“Let her run wild in the garden.”
Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
JEREMY LAY beneath her, a willing captive, as she straddled him in the hammock, hovering above him like some sexy angel. And then she lowered herself onto him, sheathing his hardness in her moist warmth. They both issued low moans at the pleasure of reconnecting.
He explored her body as she moved on him in that timeless rhythm, letting his hands glide over her soft thighs and round hips, letting them push upward to mold and caress her ample breasts. He stroked his thumbs over the taut nipples that jutted through her dress and bra. Damn, he hadn’t even seen them yet—but he supposed there was plenty of time.
When she leaned her head back in passion, he took in the long swath of her neck, the curtain of messy auburn tresses that fell down her back and over her shoulders. He liked when her fingernails dug lightly into his chest.
And then he got to see her come again. And it was a beautiful thing. Beautiful in any woman—but more so in her. Because it was the other side of her, the side she’d clearly spent years running from and denying. The side he and only he had brought out of her.
Watching her face flush with the climax, listening to her cries of sweet release waft downward, excited the hell out of him. So much that—aw God, yes—he was gonna come, too. She’d just barely finished, relaxing her body, bending to rest against his chest—when he said, “Aw—me too, honey, me too,” and thrust himself upward in three rough drives that sent him blasting almost violently into her cocooning warmth.
Like last time, they didn’t talk at first afterward, content to lie in each other’s arms just soaking up the night.
Though after a few minutes, it crossed his mind that maybe she was being too quiet, and wondered if it was a hint. “Um, do you want me to leave, Mary? Not stay the night?”
She raised her head from his chest, a hint of alarm coloring her eyes. “No. Why?” Then she blinked, looking a little nervous. “Unless you want to.”
Okay, he’d read her wrong. Good. But with someone who could be as prickly as her, he’d figured he’d better ask. Even if she’d stopped being prickly. Never knew when she’d start up again, after all. “I don’t, and just checking,” he told her with a wink.
A minute later, as he gazed up at the expanse of stars stretching out overhead, he said, “I like your hammock. You use it much?”
“Mmm hmm,” she replied. “But . . . I’ve never used it this well before.”
Her playful, contented smile was the last sight he remembered before falling into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’d experienced in the last two years.
WHEN Tamra woke the next day, Jeremy still slept soundly beneath her. She lay watching him in the early morning sun, filled with awe. Did last night really happen? Did I finally let go of all those old hang-ups? Am I really lying here with him right now? And is he really that hot? She was still adjusting to how he looked now, wondering why he’d hidden that handsome face.
She bit her lip, stunned to recall how naturally she’d initiated that second round of sex, how easy it had suddenly felt to touch him, and to be touched by him.
He’d somehow given her back the confidence she’d lost so long ago. She felt . . . free, alive, and like anything was possible. It was like breaking out of a jail she’d built around herself without ever realizing it.
She smiled down on his sleeping form for a moment—and then eased out of the hammock without waking him. Heading inside, she put on a pot of coffee, then traded her dress for a pair of cotton drawstring shorts and a T-shirt.
After pouring coffee into a couple of big mugs, she carried them out to find him sitting in one of her Adirondack chairs.
“I don’t know how you take yours,” she said, handing him one of the large cups.
He accepted it and said, “I’m easy,” with one of his cute winks. Winks that, a few weeks ago, she’d have called lecherous. But she’d learned to appreciate Jeremy’s flirtatious streak.
She took a seat in the chair next to his, again thinking about how he’d entered her garden, her private sanctuary, but how it was a richer place now for his presence. And how it would now hold new memories of a very different kind, how the space would take on a whole new positive sort of energy for her. It had already been a place she loved and cherished, but she suddenly loved it more for having shared it.
After they finished their coffee, he set his empty mug on the stone wall of the fire pit and said, “I should probably get going, Mary.”
“Your cat is probably wondering where you are,” she suggested with a grin.
His reproachful look came with an indulgent grin. “He’s not my cat. I’m a—”
“A dog guy, I know.” She placed her cup beside his. “I heard you named him.”
He shrugged it off. “He hangs around all the time—had to call him something.”
And she replied with a playful roll of her eyes. “Whatever you say, dog guy.”
As he stood up, she did, too, pleased when he pulled her into an embrace and gave her a long kiss goodbye that left her literally weak in the knees. Not to mention tingling between her legs again.
