Cricket: Contemporary Romance Novella (2 page)

Chapter 3

My grilled cheese sandwiches hit the spot. The snowfall had morphed into more of a slushy rain. It pinged the metal roof like millions of tiny tapping fingernails. Just like we’d always done when we were younger, and I’d sat in on the Harris family weekends, always feeling like I belonged, we moved the couch to use as a backrest. Tate and I leaned against it and stretched our legs out toward the fire. I slipped off my shoes and socks to feel the full glory of the fire. My feet were warmed instantly.

Tate laughed. I looked over at him. The wavering flames illuminated his handsome face in such a way that he looked as if he was part of a picture instead of sitting, live and warm, next to me. “Do you want to let me in on the little joke, or is it private?” I asked.

His dimples, the creases that I knew by heart, appeared.  He faced me. “I was just thinking about that time when the cross country coach had us running to the top of Bartman’s Ridge—”

“And it started pouring. No, hailing. I still remember chugging up that damn winding road being pelted with sharp nuggets of ice. That was tough.”

He smiled. “I remember reaching the top and waiting under the crappy little overhang on the side of the forest ranger building. You came up around that last curve looking about as cold and wet as a kitten lost in a storm.”

“I remember shaking so hard I bit my darn tongue twice. At least three of the girls I was running with had broken down in sobs and sat on the side of the road to wait for the coach to pick them up.”

“But not Jamie, the Flash, Young.” I hadn’t heard my cross country nickname in a long time and hearing it coming from Tate made me smile. He looked at me, and for the first time, it seemed, Tate Harris was seeing me not as the shy teenager but as a woman.

He reached up to move a strand of hair off my face, and I held my breath. But he decided against it and lowered his hand. “You looked so fragile, so cold and yet you trudged up that fucking mountain road like an Olympian.” He grew quiet and turned his attention back to the fireplace. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to take you into my arms to warm you.”

His words faded behind the loud crackles and pops of the fire, but I was sure I’d heard them. And I was floored. But I didn’t really know how to respond. In my eyes, I’d been just another girl admiring Tate Harris from afar, only with the nice advantage of being best friends with his sister. There were times when I’d even wondered, with a nice dose of guilt, if I was hanging out with Hannah just to be near Tate. But I loved Hannah. I’ve never laughed with anyone else as much as I’ve laughed with her.

It was my turn to reminisce. “I remember that time when Hannah and I decided to try out for softball, and you were nice enough to come out and help us practice. And I was on first base with my mitt ready to catch the ball.”

He laughed, and I realized it had grown deeper and even more appealing. “And I popped one to Hannah, ran to first base, picked you up and tossed you over my shoulder and ran to second base with you giggling like a mad woman.”

“Yes. A highly underhanded baseball move but I’ll never forget it.” And with that, the cabin grew quiet again, only the furnace puffing from the vents, the sounds of the slowing fire and the raindrops hitting the roof. “Thank you for always putting up with us, Tate. You were so patient, and we bugged the heck out of you.”

He nodded. “I didn’t mind. In fact, I liked it. To be honest, I had a bit of a thing for you, but I guess my earlier confession about the run up the rainy mountain probably gave that away.”

I stared at my feet that were now red from the heat of the fire. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Really? Then I guess I was pretty good at hiding my crush.”

I pulled my legs in and faced him. “I used to have to consciously slow down my heart every time I saw you. I used to daydream about you during Mr. Ramsay’s boring social studies lectures. When you left to college, I cried into my pillow every night for a week. And, after all that, you had a thing for me?”

His long lashes dropped, and he smiled. “Yeah, I sort of knew that you liked me too.”

“What gave it away? The large I love Tate Harris tattoo across my forehead?”

