26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
M ICAH
Getting my hands on Carly’s soft body is a miracle and I don’t intend to take it for granted again.
As the taste of her lingers on my tongue, my hunger kicks back into overdrive.
As if she didn’t just come all over my face.
I want to lick her furiously until she does it again. And then I want to turn her around, bend her over the damn massage bed and fuck her brains out.
But, gentleman that I am, I resist the urge.
Believe it or not, fucking Carly is not what I brought her here for. I came to help her relax, and what we just did was part of it. But I don’t plan on taking advantage and taking it further, not until she’s sure about me again. And if I go mad in the process then so be it. Small price to pay.
Just seeing her sated form, her chest rising and falling, is enough, and though it tempts me beyond my goodwill, I refuse to give in.
Instead, I squat beside her, smiling as she tries to catch her breath and one eye finally peels open.
“So,” I grin, “Do you forgive me now? For real?’
She brings out a hand and weakly shoves me. “Don’t ask me things like that when I can’t even remember my own name.” But there’s a smile on her face when she says it that tells me everything I need to know.
I catch her hand and kiss the back of it, silently thanking her for her forgiveness. Her gaze slides lazily down my body, to the erection pushing against the front of my pants.
“Do you want me to return the favor?” she asks, a sultry note in her voice.
I’m about to say no when she licks her lips. Suddenly my core clenches violently and my brain is assailed with images of her on her knees, her tongue teasing my cock into a frenzy before swallowing down, the tip hitting the back of her throat.
Fuck, I want that. I want it so bad.
I bite off the groan that threatens to tear out my chest.
“No, thanks,” I force myself to say and she must see how much of a struggle it is because she giggles.
“Are you sure about that?”
No. “Yup.” I stand and dust my hands over my pants like a damn boy scout. “I’m good to go.”
She shakes her head again, amusement gleaming in her eyes.
“Suit yourself.” She throws her hands over her head and stretches her entire body like a kitten, making her shirt ride up even higher.
Fuck me.
I get a full frontal and it’s not like I haven’t seen her naked before, but each time it’s like an amazing discovery. This time, she invokes the imagery of a lounging goddess, satisfied after indulging in a lustful frenzy.
I take a mental snapshot, knowing full well that this is the image I’m going to pull up when I’m jerking off later in the shower.
Carly stares up at the ceiling and after a few seconds, she sighs. I can see her worries, the ones I’ve tried so hard to get rid of, returning to her gaze. I wish there was a way to stop it, or at least stave it off for longer.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask, mostly to distract her. “I thought we could grab brunch or something at a restaurant.”
She shakes her head. “No. Tomorrow is a church picnic out in St. Mary’s, and I already told Mrs. Peach that I would help her with her cookie stand. She can’t make it but Hal and I will be there.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Will you be coming?”
“To the church picnic?” I shrug. “I dunno if I can. I’m not religious and I don’t remember my Hail Mary’s too well.”
“It’s not a Catholic church. It’s episcopal I think,” she says. “And I’m not religious either. The picnic is after church and it’s mostly just a small get-together for everyone in town. Like a town fair, but more low-key.”
“Ah, I see.” I thought church would be more relevant here, but small towns seem to participate in selective religiousness as much as cities do. Not that I mind.
I was never religious growing up. My mom was a religious woman though and she took it very seriously. To the point where she’s been on a religious sabbatical since my brother died, and self-imposed strict rules indicating that none of us contact her while she’s gone. Maybe it’s her way of dealing with her grief, but also something, a nagging voice tells me it’s because she’s angry at me and regrets adopting me.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“Huh?” I break out of my thoughts to refocus on Carly.
“I said you don’t have to think too hard about it. You don’t have to come. I don’t mind.”
“Oh.” She must have misread my expression and probably thought that I was intensely wondering whether to go to the picnic or not. She thought that was why I was frowning.
“That’s not what I was thinking about,” I assure her. “But yeah, I can come to the picnic.”
“It’s fine. Seriously, Micah. You don’t have to.”
I cock my head.
