Sugar Creek (35 page)

She sucked in her breath as Mike smoothly undid her jeans and proceeded to tug them down over her ass.

Then she looked over her shoulder, into the game now, to say, “Officer, I’m not sure this is appropriate.”

His heated gaze captured hers as his palms closed on her bare hips—and a second later, he was plunging into her. She cried out at the impact, then said breathily, teasingly, “I’m gonna have to report you for police brutality.”

As his arms wrapped warm around her waist, up under her top, he leaned close to her ear and whispered. “I think you can take it.” And then he began to move in her.

“Oh God, I think I can, too,” she murmured as the pleasure spread through her, thick and deep. Mike always filled her perfectly, but standing up, she felt him even more. She instinctively arched her bottom toward him, wanting him deeper—and he gave her what she needed, over and over, in hard, smooth strokes that vibrated through her entire being.

And it all felt very sexy and very fun until…it didn’t anymore.

At some point his actions slowed, became more sensual. He kissed her neck, drew his teeth down her earlobe.
She felt it everywhere, shut her eyes, and tilted her head so he’d do it some more. The playful cop game was over and now it was just them, him and her, making love, slow and passionate.

As Mike delivered thrust after deep, lingering thrust, she leaned her head back and looked up at the stars. It was another beautifully clear night, and the sky twinkled with light so vibrant it seemed to rain down upon them.

After a while, he drew back from her and said, “Take off your jeans.”

She hurried out of them, instructing him, “Take off your shirt.”

A minute later, his uniform shirt and badge were on the ground and he was picking her up and pressing her back against the barn. Her legs wrapped around his waist automatically as he re-entered her. This time, they both groaned and he crushed his chest to hers and kissed her, firm and long.

Their gazes met as they rediscovered that slow, sensual rhythm. Oh God, that was one thing she’d never done with a guy before Mike—looked into his eyes while he moved inside her. The stark intimacy, their faces so close right now, made her breath tremble. They said nothing—words felt unnecessary. Their bodies, their eyes, said everything.

This is intense.

This is way more than just sex.

This is spectacular and wondrous and moving.

And this is tragic because it’s one of the very last times.

And in the midst of it all, she found herself thinking of Edna and Giovanni, who’d made love all over this orchard. Her grandmother, his grandfather. But they, too, had eventually parted, just like Rachel and Mike would soon. Some things, she supposed, just weren’t meant to last. Even without yet knowing exactly how Edna and Giovanni’s story ended, this felt—in a strange way—like history repeating itself.

Everything inside Rachel moved in all the right ways as she strained against him, meeting his strokes, seeking her own pleasure. It built inside her, slow and deep, just like their sex itself, and when finally it broke, she screamed it out. She sobbed all through the gloriously extended orgasm, the pleasure buffeting her, owning her, wrenching her in his arms. And when it was done, her whole body trembled now—not just her breath.

Mike held her tight and whispered, “You okay, baby?”

She bit her lip, feeling so connected to him, so safe and warm in his arms, that she could barely fathom it. She could only nod. And then she burst out, “Come in me. I want to make you come in me. Deep, deep inside me.”

“Aw Christ, honey, that’s all it took,” he growled, and as he climaxed, she relished the idea of him leaving a part of himself inside her that way.

A little later, they sat on the back of the cruiser, looking up at the stars.

“You’re probably late getting back on duty,” she said.

“Yeah. Your fault again, Farris.” But he didn’t sound as upset as he usually did about such things. Then he said, out of the blue, “If you wanted to stay in town, Rachel…if you wanted to take over the orchard…I wouldn’t even care about not getting it back into my family.”

She looked Mike in the eye. This came up over and over again, the idea that she should give up her career and run the orchard. But in this moment, that wasn’t the part she was concentrating on. The part that got her was…was he asking her to stay? Not for the sake of the orchard, but…for him? And if he was, was it that easy? To give up one life for another?

