The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club (24 page)

She ran her palm up his bare chest, splayed her fingers through the tufts of hair. With a low growl, he sucked her bottom lip up between his teeth, nibbling lightly. He felt so many things at once—desire, longing, love.

Yeah, love. He wasn’t ready to say it yet, not until he knew if she felt the same way or not, but he thought it.

Love
. He loved Flynn MacGregor. Without any doubt or reservation.

“Flynn,” he whispered huskily, barely recognizing his own voice. He cupped her bare butt cheek with his palm and almost groaned out loud. Her muscles were taut but soft, a thrill to caress.

“Take me, Jesse, take me now,” she begged.

That was all the enticement he needed. He bent to scoop her into his arms.

“You don’t have to carry me,” she said. “I’m fully capable of walking.

“I know that,” he said, and started to stride from the mudroom into the kitchen.

“Wait, wait, candle.”

“Right.” He carried her over to the shelf so she could grab the votive candle. “Bedroom?”

“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

He charged up the stairs, heart pounding. The first door on the right stood slightly ajar.

“Your family,” he said suddenly when he reached the landing. For the first time since coming into the house, he thought about something other than getting his hands on Flynn.

“Gone for the weekend to pick up Joel and Noah from basketball camp.”

“Both Carrie and your dad?”

“Yep.”

“No chance they could walk in on us?”

“None at all.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, and toed the door open.

Flynn lay stretched across her bed watching Jesse come out of his wet jeans. The candle flickered on the bedside table. Music whispered from the battery-powered boom box on her window ledge, spinning the soft sounds of Faith Hill’s version of “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”

Her heart lumped up in her throat. So many nights she’d lain in this very bed, imagining herself naked just like this, watching Jesse walk in through the door of her bedroom, just as naked. How many restless nights had she dreamed of him? Touched herself and pretended it was his hand, not hers? How many tears had she shed over him when he’d returned her letters unopened? Sobbing into her pillow, her tender sixteen-year-old soul shattered into a million little pieces.

As she lay there now, seeing Jesse stalking up to her bed, that lustful look in his eyes aroused all the old emotions, all the old dreams. He was beyond handsome. Strong, masculine, graceful.

Her stomach fluttered.

He had a sprinkling of light brown hair over his muscular pecs, knotted biceps, sinewy forearms with the strong veins of a natural athlete pumping blood through his magnificent body. He had a second swirl of light brown hair just under the scoop of his navel that narrowed down to darker, curlier hair, framing his…

His penis jutted forward, a divining rod, pointing straight at her.

Flynn sucked in her breath. Her inner feminine muscles twitched with awe and excitement. Absolutely nothing—
nothing
—could have prepared her for the heated jolt of sexual desire coursing through her veins.

“Condom?” she whispered.

“Wallet.”

“You were prepared?”

“Have been since that night in the Yarn Barn.”

“Good man.”

He chuckled. “Come here.”

Ten years her body had been aching for this. Ten years of buried yearning surged through her veins, and she forgot everything except her need for him. She was sixteen again—shiny and young and free of mistakes—and the boy she was crazy in love with was holding her, kissing her, fulfilling her every fantasy.

Jesse took her hand in his, pressed his lips to the back of it, then raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I missed you so much, Dimples.”

The heartfelt note in his voice was her undoing. Here was this big tough guy laying his emotions on the line. “Jesse,” she whispered, and planted kisses all over his face. “Jesse, Jesse. Are you really here? Is this really happening?”

“I’m here. It’s happening. Finally, finally.”

But even as he reassured her, it still felt like an impossible dream. How many times as a teenager had she lain in her bed imagining him touching her just like this?

Hundreds?

Thousands?

She stared deeply into his eyes, knew he wanted to be inside her as much as she wanted him there—swelling, filling her up, making her complete.
Let’s build a bridge, span time, hurdle the hurts of the past
, she thought giddily.
Overwhelm my soul, seize my imagination. Take me places I’ve never been. Make my heart sing. Make my legs tremble. Lick my thighs. Kiss me happy
.

