A Notion of Love (12 page)

I gulped from my drink and then pressed the back of my knuckles against my lips. My heart was thundering and my belly pulsing, low and intently, at just the thought of him that way. His eyes, so dark and knowing and sexy, his lips that knew exactly what mine needed, his cock that had been…so…fucking…hard.

Jillian
, I reprimanded myself sternly and bit down on my knuckle.

But oh my God
. His body seemed made for mine. I still couldn't believe I was having these thoughts, realizing these things. I knew in my heart that I wasn't betraying Chris. He was gone, and Justin was here, had always been here. Trouble was, he was still farther away than ever.

***

The next
few weeks passed and I saw nothing of Justin until the night Jo and I drove the golf cart over to Eddie's for a beer, the first I'd managed to get my sister off of Shore Leave property. Despite my deep desire to, I hadn't confessed anything about what I'd done with Justin, or what I was feeling for him, to my sister. I was having trouble restraining myself, but I was determined to wait until I had a chance to confront him first. And it was getting ridiculous. If he thought I was going to let him go, give up on him that easily, he had another thing coming. But it hurt, I had to admit, it hurt me deeply that he hadn't even tried to talk to me. He was being such a chicken.

The nights that had passed since we'd made love only served to increase my longing for him. Unfortunately both my nerves and my resolve to let him make the first move were growing thin too. And then, as I'd pulled the golf cart into the parking lot that Monday night, I noticed that Dodge, Ellen, Tish, Clint…and Justin were all sitting around the fire pit, gazing into the leaping orange flames. Tish and Clinty were roasting marshmallows, everyone besides Justin chattering. He sat meditatively; no one had noticed Jo and me on the golf cart, since I drove it back around behind the garage and it wasn't audible over the radio, anchored to an outlet by a long extension cord, which was blasting the local country station.

My heart was clattering like pebbles in a tin can; I felt about as rattled, too, but forced my voice to sound normal as I asked my sister, “You want to join them?”

Jo shook her head at once. She herself was too rattled over talking to Bly at Eddie's just a half hour earlier. Her cheeks were still pink, her eyes starry and her hands on a slight tremble. God, their mutual attraction was going to eat them alive. I wondered just how long she'd be able to resist him; judging by her expression, not long.
Shit, I had tried.
I had told her about my dream, I had warned her. I caught her around the waist for a quick hug and then she headed over the grass to bed. I sat on the bench seat of our ancient golf cart, watching Jo walk away, listening to the music and everyone chattering, trying to ratchet up enough nerve to join them around the fire.

What was he doing here? What did it mean? Justin hadn't dared to show up since the evening we'd taken a walk around Flicker Trail. Just the sight of him from a distance had made me feel shredded apart, aroused and agitated to the extreme. I was still staring after my sister, who'd just disappeared into the darkness near the house, when he said, “Jill,” and I made a sound that was half-shriek, half-gulp.

I spun towards the voice that had been haunting my thoughts and prowling into my dreams. Justin was standing on the far side of the golf cart, gripping the wide-set roll bars, one in each hand; he was closer to me than he'd been in weeks. My heart tried to leap out of my chest in joy. He was stone-faced but his eyes burned into mine, hotter than the bonfire that was backlighting him in a demonic red glow.

“Hey,” I managed to breathe. My entire body was galloping. I tried to draw enough of a breath to calm myself.

“I'm sorry I've been avoiding you,” he said, blunt and direct, as was his fashion. He looked good, so damn good, that I curled my fingers into my palms to keep from reaching for him. He was standing totally still, bending at the waist so that he could meet my gaze beneath the top cover of the cart. His long, lean legs were clad in faded jeans, like always, his t-shirt fitting snuggly over his powerful torso. I imagined all the dark hair on his chest, his legs, his forearms, where I'd been pressed so close. I swallowed and could do nothing but continue to stare at him. He said, and his voice was husky and low, “God, you're beautiful.”

No one could see us, hidden from sight by the edge of the garage. But even if they'd all been staring, I didn't think I'd have been able to stop myself from sliding across the seat and gripping his shirt in both fists. My hands were shaking but determined as hell as I pulled him roughly to me. He released his grip on the bars and was crushing my shoulders in his hands in the next instant, pinning me to him as we kissed with all of the pent-up desire that had been raging since we'd made love on the dock. I gasped against his lips, tipping my head back as he kissed my jaw, my neck, his teeth closing over my earlobe as shivers rippled over my skin. I felt feverish and dangerous, still clutching his shirt in my hands. I released it and got my arms around his neck. His hands were all over me, hot and intense, gliding over my hips and thighs, catching me behind the knees and fitting my spread legs around his hips.

