Games We Play (18 page)

Luis was right
, he thought, pondering their conversation from the previous day. Why waste the summer when he and the professor could put it to much better use. Yes, it was that big ol’ challenge of sex with her again that was tied to the end of a string, like a bone, hanging from a branch in front of his face.

He’d moved past his anger and irritation at that little pouring-out-his-beer payback episode. If the shoe had been on the other foot, he might have found a way to play the revenge game too. He could also live with her other retribution, a minor one, her refusal to call him Cooper.

He brought forth a picture of the professor from that second night, angry and voicing her anger. She’d taken the gator’s keys and tried to run him over with her golf cart. Really, anytime he encountered her now, it was all challenge. Who knew having a woman stand up to him could get his juices flowing, but apparently it did. A sign of strength, perhaps, something he silently required in the
one
, if he were to borrow Luis’s choice of words. But he was nowhere that serious, nor did he wish to be.

A challenging and fiery partner for sex, now that was a whole other story, and he couldn’t quite let go of the idea of it, and why should he? He didn’t have to, he’d decided. She so wanted him again, and all it would take was a little bit more charm. He smiled at that thought, getting out of his truck, and now it was time get things started, to turn on more of his charm and turn this professorship around.

The doorbell rang, awakening Kendall. She’d started to doze, thoughts of a naked Barnabus dancing in her head. “Do you want me to get that?” she asked Myra.

“It’s probably Cooper,” Myra said, eyes glued to the television. Her aunt took great pleasure in her evening shows.

Kendall made her way to the front door. It stood open, and yes, it was Barnabus standing on the other side of the screen door.

“Well, look who’s here,” Kendall said as she unlocked and opened the door.

“Just checking on Myra, my regular scheduled visit. Make sure you’re not taking her money,” he said, standing next to her.

“Hardy har har, Barnabus,” she said in her best seaworthy-captain imitation. He laughed.

“I really dislike that name.”

“What, Barnabus? What’s not to like about it? Your momma gave it to you for a reason,” she said, smiling. “Would you prefer for me to call you Barny instead?” she asked. He laughed again.

“I prefer Cooper,” he said, moving to stand in front of her, all up close and personal. She stepped back, not sure what he was up to now—more of the playfulness from lunch, she guessed.

“Where’s Myra?” he said, smiling down at her, like he had her number, before he strolled away, heading for the back of the house.

“Back porch,” she said, and followed him. She watched him enter the room, kiss Myra on the forehead, and take a seat next to her on the small couch.

“How are you?” Myra said, reaching for one of Cooper’s hands and securing it in hers.

“Tired,” he said, propping his feet up on the small table in front of them. Kendall took a seat in the chair off to the side of the couch, and the three of them sat and watched TV. Myra and Cooper discussed parts of the program, both of them familiar with it, having watched it together often. While they watched the show, Kendall tried not to watch him.

And avoiding looking at him was not the easiest thing to do. He was something to see, and he seemed unaware of his attractiveness, which actually made him a little more appealing—or maybe he was so used women gawking that he didn’t notice it anymore. He seemed to prefer the in-need-of-a-shave look, and like usual, he was wearing a Coopersville Brewpub T-shirt tucked into shorts and sandals on his feet at the ends of the two sturdy and fine legs stretched out in front him. He looked over and caught her staring and smiled. She was the first to look away. What was he up to now?

They sat in silence mostly for the next hour until the program was over. He and Myra discussed what to expect from next week’s episode.

“I’d better get going,” he said, standing up. He bent over and kissed Myra’s forehead again.

“Kendall, will you see Cooper to the door?” Myra asked.

“Yes, Kendall, why don’t you see Cooper to the door?” he said, smiling, his eyes filled with mischief.

“Sure,” Kendall said, rolling her eyes, but rising from the couch, not at all surprised by her aunt’s request—more pushing them together, not even bothering to hide her desire to see them linked.

“I was just kidding. I’m fine, Myra. I know the way out,” he said, smiling.

