Restless Spirit (5 page)

I pressed my face to the wood and waited to see what he would do to me. What I would let him do to me. The thought of that cock of his trying to fit into me there was enough to make my stomach buzz with anxiety. The realisation that I would let him try was enough to send an army of goosebumps marching up my spine.

Shepherd grunted, gripped my hips and hiked them high so just my tippy-toes were on the floor. He drove back into me, my cunt gripping him tight, greedy from its brief respite. His fingers continued a steady tempo in my ass and when he pressed so that I could feel finger and cock warring against that thin membrane that separated my two holes, I came.

This time Shepherd came too. A few heartbeats after my final spasm, he clenched my skin so tight I gasped and he emptied into me with a growl.

He pressed himself over me, his warm chest laid along my back. I felt his heartbeat banging my shoulder blade and the bite-tickle of that beard of his. He kissed the back of my neck.

‘You can stay if you like. But you don’t have to.’

It surprised me when I said, ‘I think I’ll go home.’

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Chapter Eight

I loved what we’d done. I loved how raw it was. I loved how I felt when I was around Shepherd. Even in a day he called to all the hidden parts of me that were fascinated by men like him: strong and sort of silent and kind of gruff. But good.

However, I did not like how fast I was feeling this way. Phil had only been dispatched a short while ago. And Stan was a broken heart in my very recent past. Like the 48 hour range.

True to his word he walked me to the door. It was past one and I was tired. My first shift followed by a rousing fuck with this man, had put me in the “so tired I felt like a zombie” zone.

Shepherd zipped his hoodie up to my neck and yanked the drawstring. The hood closed in on me so when he tugged gently I had to step forward into his arms. He kissed me hard and I let him.

I almost changed my mind.

But this was my new life and my new life could not begin tethered to someone else.

‘You can have your hoodie back,’ I whispered mentally crossing my fingers that he’d say no.

‘It’s cold out there. And you need it. Plus, you look sexy as shit swimming in my clothes.’

‘I was hoping you’d say no. I like the smell of it,’ I confessed. Standing on tiptoe, I kissed him.

I turned to the door but he caught me up in his grip. ‘What’s it smell like?’

‘You,’ I said.

He gave me that half grin that now had the effect of turning me inside out. Didn’t matter that I’d shared myself with two different men today. Didn’t matter that I’d only been in town a mere 24 hours. I saw that smile and my insides turned to hot liquid.

Which was why I had to go.

‘And what do I smell like?’ he prompted.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Really fucking good.’

Then I kissed him once more and bolted out the door before I changed my mind. I started the Grenada feeling like I’d wake the whole lake up and they’d witness me leaving Shepherd’s house so late. And so flustered. And so clearly fucked.

My second day at Allister Lake started with bright sunlight through a skylight. Nan’s bed was a big queen size deal in a brass frame. I’d never even had a frame on my bed before. Not even at the boarding house. It had simply been a mattress and box spring combo that sat directly on the floor. There had been nights that I’d been glad for it, too, because the likes of Phil had left me worried about monsters under the bed, and in the closet, and sometimes wearing boyfriend suits.

I rolled onto my belly and refused to give those bad thoughts room to grow.

‘Good morning, A-frame. Good morning, sun. Good morning, Nan!’ I shouted the last one.

I still had a lot to say to my grandmother it seemed, and since I was the only one here (though sometimes I felt she still was) I figured I was free to say it.

I padded to the bathroom and took care of business. Then I pulled on leggings and a football jersey that had been Stan’s. I would run today. It was chilly in the house so it was perfect running weather.

The coffee pot gurgled and hissed at me as I braided my hair in a fat, messy French braid. I rummaged in a duffle bag and found my tennis socks and my beat-to-shit running shoes.

A cup of coffee, a piece of cheese and I was ready. I brushed my teeth and pulled a cap on and took off down the gravel road. I would rediscover the wonders of Allister Lake on foot.

It’s tricky to run on gravel for someone like me. By “like me” I mean clumsy. I started out slow so I wouldn’t fall. Once I found my stride I looked around. That was right around the time I came level with Shepherd’s house.

I was almost past and I heard ‘Tuesday Cane!’

I stopped, shielding my eyes despite the cap. The sun off the lake was dazzling and almost painfully bright.

His breath puffed out of him and he was wiping those big hands – hands that had been manhandling me just hours before – on a rag. ‘Good morning. Don’t want to hold you up.’

I shivered. ‘Morning, Mr Moore,’ I said coyly. I was blushing and it felt good. The heat in my cheeks warred with the biting air.

He waved. ‘Hi.’