And even though she says she doesn’t mind me not accompanying her to this picnic, the way she averts her gaze after a few seconds tells me she does. It also alerts me that there’s more to her questioning than she’s revealing.
“Do you not want me to come?” I ask.
She thinks about it, then shrugs. “I mean, it doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.”
“You sure about that? Because it kinda sounds to me like you asked me on a date and now you’re trying to back out of it.”
“It wasn’t a date! You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“No, no, no,” I laugh. “You can’t take it back now. You asked me out, Carly. And if my fake girlfriend wants me to go to a church picnic with her then guess what I’m doing? Going to the damn church picnic.”
“I’m not your fake girlfriend anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m coming. Now what exactly does one wear to a church picnic?” I sigh feeling like slapping my forehead. “And here I thought I wouldn’t have anything to go to. I left all the good stuff in France. Shit, even my Valentinos.”
“No, no, no, you can’t wear anything like that.” She waved her hands emphatically. “Regular clothes only. Nothing too fancy. We’re in Laketown, after all.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, but... it’s a church event. I can’t just wear jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Why not? That’s pretty much what Emma’s grandpa wears. And Poppy Moon wears hunting gear everywhere, so you won’t stick out like a sore thumb for being too casual.” She bites her lip in uncertainty. “But on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t go with me.”
“Why not? I can do casual.” I already have in mind what I’m going to wear. Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and Cuccinelli leisure-fit linen pants. Maybe Gucci loafers. Not fancy at all, very mainstream and I wore that outfit at least twice before, which makes it very casual as a matter of fact.
She offers a tiny, hesitant smile. “No, that’s not it... I mean, you can go to the picnic, it’s just that I’m not so sure you want to show up with me.’
“Why not?”
“Well, as you might have guessed, my family isn’t exactly well-liked in this town. And for a pretty good reason, to be fair. If you show up to the picnic with me, people will think we’re dating.”
“And?”
“And… it might affect your reputation. They might think there’s something wrong with you for slumming it with me.”
I immediately scowl. Slumming it? That’s how she describes our relationship?
She thinks that I somehow see her as inferior and I’m only tolerating her presence for what… sex?
God. I hate everyone who’s ever intentionally or unintentionally made her feel that way. Probably began with those damn parents of hers. Her words speak to some deep-seated insecurities that I’ll need to help her deal with later. But it will probably take a more sensitive touch than I have right now.
“Besides,” she continues as I try to control the anger induced by listening to her talk about herself like that. “If we go together that might signal to my family that we’re actually in a serious relationship. Like I said, those guys are vultures. And there’s more of them that you haven’t met yet. The second they know about you though, they’ll descend and start asking for favors, as if it’s your responsibility to take care of the whole brood.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “It gets pretty annoying. You’d basically have to be an asshole if you want to get them off you.”
I tut. “It’s funny how you think I care about any of that, either my reputation or being an asshole to your family. Just FYI, I didn’t care about my reputation when I was a teenager surrounded by elite snobs trained with sharp tongues and the ability to verbally slice you off at the ankles if they thought they were somehow better than you. I certainly don’t care now that I’m in a town with strangers, most of whom I don’t give a damn about. No offense.”
Carly merely smiles as I continue.
“And as for the second thing, your parents aren’t the first pair of opportunistic vultures I’ve met. Trust me when I say I know very well how to handle them.” Of course, it would be easier to handle if Carly would agree to simply detach herself from them, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
“You paid for their medical bills,” she says quietly.
“Yes, but that’s only to save you from having to do it,” I say. “I don’t know why it was on you in the first place, seeing as how there were three other adults in the room.”
Carly shakes her head. “My mom hasn’t worked since I was in high school. She kept getting fired from her jobs for either stealing or starting fights with her boss and eventually no one in town would hire her again. Dad collects disability from a back injury he had and he’s still getting some retirement but it’s not enough. Uncle Allan is on parole for assaulting someone and that limits his income too and his wife’s a holistic pet masseuse, so she doesn’t really get much in terms of financial compensation.”
Jesus. No wonder Carly worked so hard. They all relied on her. A bunch of losers and users all of them.