She felt him everywhere—on her skin, her mouth, her toes, her fingers, her heart. Juicy, sweet, hot.

His body.

What a body!

The sweet feel of his strong, hard chest against hers. She tasted, licked. Delicious. Her tongue lingered, in love with the saltiness of him. Water droplets dotted his shoulders, dripping from his wet hair. She put her lips to it, drank from his skin. Intoxicating passion.

He felt so good in her arms. So alive. Their legs intertwined. His arms were her blanket. Engulfed. They kissed with everything they had in them. Heart, soul, mind. Sweethearts lost and found again.

Biting need flowed like blood through her ventricles. Pulsating, quick, hot, strong. She writhed beneath him, breathing hard, her ears humming with pleasure. So much pleasure. His mouth was everywhere. Lips on lips. Lips on nipples. Lips on navel and ah, ah, lips on
those
secret lips.

Heat and steam and sweat. A noise sounded. Was that a tea kettle? She hadn’t put on water for tea. That was no tea kettle, but rather her own keening sound slipping from her hungry, willing lips.

Their fingers were at each other. Plucking, rubbing, caressing, kneading. Their fingernails clawed at sheets, headboard, pillows, skin. Need. So much need. Lust and trust. They pulled in air with each other’s scents. They were one, no more two.

Their breath came in harmony. She was on her back, looking up into his eyes. Gray-blue eyes that had seen so much hardness in the world. Then he closed them and gently buried his penis deep inside her.

In and out. He moved slow and sure. Their bodies undulating as he kissed her. Their souls tied, bound, connected. His nimble mechanic’s fingers skating over her thighs in crazy, dreamy circles.

Every nerve in her body was alive, on edge.

His movements quickened. From slow to staccato, thrusting into her deeper, higher, faster. He was on fire. A wild man. But no wilder than she. Their rhythm was perfect, as if all the practicing they’d done in their midnight dreams had prepared them for this glorious joining.

He pushed her legs up over her head, opening her wide, entering her as deeply as possible, pounding her hard.

Too much pleasure!

Her mind went numb as waves of orgasm overpowered her. His noises were as rough and loud as her own. Their bodies jerked in unison. They clung together, glued with rain and sweat and love juices.

When it was over, they lay on their sides, looking into each other’s eyes, smiling and smiling and smiling. Jesse reached for her right hand, took it, curled her fingers into her palm, and then gently placed it
over her heart. “I love you, Flynn MacGregor,” he whispered. “I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you forever.”

They slept for a while and then awoke in the night to stroke each other.

“What made you come after me in the dark?” she whispered. “How did you know I was on the side of the road needing your help?”

“We’re connected, you and I,” he whispered.

“Honestly, how did you really know? I’m assuming you weren’t just out for a midnight ride in a thunderstorm on a motorcycle.”

“You’re right,” he said. “When I left the shop I passed by where you parked, saw what looked to be a gallon of cherry red syrup on the pavement.”

“And that made you come after me? What? Did you think I had a cold?”

“It was transmission fluid,” he explained. “You had a big leak. I knew you probably wouldn’t make it home.”

“You came after me.”

“I did.”

“My hero,” she teased, curling against him.

He pulled her close, kissed the top of her head. “Nah,” he said. “It was all part of my master plan to get you into bed.”

“Well, it worked.” She giggled, and then she quickly forgot about anything else as his mouth once again lit a furious fire inside her.

Mockingbirds singing in the peach tree outside Flynn’s bedroom window woke Jesse just after dawn on that Sunday morning.

He opened his eyes, felt Flynn’s body on the mattress beside him. He tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, a happy grin on his face, a sweet aching soreness in his muscles. Idly he considered running his head underneath the cool cotton sheet in search of her warm, sweet thighs. But they’d already made love three times during the course of the night, and he thought perhaps she might be worn out. Besides, he was starving. They’d burned off a thousand calories, easy.

