Three Little Words
He pointed.
She turned and saw a young couple making out by a pickup truck. They were probably still in high school.
“If either parent catches them, I guess there’s going to be some big-time explaining to do,” she said, turning back to him.
“Was it like that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t planned. He’d been surfing and I came down to the beach. It was dark and one thing led to another.”
Ford chuckled. “It wasn’t spontaneous.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s a guy. You were a beautiful young girl who was crazy about him. Trust me, Billy had been planning it for weeks.”
“You think so? He never said anything.”
“What’s he going to say? ‘I’m going to do my best to get into your pants, moving as fast as you’ll let me’?”
“That’s not very romantic.”
“Which is my point.”
She told herself not to dwell on the “beautiful young girl” part of his statement. He was generalizing. As in all teenagers were attractive by virtue of their youth and vitality.
“That would have been a good letter to skip,” she said instead. “I can’t believe I went into detail.” She paused. “Did I?”
“I lived it in real time.”
“You should have answered me. Then we would have had an actual correspondence.”
“I liked being your diary.” He finished his cone and dropped his napkin into a trash can. “You sent me a very detailed letter about the birth of Maeve’s first baby, then a second one telling me not to read it.”
“I was afraid you’d be hurt.”
“I was well over her by then.”
She tossed away the rest of her cone and wiped her hands. “Something I would have known if you’d ever answered.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Never gonna happen.”
“Obviously, what with you being out of the military and here now.”
“You could still write me if you wanted.”
“For what reason?”
“The thrill of entertaining me.”
“Thank you, no.”
She’d never been one to walk with a guy’s arm around her shoulders before. Eric hadn’t been tall enough, so they’d mostly held hands or just walked side by side. She was nestled close to him and there was plenty of body brushing and rubbing and bumping. It made her think about the kiss Ford hadn’t bothered to repeat. Which was just like a man.
Why wasn’t he kissing her? Did he not want to or did he think it wasn’t appropriate? She saw now that she should have gotten a detailed list of the fake-girlfriend perks.
“I’ve got a corporate guy coming into town next week,” Ford said. “We’re close to signing a deal with him.”
Isabel nodded and waited, not sure why he was sharing.
“He’s bringing his wife.”
“It’s too bad they missed the End of Summer Festival over Labor Day. There isn’t another one until the Fall Festival in two weeks. Are they staying that long?”
“No. They’re here overnight. I thought the four of us could go to dinner.”
She shrugged out of his arm and faced him. “Dinner? With your clients?”
“You’re my girlfriend. Who else would I take?”
“Why can’t you go alone?” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “This is only about faking out your mother.”
“And the town.”
“I don’t want to think about that.”
They’d paused by the park, where it was quiet. Across the street, tourists went in and out of Brew-haha. She would guess Noelle was getting plenty of business in her store, as well.
“Come on,” he said gently. “A nice dinner with some nice people. It’ll be fun.”
She wasn’t concerned that she wouldn’t have a good time. Ford was so easy to be with. He knew when to be funny and when to be serious. They had an easy rhythm together. It was just...
Her gaze settled on his mouth. It was like the kissing, she thought. She wanted to know where things stood.
“Sure,” she told him. “But in return, you have to go to an estate sale with me.”
His hands came up in a gesture of protection, even as he took a step back. “An estate sale? But I’m not a woman.”
She said nothing and waited.
His hands dropped to his sides. “That’s playing dirty.”
“It’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”
He actually ground the toe of his athletic shoe into the sidewalk, just as if he were eight.
“All right,” he grumbled. “I’ll go to the estate sale with you if you’ll do my corporate dinner.”
She linked arms with him. “Now, was that so hard?”
“Ask me after the estate sale.”
* * *
FORD PUSHED THE LAWN MOWER to the sidewalk and then turned to make the return trip. The afternoon was sunny and warm, but already the leaves were starting to turn. In a few weeks, Isabel was going to have to get the sprinklers blown out so they wouldn’t freeze over the winter.
A blue Prius pulled into the driveway and Isabel got out. She wore black pants and a blue blouse that matched her eyes. Her hair was curled on the ends and she had on makeup. Her usual work look.
“Hey,” he called and stopped the lawn mower. “Sell any dresses today?”
She walked toward him. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve never seen a lawn mower before?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I have. So why are you mowing my lawn?”
“We’re dating. Boyfriends do that sort of thing.” He pointed to the bags stacked by the front of the garage door. “I’m going to feed your lawn later. Give it a last boost before it gets cold.”
“Thank you,” she told him. “This is really nice and you don’t have to do it.”
“I can’t help it. I’m a nice guy. A nice guy who shouldn’t have to go to an estate sale.”
“Sorry,” she told him. “A deal’s a deal.” She started toward the house. “Get back to work.”
He grinned and started the lawn mower.
After finishing the last few passes, he emptied the clippings into the yard-waste bin, then put the lawn mower away. Later in the week he was going to take it to the local hardware store for an end-of-season cleaning and blade sharpening.
He got out the mechanical spreader and dumped the organic fertilizer into it, then began to make his passes across the lawn. He did the front first, then moved to the backyard. By the time he was done, he was hot and sweaty. He was about to take the spreader to the garage when Isabel appeared on the back porch.
She’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare. She had two beers in one hand and a plate with chips and salsa in the other. He joined her on the patio.