I yanked him forward, so that I was on my back on the seat, Justin bent over me. He kissed me with such force, so much passion, that again I felt an orgasm building from just his lips. He was so incredible. He bracketed the side of my neck in one hand, pressing the other against my belly, which jumped in response, my insides liquid and flowing like molten rock. The red haze was descending over me again. I ran my hands all over him like I'd been fantasizing, greedy for him, into his thick black hair, over his shoulders and then under his shirt, where his skin was so hard and warm. I moaned against his lips, his tongue in my mouth, joined with mine. He tasted so good. I slid my palm down his stomach and had almost reached his jeans when he groaned as though in pain and drew back, breath pelting my face.

My eyes flew open to see him staring down at me with so much intensity that I felt as though I'd just leaped from the high dive and into empty air. Through two layers of denim between us I could feel how hard he was and my belly jumped again, the insides of my thighs hot as coals.

“What?” I demanded breathlessly.
Now, tell him
now
. Tell him that you're in love with him
.

But some instinct warned me that I'd only scare him more. He was so afraid of his feelings, of daring to love someone again, because once you loved someone you could be ripped apart. And anyone with an ounce of sense shied away from that kind of potential pain.

“Jilly,” he said, his voice sounding strangled. I squeezed my legs around his hips, curled my hands possessively into his hair.
Justin, just say it, oh God, just tell me what's in your heart
.

“What?” I whispered again, almost pleading. His eyes above mine were so serious; he appeared to be in actual pain. And then, to my dismay, he disentangled himself from my grasp and stood up. Turning at once, he covered his face in both hands. I went up on my elbows, feeling as though a part of my own body had been torn away. My heartbeat flooded my ears.

He turned back to me and said, his voice shaking, “Goddammit, Jillian,” as though to blame me for his distress. Which was, technically, fair. His eyes were on fire and just as scorching.

I was so full of disappointment and anger and too many other things to acknowledge. I felt as though he'd hit me, or something equivalent, though Justin would never dream of doing such a thing. Though for a moment I wanted to hit him. My lips were swollen from his kisses, my nipples like spear points, and I was so aroused and wet I was almost afraid to stand up. All of these things contributed to me saying, cruelly, “You're
such a chicken!
”

He moved for me instantly but I scrambled away, furious now, putting the golf cart between us. He practically growled, “You don't understand.”

I glared at him, tears sparking into my eyes, even though I never cried. I snapped back, “No, I guess not! I've never been hurt before, right?”

It pained him that I said that, I could tell. The anger and tension seemed to flow from him as he said, his voice low, “You know I don't mean that.”

But I was still angry and continued in that vein, demanding, “Then what do you mean?”

His full lips were compressed into a tight line, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes almost unbearable with what he was begging me to understand. And deep inside, I knew he loved me and was too afraid to tell me. It was a strange sensation, that heady knowledge swirled together with my current, utter frustration. I was determined that he would tell me first. He had to show me that he could muster up that courage. I waited, my chest rising and falling quickly, just barely able to restrain myself from rushing back into his arms. The air between us crackled.

His eyes never straying once from mine, he said, “You don't know what you're asking.”

“Dammit, Justin,” I said, my own voice shaking now, tears starting to roll down over my face.

“Aw, Jilly, don't cry,” he said softly, moving swiftly around the golf cart that still separated us, but I wasn't about to accept his pity right now. Instead I shoved his chest, stunned at the force of my anger. Heat leaped back into his eyes and he caught my upper arms in his hands. I tried to pull away while he clung; for a moment we were locked in a grapple, breathing hard. Then I kicked his shin, though it couldn't have hurt much since I was wearing flip-flops. But I kicked him fiercely and he dropped his hands from me, his eyes flashing.

“Go home and be alone then,” I choked out, turning and walking quickly away, from both the bonfire and him, wiping violently at my tears. From the distance I could hear the song “
I Can Love You Better
” by the Dixie Chicks blaring from the radio, which fortified me. I heard him move and so I started to run. He darted after me at once, caught me around the waist, and I would have fallen to the ground if not for his arms around me. I struggled against him: flailing my arms and kicking at him while he tried to hold me still. One of my flip-flops went flying as I twisted around, and then I was clawing at his shirt as though to rip it from his body and he was kissing me, groaning deep in his throat as our mouths crashed together and our heads slanted one way and then the other, almost frantically, unable to get enough of each other.

