“What if I was?” He inhaled quickly as I nibbled his jaw. A muffled groan escaped him as I wound my hands into his hair, then kissed a path straight toward his mouth.
“I know a much better way to mark your territory,” I breathed, then covered his mouth with a hot, wild kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth as his hands became rough and unsteady.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice full of need and want, and I luxuriated in the knowledge that I could make him this way. “Tell me what you want.”
I pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “I want you to fuck me raw, then come all over me. I want to be covered in you, slippery and wet and filthy dirty.”
Leo froze. Then pulled back to look at me. And sucked in air like he didn’t have nearly enough.
I’d love to tell you we made it back to my house. The most I can say is we made it just barely of town, and defiled a country road in the most glorious way.
Chapter 21
“Order up! I’ve got scrambled with dry rye, two Reubens, one with pickle, and a black cow. Let’s get a move on, shall we, ladies?”
I laughed as dish towels from all four corners of the diner came flying in my direction. Maxine and the others trooped over to retrieve their orders from the window, and I earned a wink from her. I’d spent the morning in the weeds when Carl called out sick. I’d handled the grill, prepped for tomorrow, and started on the cleanup, staying ahead as best I could.
“How’s it going, Mrs. Oleson?” I called out as the bell tinkled, alerting me to a new customer.
Mrs. Oleson waved and called out, “Roxie, will you be here tomorrow morning? I need to order something for the mayor’s luncheon next week. Can you do a pineapple upside-down something?”
“How about pineapple and orange, with a brandy glaze?”
The entire diner oohed and aahed, and she gave me the thumbs-up. Giving a little curtsey, I turned back to marrying the ketchup bottles behind the counter, whistling along with the jukebox as I combined the half-bottles. Hearing the bell tinkle once more, I called over my shoulder, “Welcome to Callahan’s! Grab any open seat; a waitress will be right over with . . .”
My voice trailed off as the scent of patchouli reached me. No way. I turned to see my mother standing just inside the door, Aunt Cheryl right behind her. She was tan, healthy looking, and positively beaming.
“You’re not supposed to be— What are you— I mean, you’re home!” I blurted. Oops.
“Well, welcome home to you too,” she replied, her voice warm and happy. Her arms and hands were covered in henna tattoos, she had a new piercing in her nose, and her wild hair was in two frizzy braids.
Overcome with the need to hug her, I rushed out from behind the counter. A wave of patchouli washed over me, strong and earthy, and for the first time in a long time, I was very glad to see her.
But how odd that my first thought was, damn, was it time for her to come home already?
“A little help here?” Aunt Cheryl was struggling with what appeared to be both sets of their luggage.
“Oh, Aunt Cheryl, I’m so sorry, let me help you with that,” I exclaimed, snatching up duffel bags and tote bags filled to the brim with Spanish flamenco fans, Chinese New Year masks, a bamboo—
“Ma! You can’t just carry a bong around like a purse!” I threw a dish towel over the bamboo pipe.
She was waving to everyone like a celebrity. Oh boy. She’ll be milking this for the next ten years.
“It’s a ceremonial bong, Roxie. I got it from Laos. Your uptight is showing,” she said, walking further into the diner and taking a good long look.
Something tightened in my stomach as she sized up the changes I’d made, no doubt weighing how quickly she could change them back.
Shaking my head, I sprang into action. Maxine and I set all the bags off to the side by the door, while my mother was greeting everyone as if she’d been gone for years.
Someone at the counter asked the million-dollar question. “So, did you guys win?”
Mom and Aunt Cheryl passed a look between themselves before shaking their heads. “Sorry, can’t say anything. Contractually bound to be silent,” Mom explained.
“Aunt Cheryl, are you okay? You look exhausted,” I said, pushing a stool behind her.
“I’ve never been so tired in my entire life.” She sank onto the stool gratefully, resting her head on the countertop.
She was half asleep by the time I looked around for my mother, who was making the rounds, greeting her regulars, making conversation. She grew up in this town, she knew everyone, and she was well liked by all. Her return provided some excitement for this sleepy town, and she was getting her moment’s worth. As she walked around she continued to check out the changes I’d made, but there were no comments or questions so far. If she was irked by the changes, she didn’t say anything. Maybe because we had an audience. Or, maybe because she was happy with it. Unlikely, but stranger things had happened.
As I continued with my side work, the restaurant started to clear out from the lunch rush. And as I cleaned, I kept waiting for the feeling of relief to wash over me. That she was back, that I’d done my time, and I could return to my life in California. And I kept on waiting for that feeling.
But it never came. Funny.
When the last of the lunch crowd left, Mom locked the door. Making her way over to me, she sat on the stool next to her snoring sister, laughing. “Should we let her sleep?”
“She seems pretty tired.” I chuckled. “I say let her sleep.”
“Speaking of sleep—”