Sugar Creek (11 page)

Rachel lay beneath him on the painfully hard floor thinking,
What the hell was that?

Because even though she fancied herself a worldly woman and had had her fair share of good sex, she wasn’t sure she’d ever had sex like
that
before. It had felt like…an invisible force of nature traveling through them, passing between them. Her body had moved of its own volition, her responses coming from somewhere deep inside, a place she’d never encountered before. She’d felt at once weak but powerful. Needy yet commanding. Too, too vulnerable at moments. And it had all felt…insanely intimate.

So intimate that, now that they’d rested quietly for a few minutes, recovering, she had no idea what to say.

But he took care of that for her, announcing, “We should get dressed.”

Okey doke. She supposed she should have known he wouldn’t suddenly be Mr. Tender Guy. He was Mike
Romo, after all. Maybe she’d forgotten that for a moment in the afterglow of the most amazing sex of her life. “Right,” she murmured as he rose off her. “Of course.” Then she remembered…“But, uh, what’s the hurry? I mean, I’m not sensing imminent rescue.”

Romo was on his feet now, zipping his pants. God, he looked good. Then he replied, “Because I have a cell phone.”

Sitting up to hug her knees, she simply rolled her eyes. “And you’re just now mentioning this?”

“It just now hit me. I was preoccupied before.”

“With?”

He met her gaze briefly, then let his eyes run pointedly over her nakedness.

“Oh, yeah, that,” she said. Then tried to shake off the intensity of the encounter, hoping he couldn’t see it written all over her face. She’d just indulged in casual sex, and Romo’s matter-of-fact attitude reminded her there was no reason to make a big deal of it.

She reached for her bra and eased into her panties as Mike said, “I’ll try Logan. He had a funeral visitation for a family friend in Crestview, but he should be back.”

Although a minute later, she heard Mike leaving a call-me-when-you-get-this message and waited to see who he’d try next as she finished buttoning her blouse. She’d just slipped on her red pumps when she heard something jingling on the other side of the door—like keys.

She and Mike both froze in place, then he looked down at his bare chest. Rachel scooped up the blue shirt at her feet and flung it at him as the jingling continued. “Anybody in there?” It sounded like Principal Turley.

“Yes! We’re locked in!” Rachel yelled—and Mike made a face at her since he was still trying to get his shirt on, but what was she supposed to do, ignore rescue?

Fortunately, by the time the door opened to reveal Ralph Turley standing there with a set of keys nearly as big as
Elmer’s, Mike came around the corner with his shirt buttoned, even if his hair was a little messed up.

“Just finished getting the donkeys loaded in the trucks and was passing back through the lobby toward my car when I saw a light under the door. What on earth happened here?”

If you only knew
, Rachel thought. And Mike said, “Rachel here shut the door and locked us in.” He sounded less judgmental than usual when it came to her, but his tone still left her slightly embarrassed.

Until the principal said, “Well, easy enough to do—we really oughta get this thing fixed one of these days,” and Rachel gave Mike a smug nod.

The three of them left together, Rachel feeling a bit like she was in the Twilight Zone. Five minutes earlier she’d been naked under her nemesis, Mike Romo, and now they were chatting with Mr. Turley about concessions and donkeys like they hadn’t just had wild sex in numerous positions, like they hadn’t just left a used condom wrapped in a napkin in the concession stand wastebasket, like her world hadn’t just radically changed.

And it had. Partly because she’d just had sex with a dreaded Romo, something she couldn’t have imagined up until now, or at least not until very recently. And partly because—damn, after sex like that…would any
other
sex ever seem good? It felt unlikely. Her body still pulsed with memories of the ways he’d moved in her—like an aftershock.

The principal’s car was parked near the door, leaving Rachel and Mike to walk to the lot in front of the school on their own in the dark. The night had turned cooler than any so far, the first hints of autumn in the air.

“Just so you know,” she said after a few minutes of silence, “I don’t usually do this.”

“Have sex on school premises? ’Cause you seemed pretty worried about that.”

She lifted her gaze to his as they walked. “I was worried about being caught. And no, I meant I don’t usually…you know, have sex…with someone I barely know.”

“And don’t like,” he pointed out.