I grabbed his hand and brought it to my belly, pressing fiercely against him. He groaned and nearly ripped my shorts as he slid his palm into my panties, where he cupped me and stroked heatedly. My knees were weak and I held myself up by clinging to his shoulders, moaning against him as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and closed his teeth over it. His strong, questing fingers were everywhere at once, and then deep inside me, where I needed so much to be touched. I bit the cords of muscle that played over his right shoulder as he made me come.
Good with his hands, indeed
. I dug my fingernails into the muscles of his back and bit the side of his neck to stop myself from making enough noise for everyone to come running.

He held me close, breathing roughly against my hair as I tried to pull myself together, my face buried against his chest. I was shaking and only wanted more, and then more, of him. But I was angrier than ever too, despite everything. The air around us had energized at the onset of an approaching thunderstorm, which seemed to echo the unrest in my heart. I tipped my chin against his chest and looked up at him. He held me tightly. His gorgeous, tortured dark eyes told me everything he couldn't say.

“I do know what I'm asking,” I told him firmly, while staring into his dark eyes. “That's why I'm asking it.”

I forced myself to move out of his arms, though at once I was cold and felt again as if something vital had been torn from me. But this time when I headed for my apartment, he let me go.

It wasn't until Trout Days, four days
later, that I saw him again. I knew, via Dodge, that Justin had been out drinking pretty hard core in the past few nights, which only tripled my anger at him. He was anything but a coward when it came to everything but this. I'd sat on the dock for hours on every night since Monday, Joelle sometimes joining me for a beer. I knew she was wrapped up in her own problems, enough that she wasn't paying attention to mine. Then again, she wasn't as observant as me, had never been. And I sympathized with her, I truly did. Not only because she was my big sister and I loved her, but because Jackson had done her a rotten deal and she deserved to find happiness with someone else. And as much as I liked Bly, I was afraid he couldn't deliver that for her, as much as Jo obviously longed for him. Crazy longed for him. But again I didn't acknowledge that I knew how she felt. There were so many secrets swirling around in me. If I'd been a teenager, I would have been elated with the intrigue; now, it just exhausted me.

I managed to talk Joelle into going into town on Friday, after we'd worked lunch. Before I headed over to my apartment to get ready, I saw Justin's trunk pull into the lot. I knew he was stopping out to drop off a canister of gasoline, among other things which Dodge had requested over the phone an hour ago. I watched from the safety of the window as he climbed from his truck, dirty and sweaty from his day at the filling station, looking so handsome and manly and utterly tempting. I had never longed so terribly for someone in my life.

“He's a good-looking boy, ain't he?” Gran acknowledged. Somehow she'd sidled up beside me without me hearing; I'd been too absorbed in studying Justin out the window.

I felt my face flush and Gran rubbed one hand, the one not clutching her cane, over my back. I sighed and then leaned to kiss her soft cheek. She moved back towards the coffeepot in the next moment, and I untied my apron and lifted my chin, banged out onto back porch. Justin looked up at me immediately and then went still, pausing in the middle of unlatching the tailgate of his truck. His gaze held mine and heat leaped between us. I walked slowly down the porch steps; his eyes never left me, but he didn't move forward. I tossed my head and looked away from him with determination, thinking,
Just you wait. I'll make you so jealous you won't be able to focus
.

That is, if he planned on going to the dance.
Please let him go to the dance tonight
.

Twenty minutes later I'd cleaned up, slipped into my sexiest sundress and even applied a little make-up. Though my heart was firing on all cylinders, hard-core, as I saw that Justin's truck was still in the lot, I had gathered up all my willpower to play it cool. I saw him out on the dock, his arms folded as he chatted with Joelle. I knew he was concerned about her and Justin knew better than anyone, being Jackson's old best friend, just how much Jo had been in love with Jackie. And how much Jackie had obviously hurt her. I drew in a deep breath and forced myself to go outside, smiling as though I hadn't a care in the world.

Justin had turned to walk back along the dock to the grass, and his footsteps slowed for a second as he caught sight of me. I called over, aware that Jo was watching me, “Hi, Justin,” giving him my sweetest smile. We weren't more than three car lengths apart and his eyes moved over me slowly, with so much heat that I trembled, but I couldn't allow him to see that. He lifted his right hand in a wave, as though to speak was too difficult for him at the moment. I looked at Joelle then, calling over to her with my usual sassy tone, “Come on, Joey, I'm sick of waiting for your ass!”

My sister groaned and grouched, “Oh for the love, Jillian.” But she joined me gamely enough; I tried to pretend I wasn't acutely aware of Justin talking to his dad before driving away. I was longing to ask Jo if he'd mentioned going to the dance tonight, but reminded myself that would be pitiful.

