A Trashy Affair (18 page)

Having no intention of dragging pollutants into her house, she shucked off the boots at the front of the garage and made her way across a scattering of small pecans more painful to tread upon than pebbles. “Ouch, ouch—ouch, ouch,” she muttered with each step.

Strong arms gathered her up from behind. If she didn’t know his very scent by now, she would have screamed. “Merlin, you can put me down.”

“Sure, I love hearing you make that little ouch, ouch noise, cuddles.” But he did not release her until they reached the kitchen steps where he set her down gently at the top.

“I didn’t expect you so soon. I went out to take pictures of the waste pit we need to get cleaned up.” She took her little digital camera from her shirt pocket and suddenly recalled the ketchup stains down her front. “I’m not injured.”

“No, I recognize ketchup when I see it. Blood has a coppery smell and dries black. Still, you shouldn’t go places like that alone. They find bodies in those pits all the time.”

“None out there today, not even a snapping turtle to worry about. Wildlife deserted the area some time ago, but thanks for your concern.” On eye level with him, she could not resist rasping her thumb along his unshaven jaw. He caught it in his teeth and shook her digit like an overgrown puppy for a second before letting go.

“Ready to play, are we?” Jane asked.

“After lunch. Holy Mom is holding a hot link po-boy sale today for a benefit. Granny asked me to get her some, so I bought enough for us, too.”

He held up two white paper bags clutched in one fist. If she hadn’t been so busy sniffing his neck and taking in the aroma that should be labeled “manly” when he carried her, she would have caught the smell of barbecued sausage exuding from the sacks. She already knew the contents: a hot link sausage poking out the ends of a short bun, a bag of chips, an off-brand can of cola, and a peppermint candy to sweeten the breath after eating, the ingredients that raised funds for many good causes in the area. Sad to say, her stomach rumbled as it never did for salad.

“Now I owe you for gas and lunch.”

“Don’t worry about it. Like Waldo, I think I’ll get my money’s worth.”

Jane opened the door before they ended up rolling on the lawn among the fallen pecans. Merlin made himself at home popping the tops of the soft drinks and laying out the spread while Jane got glasses and ice. A little orange grease leaked from the end of the sausage when she took a bite and landed on her chest. She didn’t bother wiping it away this time.

“This shirt needed to go in the wash anyhow. No sense wearing clean clothes to visit a cesspit.”

“You can take it off anytime. All right by me.” His smile tugged at his lips. His blue eyes glittered in kitchen light she’d turned on as the sky outside darkened. Tempted, she was very tempted to do exactly that, but held him off with, “Right, you’d love that.”

“I would, especially if you have on that green lace bra.”

“Sure, I wear my best undies to tramp around polluted sites.”

The first pattering of drops began to fall covering the noise of crunching potato chips. Neither one of them forgot to use the mint at the end of the meal. A long, low roll of thunder stretched out like a sexual groan followed by an orgasmic flash of lightning.

“You ever been upstairs when rain is hitting that metal roof?”

“No, it’s more of a guestroom. I don’t really use the space except for that and storage.”

“I do recall you had a bed up there. Come on.”

Merlin led her through the house, out the front door, and up the precarious wooden stairs to the old
garçonniere
.

“Loud,” she said as the rain beat down harder, maybe mixed with a little hail.

“Soothing when it lets up a little, great for napping.” He eyed the sleigh bed. “Not made for two.”

“No, it’s a guestroom, not a bachelor pad.”

“Not a problem.” He stooped to draw out the trundle bed and tumble her onto its fresh sheets. “You fit just fine.”

“So where do you plan to nap?”

“I don’t plan to nap at all. Let me help you out of that awful stained shirt.” Straddling her, he started on the buttons and got down to the bra in a hurry.

“Plain white cotton. You disappointed?”

“Nope. Because it will be out of my way in a second. There. Nice, very nice, 36C.”

“How did you know that?”

“Read the label, sugar baby. I didn’t really get to see them last time.”

“All I got to see was the leather of my couch. Then, you left.”

“I had my reasons. You want me to go?”