But I don’t want to say anything that offends Carly, so I simply say, “I see. In any case, I’ll figure out how to handle your family.”
Carly opens her mouth like she wants to argue some more against me coming. But then I interrupt her by asking, “On a separate but related topic, what are you wearing for this picnic? I brought all the dresses from LA for you to choose from.”
She groans. “Nope. Can’t wear any of that. You should sell them and get your money back.”
“I can’t sell them, they’re tailored to your specific, exquisitely rare body type.” I waggle my eyebrows making her snort and roll her eyes. “And even if I could, I’m not going to because I bought them for you. I only want to see those dresses on you.”
I think I see her gaze soften slightly, but she still maintains, “I can’t wear such things in Laketown.”
“Who says? Every town needs a beauty queen, and I have yet to see one as beautiful as you.”
She chuckles again. “You are just on a roll today with the compliments.”
“Yeah.” I grin and then bend over, to brush my lips against her. “But you make it so easy.”
The town picnic is both exactly what I thought it would be and not at all what I expected.
It’s held out on the lawn of a small, brown building with a modest cross on top of it. Tents are set up over green grass, each holding different delicacies whose scents mingle in the air. My mouth waters as the smell of warm chocolate chip cookies and brownies assail me, and I’m happy to find that we’re moving in that direction. I also spot a few tents holding arts and crafts, and even motor parts, which is strange to have at a picnic.
Apparently, this church “picnic” event is held to raise money for the church fund and so they accept sales of pretty much everything. Also, everything’s a little overpriced, for Laketown that is, although it would be considered underpriced anywhere else. The smells of fair food, giggles of children running around, cool wind on the fresh grass, and petals falling around us added a homey ambiance to the picnic.
The lawn is far from crowded. Only about thirty or so people were milling about and from the way they called out, they all knew each other. All that’s to be expected.
What I don’t expect is to enjoy myself as much as I do.
It’s partially because of the dress. Carly and I find a compromise, which really means I manage to bully her into wearing one of the dresses we got in LA. It’s a simple Givenchy A-line mid-length dress in mustard yellow with an off-shoulder sleeve. Hermes sandals and a matching yellow Hermes scarf tie the whole look together, accentuating her delicate feet and graceful neck.
Carly looks like the goddess of the sun wearing it, and every time I look at her, I just have to smile.
But she’s still a little anxious and when we’re close to our destination booth, she pauses, “I feel like people are staring at me.
“Of course they are,” I tell her. “You look gorgeous.” Most of the people we passed by threw admiring glances at her. Someone even tells her when Carly goes over to the cookie stand. Even the man in a lounge chair behind the counter we’re heading to squints his one good eye at her, and says, “That’s a real pretty dress, Carls.”
“Thanks, Mark.” She blushes and continues walking. “Do you need any help?”
“Nah. I got it. But you can hang around if you want to.” Mark immediately eyes me. “This your fella?”
“No, he’s just a friend.”
I cock an eyebrow. Oh, that’s what we were going to play it? Just friends?
She sends me a pleading look and I smirk.
Alright then. We can be just friends for now.
“I’m Micah. Carly’s friend .” I offer the other man a handshake.
The man holds my gaze for a split second before he takes it. “Nice to meet you. The folks here call me One-Eyed Mark. On account of me only having one working eye.” The other eye was looking in a completely different direction and didn’t blink. Probably a prosthetic.
“How appropriate,” I say, not knowing how else to comment on it.
He nods. “Y’all can pull up a chair from over there and sit with me. Boy, have I got news for you Carly.”
And then for the next hour or so, as Carly mans the table, Mark and I talk about everything under the sun. He tells me about what happened at last year’s picnic, and how Pastor Allan’s chicken fighting ring got blown open by the sheriff. He tells me that Macy and her husband are divorcing because she caught him with their daughter’s male gym coach. He also tells me that there’s a betting pool for when Poppy Moon and Grandpa Crane start dating.
It’s right around the third story that it hits me. One-eyed Mark is a huge gossip.
Lucky for him, I’m a gossip monger. I love hearing stories about people I don’t know and I enjoy seeing Mark’s eye twinkle whenever I ask, “And then what happened?”
