Scrumptious (13 page)

“Nice try, Danny Boy. If these guys are dangerous, there’s no way I’m going to get involved. Let Keith hang. He deserves it. Call the cops if you really care,” she suggested.

“I’m pretty sure one of the players is a cop. No help there. Come on, Marlene. It will be like Vegas. We had a good time, remember?” His warm eyes lit with memories of a great weekend in a free hotel room with complimentary room service and a huge Jacuzzi. Olivia and Keith had gone with them. Keith had won big, luck being blind, and he remained convinced to this day that he had poker skills. She shook her head.

Danny edged closer to her. He put his hands on her arms, and she let him, just to see how it made her feel.

Nothing. Danny’s eyes weren’t blue. Or hot and cold at the same time.

Gently, she pushed him away.

He frowned. “I’ve heard stories about Joe Rafferty. You know he’s leaving right? He’s a user, Marlene. And I
—
”

“Maybe after he’s gone, Danny Boy, but not now.”

Danny sighed. He really was a puppy.

“Olivia wants to see you,” she added. “Maybe you should tell
her
about Keith’s little problem.”

“She’ll probably fire me,” he said.

“You called in sick two days in a row and she saw you at Johnny’s. She might fire you anyway. Better come up with something good.”

“The next game is Saturday night. Let me know if you change your mind, Marlene. About anything.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” she promised and gave him a nudge toward the office door.

Danny knocked. When Olivia answered, he stepped into the office and shut the door behind him.

Marlene turned back to her prep list.

“You left me in bed to come in and flirt with a toddler?” Joe asked from the doorway.

She turned around. “Jealous?” The sight of him made her pulse throb.

Joe walked toward her. “Nope.”

He stopped in front of her and slid his arms around her waist. Her head dropped back as his lips feathered her neck. Joe lifted her until she was sitting on the prep table, straddling his hips, and held her still for a kiss that left her wishing she were naked.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” she finally asked.

Joe flipped her apron out of the way and rubbed his palms over her thighs. His thumb grazed the rip at her knee and gave her goose bumps.

“My mother’s best friend.” His grin was so full of memories that Marlene felt a stab of envy. “I was an early bloomer.”

“That’s illegal,” she protested.

“Yup, among other things, but she kept me from getting into a lot of trouble with girls my own age.”

“Did your mother find out?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“She didn’t actually…ummmm.” Joe’s thumb pressed into her center. Even through denim, he knew just where to touch her. She tried again. “Did you
—
” His thumb made small circles against her. “Forget it, I don’t want to know.”

Joe leaned forward, and he didn’t pull away from her until the office door opened. She lifted her head and saw Danny’s brown eyes chill as he took in the scene in the bakeshop.

“Danny
—
” Marlene began. Joe’s arms tightened around her.

Danny held up a hand and kept walking.

Joe held Marlene still for another kiss. “I guess you made me jealous, after all.”

“You’re not playing fair.”

“I never play fair,” he said. “What’s the point?”

“Danny told me Keith is playing serious poker at the casino,” Marlene said.

“So?”

“You ever played poker with Keith?”

Joe shook his head.

“He’s never put a dime on the table that didn’t get taken away from him. Well, except once. I bet that’s why he took the money from the safe,” she said.

“You tell Olivia yet?”

“No.”

“Let’s go, sugar.” Joe pulled her off the prep table.

Maybe Olivia would listen to sense now, and Marlene could talk to Danny later. They still had to work together, and it was just plain bad manners to flaunt her relationship with Joe. Not that she and Joe had a relationship.

They did have a road trip, though, and she was looking forward to spending the next two days alone with him. The thought set her on fire as he took her hand and pulled her toward Olivia’s office.

After a grueling night of service, Marlene hauled herself out to Joe’s Jeep. Her feet were aching and her arms felt like lead. Her brain was fried from worrying about what might happen with Joe and Danny on the line together, and trying to talk to Olivia about Keith’s poker problem had been like banging her head on a brick wall. She fell sound asleep just past the New York State line.

When Marlene woke up, she was snout to snout with a dead pig.

She screamed. Actually it was more of a gasp with pitch because she didn’t want to open her mouth very wide.

“I’ve been waiting for that.” Joe chuckled.