Like the storm outside, they’d been building toward this since last night. No way would she let him walk now. Jane sat up letting him get a good look before she stretched the dark T-shirt over his head and used her hand to smooth down that black hair from his head all the way down his chest to his belt buckle. She grappled with its oversized buckle embossed with a motorcycle. He released it and himself with one tug and a quick unzip. No briefs. He searched his hip pocket for a condom before kicking off his jeans and taking his athletic shoes with them. No socks either. The man came ready for action.

“Unless you’ve been with Wanda, you don’t really need to use that.”

“Wanda who? Jane, I want you to feel safe with me so I’ll use it.”

“Then, allow me.”

She took the packet he’d torn open and smoothed it down the length of his hardened shaft all the way to the root, a treat for both of them evidently because he nearly upended her stripping off her jeans and socks. Her panties were pink cotton, but bikini cut. Like the bra, they didn’t stay on long enough to matter. Then, he began to work her with those long fingers inside and out while he pressed her back and seized a nipple in his mouth. Jane nibbled along his neck and shoulder as he bowed over her, but like the rain that started gently and turned into a storm her bites grew stronger as her urge increased.

She raked her nails down his back and cupped his buttocks, trying to force him to enter her now, now, now! Stubborn as he could be in all ways, he kept that thumb in motion on her pulsing clit, his fingers filling the space inside, merely turning his head to take the other breast for a suckle. Jane beat on his back with both fists. “In, in, damn you!”

He raised his head long enough to say, “Ladies first.” Lightning struck nearby adding to the charge in the air. Unable to hold back any longer, she came with an electric surge that arched her back.

“That’s my little darlin’,” he said.

“Oh, you—you…” Words failed her because now he sank deep into her moist warmth and began building on what he’d wrought. He took his time and when she bucked again, picked up the pace for the final thrusts before shuddering down into her arms. She stroked his back in apology for her scratches and laid gentle kisses along his prickly cheek. He mumbled something into her shoulder.

“What did you say?”

“You for sure ain’t frigid.”

If he admitted anything else he wasn’t going to own up to it. Merlin rolled off on her far side, and Jane, feeling chilled by his loss, spooned around his body warmth. She tugged the quilt from the top of the bed over both of them though his long legs hung out over the edge of the trundle. The rain gentled, only a light pattering against the metal roof now. Soothing, yes, it was. She put an arm over him and could tell by the regular rise and fall of his chest he’d gone to sleep. Instead of feeling insulted, she put her worries aside, burrowed her face against his nape and relaxed into a long overdue nap.

Chapter Sixteen

A strong arm smashed Jane against the side of the sleigh bed. Merlin thrashed entangled in the sheets and quilt. A strong shaft of sunlight from the small attic window illuminated the side of his desperate, black-bearded face.

“We’re going down! Do you read me? Six aboard, my gunner wounded. Do you read me?” He spewed out coordinates and the ID of his chopper, repeated the call for help again and again. Sweat ran down his back. Tremors shook his body.

Jane wrapped her arms around his quaking torso from the rear. Locking her hands over his pounding heart, she whispered in his ear. “You aren’t over there anymore, Merlin. Come back now. Come back to Louisiana, to your old room in your granny’s house where you are safe. You had a bad dream. Wake up.”

He calmed. The tension went out of his body, and he sank back onto the small mattress as Jane released him. She stroked his lank, dark hair back from his forehead. His eyes opened, so bright a blue in the patch of sunlight.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Only a small bump, nothing much.”

“Were you scared of me?”

“No, only scared for you.”

He lowered the lids of his eyes like a child unable to face his mother after doing wrong. “This is why I can’t stay the night, Jane. I do things in my sleep. The dream comes, and I rip down my drapes or break a lamp and only find out when I wake up.”

He shivered as the sweat on his body dried. Jane straightened the quilt and drew it over him. She stroked his hair again. “Does this happen when you are offshore? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Usually I stay in the trailers at Intracoastal City, but plenty of guys out on the rigs have been to Iraq and Afghanistan. Hell, the man who owns the company where I work flew helicopters in Nam. They get it. And I’m not likely to put a dent in any of them. They can take it, but you—any woman, I could hurt.”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t think so. From what I’ve seen you are a protector, always trying to save someone else and getting pissed when you can’t. Would it help if you told me about what happened over there?”

