Yearning for Love (6 page)

“Wait. I want to be inside you on  . . . on the sink,” he gasps out. Donning a condom, he carries me to the bathroom sink, where he drops a towel to protect my ass from the cold surface. Lowering me gently, he begins kissing me. His hands roam over my shoulders, breasts, belly and back. He slides in between my legs and enters me. We both look, and I see his girth filling me. He scoots me closer to the edge of the sink, and begins moving evenly in and out of my pussy. I gasp with desire and arousal. Our position means that he’s brushing against my most sensitive “sweet spot” and I’m about to come once again. Too soon, the quakes begin inside me, and as I squeeze him, we both close our eyes and moan. He pushes himself convulsively deeper into me, and I feel him flexing inside me, as we both come. I’m about to scream, so I bury my face into his shoulder, so I don’t scream too loudly. Nate seems to be just as aware of our surroundings. He growls low in his throat repeatedly. Finally, I collapse against him, breathing heavily. My arms are wrapped around him – I don’t want to let go, so I nestle my head against his chest, just enjoying his warmth and the thud-thud of his heartbeat as it slows down. Nate doesn’t seem to want to let me go. His hands and arms move rhythmically over my back, keeping me warm and offering . . . closeness? It feels so good that I decide to stay where I am.

Nate
:  This time was definitely different. Corey and I keep looking at each other and gazing into each other’s eyes as we make love. She goes down on me, and it is such a gift. After we both come, she doesn’t pull away, either emotionally or physically, for the first time ever. Instead, she stays nestled against me and keeps her arms around me. I don’t want her to get cold, so I carry her to the bed and pull the covers over her, then go get myself cleaned up. Soon, she’s inside the bathroom too, saying she just wants to brush her teeth. Okay, that’s plausible. But maybe . . . just maybe, she also wants to be close by. I can only hope.

Corey
:  Nate continues to show me the Munich sights. I’m enjoying my time with him. Nights are filled with hot, glorious lovemaking. It doesn’t feel like “just sex” anymore. There’s a closeness that goes beyond the physical. I know I’m going to be hurting when this ends. But I may as well enjoy what’s happening rather than deny it.

On our final day in Munich, we had just left the hotel for some additional sightseeing and buying, when Nate got a call. At first, I thought it was business, then he said, “Dad? A stroke? When?” and I knew it was really bad. My heart shattered when I heard this news.

“Corey, we have to head back to the States. I just got a phone call about my father – he’s in the hospital in El Paso. He just suffered a stroke. I’ll call the pilot and find out the soonest we can go back, so we’d better pack and check out,” he tells me. His blue eyes are darker, shadowed with pain. Despite his assessment that he and his parents are estranged, I see that he loves them. He takes my hand, hurrying me back to the hotel, where we pack our belongings. Three hours later, we’ve boarded his plane and are taxiing away from the airport. Several hours later, we land. I feel his hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. Now, as my eyes open, I see that “Mr. Drummond” has replaced Nate. I begin to pay the price for my decision to let my guard down. After he removes our luggage, and we walk to the waiting car, he tells me, “Personnel will update you about my father. When we get to Del Sol Medical Center, my driver will take you to your apartment.”

I’m . . . stunned!
Personnel
will contact me about his father’s condition? Why can’t Nate do that? My mouth falls open. As we arrive at the medical center, he gets out of the car, without even kissing me “goodbye.” I cross my arms tightly around my jacket, and look down at my lap, not wanting the driver to know how upset I truly am. He drops me at my apartment, and I bring my luggage inside, leaving it in my bedroom.

Nate
:  When I get the phone call about my father, the emotions are almost more than I can handle. Yeah, I told Corey we’re estranged, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. I have to shut my emotions down to keep from falling apart. Unfortunately, one part of my shutting-down includes closing my Corey out. I can see the hurt in her eyes, but I can’t stay open to her without breaking down. When I tell her that my personnel office will update her about my dad, I realize I’ve goofed big time. Her look of stunned hurt tells me right away. I want to take it back, but . . . instead, I turn tail like a damned coward, and nearly run into the hospital. I can’t resist turning around as I enter the automatic doors. I peer into the SUV windows, and see a hurt Corey, gazing down at nothing, her arms tightly crossed. She has a heavy frown on her face as the driver takes her home. I drop my head, and walk slowly to the elevators that will take me upstairs to my father’s hospital room.