He seemed almost shy and sort of irritated by it, which made it that much more enjoyable for me. ‘I have to move,’ I said bouncing.

His eyes flashed predatory as he took me in. ‘You should have worn the hoodie.’

‘I couldn’t,’ I admitted, blushing even more.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’d sweat on it, and then I’d have to wash it,’ I confessed.

‘So?’

‘So then it wouldn’t smell like you any more, would it?’ I launched myself at him, kissed him boldly and took off before he could grab hold. ‘Off I go.’

‘I’m working at the school auditorium today. It’s not in use while we renovate. Stop in if you’re bored.’

‘Will do,’ I said and waved.

It had felt good to kiss him but it also felt good to run from him. I was not ready for anything more than fucking. The three Fs–fun, flirting, fucking.

I ran, harder than usual but it felt good to get my heart racing and my body sweaty and flushed. It felt good to run like I was trying to beat the devil. Because maybe I was.

I ran along the gravel road until gravel turned to dirt with little bits of blacktop. Like they were going to pave the road but couldn’t quite commit. The lake was still visible though much farther off.

The wind lifted my long bangs and then dropped them in my eyes. I ran through the stitch in my side, the cramp in my calf and a sudden staggering wall of exhaustion that rose up out of nowhere. But I kept running.

Then I hit a divot in the dirt, lost my footing on the funky half-done road, and I twisted my ankle.

‘Motherhumper!’ I sank down and rubbed my ankle, praying no one would come along and run over me. Even in a bright purple jersey with my bottle blonde hair I could be missed. At least I feared I could be.

I flexed and relaxed my ankle several times and finally stood and put a tiny bit of pressure on it to test my strength.

Pain. Not excruciating pain, but pain.

‘And you, genius, have a cell but not a single God damn number of anyone you can call in Allister Lake!’ I put my head back and gritted my teeth.

I shut my eyes, trying to breathe, still standing in the middle of the road like a doofus. The bright sunlight penetrated my eyelids and turned the sight in my shut eyes blood red.

‘Dumb, dumb, dumb,’ I sighed.

‘Not dumb. Really cute and possibly injured. Good thing you decided to hurt yourself outside my place. I did give you my number on your tip. Remember?’

I opened my eyes and smiled. ‘Mr Green.’

‘Ms … well, Tuesday is all I know.’

He stepped into the road and put his hand out. It only took a second for me to assess him. Expensive navy blue sweater, black jeans, worn brown work boots that probably cost what I used to make in a month. He’d tucked his hair behind his ears and his lean face was clean shaven. I grabbed the offered hand and he hauled me up. Where I promptly stated to lose my balance again.

‘Whoa. Hold up.’ Reed laughed and slung my arm easily around his neck.

I tried to pull away, flustered.

‘Do I smell?’ he asked, putting his arm around my waist. We took one tentative step together. There was a flare of pain in my ankle but nothing extreme.

‘No,’ I snickered. ‘But I’m afraid I do.’

He grinned and I noticed how plump his lips were. I wondered about kissing them which made me bristle. I was turning into a horn dog. Must be the lake air.

‘You do not smell, Tuesday.’

‘Cane,’ I said.

‘Pardon?’

We were slowly making our way to his home. It was gorgeous. A wood shingled two-storey home that had three decks I could count from here – top floor, main floor and a floating deck that swept off from the side of the house toward the lake shore.

‘My name is Tuesday Cane,’ I said. ‘My grandmother was Virginia Cane.’

‘Ah, sadly, I’m new. I don’t know the locals very well – new or otherwise. I knew of her passing, and vaguely of you, but not the details.’

We’d made our way to the porch and he turned to me, sliding his hands along my waist. ‘Ready?’

‘For what?’

‘To go up the steps. I want to ice that ankle. It’s swelling a little. See?’

I glanced down and damn if it wasn’t slightly puffy. Sighing mightily, I turned back into a walking stance, held on to former TV star Reed Green and followed his lead. ‘Of course it is,’ I growled.

His house was simple but expensive. I’m not money hungry but I do recognise real paintings and fancy googahs (as my Nan called them) when I saw them. The side table in his foyer held a bowl big enough to hold me. An antique mirror presented me with my own dishevelled reflection and I cringed.

Reed caught me, his eyes fixing on mine in the mirror. ‘You look gorgeous, ‘he said.

I laughed out loud then. A loud, bawdy laugh that shook me in his arms. ‘Yeah. I am fierce.’

He winked, nodded and propelled me toward the kitchen which I could see at the end of the narrow hallway. ‘You look like some wild thing. A huntress maybe.’

‘Are all TV actors full of shit?’

