hey, he’s done all right for himself,” I said. “Leave the guy alone. I had a major crush on her, too.”
Caitlyn looked like she wanted to punch me, and I held my hands up and laughed. Ms. Shriver sensed it might have been time to leave, because she rolled back down the driveway, beeped the horn and took off. I sensed it might have been time for me to leave, too, because it looked like father and daughter needed to have a conversation; one I didn’t want to hang around for.
Bill went into the house and Caitlyn turned to me, her arms crossed in front of her chest, showing that feistiness that I’d come to like a hell of a lot. I sat back on the bike and crossed my arms as well, looking at her.
“He’s a grown man who’s lived on his own a long time,” I said softly.
“I know that,” she replied. “I really do. And I’ve never been against him meeting anyone. Hell, there have been plenty of times I’ve been so mad at him for holding onto the memory of my mom and not moving on. But it’s just weird to think that maybe now, he’s really let go and that he has moved on. I know I’m just being silly.”
“You’re the one who told me that everyone deals with death in their own way,” I said. “And it’s been ten years now, hasn’t it? That’s a long time to hold on to someone that has passed.”
“Fourteen,” she replied and sighed. “I hate it when my own advice gets used against me.”
I laughed at that. “Go inside and talk to your old man,” I said. “If you want to talk later, then call me.”
“What if I want to see you?” she asked.
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” I said. Then I started the bike again, resisting the urge to kiss her in case her father was looking. Not that I would have cared too much, but I knew that Caitlyn would have been embarrassed.
I left her standing on the lawn, and hoped that she wouldn’t be too upset about Bill having found a little happiness of his own. Even if it was with a woman who taught Caitlyn literature as a teenager. I had to admit, that would have been weird for me, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAITLYN
†
THERE WAS NO WAY of escaping it. I knew as I walked up the steps and onto the porch, that Dad and I were about to have a conversation I really didn’t want to have. I took a deep breath and opened the door. He was sitting on the couch, his feet raised, and a football game was playing on the TV. He didn’t turn to look at me, but he held up his keys. They jangled.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, a little relieved that he’d been the one to speak first.
He didn’t take his eyes away from the TV but he continued to jingle the keys and then grabbed them into the palm of his hand. “Any reason why I had to use these to get into the house?” he asked, and he sounded like a cop in a movie, interrogating a suspect.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Then he turned to look at me. There was a strange look on his face. “The door wasn’t open. In fact, it was closed up very securely. So securely, in fact, it was locked.”
Oh, shit.
I knew where this was going, and I couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up my neck.
He carried on. “Now, I remember locking up when I left last night, but if you’d been home before me, then you’d have unlocked the door already. If you’d just gone out to talk to Logan, then you wouldn’t have needed to lock the door behind you, either. So, it now appears that you arrived home just before I did. On Logan’s bike.”
Touche, Dad.
“I just thought it was interesting,” he said, staring at me. I dared not say a word. “So, won’t you be a dear and grab me a bag of crisps from the kitchen?”
And just like that, we didn’t speak of it again, and I was grinning to myself as I handed him the bag and went upstairs.
†
Over the next couple of days, the weather was amazing, and Logan was working on a farm out of town on a job that took up most of his time. I became that crazy person, not wanting to go out in case he came over on his bike and unable to tear my eyes away from my phone at all times as I waited for a text from him.
He was a hopeless texter. I wanted to know about his day, what he was up to and, most importantly, whether he missed me. But, his replies were often short and to the point and left me agonizing when there really was no need.
By Wednesday, I was wondering if he was ever going to come around again. Dad’s back was so much better that he’d decided to go fishing with Jack and a couple of friends from his days on the force. So, I took the opportunity to bake a few things for the festival.
Molly had organized East Griddlin’ to have a stand where they’d plan to sell pancakes and burgers. She agreed to let me have a little space at the end of it where I could get people to sample some of my cakes and pastries. So, I set out to make a few things to take through to the diner for them to try out before the festival.
Thankfully, Dad hadn’t thrown away any of my old baking equipment, so I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. First, I made a basic flan, timing it just right so the sponge was springy and golden brown. While it cooled, I sliced up fresh fruit: kiwis, strawberries and blackberries, and made a simple glaze. Then I carefully arranged the fruit and poured the glaze over so it set with a bright, glass-like sheen. I was pretty proud of it.
While that was cooling in the fridge, I set about making one of Revellier’s finest: a mille-feuille. I knew the recipe by heart and carefully made my pastry before baking it in the oven. I then cut it into three equal pieces and was just about to squeeze whipped cream onto the slices with a piping bag, when there was a knock at the door.
“Fuck,” I cursed underneath my breath. I hated to be disturbed when I worked. I was sure that it was going to be some salesman trying to sell me mop heads, or maybe
a religious cult of some sorts, trying to get me to repent from my evil ways and ‘turn to the light’. I thought about ignoring whoever it was so they’d go away, but they knocked again, so I put the piping bag down and went to answer the door.
When I saw Logan standing there, in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, my heart leaped. His hair flopped down in front of his eyes, and he was dangling a pair of shades from his fingers like a 1950’s movie star. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied.
“What you doing?” he asked.
“Baking.”
His face lit up. “You’re baking? Oh, my God, you have to let me come and try it.”
“Not a chance,” I said. “These are for the diner to sample and I can’t take half-eaten pies to them, sorry.”
He stared at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Let me in,” he said. He looked around inside, then checked the driveway. “Is your dad home?”
“No. He’s fishing.”
At this, Logan raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Then I’m definitely coming in,” he said. And I wasn’t about to turn him away, not when I was so thrilled to see him.
We went into the kitchen and I was keen to finish, so I picked up the piping bag and tried to focus on my baking again. It wasn’t easy. Logan picked up some pieces of fruit that I hadn’t been able to fit onto the flan and nonchalantly popped them into his mouth. He tried to get some of the whipped cream onto his finger and I had to bat his hand away.
“Will you behave?” I scolded, and he grinned and moved away, leaning back against the counter.
“So, how did it go with your dad?” he asked. “You guys have a heart to heart about his proclivity for teachers?”
“We didn’t need to,” I said, ignoring the silly grin he threw my way. “He guessed that I’d been out all night with you, so it’s not like I had a leg to stand on. We’ve got a silent agreement that we won’t ask each other anything we don’t want to know the answer to.”
“Very wise,” Logan said. “You both just want each other to be happy.”