A Trashy Affair (12 page)

“Same with everything Grandpa and me ever brought down or caught. The rice dressing is good even if it is brown.” He showed his appreciation by taking a second helping.

“Thanks. You know, I went to a Christmas party Bernard Freeman held for the parish employees last year. He has an entire wing of his house dedicated to his hunting trophies from all over the world. The ones he hunted on exotic game ranches didn’t bother me too much, but that polar bear mounted standing up—as if those poor creatures didn’t have enough trouble with global warming.”

“Sounds like Bernard. Getting a license to kill one costs a bunch. That way he can show off his wealth and his hunting skills at the same time. I doubt the bear stood up and attacked him.”

“Me, too. My dad will get a black bear license now and then, but he’d never kill any dwindling species—or my mom would kill and stuff
him
. Try your salad.” She nudged the greens toward him.

“Good, fancy, the beans, too, and the cranberry stuff.”

“Anyhow, my brother, Heath, would be sitting across the table deviling me about something like not eating the Rocky Mountain oysters if we were up at Grandma’s in Montana. He’s six years older and always acted like he owned me, but he’s gotten better since we’ve grown up. I always wanted a baby sister.”

“Be glad you never got one.”

“That bad?”

“Yep. When she sent me off to the store for scratch-offs, I’m betting Granny told you all about the deal they cut with my father to get me some child support.”

Jane hoped the dim lighting hid her blush. “She did mention it.” And won
her
bet.

“Brittney is as lazy as they come, always doing just enough to get by in school and in life. When she got into her teens she took note of that thousand-dollar check coming from the lawyer each month. She knew to ask my mom for things she wanted about that time, but Granny said the cash was to go to my food and clothing and other needs. Guess it sounded like a good deal to Brittney. She found an older guy to sucker and knock her up when she turned sixteen, then cut the same deal for Jayden, her boy, only none of the extra goes into a college fund for the kid like it should. She buys herself clothes and jewelry. Granny made my sister finish high school or she would have quit. Brittney is
canaille
, you know, tricky. Pretty like my mom if you can tell under all that makeup. I doubt she’d work at all if Harley didn’t force her to get a job.”

“Sad. You have no idea who Jayden’s father is?”

“I was in flight training when all this happened. They won’t tell me. I guess they figure I’ll go berserk and kill the man. I only hope it isn’t the same guy who got to Mom, and Jayden isn’t my half-brother.”

“Do you think that is a real possibility?”

“Could be. That scuzz-bucket’s morals haven’t improved over the years. My nephew is tall for his age and long in the face like me.” Merlin pushed away from the table and took his half-filled plate to the sink. “Great food.”

Nothing could make her ask his father’s name. “I’m sorry I killed your appetite with all my questions.”

“I was on seconds, so no problem.”

Jane, still on firsts, got up, too. Desperately, she wanted to restore the ease between them. “I’m going to make coffee and cut the pie. Would you go into the living room and start a fire? I’ll bring dessert in there.”

With a tiny quirk at the side of his lips, he said, “I thought we did that earlier.”

Good, the Merlin she was coming to know and love—make that becoming acquainted with—had returned to her kitchen. He began clearing the table, rinsing dishes in the sink.

“I can wash them if you want.”

“Just put everything in the dishwasher except the silver.”

“We didn’t have one of those. I like this kitchen a lot better than Granny’s and the woman in it, too.”

He kissed the back of her neck as she carried the leftover cranberry-orange relish to the refrigerator, and the pressed glass dish nearly fell to the floor. His hands came around to cover her breasts as he nuzzled her neck. Here, on the kitchen floor, the two of them wallowing in cranberry sauce—a scene much too vivid entered her mind.

“Ahem, you were going into the living room to start a fire.”

“Trying.”

Considering that her hands held a breakable object with a great deal of splatter potential, she gave him a little bump with her hips. “Go.”

“That seems more like encouragement to stay right where I am.”

Jane stretched to put her burden on the counter. He tugged her backside tighter against his crotch with his hands still hot and hard across her chest and rested that big chin of his right on top of her head.

“I warn you I am entirely capable of lobbing this dish of sauce over my head and right into your face if you don’t let me go, Merlin. Then, I assure you we will have no dessert of any kind, just a cleanup on aisle one.” Thank God, the man could not read her previous thoughts.