Quietly he edged out of bed and crept into her bathroom, washed his face, slipped on his jeans that were almost dry, and padded barefoot downstairs. He hummed to himself as he took eggs and
bacon from the fridge, and slapped an iron skillet onto the stove.

The bacon was just starting to sizzle when he heard a vehicle pull up into her driveway. Shit, had her family come home? Jesse moved to the window for a peek outside.

He froze when he saw Trainer getting out of his cruiser, and he knew at once what must have happened. Trainer had seen Flynn’s pickup broken down on the side of the road and he’d come to check up on her.

What Jesse did next was stupid as hell. Pure masculine ego, but he wasn’t going to hide and cower. Boldly he marched out the back door, barefooted, bare-chested, flaunting, taunting.

The screen door slammed shut behind him. He spied Trainer standing beside his Harley, hands on his hips.

Trainer raised his head, took in Jesse’s near nakedness. Bone-deep hatred flashed in his eyes. “Calloway.” He spat out Jesse’s name like it was a bad taste in his mouth.

“Trainer.” Jesse arched an eyebrow, balled his hands into fists, sauntered down the porch steps.

“
You!
”

“Me.”

“I’ll kill you.” Beau took a menacing step toward him.

“I’d love to fight you, man, I really would. We got a lot of old anger that needs expelling, but I’m not stupid enough to take the first swing at you. You’re just itching for any excuse to send me back to prison. I’m not jeopardizing my freedom.”

Beau rolled up his sleeves, stripped off his Stetson,
shed his holster and gun, yanked off his badge. “Forget my position as sheriff. This is between you and me.” He put up his fists, circled like some half-assed boxer. “Let’s settle this thing once and for all. I give you my word I won’t arrest you.”

Jesse used both hands to motion him forward. “Come on, big man, I’m ready.”

And just like that, the bare-knuckled brawl was on.

Beau lowered his head, snorted like a bull, and barreled straight for Jesse’s solar plexus.

“That the best you got?” Jesse scoffed, lightly stepping aside and grabbing Beau by the back of his shirt as he charged past. Jesse spun him around and punched him a hard, short jab to the jaw.

Trainer bellowed, came back at him, fists wind-milling through the air. He clocked Jesse on the side of the temple.

Jesse’s vision blurred, his ears rang. He jumped on Trainer’s back, cinched him in a headlock.

Trainer spun around the yard, trying to buck him off.

A decade’s worth of anger came pouring out of them both. The veins in Jesse’s throat throbbed as hot blood rushed through his system. He drew air into his lungs in short, snorting gasps.

“Convict,” Beau wheezed, trying desperately to grab hold of Jesse.

“Crooked cop.”

“Bastard.”

“Fuck head.”

They slugged and pounded, lost their balance, fell in the flower bed, punching and kicking and rolling. First Jesse was on top, then Trainer, the
scrap evenly matched. Trainer was bigger and heavier but Jesse was leaner and faster. Trainer knew precision military moves. Jesse had been schooled in down-and-dirty street fighting.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

At some point Jesse realized Flynn was screaming. The sound of her voice barely penetrated through his rage-soaked brain. He was mauling Trainer’s hand with his teeth as the sheriff attempted to gouge his eyes out with beefy fingers. They were both covered in dirt and bits of butchered daisies.

“Dammit, I said stop it! The both of you are acting like idiots.”

How could he stop? If he stopped, Trainer would get the upper hand, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. They tussled, wrestled, grunted, and swore.

It took the sound of a handgun blast to shake them from their death lock on each other.

They broke apart panting, Trainer falling to one side of the yard, Jesse to the other.

Flynn stood glaring at them, Trainer’s duty weapon pointed in the air. She wore a bathrobe and house slippers, her hair a wild, chaotic tumble of curls about her shoulders. Jesse grinned at her even as he felt his left eye swelling closed. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Beau,” she commanded. “Get up, get back to your job. Jesse, go put some clothes on. And both of you stop acting like children.”

“I can’t believe you fought him.” Flynn gave Jesse a package of frozen peas to put on his swollen eyes.
Her heart was still galloping from the effects of their altercation. “He had every right to haul you off to jail for assaulting an officer of the law.”

