Chapter Nineteen
Tate wiped a forearm across his sweat-covered brow and leaned on the window sill, careful not to let the paint roller touch the frame. He and Buddy had spent most of the morning moving things from the sewing room into the attic and he’d been painting ever since. The walls were done now, the soft eggshell white gleaming in the late afternoon sun that poured into the room. It was going to make a wonderful nursery for the baby.
A burst of laughter caught his attention and he looked down into the backyard. The laughter was what had drawn him to the window in the first place. Abby’s laughter. For some reason she had decided to give Dog a bath. Dog, apparently, had other ideas on the subject.
At the moment, he sat in the tin tub she’d filled with water, a disgusted look on his shaggy face. A pile of bubbles adorned the end of his nose. Abby had managed to get him soaped down by holding him with one hand. Now she made the mistake of letting go while she reached for the hose.
Dog was out of the tub like a bullet, slinging water all over the yard. Abby let out a little cry, then threw both arms over her face as Dog paused long enough to shake. The tremor started at his nose and traveled all the way to the tip of his tail, covering Abby with soapy water in the process.
Then he was off again, running across the yard like a race horse. When he reached the far side, he made a U-turn and headed back, his tongue hanging out as he circled Abby at a safe distance, still at top speed.
Stupid dog thought she was playing with him. Maybe she was, Tate mused, watching as she leaned over and tried to coax the animal closer. Her voice drifted through the window.
“Come on, Dog. That’s a good boy. Just a little bit more. You’re gonna look so pretty,” she crooned. “And smell good, too.”
Dog stopped just out of reach, his front half stretched out on the ground, his rear up in the air. His tail was going ninety miles an hour as he issued an excited bark.
“Now, you just stay right there.” Abby edged a step closer, her hand extended. “You’re such a good dog.” She lunged, but Dog saw her coming and dodged out of the way. Abby wound up face-down in a puddle of water.
A tickle of anxiety ran through Tate, then eased as he realized she was laughing again. Dog decided this was a new aspect to the game and pounced on her, doing his best to lick her face.
Giggling uncontrollably, she turned her head to one side, both fists buried in the dog’s coat as she held him off. “I’ve got you now, you rascal. And this time, I’m not letting go.”
Tate sucked in a deep breath as she reached for the hose again. The thin, white cotton blouse she had on was soaked. It clung to her like a second skin, exposing her breasts to the point where he could see the darkened nipples pushing against the fabric.
He shifted uncomfortably, his sudden erection pushing painfully against his zipper. His mouth literally watered at his need to taste those dark mounds. They had only made love once since the day Diane had shown up at the cafe and that had been a week ago. Abby had been the one who instigated that one time, he now realized.
What was wrong with him? For almost three weeks after he found out Diane had gotten married, she’d never once crossed his mind. Now she appeared to have taken up permanent residence. He constantly saw her face as she told him she was afraid of Clayton. The man wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t really hurt her, would he? Clayton might be slick, but he’d never struck Tate as the violent type.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He had to stop this, had to get Diane out of his mind. Maybe he should call her. Just to make sure she was okay. Then he could stop thinking about it all the time.
Another burst of laughter from the back yard distracted him. Abby was trying to rinse the soap from Dog, and every other second the animal was doing his shimmy routine to shake the moisture off.
A faint smile curved Tate’s lips at their antics. It did look like they were having fun. He glanced at the paint roller in his hand. Maybe he should wash it out before the paint dried. He could always call Diane later if he decided to do it.
Abby looked up as he stepped out onto the back porch, her dimples prominent as she grinned at him. “All finished?”
“For now. Still have to put up the border after the paint dries.”
“Looks like you got more paint on yourself than you did the walls. That should probably be washed off before it sets.”
Her words should have warned him, but the spray of icy water that hit his chest had him gasping in surprise. Damn, it was cold!
Abby was bent double laughing when he started toward her, but she straightened in a hurry at the intent look on his face.
“Now, Tate. It was just a joke.”
“One I plan on getting even for.”
“Oh yeah?” She put her hands on her hips, her tone belligerent. “How do you plan on doing that when I’ve got the hose?”
“Like this.” He lunged at her just as she turned the water on him again. He ignored the spray, grabbing her around the waist and hanging on for dear life.
She squealed and tried to twist away from him, but his grip was too tight. With one quick movement, he ran the paint roller down her face.
Abby’s mouth dropped open, paint and water dripping from her eyelashes when she blinked. “I don’t believe you did that.”
It was Tate’s turn to collapse in laughter at the expression on her face.
“I’m gonna get you for that, McCullom.”
He barely had time to catch her as she tackled him. They went over backwards, landing with a squishy splat in the mud created from Dog’s bath.
Tate’s laughter ebbed as Abby’s weight pressed into him, then died completely as her mouth touched his. His reaction was instantaneous. With his hands fisted in her hair, he lifted his head off the ground, kissing her ravenously, savagely hungry for the taste of her.
A desperate groan escaped his throat. “Abby, I need you. I need you now. I can’t wait.”