Marlene cranked her seat up until she was no longer reclining into the back, where the grayish-pink, sprouty-nosed pig was stretched out and buckled in. She adjusted her seat belt as if it could protect her from further indignity.

“You didn’t seem to mind Wilbur when he boarded. You snuggled right up to him,” Joe said.

“Why didn’t you put him in the back?” she asked.

“No room.”

Right, the food. The back end of the Jeep was full of everything they would possibly need to pull off a barbecue. Joe had packed a huge cooler full of bacon, coleslaw, macaroni salad, an enormous bag of shredded cheese, cooked-off pasta for macaroni and cheese, and dozens of hot dogs and buns for the kids. They also had #10 cans of baked beans, a gallon of barbecue sauce, two watermelons, and a dozen bags of potato chips.

Now, they had a pig.

She glanced in the back. It was whiter than she had imagined it would be. Beneath the clear, plastic tarp she could see several blue USDA stamps. She gave it a tentative poke in the ham with the tip of her index finger. It was disturbingly firm. She craned her neck to get a better look at the head. Its eyes were blue-brown and wide open, and its thick, purple tongue protruded from its snout. It had very small teeth.

The pig smelled, well, dead, like a dish towel that had been used to clean up blood, and then soaked in vinegar. Marlene could not imagine eating it. It was going to take some serious work to make this little piggie smell like dinner.

“I’m sorry I slept so long. You should have woken me up.”

“That’s all right, sugar, you’ll need your rest. I’m glad you moved when we heaved Wilbur in next to you though. I was afraid the hog farmer would think you were dead too,” he said.

“Is this what passes for humor in the South? Pig jokes?”

“Get used to it.” He signaled a left turn. “We’re here.”

Joe turned into a mud driveway and headed for a dinky, rundown house on a hill overlooking the river. It was more of a shack, really. Marlene was relieved when he passed it and drove toward a wide, wire fence. The dashboard clock told her it was six in the morning. Her teeth were fuzzy, and she was going to need some coffee before facing that pig again.

He leaped out to open the fence, drove through, and jumped out again to close it. “Keeps the cows in,” he explained. Off to the right she saw an enormous thicket of wild blackberries on the edge of a wide-open meadow. The meadow was freshly mowed, the grass yellow in protest to the sudden exposure to the sun.

The truck crunched along the gravel driveway, going down and then up a short, steep hill. When they crested the rise, a two-story log house appeared behind the trees, facing a barn with double doors large enough to drive a truck through. Up top, an open hayloft welcomed the morning sun. Two deer took off into the woods.

Marlene felt like they had driven straight into a forest wonderland. “It’s like Norman Rockwell goes country up here,” she said as they climbed out of the truck.

“That’ll change when you meet my father,” Joe said.

“Oh, I don’t think so. This just gets better and better.” Marlene had just caught sight of an old man sleeping in a wooden rocking chair on the front porch of the cabin. His feet were propped up on an upturned tin washtub. “Is that your father?”

Joe nodded.

Mr. Rafferty was decked out in worn-out bib overalls. His side-flaps were unbuttoned, and his thin cotton shirt hung out of one side. His bearded chin rested on his chest. He looked like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Santa Claus.

“Damn. I wanted to get the pig rolling without any help.” Joe sounded glum.

“Then why am I here?” she asked.

“Garnish.”

“Very funny. No more jokes before coffee.”

“My father’s coffee is strong enough to stand a spoon up in. It’ll put hair on your chest, for sure.” Joe’s Kentucky good ole boy voice was going to take some getting used to. As defense mechanisms went, it was a beauty.

“I can’t believe the truck didn’t wake him,” she said.

“He can’t hear a damn thing when he’s snoring like that,” Joe said as he leaned down to shake his father’s shoulder.

The old man woke up fast. His mouth closed and his blue eyes focused on Marlene. Mr. Rafferty’s eyes traveled the length of her body, pausing at her breasts and hips before making their way back to her face.

“Hello, Dad.” Joe held out his hand for his father to shake. “I brought you a pig.”

“She don’t look like a pig. Does she act like one?” Mr. Rafferty asked.

Marlene chuckled. “More pig humor. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.”