R
achel took a deep breath, turning the questions over in her mind. And…

No. No, she didn’t think so. It was the stuff of movies, novels. But in real life, it was one of the hugest changes a person could make.

And yeah, maybe the city didn’t hold the same thrill for her it once had; maybe that was a season of her life that had come and gone. And maybe, over time, it had become the power of her job, the success, that she valued more than the work itself, ever since the creative part had been taken away from her. But none of that added up to just abandoning a highly lucrative career and moving back to the place she’d been so eager to leave once upon a time. If she didn’t have that job, well…again, things might be different. But she
did
have it. She’d worked to get it back and had succeeded.

And as for her and Mike, well…neither of them had ever even uttered the word
love
. Which was just as well—
because it was something she knew nothing about. And what about Mike’s sexcapades all over Destiny and Crestview? From the start, she’d understood that he was just as big on not getting serious as she was. She cared for him, too much now, and she believed he cared for her as well—but she simply couldn’t get caught up in a moment here and believe it was more than it was. The fact was—Mike could move on from her in a heartbeat. The practical woman inside Rachel could easily see herself a few months from now, broke and lonely and stuck at the orchard picking apples for the rest of her days if she made some silly, hasty decision here. That was
not
what she wanted her life to be.

Finally, she said, “I’m gonna miss you, miss
us
, but you know I have to go.”

When he began to protest, she touched a finger to his lips, quieting him.

“And it’s for more than just my family. It’s for me. I have a life somewhere else. It’s a good life, Mike, I promise.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said, but he sounded sullen now, distant.

She drew in a breath, a little hurt by his attitude. So she tried to win him back over, make him celebrate with her a bit. “I forgot to tell you, I get to keep my job. I found out a couple of days ago. I couldn’t be more excited.”

He met her gaze, but still seemed disgruntled. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

She just sighed and tried to go on. “You don’t
sound
very happy. But I’m sure you can see it only makes sense. It would be crazy to leave something I’ve worked so hard for.”

“And
you
don’t sound very excited. I mean, this job is supposed to mean everything to you, and you’re just now remembering to mention it?”

He might have a point there, but she refused to think about that right now. “Are you mad? You seem mad.”

“What would I be mad about?” he snapped.

She tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know. Especially since I just told you, again, that you can pretty much have the orchard whenever Edna decides to sell it to you. And she will. And I’ll be fine with that now. I’ll be happy for you to have it.”

He let out a breath—and sounded a little more relaxed when he said, “Sorry if I’m acting like an asshole.”

She smiled. “I’m used to it.”

And he returned the grin, even if it looked halfhearted. “Listen—I have to work tomorrow night, and I work Monday from noon to eight, but…if you don’t have plans with Edna or your friends for your last night in town…”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I think Edna wants to make me a nice home-cooked dinner, but after that, I’m free.”

“Then why don’t you come over to my place, meet me when I get off work.”

“Sounds good,” she said—then glanced over at him. “Did you have anything special in mind?”

“Yep,” he said. “Taking you to bed. Making you pant and scream. Doing it all night long. Leaving you so limp from orgasm after orgasm that you can barely move.”

Rachel simply sucked in her breath. “All righty then. It’s a date.”

After he got off duty on Sunday night, Mike went home, changed clothes, and headed back out in his truck. It was nearly midnight and he needed to be back on duty tomorrow at noon, but he felt…pent up inside. Trying to sleep would be futile.

The road led him to the Dew Drop Inn. Given that most people had work tomorrow morning, it didn’t surprise him that only a few cars and pickups dotted the parking lot. So it caught him off guard when he walked in to see Logan sitting at the bar chatting with Anita Garey.

“Dude, you look mad,” Logan said as Mike climbed up
on a stool beside him and motioned to Anita for a beer. “What’s wrong? Purple Mustang again?”

“No, thank God,” he muttered. “What are you doing here at this hour anyway?”

