Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

Reese held on to the railing so hard she was afraid she’d crack the boards. Her knees were wobbling. She was going to drop any second. “I need you.”

Tory played her free hand up and down Reese’s hard abdomen, then gripped the waistband of her jeans and tugged. “I know. I need you too. Right now I need you to be all mine.”

“I’m always all yours.” Reese grasped Tory’s wrists before she lost all focus. “Let’s go inside. Time to get the little swimmers on their way.”

“Mmm.” Tory leaned into Reese. “Rumor has it a well-timed orgasm will give them a running start.”

“That can be arranged.”

Tory laughed. Reese took her hand and walked out of the shadows into the safety of home.

*

Flynn traveled west on Commercial, threading her way through the early-evening throngs. After Labor Day the tourist traffic cut down, but October was a popular month—the last gasp of Indian summer when the leaf peepers still flooded New England and the town geared up for Women’s Week, one of the biggest events of the year. With Columbus Day weekend still a while away, most of the stores and restaurants were open and shoppers and sidewalk crawlers took advantage of the unseasonably warm early fall evening to stroll the streets. She slowed in front of the Shoreline restaurant. The plate glass windows were dark, and inside, chairs were piled on the small tables that filled the storefront. She knew Mica wouldn’t be here—the restaurant, popular with locals and tourists alike, closed after a late lunch hour. Still, she had come to check, a bubble of expectation in her throat. And just as she had known, her anticipation was greeted with empty silence. The steeple clock at Town Hall chimed eight, and the unoccupied tables and chairs reminded her she hadn’t eaten dinner. She didn’t cook much, preferring to grab a sandwich or a piece of pizza after shift.

She turned and started back to the center of town. On impulse, she deviated down the board sidewalk to the Piper Bar. Midweek, off-season, the place was fairly deserted. A few locals sat at the bar, several couples swayed on the dance floor adjoining the rear deck, and a few others occupied tables around the edge of the room. One bartender worked the bar. Flynn slid onto a stool and waited.

“Help you?” A redhead in a tight black T-shirt with a sequined peacock over her breasts slapped a cocktail napkin in front of Flynn.

“A beer. Whatever dark you’ve got on draft.”

“Sure thing.”

The redhead turned away, and Flynn studied the napkin, remembering the last time she’d been here. She’d had a date with Allie. Their first date. They’d danced and walked home hand in hand. They’d kissed on her sofa, and the kisses had led to more. But Allie had stopped her when she might not have stopped herself, and that was unusual for her. She wasn’t a go-all-the-way-on-the-first-date sort of person. But Allie had made it easy to forget who she was. Allie made it easy to forget a lot of things.

“Here you go. Three fifty.” The bartender set a glass in the center of the white napkin, and a dark ring spread out around its base from water dripping down the sides of the glass. Flynn extracted a five from her wallet. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks, hon.” The bartender hesitated. “What’s your name?”

“Flynn.”

“I’m Marylou. You’re new in town.”

“Been here almost a month,” Flynn said.

“Planning to stay?”

“Yes.” Until she’d had the question put to her, Flynn had never actually considered her answer. But she was staying. Not because she had nowhere else to go, although her choices were somewhat limited. But this town beckoned to her. She felt at home here.

“Good to hear. I’ll see you around, then.”

“You will.” Flynn pulled at her beer and watched the activity behind her reflected in the mirror over the bar. A door on the far side of the dance floor opened, and someone came through carrying a cardboard box of liquor. Flynn narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t imagining things. Mica crossed to the bar and carried the box around behind it.

“Hey, Marylou,” Mica said, “you want me to bring up a case of the Captain next? It looks like you’re low.”

“Why don’t you just grab a couple of bottles,” Marylou said as she pulled up a draft.

“Okay.”

Mica set the box on the bar and started to stack the bottles into racks underneath. She worked quickly, as if she’d done the job before. Tory King had been right. Even in the dim, red-tinged light from the neon brewery signs hanging along the bar, the bruise around her left eye was apparent. She had the beginnings of a shiner that was probably going to be pretty dramatic in the morning.

Flynn slid down several bar stools, dragging her beer with her, until she was opposite Mica. “I would’ve thought you’d be too sore to work tonight.”

Mica jumped, her eyes darting rapidly to Flynn before all expression fled her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We met early this morning.” Flynn lowered her voice. “When you had that accident on your bicycle.”

“Yeah,” Mica said, “I know who you are. Like I said then, I’m fine.”

“Okay. I’m glad.”

“I’ll bet.” Mica pulled the empty cardboard box off the bar and turned away, threading her way down to the opposite end, where she rapidly pushed her way through a door leading to the alley outside.

Flynn debated going after her and then decided whatever the reasons Mica had left the clinic, whatever demons chased her, were none of her business. She drained her beer and set it carefully onto the cocktail napkin.

“Buy you another?” Allie settled onto the stool next to Flynn. She wasn’t in uniform now, and she looked young and fresh in a scooped-neck long-sleeved tee, hip-hugger jeans, and low-heeled boots. Her raven hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” Flynn said, looking past Allie around the room. She didn’t see Ash Walker anywhere. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m good too. Shoulder okay?”

“It gets stiff now and then, but it’s healed up.”

“Good.”

“So, how are we doing?”

Flynn smiled. “I think we’re doing okay. How are things with Ash?”

Allie smiled, the kind of smile a woman in love smiles. “You know we had a past, right? Before I went out with you.”

“Yeah, I figured that from some of the things Ash told me. And—well, the way you looked at her. You couldn’t see anyone else.”

Allie blushed, a rare sight. “Jeez—uncool of me. Okay, well, I’m sorry about the way things turned out with us—”

“No, there’s nothing to be sorry for. We had a couple of really terrific dates. And I’m really glad for you.”

“You’re really scary nice, you know?”

“No, I’m not, but I can still be happy for you.”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me why you think you don’t deserve it too.”

Flynn frowned. “Deserve what?”

“Happiness.”

Chapter Six

Reese leaned on her elbow, slowly stroking Tory’s abdomen. Tory’s face glowed in the muted light, a softness about her eyes that pulled at Reese’s heart. “You look beautiful right now. How do you feel?”

Tory turned on her side, keeping her hips slightly elevated on the pillow underneath her lower back, and kissed Reese. “I feel wonderful. How are you?”

“Sort of”—Reese lightly kissed Tory’s breast above her heart and took a deep breath—“in awe, I guess. I like doing it this way, better than in the office.” She rested her cheek between Tory’s breasts and wrapped her arm around Tory’s middle, melding the lengths of their bodies. “When I think about Reggie, and what a miracle she is, and that you did that—you created her for us.” Reese’s throat closed and she shut her eyes tightly, the surge of wonder warring with the rush of terror that always came over her when she thought about how precious Tory and Reggie were.