Just My Type (27 page)
He shook his head, his nose and hot breath against the side of her neck. “Let’s say five.”
“Okay. Five years is still a lot of deprivation on my part.”
“I guess I have some making up to do.” His big hand stroked from the outer edge of her breast to her hip.
“Guess so,” she said already feeling the shimmer of desire starting again. “Think you can keep up, old man?”
“We always have the dildo if I can’t.” His hand stroked across her belly.
“A stand-in, huh?” She rolled toward him.
He took a nipple into his mouth immediately, his hand now cupping her butt and pressing a growing erection against her belly. She groaned, ready for him too.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about running the batteries down on your vibrator any time soon, princess.”
For the first time in almost ten years Mac didn’t want to go to work. He loved his job, loved his crew, had nothing to keep him from wanting to be there.
Until Sara.
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He’d made love to her again in the night and once that morning. Still, leaving her naked and wrapped in his sheets was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He couldn’t get enough of her. The feel of her, the way she sounded, tasted.
Maybe stranger still, he’d chosen the missionary position in bed all three times. Well, there had been the few minutes when she’d ridden him, but he’d definitely finished with her on the bottom.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d chosen the missionary position at all.
But with Sara it seemed right, and he couldn’t wait to get home and do it all again.
Dooley was asleep in the passenger seat, Kevin was reading in the backseat, leaving Mac alone with his thoughts. He was surprised. They hadn’t given him any trouble at all. The only even slight hint at any ribbing was finding his clothes folded neatly on the bottom step of the staircase after he’d left them in a pile by the front door.
He risked a glance at Dooley, then in the rearview mirror. Neither seemed interested at all.
Strange. But he’d enjoy it.
They drove past the community center, then the drive-in, then the city park and swimming pool before leaving the Oscar city limits. Mac was usually fine seeing Oscar fade away behind him on his way back to Omaha.
Now Sara was there and even though he’d see her again in less than twenty-four hours—having decided he would drive back and forth each day now—it still seemed a long way between Omaha and Oscar.
When he’d offered to take her to Omaha with him and the guys today she’d insisted she had things to do. He’d asked what, but then the sheet had slipped low—accidentally or on purpose he didn’t know, or care—exposing her right breast, and he’d been a goner.
Now he couldn’t wait to get back to Oscar after his shift.
It wasn’t completely a foreign concept to him.
Oscar had been his home. He’d loved it growing up. He’d planned to raise his family and grow old there. Then as the women and years went by without anyone feeling right, he’d started to think of his work, Omaha and his little adopted family as his whole life.
But he loved this town.
Dooley woke up fifteen minutes from the hospital and Kevin closed his book. Mac braced himself for questions, jokes, a lecture…something. But they only talked about the game last night, some girl named Tara that Dooley had spent a lot of time with and how they had to stop staying out late and drinking—in Dooley’s case anyway—on nights when they had a shift the next day.
Mac breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently his taking Sara to bed last night had been monumental only to him and Sara.
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His peace lasted until four minutes after they stepped into the locker room at the hospital to change into their uniforms.
Which just happened to be when Sam came in.
“Oh, hey, Mac, I found this on the steps and forgot to give it back to Sara. You better take it home tonight.” Dooley tossed Mac a hot pink thong.
She’d probably dropped it on the way into the house last night.
It wasn’t a big deal. Except that the tossed thong nearly hit Sam in the face.
Mac caught the scrap of lace and put it in his pocket, bending to tie his shoes without a word. He was going to kill Dooley. He was pretty sure Dooley knew it so it didn’t need to be said out loud.
“Oh, and I think this is yours too, right?” Kevin tossed him one of the finger vibrators from Sara’s toy box. Which no way had just fallen out on the table or floor. They’d gone looking through the box.
Mac caught the vibrator and put it in his other pocket. Without a word, he crossed to the coffeepot. It would be harder to kill a good guy like Kevin. Hell, Kev didn’t even swear. But God would understand.
