A New Hope
Page 42
“I know,” she said, grinning. “You tell me five times a day. Have I told you how wonderful it is having you in charge of the shop, opening and closing, taking orders, giving me so much freedom?”
“Five times a day,” Ginger said.
Ginger went upstairs to shower and change. Tonight was dinner at a Greek restaurant in Bandon and she was looking forward to it very much. It would be Ray Anne, Lou, Carrie, Gina and Gina’s daughter and stepdaughter, Ashley and Eve. Three generations, more or less. With the college girls home for the summer, their group had grown and become even more fun. Ginger got the biggest kick out of these college girls and their stories, even as their mother, grandmother and aunt cringed. She was feeling much better about herself since she started living independently and, in truth, since Matt had tracked her down and apologized. She looked good, felt good and didn’t look at her watch even once.
She was home at a little after nine, kicked off her shoes, dropped onto the couch while still chuckling over one of the funny stories told over dinner. And she thought, Look at me—I have a life. She would not have believed a few short months ago, when she was mired in depression and hopelessness, that she could have this—laughter and enthusiasm and anticipation. She couldn’t believe she’d ever look like she was among the living, much less look in the mirror and actually admire the reflection.
She heard tapping at her back door and wondered if Ray Anne needed something or if someone was looking for flowers. But she opened the door to Matt’s frowning but so handsome face.
“If you don’t want me in your life anymore, you have to tell me to my face,” he said.
She laughed and stepped back so he could come in.
“That’s funny?” he asked irritably.
“Well, yes. Not talking to a guy never worked for me before. Usually they could care less. I just got home, Matt. You came all this way? I was going to call you.”
“You were?”
“I said I would,” she told him. “And there is no reason I wouldn’t. You came all this way because I got a new phone number?”
“I came all this way because I have to apologize,” he said.
Again she smiled. Their first dinner together, the beginning of a most unexpectedly lovely relationship, had been about apology. “Since you really excel at apologies, I look forward to it.”
He shut the door behind him, slid an arm around her waist and deftly brought her mouth up to his, kissing her. She was bent over his arm and hung on to his shoulders to keep from crumpling to the floor. His kiss was hot and demanding and delicious. Then he moved, his hands on her face, holding her against him, covering her mouth with an almost desperate heat. Her lips opened for him, and he swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and she not only allowed this but welcomed it. She held him close, moaning. Sighing. It was a very long time before he let her go even enough to speak. He panted eagerly.
“Well. You’re pretty messed up,” she said. “We really have to talk. Maybe a little later...” And she went back to his lips, her arms around his neck.
“I couldn’t give you up if I wanted to,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.” Then he sighed and put his lips against her neck, holding her close. “God, I thought you’d given up on me.”
“But you’re the one who disappeared, not me.”
“I know. I know. I’m not good at this, haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She laughed as she ran her fingers through his thick, black hair. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re pretty good...” She pulled back a little so she could look into those troubled, coal-black eyes. “I don’t know what you’re holding inside, but if you don’t get it out pretty soon, you’re going to start getting headaches.”
“Worse headaches. How did you know?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t have headaches anymore.” She kissed his cheek tenderly. “If you can’t trust me with whatever it is, there must be someone you can talk to. A priest, maybe?”
He laughed. “Definitely not a priest.” Then he kissed her neck, holding her against him. “I feel better already.” He ran his hand down her back and over her butt. “Much better.”
“Maybe we could sit down. Would you like something to drink?”
He looked down into her eyes. “Can I have something to drink later? Right now all I want is you. And I want you real damn bad.”
“You should have given me a little notice...”
“For what? You feel like velvet and you taste like...hmm. Heaven. What is that smell in your hair? It’s like dessert.”
“Vanilla. I don’t have any birth control...”
His laugh was deep and a little evil. He looked into her eyes again, and his were getting fiery. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I’m prepared.”
She shook her head. “How does that not surprise me? Don’t most men bring flowers or champagne or chocolates? Okay, forget the flowers...”
“I’ll do that next time. This time—I was in a little panic.”
She pressed herself against him. “I think the panic has passed.”
“Are you ready for this? I’ll be careful. I’ll take good care of you.”
“I trust you, Matt.”
“Then why? Why the phone number thing?”
“After,” she said. “We’ll talk when there’s less distraction.”
“Good idea,” he said, lifting her into his arms. He carried her into the tiny living room, eyed the couch and moved on past it to the bed. He set her down gently, sitting down beside her to kick off his shoes, get rid of his belt and shirt, then turned to take her into his arms again, delivering kisses that were hot and strong. He slid the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, pulled it down and kissed her breasts for a long time. She held his head there, his mouth sucking gently, then not so gently.
She turned into soup. She felt the hot and molten passion inside her flow through her until she was almost aching for him. And that made her squirm. She pulled him down on the bed and reached for his jeans, struggling to find the snap or button or zipper but after a moment of that, he stilled her hands. “Easy,” he said. “I’ve got it.”