“You don’t mind, do you, Kendall?” Myra asked, turning to look at Kendall, a warm smile on her face.

“No, not at all. You ready, Barnabus?” she said.

“Sure,” he said, still smiling. He followed her down the hall, admiring her shorts and T-shirt-clad body as it moved in front of him. The scent she wore, a light fragrance, something spicy, filtered into his nostrils.

Once they were outside on the front step, she turned to face him.

“So what happened to you? You know, with the woman from your past who wanted your money? The reason you thought I was after yours?”

“Myra really does mean a lot to me,” he said.

“I understand that part. The gold-digging part had nothing to do with my aunt. That was all you,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t want to know anything about me,” he said.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said.

“It’s a long story. Trust me, it’s not all that interesting.”

She stepped off the porch, moving away from the front door in case her aunt was within earshot. She walked toward his truck, parked a few feet away in her aunt’s driveway. He followed her. They were standing in front of his vehicle now.

“If it’s important to you that I accept your apology, I need to hear the reasons behind your accusations. I’ll be the judge of whether it’s interesting or enough,” she said.

“I thought you had accepted my apology.”

She remained silent, just stood there looking at him, her arms crossed at her chest. He took a step closer to her, invading her space, but she didn’t budge. She met his eyes again.

“So if I tell you, then what?” he asked.

“Then we can try to be friends.”

“You want to be my friend, Professor?”

“It’s important to Myra that we get along.”

“You want to know all about me for Myra’s sake?” he asked.

“Yes. I didn’t say
all
about you—just about your association with gold diggers.”

“Right. But that’s not the only reason, is it?” he said, taking a step closer to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, looking around, and was that was fear he saw in her eyes? It was mixed in with an obscene amount of interest. She so wanted him again.

“What do you think I’m doing? You want me, which works, because I want you too. We were good together. Actually we were better than good,” he said. He took a step closer, and she took one back. He moved forward, and she retreated again until she was out of real estate, her back resting against his truck’s front fender. He put his hands on her waist and scooted her around to the front part of his truck, passing the driver’s-side door. He stopped moving her when he reached the door to the backseat. Barnabus had one of those trucks with the extended cab.

“No way, Barnabus,” she said, giving him her stern expression, planting her feet.
He’s really close
, Kendall thought, swallowing.

“Cooper,” he whispered, his mouth near hers, and he smiled widely before he settled his mouth on hers, softly running his tongue along the seam of her lips, probing. She kept them locked together. He pulled back, a hairsbreadth away. “You’re thinking about it. You want it, I can read it in your eyes, feel the energy coming off you, and you’re wasting time pretending otherwise,” he said. He lifted her then and sort of pushed her into the backseat. He followed her in, closing the door behind him.

“I’m not a gold digger, and I take it personally when someone calls me that,” she said, planting both her feet in the middle of his chest. Her back was leaning against the opposite door, and she was sitting facing him.

“I know, and I’m sorry. My mistake,” he said, taking her ankles, one in each hand. He used them to pull her away from the door and kept pulling her until she was lying flat in the seat. He leaned forward, his chest to hers, before he released her ankles and captured her hands. His mouth covered hers a second later.

He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth again. She opened it this time and met his tongue with hers.

“See what you’re missing. I’m sorry. I’ll say it again. I’m sorry,” he whispered a few seconds later, his mouth at her chin now, before he kissed her softly. “I love the way you taste,” he said as he tugged on her bottom lip and bit down, and then moved his tongue inside to play with hers again. His hands were busy sliding her shorts and underwear over her hips and down her legs, with a little help from her. She’d lifted her hips so he could remove them more easily.

“I’m sorry that I confused you with someone else from a time long ago,” he said, his mouth near her ear. “But why waste this?” he whispered, and her hands were at the zipper of his shorts, unzipping and reaching inside. He moaned when her hands made contact, clamping around his hardness. He sucked in air at the contact and moaned.