And as they walked toward the gate, hand in hand, she couldn’t help thinking that for a night she’d very nearly screwed up, it couldn’t have turned out any more perfect.
Stopping at the garden’s entrance, she thoughtfully bit her lower lip and peered up into those striking blue eyes of his to say, “I don’t know if there will be more of this, but . . . it was the nicest thing to happen to me in a long time.”
In response, Jeremy’s gaze widened. “Why wouldn’t there be more?”
She liked that answer.
Then he tilted his head. “I mean, unless . . . do you want more?”
“Yes.” It was so much easier to just be bold with him now, just say what she meant.
“Me, too,” he said with a confirming nod.
“Okay, then.” She smiled up at him. “There will be more.”
“So much more you might not be able to walk straight,” he informed her.
At which she sucked in her breath, both in shock and anticipation.
One more wink from him as he said, “Bye for now, Mary.” And then he was gone.
ALMOST as soon as Jeremy was gone, she found her phone and texted Fletcher. ARE YOU AWAKE? WE NEED A CATCH-UP SESSION. Normally, she might not go shouting such private news from the rooftops, but given her deal with him, it made sense. And she felt too good to keep it bottled up.
His reply a moment later: YOU HAVE NO IDEA. COME ON OVER. I’M ON THE PORCH. WE’LL HAVE WAFFLES.
Tamra wasted no time crossing the street, eager to hear what had transpired for her friend last night with Bethany, and just as anxious to share her own happy news. When she bounded up onto the covered porch that faced the ocean, she found Fletcher sitting at the wicker table already eating a waffle—and a plate with a second waffle set for her.
“Yum,” she said.
“I woke up early—needed to do something, so I made waffles.”
Two things struck her as she pulled out a wicker chair and took a seat. First, she still wasn’t used to Fletcher’s new look. And second, his clean-shaven face didn’t appear nearly as happy as she might’ve hoped. “Why do you look bummed?” she asked.
But he shook his head. “You go first. My news is bigger than yours, and more complicated, so we’ll save it.”
She flinched, sitting up a little straighter. “That’s a bold statement considering that you don’t even know my news. It might be astronomical. In fact, I’d say it is astronomical.”
“It can’t beat mine, promise. Now spill.” She’d seldom seen her friend look so tense.
And that sort of took some of the wind out of her merry sails, but she still tried to sound as joyful as she felt inside when she said, “I had sex with Jeremy last night. Twice. And it was amazing! I feel like I’m on top of the world. He just left.” She paused, then gave a confident nod. “Astronomical, right?”
Next to her, Fletcher smiled. “You’re right—astronomical.” He set his fork on his plate to reach out and squeeze her hand. And he seemed more like his usual, happy Fletcher self when he said, “You look really happy. I’m so glad for you, Tam. I knew good things would come to you if you’d just drop your guard enough to let them in.”
She nodded, because he’d been right about that. “So, do you still think your news is bigger?” she challenged.
And he picked his fork back up, cut off a bite of syrup-covered waffle, and said, “Kim came home.” Then shoved the chunk of waffle into his mouth.
All the blood drained from Tamra’s face. “Okay, you got me. Your news is bigger.”
“Yep,” he said, still seeming a little too preoccupied by his breakfast.
She couldn’t believe it. All this time he’d been right—his blind faith had actually somehow brought his wife back to him. Wow.
Only . . . why wasn’t he out of his mind with joy? And that was when it hit her to ask, “Um, how come you’re eating waffles with me and not her?”
“She’s still asleep. We were up late talking.”
“And, and, and . . .” Her mind raced—there was so much to ask that she could barely summon questions. But then she did. “Did she come find you at the party? How did she know where you were exactly? Where has she been? And . . . why don’t you look happy about all this?” She hated that he didn’t look happy. Because if you get the one thing in the world you want most and it doesn’t make you happy . . . could anything?
He nodded. “Yeah, she came to the party. Later she told me she’d planned to start at the Happy Crab because that’s where we were staying when she left. She didn’t know if I’d still be here, but she had nowhere else to start, as I always knew would be the case.