‘Yes,’ he said. In the kitchen he helped me sit before getting ice from the stainless steel freezer fridge combo. ‘But you do look great. I’m not bullshitting you.’

He waved a homemade ice pack at me. ‘May I?’

‘Go for it.’

Reed plucked a cloth napkin off the table and set it over my bare ankle. Then he nestled the bundle of ice on top. ‘Never on bare skin. You can burn yourself.’

‘With ice?’

‘Yes, with ice.’

I watched his long fingers slide along the ribbon of exposed skin between my anklet sock and my legging. ‘You’re cold. Would you like tea?’

‘Sure.’ It came out breathy. He really was a stunning man up close. No doubt why the camera loved him. Delicate cheekbones and fine features threatened to make him pretty, but the startling eyes and intense brow served to remind you he was a man.

‘Lemon herb or chamomile?’

‘Lemon herb. The other might put me to sleep.’

‘Sleep indicates comfort,’ he said. ‘I’d have to take it as a compliment.’ The copper kettle went on and he pulled two mugs from the shelves. They were black with red insides and made me think of vampires.

Reed Green’s house was comfortably neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.

‘How did your night go last night?’ he asked.

‘Fine. I had a nice time.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘I don’t know. You said you’re new. Do you know everyone?’

‘I’m getting there. I’ve only been here a little over a year.’

‘And you’re new?’ I laughed.

‘At Allister Lake if you’ve been here under a decade, you’re new.’

‘Well hell, I’m not new then. I’m freshly minted.’

He inclined his head and smiled. ‘Now you get it.’

The ice shifted and I moved to grab it, wincing with the effort.

‘How about some pain reliever to go with your tea. Get the swelling handled before it even sets in.’

‘Sound like a plan.’ I sighed.

Then he was placing two white pills in my hand. ‘You’re good at changing the subject. So, was it anyone I know?’

‘Do you know Shepherd Moore?’

His face went sombre and those pretty feline eyes narrowed.

I snorted, and shook the pills like dice. ‘That face says yes. And that you don’t like him.’

‘Why would I like anyone I consider competition?’

A tremor ran through me and I did my best not to let him see the effect his words had on me. I mentally calculated: Adrian, Shepherd and now Reed. That was an equation that clearly equalled juggling too many men. I knew I didn’t want to get bogged down or any of that stuff, but wasn’t that a bit extreme.

And yet when he bent to reposition the migrating ice pack and his fingers brushed my bare skin again, I wanted to know more about him. And more about what his hands felt like on me. Possibly something higher than my ankle.

‘Competition?’

He leaned in so we were face to face. His long fingers that reminded me of a pianist travelled my cheekbones so that my lips tingled as if he’d kissed me. I wished he would kiss me.

‘Every sighted, able bodied man in Allister Lake is competition to me right now.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I shifted in his oversized kitchen chair and it had nothing to do with my ankle or pain.

My cunt was thumping as hard as my heart and the heart rate was due to Reed not the run. He was handsome and funny and kind. He was so fucking close and he smelled so freaking good. Sandalwood, roaring fire, snow. That’s what he smelled like. I wanted to suck as much of that scent into my body as I could.

‘Yeah.’ His lips were soft and his mouth tasted of peppermint.

I let him kiss me gently for a moment and then when he leaned in further and tugged my braid, I parted my lips and let him slip his tongue inside. When he thrust it over my own, I gently sucked the length of his tongue the way I would a cock.

‘My, my. I was right about you.’ He whispered it against the slope of my throat and goosebumps spiked along my skin. My nipples went almost painfully taut in my sports bra.

‘You were?’

The tea kettle started to scream and he straightened up to turn it off. ‘Yes. I want you just as much as I thought I did.’

‘You’re Max Torrent, TV’s favourite undercover son. You could have any girl in Allister Lake.’

There was a petulance in my voice I didn’t like. Why was I doubting he’d want me? Just what the fuck was wrong with me? Nothing. My flaws existed only in my head and were spurred on by the phantom voice of boyfriends past. Phil.

I shook it off and watched him prepare the tea. ‘I don’t want any girl at Allister Lake. I want Tuesday Cane, newest citizen in our fair little fucked up town.’

‘So why don’t you like Shepherd?’ I asked, changing the subject.

He set my tea in front of me and sat in the opposite chair. ‘More like Shepherd doesn’t like me.’

‘Why not?’

He shrugged. ‘You’d have to ask him.’

I sighed. Men. So fucking tight lipped.

We chatted about TV life versus lake life. What it had been like to play the son of a super spy and how it was to be a child star and beyond. He wrapped my ankle in a bandage and joked about boy scout training. He plied me with two pounds of fresh berries and then he drove me home in his antique Chevy truck.