Corey
:  The Drummond Oil driver drops me off at my apartment. Once inside, I unpack and toss dirty clothing into my hamper, then walk around feeling . . . lost and empty. I’ve lost him. I ran the risk I knew would happen –
 
and it did. I cry until my face hurts from wiping the tears away. Finally, I call my mother.

“Hey, Mom, how are you? Me . .I’m . . . okay, I’m not so okay. I spent some time with my boss over the holidays. Mom, I fell in love with him. He got a call yesterday that his dad’s really sick in the hospital. When we landed at the airport, he became ‘Mr. Drummond’ all over again, and he had the balls to tell me that his personnel office would update me on his dad’s condition! Can I come up there? Help you out with guests? Yes! I can be there before it gets dark Thank you, Mom! Yes, I love you, too.”

After hanging up, I throw winter clothes into my suitcase, and scrawl a note for my landlady, telling her I’ll pay my rent online. I gas up my car, then I get onto Route 54, heading to Alamogordo, New Mexico – and Ruidoso, where my mom runs her B&B. I stop in Alamogordo for a burger and fries. Just about two hours later, I arrive in Ruidoso, driving slowly out of respect for the snowy roads and ever-present black ice. I drive down Highway 70 to Sudderth Road, then take the little side roads that lead to the B&B. I pass Mom and Pop restaurants and stores. I pass the Wal-Mart. As I drive, I have to put my sunglasses on because the sunlight hitting the snow is so bright. The pine trees stretch up, seeming to touch the sky. Nestled among them are cabins, large and small. Many are homey log cabins with inviting smoke wafting from fireplaces. In the distance, I spot the ski area and the rooftops of the Inn of the Mountain Gods. Other cars pass my small Honda – tourists from other states, enjoying the winter holiday. Some of them have skis securely attached to the tops of their vehicles. On the sides of the road, I see tourists on foot, laden with bags, walking from one store to another. Everyone is warmly bundled in jackets out of respect for the freezing temperature.

When I get to the B&B, my mom carefully picks her way to my car with her arms outstretched. A smile adorns her face.

“Corey, how are you? Come inside, where we can have some hot tea and honey,” she says. Inside, she takes me into her arms and, now that I’m home, I break down, crying on her shoulder. After several minutes of sobbing, I dab Kleenex over my sore face as mom heats water in the tea kettle. Once she has poured the boiling water to steep the tea leaves, we sit, holding hands.

“Talk, sweetheart. What happened?” Mom asks, in a way only anxious mothers can.I tell her the whole saga – trying to resign, getting into an argument with Na- Mr. Drummond, and, yes, our lovemaking. At that, she gives me a pointed look, tipping her head sideways. But, to her credit, she doesn’t say anything. I continue with Nate’s invitation to go with him to Germany for the holidays –
 
our getting closer. Then I tell about the phone call with the news of his dad’s stroke, and his pulling back and becoming the remote “Mr. Drummond” all over again.

“Mom, he had the nerve to tell me about the damned Personnel office! As if  . . . as if I hadn’t just spent the past week on vacation with him! Never again! Ever,” I promise my mother and myself with a flat voice. “I meant what I said when I called – I’d like to stay here for a while, and help you out while I decide what’s next for me. Mr. Drummond” – here, I adorn his name with sarcasm – “won’t accept my resignation, but I’m more determined than ever to leave Drummond Oil,” I tell her.

“Sure, you can stay. I have a full house, so you’ll be very busy. They’re all out, skiing, doing the tourist thing, or gambling at the Inn of the Mountain Gods,” she tells me.