“Exactly what I needed,” he said, reaching for one of the beers.
“The least I can do,” she told him and headed for the house. “I’ll be right back.”
She returned with a bowl of bean dip. “Be careful. It’s spicy.”
“I like spicy.”
They sat at the table under the awning. A cool breeze tickled the back of his neck.
This was what he’d come home for, he thought as he took a drink of the beer. Yard work, spicy bean dip and a beautiful woman. Maybe not in that order.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked, reaching for a chip.
“Maybe it’s the company.”
She laughed. “Maybe you’re full of crap.”
“You don’t think you’re good company?”
“I think I’m great company, but I don’t think that’s a reason to smile the way you were.”
“Then you don’t know me.” He motioned to the yard. “This is a top-ten moment.”
She leaned back in her chair and grinned. “Why do I know you have more than ten of them?”
“You should have a top-ten moment every day.”
Her T-shirt was old, her jeans worn. She’d washed off her makeup and brushed out the curls. The more casual look suited her as much as the other had. She was a beautiful woman, with pretty features and a ready smile.
He supposed what he liked best about Isabel was how well he knew her. As they’d joked about over the weekend, he’d watched her grow up. He knew her character. He’d listened to her pour her heart out to him. She’d confessed things to the page that she would never have said in person, and in that, she had revealed her true self.
She was good to the bone. Oh, sure, she had faults, but she was a decent, caring person. Affectionate and giving. There were so many days he’d faced desperate situations and barely survived. There had been injuries and death and times when he’d stared down the barrel of his rifle and wondered why he had to kill yet another person.
But he’d done it all, and at the end of the day, her loopy writing and easy conversation had pulled him back from the edge.
“Lauren came in and bought the dress today,” she said.
“Good for her. She’ll be a beautiful bride.”
“She will. I’m really happy for her.”
“It must be nice to be a part of that. Someone’s wedding. You’ll always have a piece of that memory.”
“I hope so,” she admitted. “My grandmother told me it’s about the right dress, not the sale. She sent more than one bride to another store, because none of the dresses we had were right. It’s an interesting business.”
“You’ll miss it when you leave.”
“Maybe a little.” She picked up her beer. “I told you about those clothes Dellina brought in, right?”
“Yes, you have headless mannequins in your windows and everyone is talking.”
She giggled. “No one is talking.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Anyway, everything sold and Dellina is bringing in more. We’re going to raise prices a little and see what happens. I figure this is good practice for when I go into business with Sonia.”
His gaze lingered on her blond hair. He liked the way the light hit it. She didn’t have much of a tan, but he still wondered about where she might be a little paler than her arms and neck. From there it was a quick journey to her na**d and him exploring.
His bed? Her bed? He was comfortable with either. Of course, he was pretty hot and sweaty after his yard work. He should clean up first. Or they could take a shower together.
“You’re not listening to me,” she complained.
He met her gaze. “That would be true.”
“What were you thinking?”
He took a swallow of the beer. “You don’t want to know.”
She shifted in her seat. “I can’t decide if I believe you or not.”
“I’ll never lie to you.”
“Wow. There’s a statement. So, what were you thinking?”
“That I need to go take a shower and that you could join me.”
Isabel’s cheeks darkened with color and she looked away. “You weren’t thinking that.”
“Sure I was. Want details?”
Her gaze returned to his. “Something else I’m not sure I should ask.”
He put his beer on the table and slowly stood. For a woman who’d been married a few years, she was surprisingly naive about what went on in a man’s mind. He supposed that most of the reason was that her ex was gay. He doubted Eric had thought all that differently, only that the object of his interest must have been someone else.
He circled around the table and pulled her to her feet.
“Never doubt,” he told her right before he kissed her.
* * *
ISABEL REMEMBERED THE LAST time with Ford. The passion had built slowly, catching her off guard and making it difficult for her to understand what was happening. This time, that wasn’t the problem. Her body recognized the upcoming kiss and apparently approved. Even before his mouth settled on hers, her nerve endings were buzzing in anticipation.
His lips claimed hers with a combination of heat and passion. Her eyes closed, allowing her to concentrate on the feel of his hands gently cupping her face. She rested her fingertips on his shoulders.
He was strong, she thought absently. Strong and powerful and very male.
Their mouths brushed once, twice before she parted for him. Just like that—kiss me more, she thought, a little shocked by her reaction. He obliged and slipped his tongue inside.
Her body came alive at the first stroke. Heat exploded low in her belly and spiraled out, capturing every part of her. Her breasts, which had never been that interesting to her, began to feel heavy and ache. She knew her ni**les were tight.
She kissed him back, moving her tongue against his, wanting more of the heat and need. The hunger itself was pleasure. Anticipation was like a nip followed by a kiss. Slightly uncomfortable but ultimately pleasing.
She leaned into him, wanting to feel her br**sts crushed against his hard chest. Only not like this, she thought, running her hands up and down his back. Not with so many layers of clothing between them. She wanted skin on skin. She wanted him touching her and licking and—
The clarity of the image was as startling as her imagining it and she pulled back, unable to believe what was happening. She stood on her back porch confused, breathing hard and with a strong need to rip off her shirt and bra and have Ford put his hands on her breasts. Not just his hands. His mouth. And not just her breasts.
She tried to catch her breath. What was happening? This so wasn’t her.