We walked over to town and spent the afternoon eating cheese curds and drinking tap beer while Jo caught up with old friends from school, pretending all the while that she was just fine and responding numerous times that yes, Jackie was joining her later this summer. No one suspected a thing; in her own way, Jo was just as good at pretending as I was. If I found myself sweeping the crowd—though my internal radar had not fired, which suggested to me that Justin was not yet here—I made even more effort to enjoy the conversation around me. It was a total act. In the deepening twilight we came across Clint and the girls; my son extracted himself and came over to give me a quick squeeze. For a moment I hugged him hard, smelling his scent that still called to mind my little boy, even though Clinty was far from little these days. It was just like him to give me a hug in front of everyone; in that way he was just like his dad, all sweetness.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, drawing back and letting me ruffle his hair. He added, “Justin was looking for you.”

Everything inside of me was instantly on alert. To cover my agitation, I took a long sip from my plastic cup and then asked, as casually as I could manage, “He was?”

Clint caught sight of his buddy Liam and yelled, “Hey, loser, over here!” before responding to me. He said, “Yeah, he caught me just a minute ago and asked if I'd seen you here yet.”

Really.
My heart was all at once firing like a piston, my eyes darting through the crowd. Just a minute ago, Clint had said. Justin was here, finally. He was somewhere in the crowd. I realized my hand was trembling and lowered my cup so I wouldn't spill the contents down the front of my dress. Liam joined Clint and punched his shoulder and then they both went darting away. And then Mom, Gran, Rich and Aunt Ellen found us in the crowd, Mom toting a cooler of icy-cold beer on a strap over one shoulder. I noticed Jo doing a quick inventory, looking for Blythe, but he was not to be seen. I wanted to tell her I knew exactly how she felt.

“Dodge, over here!” Rich was waving and my heart flashed fire again; I was like a teenager in a
Friday the 13
th
movie, jumpy as hell, not knowing from which direction Justin was going to approach. I rolled my eyes at myself, taking another deep drink and waving at Liz, Justin's little sister, as Joelle swept her into a hug. Just down the slope of beach, Flickertail was enchanting in the dusky evening air, rippling with shades of blue from indigo to cerulean, lapping at the shore. Kids were running everywhere, shaking sparklers, laughing and dodging adults, while a local guy, Todd Kellen, strummed a few test chords on his guitar and then at last took the mic.

“Evening everyone, hope you're here for a good time,” he said, amid cheers and whoops, and then Untamed, his band, launched into some kick-ass country music, the kind that makes it impossible to sit still. I leaned into Joelle and practically yelled to be heard over the noise, “You having fun?”

She nodded at me, seeming sincere. I could see the almost visible relaxing of her shoulders as the music played and she could see how much fun the girls were having. Ruthie was hanging out with Liz's kids, trading parade candy and giggling, while the adults (even still I had a hard time including Jo and me in that group, even though I was kidding myself if I thought otherwise these days) sipped beer and smoked and chatted. Clint had dragged both Camille and Tish to a table full of his friends; I made a promise to myself to watch for wayward cans of beer or flasks being passed in that group, although I knew better than anyone how impossible it is to stop teenagers from having a good time.

“Here, let me take some of these to the kids,” Jo said, gathering up a few cans of soda and making her way into the crowd. I was talking to Liz a few minutes later, and didn't realize at first that Joelle was no longer alone. Her face was unusually flushed and I narrowed my eyes to see Blythe right behind her, watching her steadily as they walked.
Shit, shit, shit. Distraction
. The music was pounding and when my sister sat back down I leaned into her and asked, “You wanna go dance?”

She did, and I grabbed Liz too. Ruthie and the triplets joined us, and Camille, though Tish stayed with the boys at Clint's table. A half hour later I was having a fantastic time, in spite of myself. I was drenched in sweat and needed a drink, so I threaded my way back towards Mom's cooler, feeling eyes on me as I neared. I lifted mine and was suddenly looking smack into Justin's. He was leaning on his elbows at our table, drinking beer. My breath, already short from dancing, lodged in my throat.

Cool, play it cool
, I reminded myself, totally unable to think about anything other than the last night we'd seen each other, pulling him down over me in the golf cart. I couldn't tell in the fairy lights if his neck still bore my teeth marks.

“Hey, guys,” I said, and slid opposite Blythe, who was on Justin's left, smoothing my skirt gently beneath me as I sat. Justin's eyes followed my every move, but when I dared to look up and over at him, he turned his chin a fraction, back towards the ongoing dance.