“Right. I’m no saint and no prude, but…well, this was unusual.” And it really was. Casual sex wasn’t new to her, but she
was
generally pretty discriminating in terms of partners.

“What was the occasion?” he asked.

Crap. Good question. It hung in the air a second too long. “Like you said, getting it out of our systems.”

“Is it out now?”

“Completely.” Although that was probably a lie.

“Good. Me, too,” he replied. And her stomach pinched up.

“This is me,” she said, pointing to the BMW near the front of the parking lot. She glimpsed a big, heavy-duty pickup truck farther back, near a light pole, and since it was the only other remaining vehicle, she guessed it was his.

Although she suddenly felt weird, yucky, disappointed—like she didn’t want the night to end like this, so coldly. Not that he was being his usual mean self, but…she’d never had sex that hadn’t ended with at least a
little
warmth, a kiss goodbye, some nice words.
Looks like there’s a first time for everything.

And since it didn’t appear that he was even going to respond, the rat, Rachel started to veer off their current path toward her car—so it surprised her when his hand grabbed hers, pulling her back toward him.

Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Just so
you
know, getting something out of my system never felt so good.” After which he lifted one hand to cup her jaw and gave her a passionate open-mouthed kiss that stretched on long enough for her to feel it between her legs. Oh my.
That’s more like it
.

“’Night, Farris,” he said when the kiss was done.

“Good night. Romeo,” she added for good measure.

When Rachel walked into Under the Covers the next day, Amy stood on a chair, stretching a little string of ghost-shaped lights across the ceiling while Tessa arranged some miniature pumpkins and gourds on the counter. Relief rushed through Rachel to see Tessa up and about. “You’re here,” she said. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?”

Tessa tilted her head, her smile a bit wilted but sincere. “Better enough. I don’t like letting it get me down for long when I can help it.”

Another whoosh of guilt came over Rachel. “I feel bad,” she said. “Like I haven’t been here for you since you got sick.”

Tessa’s hazel eyes widened. “How
could
you be? You live in Chicago.”

Rachel shook her head. “Still, I should have come long before now. When one of my best friends is going through something like this, I should be there.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Tessa said. “You call me all the time, and we e-mail. It’s cool.”

“Well, okay, but…I just wanted to make sure you know I care.”

Tessa flashed a suspicious look. “I don’t know what’s come over you, but don’t worry—I know.”

And that’s when Rachel nearly tripped and glanced down to see the fat bookstore cat, Shakespeare, weaving a figure eight around her ankles. “This cat is a troublemaker,” she said as Tessa reached out to help her keep her balance.

“I know, I know,” Amy replied from atop the chair. “Did you ask Edna about him yet?”

Oops. “No, I forgot. But I will soon—promise.”

“So, how’d last night go?” Amy asked, turning back
to her ghost lights. “Did you have fun working with Logan?”

Rachel could only sigh. “No. Because Logan didn’t show up.”

Amy paused her work to look back down. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope—apparently he had some last-minute visitation in Crestview. So he sent Mike Romo instead.”

Amy winced and Tessa said, “Uh-oh.”

“So did you two go at it again?” Amy asked.

Rachel considered the question, then sucked in her breath. “That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

Amy lowered her chin, lights still in hand. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“Well, after the ball game, we had sex on the concession stand floor.”

Amy’s ghost lights dropped from her fingertips, looping around her body and scattering beneath her—as a tiny gourd escaped Tessa’s grip to hit Shakespeare on the head. The cat screeched and darted—through the lights and wire on the floor, with enough force to yank Amy off balance. She came stumbling down, but fortunately managed not to land on any of the lights, instead going headfirst into one of the easy chairs near the door. After which she smoothly turned over and plopped her butt on the cushion, staring at Rachel in disbelief.

“Like I said,” Rachel told them, “that cat’s a menace.”

“This wasn’t exactly the cat’s fault. It’s not the one dropping bombshells while I’m up on a rickety chair.”

Tessa gaped at Rachel, too. “So—you wanna say that again?”

“Sure, that cat’s—”

“No, the part about Mike Romo. Because we
must
have misunderstood.”

