Sheltering Dunes (6 page)

Reese leaned both arms on the wooden deck railing behind the house and watched the Boston ferry skim into Provincetown Harbor, its running lights casting bright flickering tunnels across the inky surface of the water. A full moon rode high overhead, illuminating the beach with the brightness of daylight. In the swath of bushes that separated the house from the beach, silvery moonlight reflected off the eyes of some creature rummaging in the undergrowth for dinner. Damp night air thick with the sweet scent of kelp and the tang of sea life misted her cheeks. Her T-shirt stuck to her chest with a combination of salty air and sweat. Even though the night was humid, she didn’t mind the dampness on her skin. After the desert, where the hot dry air evaporated every drop of moisture the instant it formed, leaving her eyes gritty and her skin sandpaper-parched, the dewy air was like a balm to burned flesh. She straightened at the sound of footsteps behind her.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Tory said, resting her hand in the center of Reese’s back. She circled slowly, massaging the columns of muscles on either side of Reese’s spine.

Reese turned away from the harbor, slid her arm around Tory’s waist, and kissed her forehead. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tory fiddled with a button on Reese’s cotton shirt. “I’m not used to having you all to myself for a whole day. I’ll get spoiled.”

“Well, maybe we should try this again sometime, when we don’t have to fly to Boston to be together.”

Tory laughed and nipped at Reese’s chin. “That’s a novel suggestion.”

“Do you think the little swimmers are ready yet?”

“Nicely thawed and ready for action.”

Reese’s breath caught in her chest. The thunder in her head was a mere fraction of the panic that had gripped her when she’d first contemplated another pregnancy. Since then she’d had time to think, time to be rational, time to appreciate what Tory needed. She steadied her breathing, quieted her pulse. Nothing should interfere with this moment, especially her fears. “I think we should head upstairs, then. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“In a minute.” Tory settled into Reese’s arms, looping her arms around Reese’s hips and resting her chin on Reese’s chest. “First, do you want to tell me what Wendy said this afternoon that’s bothering you?”

Reese stroked Tory’s hair. “What makes you think—”

“Don’t even go there.” Tory swayed, her hips notched comfortably into Reese’s, their bodies fitting together seamlessly, as if they had always been two parts of one whole. “Ordinarily I’d wait, because I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. But considering what’s on the agenda for tonight, I think I’d better know first.”

Reese sighed and rubbed her cheek on top of Tory’s head. “Just now, I was thinking about the desert.”

Tory stiffened infinitesimally and then relaxed again. “What about it?”

“I’m okay,” Reese said, knowing Tory would immediately worry. She
was
okay. She’d been okay from the moment she’d climbed out of the transport that had brought her home and stepped into Tory’s arms. Sure, she had nightmares, just like every other vet. She had regrets, guilt, and soul-deep remorse for the decisions she’d made that had led to the deaths of others. But she had been ready for the realities of war—she’d trained all her life for the sacrifice service demanded. She knew the price of war and that everyone—civilians and troops—paid, in one form or another. “Being here with you and Reggie is what gets me through every day.”

Tory kissed her throat. “Me too. And I can’t stand it when you’re hurting.”

“I’m not hurting.” Reese stroked the thick silky tresses and absorbed the quiet strength she counted on every day. “Sometimes I try to imagine what my life would have been like if I’d never met you. If I didn’t have you. If I didn’t have Reggie.”

Tory tightened her hold. “Why?”

“Maybe to figure out how I got so lucky. Maybe just to know what I need to do to be sure I never lose you.”

“Oh, love,” Tory murmured, pressing her mouth to the base of Reese’s throat. “I love you. You never need to worry about me not being here.”

“You know what I see when I think about my life without you?”

Tory trembled. “What?”

“Nothing. Silent cold darkness.”

“Darling, don’t do this to yourself. If my having a baby is going to torture you this way—”

“No.” Reese rubbed her hands up and down Tory’s back. “It’s not about another baby. It’s about all the things I can’t control. All the things that I can’t guard against.”

“You are a wonderful partner, an amazing mother, and a remarkable sheriff. You take care of all of us better than anyone I could ever imagine.” Tory slid a hand between them and unbuttoned Reese’s shirt. She parted the front, tugged Reese’s T-shirt out of her pants, and pushed it up. She kissed Reese’s chest in the valley between her breasts. “I love you. You’re the most amazing, beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Reese leaned back and gripped the railing with both hands. The cool night air teased across her nipples and they hardened. Her thighs trembled at the unexpected softness of Tory’s mouth against her skin. “Tor. We’re outside on the deck.”

“It’s dark and I don’t care. You’re mine, and I’ll have you any way I want you, when I want you. And I want you right now.”

Reese laughed. “You’re not even pregnant yet. This is going to be fun.”

Tory looked up, her eyes glittering. “You better believe it.” She licked Reese’s nipple until Reese groaned, toying with the opposite one at the same time.

“Tory.” Reese’s hips jerked, and she felt herself swell inside her jeans. “You know what you’re doing to me, right?”

“Oh, I hope so.”

Tory caressed Reese’s belly and grasped the button on her jeans. “You didn’t answer my question about what was bothering you.”

“I don’t like statistics. They don’t mean anything when you’re dealing with one person. Hearing there’s a ninety percent chance you won’t have the same problem you had the last time doesn’t make me feel any better. Ten percent is way too high, Tor.”

“I know. I agree.” Tory rested her cheek on Reese’s breast. “What else did you hear that’s worrying you?”

“Women who have had preeclampsia are likely to have it a second time.”