Frantic for the feel of her bare skin, he stripped her clothes off, barely getting his own pants undone before he lifted her, held her, then plunged into her welcoming depths.
That was all it took. Tate’s head went back, his eyes squeezed shut, teeth tightly clenched as his body arched and flew into a million pieces. Trembling in reaction, his tightened muscles went limp, his hands still moving over Abby’s bare back.
Suddenly she started shaking, and Tate opened his eyes in concern. She was laughing! A smile turned up the corners of his lips. “What’s so funny?”
“Tate,” she sputtered. “We’re in a mud hole!”
His grin widened. “You know, it’s always been one of my fantasies to make love in the mud.” He looked at her speculatively. “There’s only one thing wrong.”
“What’s that?”
“In my fantasies, I was always on top.” He twisted rapidly, pinning her arms above her head, and began to move slowly inside her. “Much better,” he whispered against her lips. “Do you know how much I love to hear you scream when you climax? To know I’m the one who makes you feel that way? It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” His movements increased as her eyes closed and a soft whimper sounded deep in her throat.
“Tate,” she moaned. “That feels so good.”
“No,” he murmured. “It’s better than good. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” His tongue flicked a nipple as he drove into her. “Scream for me, Abby. I need to hear you scream.”
She complied. With her body convulsing around him and the music of her climax in his ears, Tate let his own control slip a second time. With her name on his lips, he followed her into oblivion.
* * * * *
Abby leaned back against Tate as his arms circled her, his hands sliding up under her blouse to her breasts. “If you don’t stop that, I’m never going to get supper ready.”
“Some things are just more important than food.” He continued to caress her. “You know, I think they’re getting bigger.”
Abby grinned. “I sure hope so. I get tired of people thinking I’m a boy.”
His lips trailed down her neck. “Oh, believe me. There’s nothing about you that even faintly resembles a boy.” He lifted his head. “Wonder if Buddy would think it was strange if I kept a mud hole handy in the back yard?”
She looked at him wryly. “I don’t know about Buddy, but even after a shower, I’m still picking dirt out of places I don’t want to think about.”
Tate laughed and let go of her. “I’ll help you find it all later.”
Buddy clattered down the stairs and stopped in the kitchen door. “Don’t fix any supper for me, Abby.”
Tate arched an eyebrow. “You going out again?”
“You don’t have to sound so hopeful, Tate. I’ve only been home thirty minutes.” The teenager grinned at him.
“Where are you going?” Tate turned a chair around and straddled it, propping his arms across the back.
Abby’s gaze ran up his long legs to his narrow hips, then on up to his broad shoulders. The position he was in had his clothes pulled tight enough to expose every muscle. Lord, but the man was built. All she had to do was look at him and heat washed through her, no matter how often they made love.
“I’ve got a date.” Buddy cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into extending curfew a little, could I?”
“So you can go to the Point and park?”
“Aw, geesh, Tate. Come on.” His face was tinted bright red.
“One hour. Not a minute longer.”
“Thanks, Tate!”
As soon as the teenager left, Abby grinned at Tate. “You did that on purpose.”
He leered at her. “Damn right I did. One more hour alone. You know what I can accomplish in an hour?”
“I can’t wait to find out.”
* * * * *
He could accomplish a lot, Abby discovered. Repeatedly and in quite a few rooms. His imagination knew no bounds. She was still turning red thinking about what he’d done to her in the kitchen. And on the counter, no less. She’d never look at that countertop the same again.
At the moment, they were stretched out side by side on the couch, bodies comfortingly pressed together. She felt so safe with his arms around her. Unwilling to break the quiet, Abby curled a strand of his hair around her finger, admiring the shiny black luster as much as the sensual feel of it.
“Buddy will be home soon.”
“I know,” she murmured.
“We should probably get up.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I hate to move.”
Abby sighed. “So do I, but I guess we’d better.” She rolled away from him and stood, pausing a moment to survey his nude body. Suddenly she smiled and leaned down to poke one finger into his thigh.
“I was right.”
Tate was looking at her in puzzlement. “About what?”
“You know the first day I was here and we went to get my things? During the whole trip I kept wondering if your thighs were as hard as they looked.”
He laughed. “I can top that one. Do you remember my reaction when I saw your sheets?”
Abby felt heat creep up her cheeks. “Yes. It upset you.”
“Upset me, hell. I had to run to keep from dragging you into that bed.” He drew a finger slowly down her stomach. “I wanted you so much it was about to kill me.”
“You were certainly doing a good job of hiding it.”
His grin turned wicked. “Why do you think I grabbed that box of clothes so fast? I needed it to conceal the evidence.”
“So why did you wait as long as you did?” Abby’s curiosity rose to the surface.
Tate shrugged. “We were practically strangers then. I had no idea how you’d react. Did you want me to try?”
She thought about it for a minute. “I don’t think it even occurred to me you might want to. And if it had, I never would have believed it.”
She leaned down and picked her clothes up just as the phone rang. Frowning, she glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. “I’ll get it.”
Tate’s gaze followed her, moving over every inch of her as she walked, stirring up feelings she would have sworn he’d exhausted this evening.
