Runabout (39 page)

"Damn," he whispered to himself.

Tulsa May heard him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Luther crawled out from underneath the car, a perplexed expression on his face.

"Is it fixed already?" Tulsa May asked.

"Not yet." He opened the turtleback and rifled through it. There was nothing of any use.

"What's wrong?" she asked him again.

Luther touched the bright gray web of his suspenders. "My dress suit doesn't have stirrups for a belt," he said.

Her brow furrowed. "I don't mind," she said. "I think your dress suit is very attractive."

He saluted her with a courtly bow. "I wasn't fishing for compliments. I need my belt to fix the Runabout."

"What?"

"It takes a belt to make a belt."

Tulsa May stared at him for a moment and then looked back askance at the car. The situation became clear to her. With no belt, they had no car. With no car there was no way to drive to Guthrie and get married. And there was certainly no way to be back in Prattville in time for the reception. She glanced all around her looking for something, anything, that he could use.

"Can't you fashion a belt with your suspenders?"

"I don't think so."

"Have you tried?" Her tone of voice was clearly desperate.

"Well, no, I haven't but
—"

"For heaven's sake, Luther. You have to try. We'll barely have time to make the reception as it is."

There was no arguing with the facts. Luther stripped himself of his suspenders and eased himself back under the Runabout.

Tulsa May paced nervously next to the car. Her optimism seemed to be failing her. Marrying Luther seemed to be the luckiest thing that had ever happened to her, yet this morning it was first one thing and then another. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps they shouldn't get married after all. Could she marry Luther with a clear conscience, knowing that he was only doing it because he thought it was his duty? Suddenly, she knew that she couldn't take advantage of his better nature because of her own selfish dreams.

"Luther," she called out through the top of the engine. "I need to talk to you."

Struggling to forge the suspenders into one long strong unit, Luther was less than responsive.

"I'm listening," he answered.

Tulsa May began pacing again. "Luther, there are things that you don't know about me. Things that you ought to know if we are going to marry."

She heard a chuckle coming from beneath the car.

"If you are going to confess that you snore, I already know it."

"No, it's not that, it's
—I snore!"

"Not really loud," he answered. "Just kind of loud breathing, like a dog or something."

"I snore like a dog?"

"Well, not like a dog exactly."

"I most certainly do not snore!" she stated emphatically.

A howl of laughter exploded from beneath the car. "Oh, Tulsy, I wish I could see your face. I got you on that one."

"You were kidding?"

His answer was only more chuckling.

"Luther Briggs, I am trying to talk to you about a serious subject and you are making jokes. I feel that if you don't know the truth
—" Tulsa May stared at the car. There was no way she could explain herself without coming face-to-face with the man in question.

With a sigh of disgust, she dropped to her knees on the tarp, grasped the Runabout's frame and slid under the car next to Luther.

"Tulsy! What are you
—"

"I'm in love with you, Luther," she stated baldly. "I have been ever since I was a girl. I never let anyone know, especially not you." She swallowed nervously. "I've kept it as a secret all these years, but in my secret heart of hearts I dreamed that someday we would be together."

She stopped only long enough to catch her breath. He was looking at her closely. Those vivid blue eyes were unfathomable, and she hurried on to tell it all before she lost what little courage she had.

"Last night, when I blurted out that it was you and I at the Sparrow cottage, I didn't think in advance that it would be a way to trap you into marriage." She hesitated. "At least, I don't
think
that I thought it up in advance. But somehow ... somehow, I feel like I maneuvered you into this whole thing. And even though I know that we will probably have to get married anyway, I wanted there to be truth between us from the start. So, this is the truth, Luther. I've loved you for years and I couldn't be happier about marrying you. If you are going to resent me for the rest of our lives for ruining your chance with Emma or some other woman you might have loved, well, I understand. Please, just go ahead and tell me now and let's get that over with."

Luther stared in disbelief at the woman who lay beside him beneath the old, rickety Runabout. The sunlight shone down through the top of the engine, lighting her cheeks and chin, but shadowing her eyes.

"Say it again."

"What?"

"Say it again."

"All of it?"

"Just the first part."

"The first part?"

"The part about loving me."

She tried to turn away, "Luther, I
—"

He dropped the suspenders and turned to take her in his arms. He could feel her trembling.

"I said that I love you," she whispered. "I've always loved you."

"I'm so glad," he answered quietly. "I really didn't want to be the only person in love in this marriage."

Tulsa May turned in his arms so quickly, she hit her head on the exhaust pipe. "Ouch! What did you say?"

"I said that I love you too. I told you just a few minutes ago. Don't you remember?"

"Well yes, but you were joking. You laughed."

"I was embarrassed," he admitted. "I've never said that to anyone before, and I kind of caught myself unawares."

"But Luther, you can't
—"

"Didn't I show you last night?" he asked. "What did you see when you looked in that mirror? Didn't you see a woman that was loved?"

"But you ... I... do you really love me?" Her question was full of joyful astonishment.

"Yes, I do." He pulled her toward him, and they snuggled together in the cramped area beneath the car. "Kiss me, Tulsy. There's not a woman in the world who can kiss me like you kiss me."