“I went with Sue Ann to look at the cottage on the lake, and we came here afterward to go over the contract—so I just stuck around.”

“You’re definitely taking it?” Ever since moving out of his parents’ house, just up the road from Mike’s place, Logan had lived in an apartment in town.

Logan tipped his bottle to his mouth and gave a nod. “It’s a nice little house, and I wouldn’t mind having a yard.”

“Mmm,” Mike said—but knew it came out more like a growl. One thing he’d never developed a skill for—hiding his moods. He was only lucky Logan continued to tolerate him.

Anita brought his beer and the two guys sat quietly for a moment, until Logan gave him a speculative look and slowly said, “Ah, I got it now.”

“Got
what
now?”

“What your problem is. Rachel leaves in a couple days, doesn’t she? Sue Ann mentioned it. That’s what’s got you back in your usual shitty mood.”

Mike considered denying it, but decided not to bother. So he just said, “Whatever,” and took a long drink of his beer.

“You should ask her to stay,” Logan said. Just like that. They hadn’t discussed Rachel all that much, so Mike had no idea how his buddy understood his feelings on this, but he guessed Logan just knew him that well.

“She’s not into it,” Mike said simply.

“You talked about it?”

“More or less.”

“Sorry, dude,” Logan said.

Something about that made his stomach pinch—he
hated when people felt sorry for him. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he groused. “Life goes on.” Then he dug out his wallet, slapped a five on the bar, and stood up.

Logan raised his gaze to Mike’s. “You just got here.”

“And now I’m leaving.”

Logan arched a brow. “Something I said?”

“Just ready to go home now is all.”

He
wasn’t
particularly, but he’d also just figured out that he wasn’t in the mood to be with people right now, either.

Back in his truck, he headed toward home—because apparently there was
no
place he wanted to be right now, nothing that would make him feel better. Ben Harper sang “Show Me a Little Shame” over his iPod as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on inside him. Logan was right—it was about Rachel. But how had he gone from thinking she was nothing but a pretty, smart-ass Farris to feeling miserable at the thought of no longer having her in his life? How had he—who never got hung up on a woman—gotten so damn hung up on a woman?

And then it hit him, plain as day. In Rachel Farris, he’d finally met his match. In fact, the reason they’d butted heads in the beginning was because, unlike most people around here, she didn’t put up with his grouchiness and meanness. The fact was, as a cop, he could usually get away with it; most people, he guessed, were afraid they’d get hauled to jail or something if they argued with him. But from the start, she’d clearly had no intention of letting him scare her or push her around.

And he
liked
that. Turned out he liked it far more than he could have imagined.

And maybe he
was
a little mad at her. For not seeing…
what
?

How good they were together?

Or maybe he was mad at
himself
for not having the guts to just say what he felt, straight out. That this was bigger
than something that lasted only a few weeks. That he’d never experienced these kinds of emotions for another girl. That he’d already lost enough people in his life, and even though he hadn’t known her long, well…this was going to feel like one more person he’d made the mistake of caring for only to watch them walk away. And hell—maybe he had no one to blame but himself, since he’d broken his own rule: He’d let himself care for her.

Or maybe he was mad that when he
tried
to start telling her some of that stuff, she gave him
nothing
, no encouragement. He didn’t know how to say any of it, and every time he even inched near it, she shut him down. He knew when he looked into her eyes, when he was inside her, that she felt something for him, but she obviously didn’t feel the same way
he
did. She’d even admitted she cared for him that first night he’d taken her home with him—but she’d never said anything like that again.

Okay, so that was why he was mad. All of that.

And…because she was leaving.

And because there was a part of him that had felt
better
lately—almost actually…happy. She’d sort of…awakened pieces of him that…well, pieces he guessed had been dead for a very long time. She made him let go of all the bad stuff long enough to enjoy life for a change.

But maybe when Rachel left, he’d feel worse again. Empty inside again. Maybe that picture of Anna would come back out. Maybe he’d turn back into the same hard-ass jerk most people thought he was.

