Angel Falling (20 page)

Death by orgasm.

The thought gave me a little chuckle. My thighs quivered at the memory of how many times he brought me to release with his mouth alone.
Jesus!

The coffee dripped slowly as I enjoyed the memories of last night.

“Mornin’, pretty girl,” I heard the sweet voice of Hank’s mother.

Hank’s mother … crap!

The fact that we had company had been lost on me in my sex-induced, sleep-deprived haze. I closed my eyes and tried not to look completely mortified by my appearance. My hair up haphazardly thrown into a messy bun, braless, and standing there in nothing but black lace panties, easily visible through Hank’s white, buttoned-down dress shirt. The one he wore to dinner last night. It was the first thing I found when I climbed out of bed this morning. I could feel the flame of embarrassment creep up and across my chest. Not only was his mother going to hate me, she was going to think I was a hoochie, too. Way to make a great impression.

Gripping the edges of the shirt, I tried in vain to pull it down to cover up more of my bare legs. It didn’t work. Fate sealed, I turned around. She looked bright and chipper, perfectly put together this sunny morning. God, I wanted to hate her so bad. “Good morning. Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.” She beamed a full glowing megawatt smile.
Did everyone in his family wake up happy?
Hank was the same way. Her eyes took in my clothing or lack thereof. “Looks like you had quite the evening.”

A flush swept across my entire body. My skin must have been bright pink. “I’m so sorry. Honestly, I forgot you were here. This is highly inappropriate … ”

She cut me off. “Are you kidding? I’m married to a Jensen, honey. If Hank is anything like my Henry, and based on what you’re wearin’,” she pointed a finger up and down and then stopped at the collar of my shirt, “and that huge love bite there on your neck says he is, you could end up permanently bow-legged.”

There was only one way to handle this conversation. Laughter. Deep, huge bouts of belly aching guffaws overtook me. Tears sluiced down my face. Hank entered wearing only pajama bottoms, his massive, beautifully honey-colored skin on perfect display. He came over to me and patted my back.

“I’m guessing you’re responsible for this?” He gestured to his mom while I tried and failed to contain my hysterics.  

“That one’s a hair trigger,” she shrugged, smiling.

“In more ways than one,” he whispered sexily in my ear, which only brought on a new bout of tears and snorts.

Hank lifted me up from my bent over position. His hand landed on my waist, the other on my neck. “Better, Darlin’?” he asked, wiping away the errant tears. I nodded. “You’re so purdy when you cry.” He kissed me full on the mouth in front of his mother. He pulled back and searched my face. “Also real purdy when you blush.” He smirked and winked, then let me go to pull out three mugs.

“No need to be embarrassed, Pen. You both are adults. Ain’t no judgment here. I just love seein’ my boy smile.”

I looked over at Hank. He was leaning his large form against the counter, absently strumming his fingers against the granite, waiting for the coffee to finish dripping. His chest shone bright with a sprinkling of hair that I loved to scratch my nails through.

Without realizing it, I had reached over and ran my hand down his chest and back up to inspect his scar from the surgery. I leaned my lips against the puckered flesh and gave it a soft kiss. Loving this scar, kissing it was now part of my daily routine. He walked around bare-chested and I looked and touched my fill.

Each morning it was my duty to bathe his scar with kisses sending up a silent prayer to God for his sacrifice. His groan at the feel of my lips against his skin was matched by a gasp from behind us. I ventured a look over at his mother. Her eyes were pooling with unshed tears.

“I’m okay, Mom, really.”

“I can see that. It’s just I’ve waited for a long time to see this.” Her statement made absolutely no sense to me, but Hank smiled and pulled me closer.

The day continued on just like that, except Hank’s mother doted on him all day. Jumped up every chance she could to get him drinks, or a snack. He was eating it up, literally and figuratively. She rehashed old stories of Hank growing up. I paid close attention to the tales of him hiding girls in the barn and sneaking out after dark.

Laughed so hard I cried when she told the story of Hank making out with a girl in his dad’s old Chevy. Things had gotten a little heated with the girl and they knocked the gear shift and the truck backed into a ditch. Of course Hank tried to recant her version of the story and said it was an accident. They weren’t making out like lovesick teenagers.