“Hey, Jills,” Blythe said back.

“Hey,” Justin added, though he kept his eyes just away from mine.

“Here, Jillian,” Mom called from down the table, sliding a beer my way.

“Thanks,” I responded, cracking the top. I took a long drink.

Bly leaned over the table and commented, “You guys look like you're having fun.”

I smiled at him, unable to help it; he was so besotted with my sister that I felt a flash of guilt for attempting to drive a wedge between them, however subtly. But it was for both of their own good. With that thought on my mind, I realized the song was switching to a slow one and Bly's gaze swept out over the dancers, catching and holding Joelle as she laughed and fanned herself fifty feet away, in a group that was pairing off all around her. Blythe was about to get to his feet, I could tell.

“Justin,” I said, and his name felt so good in my mouth.

He had been watching me talk to Bly anyway, and our eyes crashed and held while my heart took on a life of its own. I so wanted to say, “Dance with me,” but actually said, “Go dance with Jo.”

He narrowed his dark eyes at me, as though gauging my motive; we hadn't spoken since I'd been wrapped in his arms Monday night. I added, “For old time's sake.”

Liz darted up to the table just then and snagged a couple more beers; Justin looked intensely at me for another moment before rising and following in his sister's footsteps. I found myself studying him as he walked away and was totally surprised when Bly, still leaning on his elbows, asked me, “So what's with you and him?”

I widened my eyes at him in what I hoped was innocence, but he tipped his head and gave me such a knowing look, such an
I'm calling you on your bullshit
expression that I couldn't help but laugh a little. I rolled my eyes and said, “Too much to explain.”

“Well, he really likes you,” Blythe told me, as though it was news to me.

I let my eyes scan the crowd and found Justin looking back my way. Blythe was watching them too, and he shifted restlessly, his eyebrows inadvertently drawing together at the sight of Joelle being held in someone else's arms. Again I felt the weight of guilt on my shoulders. Besides, who the hell was I to think I had the power to stop anything between Bly and my sister?

“What makes you say that?” I asked him then.

Blythe managed to drag his eyes back to me and said, “It's pretty obvious.”

I wanted to press him for answers, but in the next moment Justin was headed back our way. Blythe abruptly got to his feet and said, “I'll see you guys later,” and disappeared into the crowd without further explanation. I sighed and stood up too, flustered and angry and, God help me, horny as hell. The lyrics to “Fire Down Below,” the old Bob Seger song, were suddenly pounding through my mind as Justin reached the table again and studied me as I stood helplessly, feeling caught in a trap; I was fully aware that my entire family was just a few feet away, though engaged in chatting and drinking, and fortified my will to appear at ease.

We stared at each other until I was sure that a fire would flare to life in the air between us. I was determined to wait him out, let him walk away first, but in the end it was me. I bit my lip, so frustrated, wanting to shove against his shoulder as I skirted past him on my way back to the dance floor. I joined my sister and threw my heart and soul into appearing to be in a good mood, shaking my hips and melding into the dancing crowd. But when I turned back that way, Justin too had disappeared.

***

I dreamed
about Chris just before dawn, the first he'd visited me in my sleep in years. In the dream I was wandering along the edge of Flickertail under a sky that could only occur in the sleeping world, with an inky black palette studded by stars in every glowing jewel-tone imaginable, ruby and topaz, sapphire and peridot. These small, impossibly green stars caught my eyes especially as I ambled along, using a long stick to poke at the water where it met the sandy shore. When one fell from the sky with a sizzle and appeared to land just a few hundred yards ahead, I abandoned my stick and hurried after it, desperate to retrieve the treasure. I pushed heavy tree branches from my way, felt the soggy ground leak into my shoes, though I was moving away from the lake. My breath was coming hard, hurting my chest, but at last I found the fallen star, glinting at me from the grass. I picked it up and held it in my right palm, feeling a measure of calm.

When I straightened back up, Chris was there, just as I'd last seen him, twenty-two years old and smiling. My heart seemed to expand and fill my entire chest. He was here in front of me, for this moment and not just a memory.

“Oh, Chris,” I whispered, my hands cupped around the pulsing green star, so tiny and fragile. In the sky it had appeared so large, so vital, and here it was just a fleck of gemstone. I felt an intense need to protect its light, though I wanted to touch my husband. But I couldn't drop the star. I looked up and into his kind, familiar eyes with their colors mixing like the surface of a pond scattered into ripples by a stone. I implored him, “Help me, Chris.”