The truth was, when he’d suggested getting together on her last night in town, he’d wanted to do way more than take her to bed. He’d wanted to talk, he’d wanted to maybe take her out somewhere nice in Crestview—he’d just wanted to be with her, both
in
bed and
out
. But after their conversation in the orchard, it had just made more sense to invite her over for sex. Because when all was said and done, that was still when they got along the best, wasn’t
it? Anything else they could discuss now might just piss him off and ruin the night. Like her leaving. Somehow even getting her blessing to buy the orchard had pissed him off a little. He didn’t
want
her to want him to have it—he wanted her to want it for herself. He wanted her to want to be
here
, close to him. He wanted her to see how good it could be. He just wanted her to stay, damn it.

Was that selfish? Maybe. As she kept telling him, she had a life in Chicago. But it had been a long time since she’d convinced him it really made her happy. In the beginning, maybe. Yet this place had changed her, softened her, in a good way, and whenever she talked about Chicago now, it sounded forced, like old words that had lost their meaning. And he’d
seen
her be happy here—with Edna, with her friends, with him.

Just ask her. Ask her to stay, straight out. Could he?
Could he? Should he?

Hell,
hadn’t
he already? And been shot down?

Maybe he was a stubborn SOB, but he didn’t think he could put himself out there with her any more than he already had. He’d already given her so much more of himself than he’d ever thought he’d give to
any
woman. He’d told her about Anna, for God’s sake. He’d told her about the rest of his family. He’d even taken her to meet them.

To give her any more, when she didn’t seem to want it, would just be…fucking humiliating. Emasculating.

As he pulled into his driveway, he realized his throat was tight, swollen. His eyes hurt a little. He crushed them shut, trying to hold back his emotions. Throwing the truck into park, he banged his hand on the steering wheel.

There was a part of him that wondered if he should even see her again. If it wouldn’t just end up hurting more than it helped. He couldn’t imagine
not
seeing her one last time, but…hell, he just didn’t know the answers with her anymore. Maybe he never had. And maybe that was the problem.

As he unlocked his front door and stepped into the house, he somehow felt way more alone than he ever had before he’d met Rachel Farris.

On Monday, Rachel had lunch with the girls at Dolly’s. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, and they were able to sit outside. Tessa said she’d heard a cold snap was coming tomorrow and this would probably be the end of nice weather for the year—and Amy had burst into tears.

Everyone had just looked at her, and Jenny had dug in her purse for a tissue, until Amy said, “It’s not the weather. It’s that Rachel’s leaving.”

And somehow Rachel had felt like a slug for making her cry.

In the end, hugs were exchanged and
everyone
cried a little—well, everyone except Rachel, since she never cried. Other than that one time with Mike. But she had to bite her lip and sniff a little as she walked to her car afterward.

After that, she went home to pack her suitcases, the sadness sticking with her more than she liked. She realized she’d become accustomed to Edna’s clawfoot bathtub and the old porcelain sink. And over time, she’d come to think of the old quilt on the guest bed as quaint and cozy rather than just outdated. She’d found that, for two strong-willed women, she and Edna had shared the little house quite amicably.

Now she’d dressed for her date with Mike in dark jeans and black boots, and a stylish red wraparound blouse. Underneath, she sported a sexy black demi bra and a pair of matching lace panties. And somehow she felt more like her old self—no more T-shirts and gym shoes.

“Come and get it,” Edna called from the dining room, and Rachel walked in to see the table covered with food: breaded pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, green
beans, homemade corn bread, and the last of Edna’s apple pies she’d get to eat for awhile.

“This looks great,” she said.

Edna sounded a little put out, a little depressed, as she replied, “Well, it’s your last meal here. Wanted it to be a good one. God only knows what kind of crap you eat when I’m not around to feed ya.”

Rachel tried to smile, but it was difficult. Leaving Edna, it turned out, was going to be harder than she’d thought.