“Don’t let my boy fool you. The best part of Joe here ran down his Mama’s leg.” The old man gave her a sweet grin that belied the obscenity of his words. “Call me Frank.”

Marly felt Joe stiffen. She wrapped her arm around his waist and wedged herself under his arm. Joe’s dear old dad was no match for her. Growing up with a succession of stepfathers had taught Marlene many things, not the least of which was how to deal with lecherous older men.

“Oh, I doubt you’ve seen the best part of Joe in a good many years,
Mr. Rafferty
.” She cocked her head to the side. “Aren’t you supposed to stand to greet a lady in this neck of the woods?”

Frank Rafferty shouted a laugh and got to his feet. He was almost as tall as his son. “Sorry, princess. I thought I was dreaming.” He held out his hand, and Marly took it, even though she knew he was going to hold on to it too long.

She had planned to take her cues from Joe, but his sullen silence wasn’t giving her much to work with. He looked about ready to pile back in the truck and head home. She was going to have to nudge them along.

“Boys, if we want to eat by three, you’d better get that pig rolling. Point me at the coffee pot, and I’ll brew us up some inspiration.” Oh God, now that damn dialect was rubbing off on her.

“Coffee’s made,” Mr. Rafferty said. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a full pot. She pretended not to notice when he doctored his own cup with whiskey. “I was just resting my eyes for a minute. Joe said he’d be in by seven this morning. That boy may be peculiar,” Mr. Rafferty said, “but he ain’t ever late.”

Joe ignored the coffee and stomped off toward the truck. Mr. Rafferty followed him. Marlene sighed and sipped her coffee. It was strong, hot, and thick, as promised.

Caffeine filled Marlene’s veins with cautious optimism. Birds chirped and bugs hummed as sunlight began to spread through the forest. It was going to be a beautiful day. She wouldn’t let a couple of stubborn, redneck men ruin her damn picnic, she thought, as she followed them to the truck.

Wilbur was laid out on the tailgate, and she had to look away as Joe forced a thick metal pole into the center of the pig. He threaded large metal brackets onto each end of the bar and cranked them tightly into place. Then the debate began on whether to wrap Wilbur in chicken wire or just put him on as is. Mr. Rafferty maintained that chicken wire was a waste of time and might be hard to get off later, but Joe was firmly in the chicken wire camp.

“What do you think, Marlene?” Joe said. Mr. Rafferty looked shocked. Women must not be consulted much around here.

“Better safe than sorry, don’t you think?” she said. “You’ve only got one shot at this.”

Joe heaved the pig up into the air, and his father grudgingly slid the fence around it. They cinched it neatly with bailing wire.

“Well, we are aiming for falling off the bone tender,” Mr. Rafferty conceded. “We don’t want to lose any. Let’s see if Sal’s pottery wheel motor can handle all this cyborg pig,” he said.

“I thought it was a garage door opener,” Joe said.

“Didn’t work out. This one turns like a charm.”

Joe nodded. “Coals ready yet?”

“Gettin’ there,” Mr. Rafferty reported.

They each took a side and heaved the pig into the bisected and hinged oil drum.

Joe’s dad hooked the motor onto one side of the drum and checked to make sure the pig was locked in tight. He flipped the switch. The motor hummed and the pig jerked, caught, then began to turn. Mr. Rafferty adjusted the speed and grinned, showing tobacco stained teeth. “She’s a beaut.”

He closed the lid. “You kids hungry?”

Joe smothered a yawn. “Sure, what would you like?”

Marlene dug her elbow into Joe’s side. “How about you take a nap before people start getting here? I’ll keep an eye on Wilbur.”

“I’m all right,” Joe said. “The pig is going to need a pretty close eye on him for a while.”

“Don’t ever say no to a lady, son. I got the drunk house all fixed up for you, and I’ll watch the pig.” Mr. Rafferty gestured at a small building just off the main house, and winked at Marlene. “That’s where I put anybody who gets unruly and needs a place to sleep it off.”

Joe shook his head. “We’ll take the hayloft. I brought sleeping bags. Give the drunk house to somebody who needs it.” Joe gave his father a pointed look. “Make sure you keep the coals toward the back.”

“Git, boy. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

***

Joe was silent as they climbed the stairs into the hayloft.