Not releasing her, he seemed to consider for a moment before dropping his hands. “Yeah, I think you would do it.”

“Damn straight! Now light that fire or go home.”

His hands fell away from her bosom and left her feeling chilly and alone. She didn’t turn until his heavy footsteps retreated to the living room, a battle won—or maybe lost. Jane finished wrapping and storing the leftovers while the coffee perked. She cut the pie and arranged the plates on a tray with the coffee cups, skimmed milk, and real sugar for him. As soon as the coffee finished dripping, she poured the cups, and taking a deep breath, headed for the living room.

A small, pleasant fire burned in the hearth. Merlin sat on the leather sofa with the remote in his hand flipping through channels. Was she a tinge disappointed that he hadn’t stripped and spread his long body out on the tan and white striped cotton rug in front of the fireplace simply to surprise her?

“Nice job on the fire.”

“Not a boy scout, but Grandpa and me did camp out when we went hunting and fishing. Now do I get dessert?”

Were his blue eyes twinkling, or did they simply reflect the flames in the fire? Maybe she had been too harsh telling him to go home when that was the last thing she wanted him to do. Jane handed him the slice of pie without comment. He ate every last crumb before fixing his coffee with sugar and lightening it with milk since she’d made it strong to suit him. Jane did the same, skipping the sugar. Conversation appeared to have died the same death as the free-range turkey. On the television, the roar of the crowd cheering for a football team neither of them cared about filled the void. Merlin finished the coffee, placed the cup on the tray, and stood. Jane jumped up, putting her cup aside to remove all barriers between them.

“Would you like to stay the night?” There, she’d said it, simply blurted out the ultimate invitation. Did she see a moment of panic flash across that seriously manly face?

“Uh, no. I mean I have to get up before dawn because I’m flying offshore tomorrow, and I put in a long day before I got here. Tired. Lots of tryptophan in that free-range turkey. I doubt if I’d be able to do much good for either of us. Wouldn’t want to wake you early in the a.m. Great meal, honeybunch. Thanks for inviting me.”

Merlin went to the front door and worked the lock to make his escape. Jane followed, staying him with a hand on his forearm, wondering if she felt a slight tremor there.

“Would you like to take some leftovers? Come to the kitchen and let me fix some for you.” And rewind time to a half hour ago when his hands covered her breasts, and she felt his desire hard against her backside.

“I won’t be home until late Sunday night, and the stuff might go bad by then. Feed the homeless or something. See you around, Jane.”

Outside, a thick autumn fog lay across the land like a smoke screen. He stepped onto the porch, took the steps in two big strides, and disappeared into its cover, Merlin the Magician, poof, vanished in the mist.

Chapter Twelve

Jane swore she recognized the heavy breathing of Merlin’s big-ass truck as it idled at the traffic light in the wee hours of the morning. Bad to know what a man’s truck sounded like so you could pick it out like your baby crying in the nursery. Not that the noise awakened her. Despite a heavy turkey dinner, relaxing massage, and some great recreational sex, because that’s all it was, she hadn’t slept well.

Around three a.m., she got up and made a list of people to invite to May’s impromptu retirement party on Sunday afternoon and supplies she would have to purchase for the fete if she could pull it off by then. She loved lists, making them, ticking off each item completed. They made her feel well-organized, in control, moving steadily forward toward a goal. After that, back to bed to toss and turn some more.

Why bother trying to sleep? She didn’t have to go into work today, could take a nap in the afternoon if she wanted. Jane left her covers and went into the kitchen. The coffee she’d made for Merlin still sat warm in the carafe because she’d forgotten to unplug the machine. She poured a cup, tasted its bitterness, and added milk and two packets of sweetener. Gazing into its murky depths, she berated herself for being too assertive in pushing Merlin away and then being foolish enough to ask him to stay overnight. No wonder he’d spooked. She knew what “See you around” meant. He’d probably spent his night trying to piece together Good Time Wanda’s shredded phone number.