“That was little Susie Q, right? Your high school sweetheart?” his mother asked.

“It was,” Hank stopped talking and looked introspective for a moment.

“Oh, Hank was so smitten with Susie Shoemaker. I was convinced you two were going to marry. You know, I just heard she got divorced recently.” She pinched her lips to the side in thought.

“Is that so?” Hank asked his interest piqued.

“What ever happened between you to?” I asked. Curious as to why he didn’t stay with his high-school sweetheart.

“Nothin’.” Hank stiffened and pulled his arm from behind my shoulders. “I really don’t want to talk about Susie. It was a long time ago. How’s my brother and his rug rats?”

Hank steered the conversation back to safer territory. Both his mother and I picked up on his discomfort and let it go. If he wasn’t comfortable talking about it, I didn’t really want to know. Technically, I was lying to myself. I did want to know what had him in a snit and planned on asking about it when we were alone.

I left Hank and his mother mid-afternoon to catch a nap and give them some time alone. A few hours had passed and the sun was setting on the horizon when I woke to the sound of my belly grumbling. I took a quick shower and threw on a comfy jersey house dress. It was form-fitting in the way that yoga pants were, but nothing overtly sexual. It was a soft gray and felt more like a long t-shirt than a dress. Slowly, I made my way through the house to where I could hear Hank and his mother talking. I heard my name, so I held back to listen a few moments.

“Aspen’s lovely, Punky, and it’s obvious how she feels about you.”

I strained to hear his reply. “I like her, too, Ma. More than I should.” His voice seemed sad, not like himself.
Why would he say it like that? More than he should? What did it mean?
   

“Are you going to bring her back home when the job is done?” she asked.

“I don’t know if she’d want to come. Ma, it’s not like you and Dad. We haven’t even had a discussion about what this is between us.”

Dread trickled its way up my spine landing on the tiny hairs behind my neck. The feeling was unfamiliar with an extra dose of unpleasant.

“Punky, as much as you seem to like this girl and she you, I mean, you’re a Jensen, what’s not to like?” she laughed then continued, “A long distance relationship would never work. You know that, right?”

It sounded like Hank sighed. Defeat ringing clearly in the tone. “I do know that.”

The wall was cold against my palms. The thought of Hank going home, us not seeing each other every day, was like sticking a sharp knife into my gut. In such a small amount of time, this man had become a regular fixture in my world. Something I could count on seeing when I got home. The person I could vent to, laugh with, make love to. But, it couldn’t work.

His home, his ranch, his beautiful family were in Texas. Mine were here. Would he give it up to be with me in an undefined relationship? Could I for him? We hadn’t even shared how we felt about one another. How was I supposed to wrap my mind around my feelings for him when all I could think about now was that we only had a few short weeks left?

Instead of continuing to listen, I took a deep breath and entered the living room.

“Hey, Darlin’. Did you get a good nap in?” Hank clasped my hand and pulled me into his lap, not the seat on the couch next to him. I squealed like a little girl and tried to keep my dress from showing my lady bits. His skin was warm when he snuggled into my neck. I could feel the small prickly hairs that had grown on his chin as it abraded my skin. It didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually.

“I did, thank you. Sorry I was out for so long.”

“You were tired,” his corresponding grin spoke volumes. He whispered in my ear, “Oh, Angel, the things I plan to do to you tonight ... ” he trailed off then placed a wet smack against my ear.

“Gross!” I cringed and wiped at the wet spot.

Hank and his mother both laughed at my expense.

“Get used to it, pretty girl. The Jensen men are notorious pranksters.”

“Duly noted.”

Hank hugged me to him. “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m going to leave you two for a bit and get supper started,” Julia said.

“Oh, no you don’t have to cook. Even though Gustav’s not here, we can go out or call in.”

“Now that the pesky fella isn’t here, I’m dyin’ to get into that kitchen. That see-through fridge alone is something right out of the movies! And a six-burner stove! Punky, can you imagine the meals I could’ve cooked with something like that when you boys were young?”

“Just leave her. This is fun for her. She’s a really great cook and I could use a home-cooked meal,” Hank said.

“What do you mean? You have one every night.” I made certain we spent more meals in than out because I knew how much Hank liked to eat in.