Especially when Kevin said, “I had to clear the kitchen table for breakfast this morning, so I put that pink fur wedge in the pantry. Don’t know what it was doing on the kitchen table, but it was taking up all the space.”
Mac tried valiantly to not remember exactly what it had been doing on the table. It was damned tough.
“Thanks.” Was there any chance, any chance at all, that they were done? He poured a cup of coffee he didn’t want.
“Hey, since I didn’t see Sara this morning, I was hoping you could give her a message for me,” Dooley said.
Of course they weren’t done.
“Tell her I’ve been thinking about what positions she should try and she’d look great in any of them, but The Couch Canoodle would be fantastic for her.”
Mac turned slowly to face one of his best friends. Sam and Kevin were staring at Dooley with the complete disbelief that Mac was sure was apparent on his face.
“What the
hell
are you talking about?” Mac finally asked.
“The Couch Canoodle?” Kevin said at the same time.
“You sure you want to hear this?” Dooley asked Kevin.
“I think I
have
to hear this,” Kevin said.
Dooley chuckled. “Okay, she’s on your lap on the couch—or a chair would work, I’m sure. I mean you just have to be upright…”
Kevin motioned with his hand for Dooley to get to it.
“Then she leans back. All the way back. Until she’s horizontal. Not only does it feel great, but the view…”
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“Stop. Oh my God please stop,” Mac said, plunking his coffee cup down on the counter and stepping toward Dooley, ready to do physical damage if needed. “I don’t know what you want but you can have whatever it is. Just fucking stop talking.”
Dooley gave him a this-is-going-according-to-plan grin. “It’s Cosmo. I left her the website.”
“Stop imagining my wife in
any
position—even doing dishes—stop giving her sex advice, stop leaving her websites. Just, for God’s sake, stop.”
“I’ll stop all of that if you look Sam in the eye and tell him you’re in love with his sister and to get over it.”
Mac stared at Dooley. Dooley simply crossed his arms and stared back. Then Mac looked at Sam. He thought about how Sara had looked that morning. Satiated, certainly. Sexy, sweet…and happy. Dammit.
She’d been happy. Because of him. And she knew everything. There was no pedestal for him to precariously balance on. She knew him, knew about his past and was still happy with him.
He huffed out a big breath. “Okay, what the hell? Sam, I’m in love with your sister and she’s happy.” He spread his arms wide. “I don’t know what else to say. I can’t promise to never piss her off. But she’s happy. With me.”
Sam met his gaze steadily, his arms crossed over his chest, legs wide, defensive.
“I know.”
Mac rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you’re perfect either, but Dani puts up with your sorry ass because she loves you. Is it so hard to believe Sara loves me?”
“No. It’s not.”
“And I didn’t expect this. Okay? I was ready to just stay her friend. I told you that. But this is what she wants and, dammit, I can make her happy. I honestly believe I can.”
“I think you can too.”
“And you need to leave her alone. You don’t need to take care of her all the time. Jessica doesn’t need to give her opinions on every damned thing. You take care of Danika and Jessica can nag Ben. I know it’s a habit and Sara lets you get away with it, but
I’m
taking care of her now.”
“Okay.”
“Sam, you’re a stubborn ass—”
Kevin shoved him hard from behind. “Shut up, Mac.”
Mac glared over his shoulder. “What the hell, Kev?”
“Shut up and listen. Sam’s trying to tell you something.” Mac looked back at Sam. “Fine, say it. Get it over with. Then duck, because I’m done with this bullshit and I’m probably going to hit you.”
Sam took a big step forward, his arms still crossed. “What I’ve been trying to say, jackass, is that I know Sara’s happy. And she’s safe with you. And you’ll take care of her and probably give in to anything
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she wants. Whether that’s good or bad for you is another question. For me, it’s great. So we’re good. It’s all good.”
Mac stared at Sam waiting for the
but
, or whatever else was coming. “And?” he finally demanded.
“And it’s about time you stood up and threatened to hit me if I said no. That’s how I know you’re serious about her.”