“As for where she’s been, a lot of places.” He stopped, sighed. “Long story short, she was . . . unfulfilled. So she connected with other guys. Which sucks. But then she decided she wants me more than any of them. And I’m sure I’ll start feeling the good part of that . . . once I process the rest.”
Tamra’s heart sank for him. “Oh Fletcher,” she said softly. “That’s the one thing we never thought about, isn’t it? That when she came back, the reasons she went away might hurt.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I knew they would. But I thought I’d be so happy it wouldn’t matter. I guess something about having Bethany in the equation changed that. Maybe because, for the first time, I had started looking in another direction for that kind of happiness. And in one way, it scared me to death—but in another, I kinda liked what I saw.”
Tamra drew in her breath, thinking it through. “Were you with Bethany when Kim showed up?”
He nodded, wiped a napkin across his mouth. “It was awkward and I felt bad about it.”
“The timing’s not your fault.”
He nodded once more.
“I’m just sad that . . . you seem so sad. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
Tamra tilted her head. “I mean, I was never really sure I believed she’d come back. But when I envisioned it, I always imagined you being . . . overjoyed.”
“I saw it that way, too.” His eyebrows knit as he dropped his gaze to his half-eaten waffle, then raised it back to her. And his expression again shifted to that of the more content, peaceful Fletcher, the man who had it all completely under control. “And it’ll be that way. Soon.”
Just then, the screen door behind them opened and a thin woman with shoulder-length brown hair stepped through it, wearing a too-large bathrobe that probably belonged to Fletcher. She smiled at him. “Good morning, Fletch.” Then she shook her head, as if stunned by the sight of him. “It’s so good to wake up to that face. More of that face that I’ve never even seen before,” she added on a light laugh, and Tamra assumed that meant his wife hadn’t ever seen him without a beard either.
“Morning, Kim,” he replied, meeting her gaze, and Tamra could see him taking her in, too, still adjusting to the newness of it all.
Then she turned to Tamra. “I’m Kim. You must be Tamra. Fletcher told me so much about you last night. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand and Tamra took it, gently shook it. “I hope we can be friends.”
And Tamra said, “I hope so, too.” Though what she really meant was, I hope you’ll spend every second of every day of the rest of your life treating this man like the prince among men that he is—and maybe then I can like you enough and forgive you enough that we can get along.
“Should . . . I join you for breakfast?” Kim asked. “Or are you catching up and would rather talk privately? I can go take a shower or something.” She pointed over her shoulder to the door she’d just exited.
But Fletcher said, “No, of course not—grab a plate. And there are more waffles in the kitchen.”
Tamra had to admit Kim seemed polite. But she still wished Fletcher looked happier.
And she also thought the two of them probably needed alone time more than company right now. So, though she’d only eaten a few bites, she said, “Actually, I should run. I promised to help clean up after the party this morning.” She pushed back her chair. “You two enjoy breakfast together, and . . . welcome home, Kim.”
“Thank you,” Kim said with a warm smile.
Yet even as she’d spoken those last words, it had struck Tamra that this wasn’t Kim’s home. Not yet anyway. It was Fletcher’s home. And it was her home. And it was Reece’s and lots of other people’s home. And it was a great place to make a home. But Kim hadn’t done that yet.
TAMRA soon joined Cami and Christy behind the Happy Crab to begin dismantling the props and decorations for last night’s soiree. She dove right in, untying thick ribbons and colored netting from the backs of chairs, and stripping cloths from the round, rented tables. As the three of them moved around the space, Christy said to Tamra, “Have you talked to Fletcher? Do you know?”
Tamra nodded as she untied a bow. “Yep, and I just met her over waffles at Fletcher’s.”
Christy and Cami both stopped what they were doing to look at her.
“Well?” Christy asked.
“What’s she like?” Cami inquired. “Are we going to like her?”
Tamra sighed. “Jury’s still out. She was friendly, but . . .” She shook her head, looking back down, removing the next ribbon. “Fletcher seemed . . . sad.”
Christy tilted her head. “I’ve never seen Fletcher sad before.”
“Exactly,” Tamra said. “Me, neither. It just seemed like . . . having her come back wasn’t what he’d expected.”
“Well, that truly sucks,” Cami replied on a sigh of her own as she carried a handful of used napkins to a large garbage can. “To wait so long and then not have it turn out the way he wanted.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t seem right.”