Rachel let out another short, confessional sigh. “Nope, it’s true. I had sex with Officer Romeo.”

“Holy crap,” Tessa said.

And to Rachel’s surprise, as Amy’s shock passed, she began looking…downright pleased with herself, even with tangled ghost lights strung around her shoulders like a necklace. “And you acted all disgusted when I suggested you two get together. Well, clearly I was right and you decided he’s more hot than creepy.” Then she clapped her hands together. “Hooray, a fall romance for Rachel!”

Rachel threw up her hands in a stop motion. “Whoa there, Speedy Gonzales—back it up. I said we had sex. But let’s be clear—he, uh, wasn’t exactly Mr. Romance.”

As Tessa dragged Rachel over to the easy chairs and both of them sat down, Tessa said, “Dare I suggest that one might not necessarily
expect
a lot of romance when one does it on the floor of a concession stand with a guy she barely knows?”

Rachel just shrugged. “Agreed. And I’m not complaining, exactly. Which is to say…” she bit her lip and tilted her head “…there were moments when he was…
considerate
. But he could use some serious lessons on post-orgasmic cuddling.”

“Again,” Tessa pointed out, “floor, concession stand, stranger.”

“So there were…orgasms,” Amy sought to confirm, even though she didn’t appear entirely comfortable with the word. Amy liked to fix people up, and she was okay discussing sex in simple terms, but she always seemed embarrassed when it came to talking details.

“Multiple,” Rachel informed her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, that part kinda threw me, too. Since that’s not my, uh…usual way.”

“How many?” Tessa asked.

“Just two. But it was more than enough. Any more and I’d have had to be carried out on a stretcher.”

As Amy finally got unlooped from her lights, she asked,
“Can we start over please? Like at the beginning. How on earth did this happen?”

So Rachel told the whole story of the mysterious locking door and the pashmina, finishing with, “And then he started kissing me.”

“Okay, okay, enough foreplay,” Tessa said. “How was he?”

And an uncharacteristic blush warmed Rachel’s cheeks. For her, it was kind of like crying—she never cried, and she never blushed. Crap. And it wasn’t like they’d never discussed sex before, but she was suddenly acting more like Amy than herself.

“That good?” Tessa asked, clearly fascinated.

So Rachel glanced back and forth between her best friends and told the brutal truth that had been plaguing her since last night. “The best. Ever. In my life.”

“Wow, that’s saying a lot,” Tessa said. “’Cause you’ve had a lot of sex.”

Rachel shot her a look and Tessa held out her hands, palms up. “I’m just sayin’.” And Rachel couldn’t really argue the point since she
had
lost her virginity before any of her friends—with Russell Jamison, the closet guy—and had indeed possessed a healthy even if fairly selective sexual appetite ever since.

“So what made it the best?” Tessa asked, and Rachel flushed again—and this time Amy did, too. Probably, Rachel guessed, due to the lusty look surely forming on her face.

“I…can’t really explain,” she said. “It was slow and really steamy. And he just…knew what to do. With his hands. And with his…you know, penis.”

All three girls just sat there, apparently thinking this over, and that’s when Shakespeare came padding cautiously out from between two bookcases, quietly making his way to Rachel’s chair. Without being invited, he bounded up to the empty space beside her and curled into a big fat ball against her thigh.

“So…” Tessa finally said, “what now?”

“What do you mean, what now?”

“Are you seeing him again?”

Rachel drew back slightly, sitting up straighter. “Oh—no. It wasn’t…that kind of thing.”

“It was the best sex of your life,” Amy reminded her, still a little red-faced.

“True, but as I’ve tried to explain to you on numerous occasions, sometimes sex is just sex. Just two people indulging in…human urges. And we both agreed that this was just something we needed to get out of our systems.”

“Like an infection?” Tessa asked, clearly not buying it.

Yet Rachel tried to make her understand. “Okay, so we’ve had this bizarre attraction to each other since I met him. But since we strongly dislike each other, and we pretty much live in two different worlds, it would be silly to take it any further. We’re lucky if we can get along for more than five minutes.” She knit her brow then, thinking. “Except for during the sex. We got along
really
well then. Afterward, though, it was pretty much back to the way it was before. So that’s all there is to it.”