The Last One(74)

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like this.” She leaned closer, kissing my ear lobe as her hand ventured to my zipper. “No alone time.” She licked the side of my neck. “Other than the porch, I mean.”

“I’ve gone longer than a week without sex. As you know.” Still, I took her hand from the front of my pants and laced our fingers together. “But yeah, it is kind of messing with any plans to go back to the river.”

“And I’ve thought about driving home during lunch a few times, but with the stand not being busy, I know Ali doesn’t always stay there all day.”

“Yeah, and she left Bridge with me today. That would’ve been frustrating, to have you come home and not be able to do anything.”

“It’s got to stop raining soon.” Meghan wrapped both of her arms around one of mine, her boobs pressing into my side making me ache. “And then we’ll make up for lost time.”

Of course, she was right. Three days later, I awoke to clear skies, with no rain in the forecast. I spent the day out walking the fields, checking for any damage almost two solid weeks of wet might have done to the crops still out there. When I finally drove the farm truck back to the house, all I could think about was kidnapping Meghan back out to the river and keeping her up all night—again.

Her car was in the driveway when I got out to get cleaned up. I turned on the faucet, pulled off my dirty shirt with one hand and cupped water in the other. I had just made the first swipe with the rag when I felt arms slip around my waist.

“Now see, this is how things were meant to be.” Meghan’s lips touched my back and her fingers crept up to tease my nipples.

I turned in her arms, a swell of something that scared the shit of me rising in my chest. It felt so right, so perfect, to have her greet me at the end of a hard day of work, her pretty curls dancing around her shoulders, her eyes bright and full of life. Like I could do this every day and never get tired of it.

Not knowing what to do with that thought, I tugged her closer and kissed her until the lips under mine were the only things I could think about.

“Hi.” I lifted my mouth just long enough to speak. “Ali and Bridget?”

She smiled. “Still at the stand for another hour. Cassie sprained her ankle, and Ali’s expecting a delivery, so she has to wait there. And Bridget went home with her friend Kate to spend the night.”

Something new was rising now, and it was not anything I dreaded. “We’re alone here? For at least an hour?”

“We are.” She pulled at my arm and began walking backward toward the kitchen. “Your room?”

“Oh, yeah.”

We made it into the kitchen before I had to kiss her again, backing her into the counter where I lifted her up and stood between her knees, my hands gripping her rear and my mouth on her neck, heading south.

When I heard a knocking, I decided it had to be my heart. Or something we were shaking in the kitchen. Or maybe even a lost group of Jehovah’s Witnesses who had wandered to my front door and would just go the hell away if ignored.

“Sam.” Meghan lifted her head from my lips. “Someone’s at the door.”

“Uh-huh. They’ll go away. Shhhh, just be quiet, they’ll think no one’s at home.”

“What if it’s important?”

“Babe, nothing’s more important than what we’re doing right here.”

“But what if it’s something with Ali or Bridget?”

I sucked on the pulse in her throat. “Someone would call.”

“Unless they didn’t have your number, just the address.”

I blew out a breath of frustration and dug my fingers through my hair. “Fine. I’ll get the fucking door and then—” I pointed at her. “Then you—me—upstairs, naked. Lots of naked.”

She giggled and pushed at my shoulder. “Go, and then the nakedness.”

I stomped to the front door, cursing anyone who was stupid enough to come by my house at this moment and already making up reasons to send them away. The plague, maybe, forcing us to be quarantined. Or a rabid dog on the premises. Something really believable.

I threw open the door, and I must have been wearing my frustration on my face for all the world to see, because the guy standing on the other side took an instinctive step backward. It was to his advantage that I had no idea who he was—just a man younger than me, with black hair that reached almost to his shoulder. He was thin and not quite as tall as me.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m at the right house,” he began, and my hopes soared. He had the wrong address, and I could send him on his way without resorting to violence.