“I thought it would be slow,” she said with a shade of embarrassment.
“Five times a day,” Ginger said.
Ginger went upstairs to shower and change. Tonight was dinner at a Greek restaurant in Bandon and she was looking forward to it very much. It would be Ray Anne, Lou, Carrie, Gina and Gina’s daughter and stepdaughter, Ashley and Eve. Three generations, more or less. With the college girls home for the summer, their group had grown and become even more fun. Ginger got the biggest kick out of these college girls and their stories, even as their mother, grandmother and aunt cringed. She was feeling much better about herself since she started living independently and, in truth, since Matt had tracked her down and apologized. She looked good, felt good and didn’t look at her watch even once.
She was home at a little after nine, kicked off her shoes, dropped onto the couch while still chuckling over one of the funny stories told over dinner. And she thought, Look at me—I have a life. She would not have believed a few short months ago, when she was mired in depression and hopelessness, that she could have this—laughter and enthusiasm and anticipation. She couldn’t believe she’d ever look like she was among the living, much less look in the mirror and actually admire the reflection.
She heard tapping at her back door and wondered if Ray Anne needed something or if someone was looking for flowers. But she opened the door to Matt’s frowning but so handsome face.
“If you don’t want me in your life anymore, you have to tell me to my face,” he said.
She laughed and stepped back so he could come in.
“That’s funny?” he asked irritably.
“Well, yes. Not talking to a guy never worked for me before. Usually they could care less. I just got home, Matt. You came all this way? I was going to call you.”
“You were?”
“I said I would,” she told him. “And there is no reason I wouldn’t. You came all this way because I got a new phone number?”
“I came all this way because I have to apologize,” he said.
Again she smiled. Their first dinner together, the beginning of a most unexpectedly lovely relationship, had been about apology. “Since you really excel at apologies, I look forward to it.”
He shut the door behind him, slid an arm around her waist and deftly brought her mouth up to his, kissing her. She was bent over his arm and hung on to his shoulders to keep from crumpling to the floor. His kiss was hot and demanding and delicious. Then he moved, his hands on her face, holding her against him, covering her mouth with an almost desperate heat. Her lips opened for him, and he swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and she not only allowed this but welcomed it. She held him close, moaning. Sighing. It was a very long time before he let her go even enough to speak. He panted eagerly.
“Well. You’re pretty messed up,” she said. “We really have to talk. Maybe a little later...” And she went back to his lips, her arms around his neck.
“I couldn’t give you up if I wanted to,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.” Then he sighed and put his lips against her neck, holding her close. “God, I thought you’d given up on me.”
“But you’re the one who disappeared, not me.”
“I know. I know. I’m not good at this, haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She laughed as she ran her fingers through his thick, black hair. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re pretty good...” She pulled back a little so she could look into those troubled, coal-black eyes. “I don’t know what you’re holding inside, but if you don’t get it out pretty soon, you’re going to start getting headaches.”
“Worse headaches. How did you know?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t have headaches anymore.” She kissed his cheek tenderly. “If you can’t trust me with whatever it is, there must be someone you can talk to. A priest, maybe?”
He laughed. “Definitely not a priest.” Then he kissed her neck, holding her against him. “I feel better already.” He ran his hand down her back and over her butt. “Much better.”
“Maybe we could sit down. Would you like something to drink?”
He looked down into her eyes. “Can I have something to drink later? Right now all I want is you. And I want you real damn bad.”
“You should have given me a little notice...”
“For what? You feel like velvet and you taste like...hmm. Heaven. What is that smell in your hair? It’s like dessert.”
“Vanilla. I don’t have any birth control...”
His laugh was deep and a little evil. He looked into her eyes again, and his were getting fiery. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I’m prepared.”
She shook her head. “How does that not surprise me? Don’t most men bring flowers or champagne or chocolates? Okay, forget the flowers...”
“I’ll do that next time. This time—I was in a little panic.”
She pressed herself against him. “I think the panic has passed.”
“Are you ready for this? I’ll be careful. I’ll take good care of you.”
“I trust you, Matt.”
“Then why? Why the phone number thing?”
“After,” she said. “We’ll talk when there’s less distraction.”
“Good idea,” he said, lifting her into his arms. He carried her into the tiny living room, eyed the couch and moved on past it to the bed. He set her down gently, sitting down beside her to kick off his shoes, get rid of his belt and shirt, then turned to take her into his arms again, delivering kisses that were hot and strong. He slid the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, pulled it down and kissed her breasts for a long time. She held his head there, his mouth sucking gently, then not so gently.
She turned into soup. She felt the hot and molten passion inside her flow through her until she was almost aching for him. And that made her squirm. She pulled him down on the bed and reached for his jeans, struggling to find the snap or button or zipper but after a moment of that, he stilled her hands. “Easy,” he said. “I’ve got it.”
“I thought it would be slow,” she said with a shade of embarrassment.