I breathe a huge sigh of relief – the last time my mom and I saw each other, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. She would have been completely within her rights to refuse to allow me to stay this time. I look forward to the work –
 
it’ll allow me to be busy and wear myself out, even as I chastise myself – inside my head – for my stupidity in falling in love with Na-
Mr. Drummond
. I talk about mom’s current guests, so I know who likes what. I help her clean their rooms, changing sheets, and washing loads of laundry. In the kitchen, we cook that night’s meal – grilled tilapia, roasted baby potatoes in the skins, and green beans. I suggest apple crisp for dessert, and when mom agrees, I get started mixing the crisp, peeling and slicing apples. By the time everything comes out of the ovens, guests are starting to come into the house, after wiping the accumulated snow, dirt and road grit from their shoes. Mom is particular about tha,t and she’s not hesitant about reminding forgetful guests to go back out and wipe their shoes. She is a mom, after all. She introduces me to everyone, and lets them know that I’ll be helping her out.

“If you have any questions or concerns, you can let Corey know, and she’ll let me know right away. She has lots of experience, so we’ll fix things for you,” she promises.

That night in bed, I find sleep to be an elusive imp. It approaches, but as my eyes begin to droop, images of Nate invade my mind and heart. Then sleep, that wicked imp, retreats, laughing at me.

Why were you so monumentally stupid, Corey? You knew he doesn’t “do” commitment,  and still you allowed yourself to fall head over heels in love with him. Idiot!
This is the general track of my thoughts, as I roll over yet again, punching my fluffy pillow and pulling my covers over my shoulders. Finally – finally, I manage to drift off – at 2:30 a.m. My alarm buzzes at 5:30, and I groan into my pillow, after suffering through some pretty erotic dreams of Nate and me together. Pushing my tangled hair away from my face, I sit up, swing my legs out of bed and get up. My eyes are still heavy, so I’m looking forward to several cups of my mom’s special roasted Kona coffee. I slip into a heavy sweater and snug jeans with hiking boots – I’m not sure what the day holds, and I’d rather be ready so I don’t have to tramp upstairs to change from sneakers to boots. Untangling my hair, I comb it, pulling part of it up and away from my face. Because it’s so cold, I allow most of it to cascade down my neck and back. Not feeling in the mood for cosmetics, I quickly brush on a little mascara and blush, swiping some lipstick on so I won’t look so pale. I make my bed, then go downstairs to help mom, who has just entered the kitchen herself.

Yawning, I check the day’s breakfast menu and get started – homemade oatmeal with orange zest and dried cranberries, toast, bagels, scrambled eggs and bacon. I pull the ingredients out and get started. Once everything is cooked, Mom and I move the food to the sideboard with special slots for the food pans. I return to the kitchen gratefully, and pour myself a tall mug of coffee. We’re drinking our coffee as guests begin coming downstairs, ready to eat and tour the area once again. The cold winter air makes me hungry, so I serve myself almost everything we’ve made. We sit and eat with our guests, answering questions, and giving them suggestions for their day – more shopping, visiting local sights, skiing and tubing are high on the list. After the guests eave for the day, Mom and I get busy. She takes the top of the house, and I get the bottom. We vacuum, sweep, mop, dust, clean bathrooms, and straighten out each guest room. She was not lying about current occupancy – she’s 100 percent full, so each room needs airing out. By the time we’re done, the old house is gleaming and clean. I check the windowsills and clean them as well. Wanting to wear myself out to the point of exhaustion, I grab a duster with an extension and go after dust on the walls, the tops of ceiling fans and tall furniture. I not only go after dust, I imagine Nate’s face  imprinted on the walls and windowsills as I clean. I work to eradicate his image from every single surface. By the time we start our lunch – our guests will all eat wherever they are –
 
I’m panting.

“What did you do to start that panting?” my mom asks me.

“I killed the dust on surfaces, even though there was so little. Mom, I have to wear myself out. If that means your B&B will be sanitary, so be it,” I say. I’m only half-joking. We talk about that night’s dinner.

“I’m going to make old-fashioned comfort food. If you’ll bake potatoes in their skins, I’ll mix up meatloaf. We’ll have sweet corn and mixed vegetables, and for dessert, I want to bake spice cake,” mom says.

“That sounds delicious! Do you need me to work on ordering more food when that’s done?” I offer.

“Would you? I’ve been so busy, I just haven’t had the time!”