Moving on as one must, Jane ate a large piece of pumpkin pie for breakfast, justifying it as a nice balance of fruit and carbs. After that, she removed the turkey from the fridge and tore the meat off the bones, chopped it fine, bagged it to make turkey salad sandwiches for the party, and stored the carcass for soup later in the day. Contemplating the cranberry-orange relish, which made her think of Merlin, she considered tossing it into the garbage disposal, but that would be wasteful and the Marshalls did not waste. She found a recipe for cranberry-orange quick bread in one of her cookbooks, made double the batter, and folded in the relish along with some pecans from her tree. If it turned out, she could serve that on Sunday, too. Still in her robe and slippers, Jane went out into the mist being thinned at last by the sun and harvested lemons, lots of lemons. She squeezed out all their juice and stored it to make fresh lemonade.

Once the kitchen clock showed a decent hour for calling, she started on her list of guests for the party. Obviously, some had gone out of town for the holiday, but most of the women she reached indicated their readiness for some relief from cooking and football games. Spring Robin asked if she could bring her daughter, Wendy, and her three grandchildren. Sure, why not? May doted on them. Spring also wanted to supply a cake with an appropriate message. Fine with Jane. She suggested the guests purchase a retirement card and put gift cards inside of them since time grew short for shopping, though they could do something else if they wanted. Several promised to bring food, even better.

She diced the celery and carrots from the relish tray, added chopped onions and the minced parsley garnish to start the stock with the carcass for her mother’s turkey-corn-noodle soup. Throwing in frozen corn, noodles, and some of the meat, she had soup ready for dinner along with the leftover whole wheat rolls. After keeping him out of her mind all day, the buns reminded her of Merlin catching one in the air with his large hands, his large hands on her breasts, his large…” Backsliding again after so much progress made.

By seven p.m., Jane crawled back into bed never having gotten out of her robe all day, then forced herself out again. Her trash in its big, green container needed to be on the curb tomorrow. She collected two bags of garbage, and glad of the early dark, went outside to place them in the container and haul her heavy can from the edge of the garage, through the resistant gravel of her drive to the roadside. She dusted her hands upon completing the task. There, she didn’t need no stinkin’ man who smelled of masculine musk and starched shirts to help her. Her eyes moved in the direction of Merlin’s townhouse. No lights burned in the windows. At least, he hadn’t lied about being gone. Shit! Now, she would spend another night remembering how his blue eyes glittered in the firelight, how his hands clasped her breasts, how the length of him felt inside of her. Oh, take two aspirins and go to bed, Jane Marshall!

****

Though tormented by erotic dreams, Jane did sleep, only to wake hot and bothered. She took a warm shower, washed her hair, and declined to shave her legs today, maybe never again for any man, but only for herself since the idea of hairy legs on a woman disgusted her despite her mother’s teachings. She dressed in jeans and a plain blue T-shirt, no logo of any kind, and began to blow dry her hair. Clang, clank, chug. She heard those sweet sounds over the noise of her hairdryer, turned it off, and bolted outside to witness her first trash pickup in ages. The B. O. truck passed right on by to pause at the stop sign.

“Wait! Wait! You forgot my trash. See, it’s in a green can exactly like you wanted.” Jane ran after the truck and latched herself on to one of the handholds for the garbageman as if she could tow the vehicle back to her driveway.

“Ma’am, you gotta get off. It ain’t safe.”

“Not until you take my garbage.” She wished she had a chain and padlock to bind herself to the vehicle as her mother once did to a bulldozer being used to take down old growth forest.

“You done gots the wrong can. I told you a black one. See here, it has to have a hook bar to fit on the lift. These things is heavy. I can’t be putting my back out to heave yo’ can. Mr. Burl, he says he ain’t payin’ no workmen’s comp claims.”

“But you said to get a green can. I have a witness.”

The garbageman’s eyes rolled, showing their whites, as he stared at the neatly pruned bushes in case Merlin should appear any second now. Jane wished he would. She glanced hopefully across the street. No dice. Ridiculous, she could handle this matter easily.

“I had a witness. You misled me on purpose.”

The B.O. employee gave her a big-shouldered shrug that pulled his large belly above the safety belt he wore. He readjusted the harness. “Can’t use that green one. I’m telling you nice as I can,” he told her in case Merlin should overhear, Jane was certain.