“He attacked me first.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“He had it coming.” Jesse slouched in the kitchen chair. The smell of burned bacon hung in the air.

“Beau is jealous of you. There’s no need to rub his nose in the fact that you and I are—” She broke off without finishing the thought. What were she and Jesse? After last night she knew what she wanted from her side of the equation, but she didn’t know what Jesse wanted. Maybe his goal all along was to take her away from Beau. That thought had her plunking down in the kitchen chair across from him.

“You and I
are
together,” Jesse finished for her.

She met his gaze. “Are we?”

He reached across the table, took her hand. “After last night, do you really have to ask that question?”

Her heart fluttered with hope. So much hope. He was there right in front of her, wanting her, all she had to do was reach out and take his hand.

“I meant what I said to you last night, Flynn. I don’t say these words lightly. In fact, I’ve never said them to anyone other than my mother, but I love you.” He reached for her and pulled her into his lap.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “So you’ve forgiven me for not standing up for you in front of the community and for accusing you of spiking the lemonade and—”

He slipped his palms up underneath her robe.
“Dimples, when it comes to you, I simply can’t hold a grudge.”

“Hello? Anybody home?” Carrie called out as the back screen door creaked open.

Instantly Flynn leaped from Jesse’s lap. “You…you…you’re home early.”

“And while the cats were away the mice were gettin’ it on.” Carrie laughed, eyeing Jesse’s naked chest. “Oh hell, what happened to your eye, Jesse?”

Flynn waved a hand. “Long story. Dad and the boys?”

“Right behind me.”

Flynn didn’t even have time to groan over being caught in her bathrobe in the kitchen with a semi-naked Jesse, because her father and brothers bumped into the kitchen with their duffel bags and basketball gear. The twins had changed so much in the three months they’d been gone, their faces settling into the masculine lines of adulthood, but they were still horsing around like kids. It struck her then that Jesse had been their age when he’d been sent to the penitentiary.

She ran to them, hugged them. Taking turns they picked her up, spun her around the room, laughing and telling her she’d gotten shorter.

“Oh,” her father said. “We didn’t realize you had company.”

“Hello, Mr. MacGregor.” Jesse got to his feet, extended his hand. Flynn could tell he was trying hard not to look self-conscious.

“Jesse.” Floyd shook his hand.

“Hey,” Joel said. “Who are you?”

Noah puffed up his chest. “And what are you
doing naked in the kitchen with our sister?” Noah looked at Flynn. “Does Beau know about this?”

“It’s a long story,” Flynn, Carrie, and Floyd all said at once.

Jesse was cool enough not to say anything. He motioned toward the stairway, indicating he was going to her room for his shoes and shirt.

“Who wants breakfast?” Flynn asked, rubbing her palms together.

“Me,” said Joel.

“Starvin’,” Noah chimed in.

“I’ll cook it,” Carrie offered. “You take care of your…
guest
.”

“Thanks.” Flynn flashed a smile.

Jesse came back downstairs. “I’m just gonna hit the road.”

Flynn took his hand, led him outside. “Not without a good-bye kiss you’re not.”

They walked over to his motorcycle. Jesse leaned against it, drew her into his arms. “I know you’ve got some catching up to do with your family.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “So I’ll leave you to it, even though I had plans of spending the day in bed with you.”

“Did you now?”

“I did, but that can wait. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

The sentiment warmed her up inside. “Okay.”

“See you tomorrow at work.” He gave her one last kiss, then strapped on his helmet and straddled the Harley.

She raised a hand, her bare feet growing cold on the damp ground.

“Don’t forget.” He smiled. “I love you.”

Flynn opened her mouth to tell him she loved him too, but she couldn’t say it. Not because she didn’t feel it, but because she felt it so strongly, she feared if she said the words he’d simply vanish and she’d never see him again.`

“Give me anutter whiskey, Earl,” Beau slurred and pushed his shot glass across the bar.