"And there had better not be," she answered.

}Chapter 20

Crawling out from under the car, Luther leaned down to help Tulsa May out behind him. He immediately pulled her into his arms.

"I just want to kiss you, Tulsy," he whispered. "I know we're not really married yet, and I know that this is not the best time or best place. But I love you and we're not going anywhere soon. I just can't wait another minute to really kiss you."

She wasn't much interested in waiting either. Tulsa May wrapped her arms around his neck and offered her lips. The taste of him was sweet and familiar, but the need that burned inside her was not.

"Oh, Luther," she whispered against his mouth.

He pulled her tighter against him. The strength of his arms held her securely as his body pressed close into her own. His hands moved all along her back from the nape of her neck to the indentation of her waist.

That encouraged her. Tulsa May let her own fingers slide upward into the thick mane of black hair that she had so long admired and had never dared to touch. She moaned deep inside her throat and the sound seemed to set him afire. His kiss deepened and she felt the warmly wicked intrusion of his tongue into her mouth. She opened wider to accommodate him. He teased her teeth and tongue, mimicking an action that was unknown to her experience, but was familiar within the primitive needs of her body.

Tulsa May gasped for breath and pulled away slightly. Luther, unperturbed, turned his attention to the gentle curve of her neck and the tempting taste of her ear.

"Oh, Luther, I feel so ... so
—" She didn't know how to continue.

"I know what you feel," he whispered against her flesh. His hand strayed down the curve of her buttocks. He caressed her flesh there. And even through her cotton serge skirt, her taffeta petticoat, and her muslin drawers, she could feel the heat of his hand. She tried to press closer against him.

With both hands now, he cupped her bottom and raised her up against him. The hard length of his erection was shocking, scary, and intensely thrilling. Amazingly, she found herself involuntarily straining to get closer.

"Oh, Tulsy!" he gasped as if in pain. "If you don't stop me soon, I don't know that I'll be able."

"Able to what?" she asked.

"Able to stop."

She squirmed against him eagerly. "Oh, Luther, please don't stop," she whispered.

Grinding his teeth together as if in pain, Luther pulled back from her. "We can't do this, Tulsy," he said.

"Why not?" she asked, her voice languid with passion.

"Because we're not married?"

"We won't be the first," she answered. "And Luther, I don't care. I know you're going to marry me. I never intend to let you go."

"But out here?" he gestured around in dismay. "Out in the open, in the grass? Tulsy, you deserve a sweet-smelling marriage bed with clean sheets and fluffy pillows."

"And I'll have one tonight," she answered. "But Luther, I don't think that I can wait that long."

She threw herself in his arms and his better judgment began to wane. With one hand still wrapped around her waist, Luther leaned down to grasp the corner of the tarp. He pulled it out from beneath the Runabout and then dropped to his knees upon it and pulled Tulsa May down beside him.

He clasped her tightly against him and she squirmed and wiggled to get closer.

"I want you, Tulsy," he said. "I want you here and now. But I don't want you to regret our first time or our first place."

She pulled back from him only to lie down on the tarp, her eyes looking up at him. Taking his hand, she gently kissed it and then laid it upon her bosom. She saw the heat of desire light in his eyes and she smiled.

"According to some very reliable Prattville gossip," she told him, "our first time
was
out in the open and upon the ground. I understand it was under a pecan tree, and these are maples," she said, indicating the spring-green branches above their heads. "But in the middle of lovemaking, is a woman supposed to be a tree specialist?"

Luther swallowed, attempting to hang on to the last vestige of his control. "Making love to you is not something that I want to rush," he said.

Tulsa May smiled. "Then don't. The Runabout is broken down and you don't have a belt to fix it." She shrugged with unconcern. "I'm not going anywhere."

A smile teased the comers of his mouth as he leaned forward to taste another kiss. "I love you, Tulsy Bruder," he whispered.

"And I love you."

He lay down next to her and took her into his arms, kissing and caressing her slowly and tenderly. Luther's hand lay upon her voile-covered breast. As he trailed tiny kisses along her jaw and cheek, he eagerly began to fondle her.
His brow furrowed. Her bosom felt strangely hard and unnatural and those wonderful nipples that he so admired had seemed to disappear completely. Curiously, he slipped the buttons on her bodice and probed inside.

"Tulsy, what are you wearing?" he asked.

"It's a brassiere," she answered in a whisper. "It's the latest thing in women's fashions."

"I know what it is," Luther answered, remembering the strange bits of elastic and lace he'd seen in Penny's store. "I just want to know how to take it off."

Tulsa May giggled almost wantonly.

Luther sat up and pulled her into a sitting position. Hurriedly, he undid the rest of the buttons on her blue-striped shirtwaist and slipped it off her shoulders. Tulsa May sat there in the afternoon sunlight, her breasts covered only by her fashionable new lingerie. She felt shy again.

"How does it come off?" he asked.

With businesslike promptness, she found the hooks for him. In another moment, he pulled the garment off her body and cast it away from them.