A few more people tell Carly how pretty she looks when they stop by our booth. She always blushes and says thanks in that shy manner. I think Carly may be exaggerating how scorned she is in this town because I don’t notice much animosity directed at her either.
And then when Emma and Declan show up to set up their booth, Emma’s jaw drops as she looks at Carly.
“Oh my God, “ she says. “You look so pretty!”
Carly blushes. “It’s the dress. It sucks me in all the right places.”
“That’s not it.” Emma isn’t willing to let Carly put herself down either “You look radiant, Carls. I’m serious.”
She blushes even deeper. “Thank you.”
“Told you.” I wrap my arm around her waist and shift her closer. Of course, that has Emma’s and Declan’s gazes instantly dropping to my arm and then they share a knowing look like one of them just won a bet.
Declan then looks at me with amused eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of these things.”
I shrug. “Well, it’s not so bad. I figured I might as well come. If I’m going to be stuck in this town for however many months, I should get used to participating in its… is that lady wearing fatigues?
They both turn. “Yup. That’s Poppy Moon. You should meet her. Poppy, Tate, over here!”
The petite, fierce-faced, red-haired lady with the fatigues walks to us, along with her pretty daughter who looks just like her.
The younger one, Tate I’m guessing, hugs Emma first and asks, “Where’s your grandfather?”
“I don’t know. He went fishing with Amelia this morning and they haven’t been back.”
“Huh. I should have known he’d try to dodge his responsibility.” Poppy’s eyes turn even sharper as she narrows them. “He owes me fifty bucks.”
“They had a bet,” Tate explains. “And Mom refuses to let it go.”
“What bet?”
“Don’t ask.” Tate finally throws Carly a tentative smile. “Hey, Carly. You look amazing today.”
“Thanks. So do you.” Carly says it in a similarly awkward tone and it’s followed by a few seconds of awkward silence.
I glance at Poppy who is peering at me owlishly.
“Cool gun,” I say gesturing to the one strapped to her thigh.
She shrugs. “It’s nothing special. Just my .44 mag. But I got a scope on it so I can blow your head off from a mile away.”
“Oh, um...” I’m mildly confused, not knowing if she was referring to my head specifically or just heads in general. Either way, best not to get on her bad side. “Good to know. I didn’t even think pistols could have scopes.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Poppy scoffs. “You’re a city boy.” She shakes her head at the sky. “As if we needed more city boys in this town.”
“That was directed at me, wasn’t it?” Declan smirks.
“If the shoe fits...”
“If it makes you feel better, my dad and I used to hunt deer once upon a time,” I tell Poppy. “But we stopped because I felt bad for the deer.”
“That’s ‘cause you were raised soft. In the wild, you wouldn’t have felt bad for the bear. You would have accepted that that’s the natural course of nature.”
“Yes, but we don’t live in the wild, Mom. We live in a civilized society, and there’s really no reason for us to be killing things to eat them anymore.”
“Oh, don’t start with your vegan nonsense, Tate Marie. I’ll kill whatever I damn well please. God intends it that way and no city-boy pansy is going to convince me different.”
“Sorry,” Tate immediately apologizes on her mother’s behalf. “Mom thinks everyone who doesn’t eat meat is a pansy. And she has wild conspiracies about God’s purpose for living beings.”
“What a coincidence.” I smile. “So does mine. Except my mom thinks that we were put on this earth to suffer and only in suffering can we find absolution.”
Everyone looks at me, as though they can’t decide if I said something profound or profoundly stupid.
“Or something like that, I wasn’t paying attention.”
We all laugh, and the small talk continues, trading banter among ready friends.
But I sense a change in Carly at some point. It’s like she gets quieter and quieter. Saying less.
And then finally, she says, “Hey, guys, sorry, I need a minute. I’ll be back.”
And without further explanation, she turns to walk away.
I’m not the only one who watches her leave. Emma frowns. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know.” I keep my eyes on Carly’s retreating form, noticing she’s heading for the exit. “But I’m going to find out.”