“I know,” Christy said. “Especially for the nicest, most optimistic guy in the world.”
And then it occurred to Tamra to ask, “How’d Bethany take it?” She looked to Christy, who was packing up centerpieces.
She joined in on the sigh fest they seemed to be sharing. “She tried to shrug it off, claimed it was no biggie. And on one hand, I know they’d just met, and she rolls with the punches more easily than I ever did. But on the other, she’s had a lot of letdowns with men. I hate that this is just one more. I’m afraid she’ll give up on love completely—if she hasn’t already.”
Tamra’s heart went out to Bethany. She understood about giving up on love. She knew what it could cost you, the walls it could make you build. “That’s a shame,” she said, but then it hit her to ask Christy, “Hey, what are you even doing here? It was your party and we threw it. You’re not supposed to be cleaning it up, Miss Bride.”
Christy offered an easy smile. “I’m filling in for Bethany. She was feeling crappy enough—even though she tried to hide it for my sake—that I insisted she take the morning to work. She’s been painting some seascapes since she got here—that’s new for her—and I thought getting absorbed in her art might make her feel better.”
Tamra nodded. “Yeah, that always works for me, too. You’re a good friend. Though Cami and I could handle this on our own, you know.”
Christy replied, “Well, after all the Fletcher excitement last night, and all the big changes in people’s appearances, maybe I wanted to get together and just . . . debrief.” She raised her eyebrows.
And Cami, now breaking down the tables that had held the buffet last night, added, “I love your hair so much, Tamra—seriously! And your dress . . . well, let’s just say you should show off your shape more often.”
Just then, a big gray one-eyed cat came trotting up the same dock where Tamra had walked with Jeremy last night, and a few seconds later Jeremy followed, now wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans—which Tamra couldn’t help noticing fit him just right.
“I second what she just said,” he directed toward Tamra with a small, flirty smile.
She returned it. But then dropped her gaze to the other newcomer on the scene. “Out walking your cat?”
He laughed. “Um, no. Again, not my cat.”
And when Tamra looked skeptical, he added, “We just . . . happen to be in the same place at the same time.”
“You know,” Cami said to Jeremy teasingly, “I own a cat leash. Though . . . it’s purple. But you could borrow it if it wouldn’t put a big chink in your masculinity. Or the cat’s.”
They all laughed, and Jeremy said, “Um, I’ll pass. I don’t think either one of us could handle that.”
The cat had woven a path between the tables and made its way to the breezeway next to the office, and Jeremy had followed as they’d chatted with him. Though before passing through it, he looked back to ask, “You ladies need help with anything?”
“No, we’re good,” Cami said, “but thanks.”
“All right then. Have a good one.”
And Tamra said, “Have fun walking your cat.”
And he tossed one more playfully sexy glance her way—just before he disappeared.
Turning back around, she let out a happy sigh and smiled to herself as she resumed her work on the bows.
And Cami softly said, “Oh my God.”
Tamra looked over to find Cami eyeing her suspiciously and asked, “Oh my God what?”
“You had sex with him,” Cami accused in a low but celebratory tone.
“What?” Christy chirped, her eyes nearly leaping from her head.
“Sex!” Cami said again. “You had sex.” She looked to Christy. “They had sex.”
“You want to keep it down,” Tamra warned, teeth clenching slightly. “And quit saying sex over and over again.”
Cami smiled. “But you did, didn’t you? I could tell from the way you were looking at each other. And you haven’t denied it.”
Tamra took a deep breath. Then paused, hoping Jeremy was far enough away that he hadn’t heard Cami—and that he wouldn’t hear this, either. “Yes,” she said in a hushed tone, stepping nearer to them. “We totally had rockin’ hot sex in my garden.” She couldn’t hide another small smile.
“In your garden?” Christy asked, eyes still huge.
“In my hammock,” Tamra specified.
And Cami began gently clapping her hands. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for you.”
“Me too!” Christy said. “Especially now that he’s so darn cute! I mean, wow—I remembered he was always cute before, but I think he’s even more handsome now.”
“Do you think you’ll do it again?” Cami asked.
“Yes,” Tamra replied boldly, still smiling.
“Are you, like, a couple now?” Christy asked.
And Tamra tilted her head. “I don’t know. I think we’re just taking it one day at a time. But either way, I’m happy.”