He laughed and then stared at the fire. “I guess because you were Hannah’s best friend, it never seemed right. I mean, you used to come over with your pillow and your hot band magazines and have sleepovers. It made things kind of strange. I’d convinced myself that I needed to stay away from you. Because of Hannah— you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” We sat there in silence for a moment. I’d spent all that time worshipping the guy from a distance, trying to pretend he was just my best friend’s older brother and there he was admiring me too. And for some reason, now that we’d both confessed, things felt sort of awkward again. “I’ll make that cocoa.” I blurted, cutting the steamy tension that seemed to have suddenly surrounded us. I hopped up.

“How about a game of cards?” he called.

“Sure.” We were sliding back to the comfortable days of hanging out as kids, playing games in front of the fire. It was an easier, more natural state for both of us. It was for the best, I told myself as I filled a pot with milk.

As I returned to the fire with cups of cocoa, Tate was leaning into the hearth, placing more logs on the fire. His butt was still as perfect as ever. As godlike as I thought he was in high school, as he straightened, I realized how much more he’d filled out. His shoulders and arms looked as if they could crush someone, and my mind floated back to that rainy day on the mountain. If he’d put his arms around me back then, I would have slumped to the ground in a blissful faint.

“Remember that time when Greg Tuttle and I snuck up and pounded on the window while you and Hannah were in here playing cards?” he asked.

“How can I forget? I was so startled, I tossed my cards up in the air and three of them floated into the fire. Hannah screamed so loud I was sure she’d start an avalanche. You guys were rotten on that trip.”

“Yeah, I felt really awful that we scared you guys so badly.”

“Really? Did the feeling awful part come before or after you were doubled over with laughter?”

“You’re right, we were rotten.” He shuffled the cards. “Gin Rummy?”

Chapter 4

I lay awake, staring at the bottom of the top bunk. My long underwear was hardly enough to warm me. Tate and I had played cards and reminisced for several hours before deciding to part ways and head into our corresponding bedrooms. It occurred to me halfway through the evening, as I tried hard not to notice the way his throat moved as he drank the cocoa, or the way his hands looked as he shuffled the cards or the way his jaw muscle twitched when he laughed, that my crush on Tate was as strong as ever. But it seemed that his teen crush on me had faded. We were sitting alone in front of the fire, but aside from our feet accidentally brushing each other or his fingers grazing mine as he reached for cards, there was nothing. And it made sense. It had been a few years, and we were no longer teens. He’d moved on, and from what Hannah had told me, he’d been with a lot of different girls in college. I was still just Cricket, but with a few more curves.

An hour into tossing and turning, I realized my feet were cold. After sitting in front of the blazing fire for hours, stepping away from it made the rest of the cabin feel icy cold. Hannah’s mom kept a few extra warm blankets in a cupboard in the hallway. I decided it was worth the few seconds of treading across the cold wood floor to get one.

The clouds had blotted out any light from the night sky, and the cabin seemed extra dark. But turning on the light would have been too harsh on my eyes and then I’d have been blinded by bright spots on the way back to bed. I felt my way out of the room and into the hallway. I tiptoed but it didn’t stop the wood planks from creaking beneath my feet. Just as I reached the blanket cupboard, Tate’s door opened. His white smile lit up the dark hallway. His pajama pants were slung low on his hips and he was shirtless, magnificently shirtless. 

“I guess we both got the same idea,” he said.

“Yep. It’s a cold night, eh?” There was a slight waver in my tone, and I had no idea why. We’d had a perfectly nerdy little night playing cards and drinking cocoa like two old friends.

I reached into the cabinet for a blanket and sucked in a breath as his strong arm curled around my stomach. He pulled me against him and lowered his mouth to my ear. “I know of a really fun way to get warm.” Then his arm dropped. “Shit, I’m sorry, Jamie.”

I turned around in his arms and wrapped my hands around the back of his neck. He took hold of me and pushed me up against the wall. The plaster was cold, but there was so much heat coming from his body, it didn’t matter. His mouth covered mine and we kissed a kiss that seemed to have been waiting years to happen. My head felt light as if my feet had left the floor. Then, he lifted his face and we gazed at each other, almost as if we were wondering what the heck had just happened.