“Darlin’, you can’t really call that gourmet stuff Gusto cooks a home-cooked meal, could ya?”

“Yes, I could and I do. What do you call it?”

“It tastes like food you get at a restaurant. You’ll see after you’ve had Ma’s cooking.”

“Ma,” Hank screamed. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”

They continued to talk through the walls. The sound was deafening. Screaming at one another through walls did not happen in the Bright-Reynolds home. As in, ever.

“Your favorite!” Julia hollered back.

“Oh, my. You are in for a real treat, Angel. She’s ‘bout to blow your mind with her famous fried chicken and cornbread.” Hank was by far the most excited I’d seen him. Well, aside from when I was naked and splayed out for his enjoyment. It was funny to see that same excitement about a meal. As long as he was happy, my world seemed good.

***

“Oh God, oh … holy, mmmm,” Aspen moaned around a bite of fried chicken. Every bite she took she seemed to have a small orgasm. It was making me hard as steel and having trouble paying attention to anything else. All I wanted to do was throw her on top of the table and have my wicked way with her. If she kept up the foodgasms I just might, Ma be damned.

“Good, Angel?”

She smiled around a mouthful of food. She was shoveling it in like it was her last meal. I loved watching my Angel eat … really eat. She was always so finicky about how much she ate, what the calories, carbs and fat intake were. Then she would spend hours in the house gym if she felt she over did it. Couldn’t complain though, her body was right out of Sports Illustrated and I enjoyed every inch of it.

“Oh man, Julia. This is … I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like it. It’s literally the best chicken I’ve ever had. I’m not sure I’ve ever had fried chicken. You have to share this recipe with Gustav!” She plopped in a bite of cornbread.

“Nuh-uh! Nope. Ain’t gonna happen, pretty girl. You want my chicken you have to come to Texas to get it. Of course, you could move there and I’d promise to make it for you and Hank every week.”

Aspen’s eyes closed and she patted her mouth with her napkin. “Julia, I don’t think that’s a possibility at this time. My work … ” she sighed and it hurt to see my girl struggling. “My work is important. I employ tens of thousands of people and if I didn’t keep the company running the way it is, a lot of people would be out of work.”

“Holy smokes. You employ that many people? Hell, Hank, that’s a lot of families that could be hurt if our pretty girl picked up and left. I had no idea. Wow … ” Ma trailed off.

Aspen no longer looked interested in her food, just pushed the potatoes around her plate.

“No one’s asking you to leave, Angel.” Aspen’s gaze jumped up to meet mine. Hurt and pain swirled in those shimmery blue depths. “I mean, uh, shit … ” I didn’t know how to finish telling her. The situation seemed impossible.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood. “Thank you so much, Julia, for a lovely meal. The best I’ve ever had. I have some work to do in my study. Just leave the dishes. The maid will take care of it.” And then she was gone without a look back, a peck on the cheek, nothing. She was hurt and I had no idea how to fix it.

“Hank, what the hell were you thinking?” Ma was red with anger.

“What was I supposed to do? She’s not going to leave and come home to Texas.”

“Have you considered staying here?”

“In New York?”

“Don’t be thick, son. The woman is clearly in love with you and you with her.”

“You don’t know that, Ma.”

“Oh, yes I do. Call it mother’s intuition. That pretty girl loves you and she’s devastated right now. Who works on a Saturday?” She doesn’t know Aspen. My girl works all the time. That’s why she’s so successful. It never completely leaves her. “You need to tell her that you’re going to work this situation out.”

“How can I promise her that?”

“You tell her you’re going to stay in New York. You’re going to figure out what to do about your business. Maybe this is the time to expand it. You were talking about having another branch. This is the perfect opportunity.”

My mom had a good point. I had been talking to Mac, my most trusted employee, about expanding the business. He’d never leave Texas for longer than necessary, though. His wife and three kids were back home waiting anxiously for his return. This job was the longest we’d been away and I was flying him home every other weekend to be with his family. What if I did set up a branch in New York? Mac could run the Texas office just fine without me.

“It’s something to consider, Ma. But I’d need an office and investors here to expand. I don’t have enough capital yet to open an office in such an expensive place.”