Earl puckered up his face like he’d bit down on a lemon. “That’s your sixth one tonight.”

“Izza any you bidness?” Beau swayed on the bar stool.

“I know you’re a big boy, but you don’t drink like this, Beau.”

“You sayin’ I can’t hold my likkor?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“What are you so angry about?”

“I’m not angry.” He scowled. “I’m just tryin’ to get things right.”

“Okay.”

“I work hard to get things right, don’t I?”

“You do.” Earl picked up a towel and started wiping down the bar, but he didn’t pour Beau another shot of whiskey.

“What am I doin’ wrong? I try and I try and I try to do the right thing. Whizzit all going to hell in a handbasket, Earl?”

Earl shrugged.

Beau pointed a finger at him. “Eggsactly. You don’t know.”

“Nope.”

“Why does she like him better’n me? What’s he got that I ain’t got? Why do women like bad boys, Earl? Whazza appeal?”

“Dunno.”

“I’m upstanding, principled.” He puffed out his chest.

“You are.”

“Damn straight.”

“You push yourself too hard.”

“No.” Beau thumped the bar with his fist and pointed a finger at Earl. “No, sir, I do not. I don’t push myself hard enough. I have to do better. Be better. I won’t wanna be like him. I can’t be like him. I’m good.”

“Are you talking about Jesse Calloway?” Earl ventured. “Or your father?”

At the mention of his father, Beau’s stomach roiled and whiskey burned back up his throat. “I gotta stop this.”

Earl risked putting a hand on Beau’s arm. “Let me get someone to drive you home.” Beau flung his arm up, staggered off the bar stool. Earl stepped back. “Lemme alone.”

He stumbled outside into the darkness. His pulse pounded erratically in his ears. His shoulders were tense, his spine straight in spite of all the whiskey he’d downed.
I’m good. I’m good. I’m good. It’s up to me to stop the bad guys. I can’t let this keep happening. I have to stop it. It’s up to me. I can’t trust anyone to get the job done
.

One way or the other, he had to get rid of Calloway before he destroyed Flynn. He had to fix this thing. Now. Tonight. And for the very last time.

Something woke Flynn in the middle of the night. An uneasiness settled deep inside her bones. She couldn’t name it or explain it, but fingers of dread squeezed around her heart. And she had this one terrible thought.

Beau has done something to Jesse
.

Gripped by a sudden desperate need to see Jesse, to touch his face, to kiss his lips, to hold him in her arms, Flynn swung out of bed at three-forty
A.M
. on Monday morning, tugged on her clothes, rushed downstairs.

I should have told him I love him. Why didn’t I tell him I loved him?

On her way out the door, she almost tripped over the duffel bags Noah and Joel had left tossed on the floor. Mumbling under her breath about inconsiderate little brothers, she padded outside to her father’s Ford sedan, started it up, and drove into Twilight. At this hour of the morning the roads lay empty. What was she doing out at this time of day? Why was she so anxious? Why was she letting her fears get the better of her?

Whatever it was, she couldn’t shake the feeling something bad had happened to Jesse.

By the time she reached the town square, she’d convinced herself she was worrying for nothing, that she was imagining things, borrowing trouble, or suffering from the remnants of a dream she didn’t remember.

She was about to turn the sedan around and head back home when an acrid smell filled her nose.

Smoke.

Her heart started a rapid thunder, rampaging in her chest like a caged bull. Bile rose in her throat.

Fire.

She saw it then, a column of gray-white moving up into the dark sky above the theater, confirming her worst fears. At once she knew where the dread had come from, what had pulled her from a deep sleep. She must have left one of the scented candles burning when she’d locked up on Saturday night. It had been burning for more than twenty-four hours.

The Yarn Barn and the motorcycle shop were ablaze!

Jesse was jogging around the lake. His mind had awakened him in the wee hours, worrying him with the thought that Flynn hadn’t told him she loved him after he’d bared his heart to her. Did she love him or not? If so, why hadn’t she said it? And if she didn’t love him…