Marlene perched on one of the three bales set in front of the open shutters as Joe spread blankets and sleeping bags out on a bed of hay. She peered down at the front of the cabin, the “drunk house,” and the driveway. Mr. Rafferty was back in his chair on the porch. She turned to Joe, who was lying on the blankets with his arms above his head, staring blankly at the rafters.

“Your dad really gets to you, huh?” she asked.

“He doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope. He’s just an old man to me, slightly faded around the edges. I enjoy seeing big, bad Joe Rafferty thrown for a loop though.” She lay down beside him and put her head on his shoulder. Joe’s arm snaked around her waist and tucked her into his side.

The sweet, dry smell of hay surrounded them, making her feel lazy and relaxed. She rolled over and stretched out on top of Joe’s big frame, settling her body onto his. “You poor thing. Intimidated by your old, drunk, heartbroken dad.”

Joe’s snort made her bounce. “Heartbroken men do not throw parties.”

“Sure they do. If that’s all they know how to do.”

Marlene took his upper lip between her own. She kissed him, gently, sweetly, so attuned to his breath that she felt the exact moment he surrendered. She scooted down his chest, pausing to flip his shirt up so she could nibble her way down his stomach and follow the delicate line of hair to his navel. She made quick work of his belt. His clothes melted away under her hands.

She spoke into the strong hollow of Joe’s thigh. “Some men choose other ways to hide their emotions.” Her lips and tongue danced a delicate waltz around his hip.

His hands encased her skull, angling her head up to meet his gaze. For a minute she thought he might push her away.

“Some women do too,” Joe said.

Marlene smiled and held Joe’s eyes as she took him in her mouth. A hectic flush spread across his cheekbones, and the blue of his eyes, sharpened, flashed. “Somebody needs to tend that pig.”

She lifted her head. “I’ll take care of the meat, Joe.”

His laugh consisted of one indrawn breath.

Marlene bent to her work. Bales of hay were stacked around them. From below, their cozy nest was invisible, but not inaudible.
Frank
, as she had finally decided to call him, deserved a good earful after the comments he’d made earlier, and she was going to make sure he got it.

Marlene grasped Joe with one hand, sliding her fingers over his silky shaft, pulling back the soft skin, thrilling to the way he grew and hardened beneath her touch. Her tongue flashed against him, catching the ridge on the underside of his cock in a strong, sure stroke. Her mouth slid over him, taking him deep, deeper into her mouth. She relaxed her throat, pushing the boundaries of her reflexes.

Her lips inched farther.

Past her limits.

Farther.

“Jesus Christ,” Joe groaned.

If Marlene had had room to giggle, she would have. She eased back, took a breath, then did it again. Joe’s moan was hoarse, thready, his breath harsh.

She bent to finish him. Her lips worked in concert with her hand, sliding up and down. Completely focused on him, Marlene brought her other hand beneath Joe and gently cupped him. He fishtailed beneath her, lost to her now, she could feel it, feel him fill in her mouth, feel the subtle change in his body. She glanced up at him. He was watching her every move with an avid expression that made her lose her rhythm. She shut her eyes, sucking hard to catch her balance, her world centered on him.

Joe’s control broke. He shouted, filling the rafters with his cries of release. When Marlene was sure she had him, she let go of him and thrust one hand into her jeans. She came instantly.

With a contented sigh, she flopped down onto her back next to him.

“Don’t forget to check the pig,” Joe said in an uneven whisper before he fell asleep.

***

Marlene left him like that, snoring slightly, and went to visit the small outhouse that overlooked the ravine. She used a pump and what she assumed was well water to wash her hands before she checked on Wilbur. The coals were cranking hot and the skin was beginning to sear, but it would be a while before they would need to keep the lid open. She opened the vent halfway to keep the coals fed and tiptoed past Frank, who was sleeping on the front porch again, coffee cup empty. She went into the kitchen to do some reconnaissance.

Frank had clearly made an effort to stock the small kitchen. Plenty of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs waited for her. Marlene grabbed a big bowl and headed down the driveway, humming, determined to find the blackberry bushes she had spotted on their way in this morning. The country air must be going to her head. She felt positively domestic.