He pushed his hips into her hands then, and there was no mistaking what he was feeling. He pulled his hips back and thrust into her hands again, enjoying the feel of her holding him so securely, her hand a makeshift cocoon of sorts. His forehead fell to hers as he pushed into her hands, enjoying the feel of her fingers tightly wrapped around him. He kissed her lips with enough force to push her head back against the backseat. Then it went crazy between them for a while, like it was touch quickly or die trying, his lips covering hers, moving hard and swiftly over them, dueling for supremacy, and she wasn’t giving in. He reached her for hands, twining his fingers with hers. He was at the entrance to her body before she realized it, and in one smooth thrust he was embedded deep within.

WTF
, she thought, even as she slid her hips up to meet his downward thrust. She moaned, ’cause this was perfect—he felt so hard, solid, and delicious as he started to move within her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed her hips against his, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“So good…” he whispered against her lips, breathing heavily now, his mouth near hers. She moved her lips to his again, her tongue inside touching his. His hips were moving, pumping in and in, again and again, and she met him, holding on like her life depended on it, and right now, closing in on her climax, it did. She moaned into his hair after he pushed his head into her neck, focused on reaching the end, shining like some distant light in the horizon of his mind. He was not even going to imagine what his truck might look to anyone on the outside, moving up and down by the force of his thrusts. He was lost to this, and he moaned at the way she felt, and then just closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and relaxed into his climax. She moaned as she reached her peak too.

It was quiet at first as their breathing returned to normal. A different kind of quiet appeared afterwards, a reckoning type of quiet, usually found at the end of a situation that had somehow gone awry or had gotten out of hand. He sat up, while she searched around the floorboards for her shorts. He knew where he’d dropped them, so he picked them up and placed them in her hand.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she said, taking her shorts and underwear from him. “No condom either,” she said, loud into the cab, pushing him with her foot, like it was his fault and she was angry with him. He handed her a box of tissues he kept in his truck, followed by a trash bag.

“Do this often, do you?” she said, taking the items from his hand. “Thanks,” she added.

“I can have that effect on women, and you’re welcome. Should I be worried?” he said. It was all he could do to not laugh out loud at her reaction.

“About what?”

“Children.”

“A little late to be asking, don’t you think? But no, you have nothing to worry about. Now, let me out of here,” she said.

“See, Professor, this was another fine example of how good we are together. Let’s not waste the whole summer,” he said, seeking to kiss her again.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, leaning back, just out of his reach, her hand on his chest to ward off any further touching. She sat up to pull her shorts on, righted her shirt, and opened the door. Where had her mind gotten off to? Was he some pied piper she couldn’t resist?

“Think about it, Professor. You might as well do us both a favor and give in. How long are you going to be here?” he asked, moving in close to her again before she thought to stop him. He took her bottom lip between his teeth, and pushed his tongue in to tangle with hers, and it was a while before either of them thought about coming up for air. He pulled back and smiled at her.

“Seven to eight weeks,” she finally said, answering his question.

“Think about it. A summer filled with that, golf, and beer,” he said again before sliding out of the truck. She was out now too—on the other side, standing in Myra’s yard.

He got behind the wheel of his truck.

She watched him back out. He waved, grinned, and drove away.

Everything but the beer, and she was in.

Thursday morning

“A
ren’t there social services that could help?” Kendall asked her aunt once they’d returned to the car, done with this morning’s outing. They were parked in front of the home of Stony Johnson, a newly returned veteran from the war in Afghanistan.

“What happened to him?”

“A spinal injury,” Myra said.

“Doesn’t the army pay for those?”

“Yes, but there are many more veterans returning home than there is help, a strain on an already taxed system. We work with them sometimes, but they can’t help everyone, and there’s a backlog with the VA. Meeting claims take a while. Stony grew up here, and we try to take care of our own. We’re helping with the renovations to his home and more if he needs it. We can’t help everyone, so we’ve chosen to focus on those that we know, those that call Coopersville home,” Myra said.