“You can’t understand.”

“No, I don’t imagine I can, but sometimes it helps just to tell someone what’s bothering you.”

“That’s what my shrink says. You want me to go now that you know I really am crazy?”

“No, I think it’s great that you are getting help.”

“I’m working on the self-medicating, the beer I mean. I’ve gotten a lot better since—recently.”

“Get dressed, come downstairs, and talk to me over coffee.”

She got up and gathered the scattered clothing, found her socks and panties still stuffed in her jeans, but her shirt and bra halfway across the room. She caught him looking as she bent over to cover herself. The glint of interest, the slight smile on his face gave her hope.

“How about when I finish, I sit on the bed and watch you dress, huh?”

“Fine by me, but if you pay too much attention you will end up naked again.”

Jane found one of his oversized shoes and lobbed it at him, like he cared.

“You know, you’re still half-naked and your boobs jiggle when you do that, hot stuff. Go on and throw the other one.”

“Don’t tempt me to whap you over the head with it.” She walked over to where her shirt and bra lay crumpled on the floor and intentionally turned her back on him to put them on.

“Party pooper.”

“Coffee in the kitchen, five minutes.” Despite the sternness of her voice, she went down the stairs smiling.

Merlin joined her before the pot stopped perking. She put out the real sugar for him and the skimmed milk. He fixed his mug after she poured and kept his eyes on the white milk swirling into the blackness of the brew.

“Do you really want to know?” The way he said the words implied, “Must I?”

“Yes. Begin at the beginning.” She doctored her own coffee with a little sweetener.

“Okay, so I quit college, join the army, go into helicopter training for a year, and find I have a talent for it. I could set a squad down anywhere on a dime and get them out again with change to spare. With a name like Merlin, they started calling me the Magician. Troops wanted to ride with me. First hitch overseas, I never took a hit to my aircraft, brought all my guys back safe. A year stateside, then back to Afghanistan again, only this time with my great record, I get assigned to the toughest region, the worst terrain. It’s harder now getting the men in and out in one piece. Some are wounded. Some don’t make it all the way back.”

“Not your fault, Merlin. You did your best.” By the bleak demeanor of his face, Jane figured offering a hug right now would hardly make a difference in his outlook. What happened to him was too big for a warm squeeze of the shoulders. For now, she stayed put and used her coffee to keep her suddenly cold hands warm.

“Rocket propelled grenades everywhere, have to be dodged, and that’s more luck than skill. Anyhow, I do a troop insertion, take off for another load, but on my way back I see another squad down there really getting pummeled. I take it on myself to go into a hover and wave them aboard. Only got room for six and if they all climb in we won’t get off the ground. Their sergeant calls out some names. The chosen men scatter for my copter while the rest lay down covering fire. I pull out with two of them still on my struts. We take some hits to the aircraft, but I get the hell out of there. Almost get back to safety when my ship goes down. I go into autorotation, land as best I can, and look over to see my gunner bleeding bad. He dies because I had to be a big hero. Left a pregnant wife.”

“You saved six,” she said softly.

“You think I did? Really? The rest of that squad got cut up bad. The rag heads decapitated the sergeant, mutilated the rest of the men I left behind. About the time my commander is pinning the Distinguished Flying Cross on my chest, all six of the men I brought back die in another aircraft hit by a missile. Jane, all I did was get my gunner, my good friend, a husband, a father by now, killed. And they wanted to give me a parade for that when I got home.”

Merlin sunk his head into his hands. His big shoulders heaved as if he carried a boulder between his blades crushing his back toward the ground. Tears leaked out between his fingers and left darkened spots on Jane’s cheerful yellow tablecloth.

That hug she’d subdued earlier, such a small thing, so powerless in the face of his grief, she offered now, going behind him, offering the press of her warmth against his shaking back.

“You can’t know the extra days those men lived had no meaning. They might have talked to a loved one for the last time, conceived a child, saved someone else’s life in whatever time they had. My mother believes we are all connected in a grand cosmic scheme that we cannot comprehend. From her point of view, nothing is ever a waste. I think she might be right.”