“Hello?”
Dead silence answered her from the end of the line. “Hello?” There was a loud click, then the buzz of a dial tone.
She put the phone back in its cradle, still frowning.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. Just another hang-up.” She reached for the rest of the clothes.
“Another? Have there been a lot of them?” A deaf man could have heard the sudden tension in his voice.
“One or two a week.”
“Maybe you should let me answer the phone for a while.”
Anger blind-sided her. She spun, grabbed the phone and slammed it down on his chest, cord trailing across the room. “I can do better than that, Tate. Why don’t you just call her back? That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”
“Abby—”
Whatever he had to say, she didn’t want to hear it. She flew up the stairs into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her with every ounce of strength in her body.
* * * * *
Tate rubbed his eyes with one hand. Was he so transparent that Abby knew what he was thinking even before he did? He lowered his hand and stared at the phone. There was no doubt in his mind that Diane was the one who’d been calling. The problem was, what was he going to do about it?
He returned the phone to its stand, then pulled on his jeans, his feet instinctively steering him outside as soon as he was dressed.
The heavy scent of the honeysuckle his mother had planted years ago drenched the warm summer air with perfume as he pushed open the gate to the cemetery. When it squeaked, he frowned. He never had gotten around to oiling it and that wasn’t like him. He’d do it first thing in the morning, he decided.
The moon was out, big and full, without a cloud in the sky to obscure its beams. Lightening bugs drifted among the headstones, blinking gracefully out of his way as he moved by them.
For a while, he stood silent beside his father’s grave, one hand caressing the granite marker. “I wish you were here tonight, Daddy.” His voice was as quiet as the night around him. “I don’t know what’s happening to me anymore. I’m trying to be the man you taught me to be, I really am. It used to be so easy. All I had to do was live up to my responsibilities and everything was fine.”
Tate ran one hand through his hair wearily. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how hard it could be, Daddy? I’m worried about Diane. She never would have married Clayton if it weren’t for me. If anything happens to her it will be my fault.” He turned in agitation and stared across the moonlit land. “If I saw a man beating a horse, I’d have to stop him, wouldn’t I? How can I stand by and let the same thing happen to Diane? But things have changed with Abby since the last time I was here. She’s not a stranger anymore, Daddy, she’s my wife. She’s carrying my baby.”
A low, desperate laugh bubbled in the back of his throat. “God help me, I can’t keep my hands off of her. I’ve never known anyone like Abby before. She’s like an addiction that I can’t shake and I don’t even want to try.”
He looked back down at the grave. “If I try to help Diane it’s going to hurt Abby and, God knows, she’s been hurt enough in her life. She deserves better than that from me, and has a right to expect it. But I can’t take the chance that Clayton might hurt Diane either.”
The anger that had been building inside him suddenly exploded. “So tell me what to do, Daddy. You were the one with all the answers. What the hell do I do now?” A pair of whippoorwills erupted into the air at the harsh tone of his raised voice, the whir of their wings fading into the distance as silence settled over the cemetery again.
* * * * *
Tate slipped through the dark house and up the stairs, pausing for an instant outside the bedroom door. He’d never really seen Abby mad before, and wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome or not. Steeling his nerves, he stepped inside.
As usual, Abby had the windows open, but there was little breeze to stir them. He could just make out the small, sheet-covered lump in the bed. She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his presence, and yet he knew somehow that she wasn’t asleep.
Gingerly, he sat on the side of the bed, turned so he could see her. “Abby?” His voice was soft and sounded as uncertain as he was feeling. It took him completely by surprise when she moved, throwing herself into his arms.
“Oh, Tate, I’m sorry,” she whispered into his neck. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. It’s not your fault if she calls here, and you have every right to talk to her if she does. It just scares me because I know how much you gave up to marry me when you didn’t have to.”
He ran his hands over the smooth bare skin of her back, marveling at the feel of her body pressed so tightly to his. “Abby, sweetheart,” he crooned, rocking her. “You don’t have to be scared. Look how much I gained when we got married. I got you and our baby. Not to mention the best cook and housekeeper in the state of Texas.” His laugh was husky, his body already reacting to her touch, her scent.
God, how he wanted her. Never, in the whole time he’d known her, had Diane ever had this effect on him. He had to force himself to concentrate just to tell Abby what he needed her to know.
He slid his hands down, letting them rest on the gentle curve of her hips. “Maybe you were right to get mad, Abby. I knew when we got married that it was over with Diane. I still do. But what matters is that you know it, too. You have to trust me, sweetheart. I won’t ever leave you and our baby.”
She leaned back and cupped her hands around his face, her thumbs tracing his cheekbones, his lips and his chin. “I do trust you, Tate. I know you won’t leave us. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to.”
“What do you mean?” He frowned at her words. There was something in them that bothered him, but he couldn’t quite pin it down.
“Nothing.” She’d moved her hands down, through the unbuttoned shirt to his chest. When her head lifted, he saw the glint of moonlight in her moisture-filled eyes. “Love me, Tate,” she whispered. “I need you to hold me and never let go.”