For a moment, I was sure he would release me and that would be the end of it. Maybe he was disappointed. I certainly wasn’t. He looked at me questioningly as his hand slipped under my shirt. I pushed my skin harder against his palm to let him know I wanted him to touch me.

In the shadowy hall, his smile glowed again as he stared hungrily down at my body. “Some guys like silky lingerie. I personally cannot find enough praise for snug fitting long underwear.”

I laughed. “And it’s my sexiest pair, too.”

“Yes.” He lowered his mouth to mine again. “It definitely is, Cricket.” In seconds, he had the shirt up and over my head. My nipples puckered in the cold and beneath his gaze. He lowered his head, and his tongue ran tantalizing circles around my nipples. I wove my fingers into his hair and pulled his face closer.

In my delirium of having Tate Harris’s mouth on my breasts, I hadn’t noticed that my long underwear was now pooled around my ankles. The cold wall shocked me as my naked butt touched it. I stepped out of my pants, and Tate lifted me into his arms, carried me to his bedroom and lowered me onto the bed.

I fumbled for the drawstrings on his pajama pants, loosened them and pushed them down as he leaned over me. His hard, thick erection pressed against my belly as he kissed me. “Is this all right, Cricket?” he groaned against my mouth. “I have protection, but we can stop if you want?”

“No, please don’t stop. Watching you these past years and wanting you but never being able to have you has been like the longest, most frustrating bout of foreplay in the world.”

He lifted his face and smiled down at me. “Only my sweet Cricket would say something that hilarious in the middle of sex.”

“Call me that again, Tate, please.”

“My sweet Cricket.” He lowered himself next to me, staying propped up on his elbow as he stared at me. His hands smoothed along my belly and down between my legs. His fingers slid through the cream that was now surging between the folds of my pussy. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?” With that, his fingers pushed inside of me. My moan floated up into the quiet room. His thumb stroked my clit with all the skill I would have expected from him. I hadn’t imagined any of it. Tate was a man who was not just wonderful to look at but who knew exactly what a woman wanted. And I wanted him.

He maneuvered himself between my legs and pushed his hand beneath my bottom, lifting my pussy higher. I cried out and clutched the blanket as his tongue flicked across my clit. He used one hand to keep me elevated while using the second hand to tease the tender, wet folds. My thighs tightened around him as his mouth pressed against my pussy. I rocked against his tongue as it dove inside of me, licking every intimate part. Every touch and stroke of his tongue was made with masterful precision, and it took me only minutes to reach that point where there was no turning back.

“Yes, Tate, please don’t stop.” My pussy clenched around his hand and his mouth continued to devour me as I came.

He reached to the dresser for a condom. He leaned down between my thighs.

“I can’t believe I’m doing the nasty with Tate Harris,” I said lamely.

“The nasty?” He laughed. “This isn’t nasty. One day soon, I’ll show you nasty. This is me making love to the girl who I’ve been crazy about for years.”

My throat tightened at his words.

He lowered himself down over me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His mouth came down over mine as he pushed inside of me, filling the delicious ache that he’d left behind with his tongue and hands. We moved in perfect rhythm, like two people who’d known each other forever. He rocked against me faster and harder, and his fingers clutched my naked bottom as if he worried I would pull away. But I had no intention of it. I’d been waiting forever to be in his arms and it felt more right than ever.

“Fuck yeah,” he muttered and thrust into me one last time before a groan of release rolled up from his throat.

He rolled down next to me and pulled me into his arms. His heart was pounding in his chest as I pressed my face against him. We sat there in the dark absorbing what had just happened.

Finally, he tightened his arms around me. “My sister is never going to let us hear the end of this. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

“Yep, that little schemer. That wonderful, awesome little schemer.” I kissed his chest and peered up at him. “All this time…” I smiled and rested my head back down against him.

“Yep, all this time, my sweet Cricket.”

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