Mac narrowed his eyes. “You’re just fine with all of this? Suddenly it’s all peachy?” Sam narrowed his eyes in return. “Yeah. Peachy.”
“I’m sleeping with your sister, Sam.”
“I know. Sara called Dani this morning. It’s about time for that too.”
“Oh, really,” Mac said sarcastically. “Like you’ve been begging me to do her since day one.”
“It’s what Sara wanted. So she told Dani all the time. Of course I don’t want her spending her life with some guy who isn’t going to be a real husband to her.”
“I’m using a pink fur wedge with her.” Well, that one time he had.
“So I heard,” Sam said dryly.
“She’s wearing edible body powder for me.”
Sam relaxed his stance, dropping his arms to his sides. “As long as it’s what she wants.”
“It is,” Mac said. “I am.” The confidence he felt with those words was liberating. His relationship with Sara was different than any other he’d ever had. Which was as it should be. He couldn’t be as sexually uninhibited as he’d been with other women—he simply couldn’t go there with Sara. She was special, different. But it was fine. He’d had his time to play, his wild days. He was a married man and it was time for him to settle down.
“Okay then.”
Sam pivoted away and headed for his locker.
“So that’s it? After all your crap, now it’s all just fine?”
“You’re gonna make me say it?”
Mac thought about it, for about three seconds. “Yep.”
“Fine. I was wrong. I overreacted.”
He felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. “Okay.”
“It takes a big man to say he was wrong.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, not every guy can suck it up and say they’re sorry.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not going to get any credit for this?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.” Sam turned back to his locker. “But I am a hell of a guy,” he muttered.
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Sara wished, for maybe the first time ever, that she knew how to make banana bread. Or any kind of bread. Or anything that could be called a baked good.
It would have been nice to walk into Style with something
she
made for a change, but the bakery did a great job and the women at the shop were in the habit of having the coffeepot full and the napkins out by nine thirty when Sara made her appearance.
The banana bread was a hit no matter who made it. Sara sat in the chair between Cindy and Kathy, pretending to study the book of hairstyles. She was sort of, kind of contemplating a change in color. More she was wondering how long it would take for her to get her own chair in the salon waiting room. She was the only one who seemed to have to move each day. There were four regulars, present every morning, but the other three chairs changed occupants depending on the day of the week and who had to work or run errands. One woman worked at the library twice a week, another took her toddler to daycare twice a week so she could be at the Style on Mondays and Thursdays, the third went to see her mom once a week for lunch so surrendered her chair.
Yes, they all got their hair done and tanned in the tanning beds at the back of the shop, but really they all showed up for the socialization, laughter and gossip. And now the treats that Sara brought in.
“My son says she’s a city girl and he can’t wait to show her that we grow our own Christmas trees,” Sonya said. “I’d love to see her tromping through the snow with an axe.” They all chuckled.
“You grow your own Christmas trees?” Sara asked. She couldn’t help it. She was a city girl too.
“We grow the whole town’s Christmas trees,” Sonya told her.
“And trees for lots of other people,” Monica piped up. “They own the Christmas tree farm out north of town.”
Sara thought about that. She supposed Christmas trees, like all other trees, had to grow somewhere.
She’d just honestly never thought about it. Or the people who had to chop them down.
“Have you ever chopped one down, Sonya?” Sara asked.
She knew she should feel self-conscious about being the new girl, the not-quite-welcomed girl, who kept asking questions that were probably dumb. She’d decided not to care. She wasn’t going to let the women ignore her. She was a nice person who just wanted to make some friends.
“Well, yeah, honey. I chop trees down all the time.”
“That’s why not everyone around here gets manicures,” Angela said from where she was rolling a woman’s hair in curlers.
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Angela rarely spoke directly to Sara and when she did, it was usually to point out something silly Sara had said or to mockingly answer a question. Everyone else seemed to be warming up somewhat. But not Angela. Sara had yet to be brave enough to ask why.