“That’s true. But we’re lucky—I work with a superb doctor every day. Nita will be watching me like a hawk over here, and I’ll be seeing Wendy at least twice a month from the fourth month on. I promise.” Tory popped the button on Reese’s waistband and worked her way down to the next one. “And at the first sign of anything going wrong…” Tory dipped her fingers into Reese’s briefs and pushed down, stopping just over her clitoris.

Reese sucked in a hard breath. “You can’t promise—”

“Yes, I can. I know what I’m facing. I promise I won’t let anything happen to me during this pregnancy. I won’t put you through that again.”

Reese held on to the railing so hard she was afraid she’d crack the boards. Her knees were wobbling. She was going to drop any second. “I need you.”

Tory played her free hand up and down Reese’s hard abdomen, then gripped the waistband of her jeans and tugged. “I know. I need you too. Right now I need you to be all mine.”

“I’m always all yours.” Reese grasped Tory’s wrists before she lost all focus. “Let’s go inside. Time to get the little swimmers on their way.”

“Mmm.” Tory leaned into Reese. “Rumor has it a well-timed orgasm will give them a running start.”

“That can be arranged.”

Tory laughed. Reese took her hand and walked out of the shadows into the safety of home.

*

Flynn traveled west on Commercial, threading her way through the early-evening throngs. After Labor Day the tourist traffic cut down, but October was a popular month—the last gasp of Indian summer when the leaf peepers still flooded New England and the town geared up for Women’s Week, one of the biggest events of the year. With Columbus Day weekend still a while away, most of the stores and restaurants were open and shoppers and sidewalk crawlers took advantage of the unseasonably warm early fall evening to stroll the streets. She slowed in front of the Shoreline restaurant. The plate glass windows were dark, and inside, chairs were piled on the small tables that filled the storefront. She knew Mica wouldn’t be here—the restaurant, popular with locals and tourists alike, closed after a late lunch hour. Still, she had come to check, a bubble of expectation in her throat. And just as she had known, her anticipation was greeted with empty silence. The steeple clock at Town Hall chimed eight, and the unoccupied tables and chairs reminded her she hadn’t eaten dinner. She didn’t cook much, preferring to grab a sandwich or a piece of pizza after shift.

She turned and started back to the center of town. On impulse, she deviated down the board sidewalk to the Piper Bar. Midweek, off-season, the place was fairly deserted. A few locals sat at the bar, several couples swayed on the dance floor adjoining the rear deck, and a few others occupied tables around the edge of the room. One bartender worked the bar. Flynn slid onto a stool and waited.

“Help you?” A redhead in a tight black T-shirt with a sequined peacock over her breasts slapped a cocktail napkin in front of Flynn.

“A beer. Whatever dark you’ve got on draft.”

“Sure thing.”

The redhead turned away, and Flynn studied the napkin, remembering the last time she’d been here. She’d had a date with Allie. Their first date. They’d danced and walked home hand in hand. They’d kissed on her sofa, and the kisses had led to more. But Allie had stopped her when she might not have stopped herself, and that was unusual for her. She wasn’t a go-all-the-way-on-the-first-date sort of person. But Allie had made it easy to forget who she was. Allie made it easy to forget a lot of things.

“Here you go. Three fifty.” The bartender set a glass in the center of the white napkin, and a dark ring spread out around its base from water dripping down the sides of the glass. Flynn extracted a five from her wallet. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks, hon.” The bartender hesitated. “What’s your name?”

“Flynn.”

“I’m Marylou. You’re new in town.”

“Been here almost a month,” Flynn said.

“Planning to stay?”

“Yes.” Until she’d had the question put to her, Flynn had never actually considered her answer. But she was staying. Not because she had nowhere else to go, although her choices were somewhat limited. But this town beckoned to her. She felt at home here.

“Good to hear. I’ll see you around, then.”

“You will.” Flynn pulled at her beer and watched the activity behind her reflected in the mirror over the bar. A door on the far side of the dance floor opened, and someone came through carrying a cardboard box of liquor. Flynn narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t imagining things. Mica crossed to the bar and carried the box around behind it.

“Hey, Marylou,” Mica said, “you want me to bring up a case of the Captain next? It looks like you’re low.”

“Why don’t you just grab a couple of bottles,” Marylou said as she pulled up a draft.

“Okay.”

Mica set the box on the bar and started to stack the bottles into racks underneath. She worked quickly, as if she’d done the job before. Tory King had been right. Even in the dim, red-tinged light from the neon brewery signs hanging along the bar, the bruise around her left eye was apparent. She had the beginnings of a shiner that was probably going to be pretty dramatic in the morning.

Flynn slid down several bar stools, dragging her beer with her, until she was opposite Mica. “I would’ve thought you’d be too sore to work tonight.”

Mica jumped, her eyes darting rapidly to Flynn before all expression fled her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We met early this morning.” Flynn lowered her voice. “When you had that accident on your bicycle.”

“Yeah,” Mica said, “I know who you are. Like I said then, I’m fine.”

“Okay. I’m glad.”

“I’ll bet.” Mica pulled the empty cardboard box off the bar and turned away, threading her way down to the opposite end, where she rapidly pushed her way through a door leading to the alley outside.

Flynn debated going after her and then decided whatever the reasons Mica had left the clinic, whatever demons chased her, were none of her business. She drained her beer and set it carefully onto the cocktail napkin.

“Buy you another?” Allie settled onto the stool next to Flynn. She wasn’t in uniform now, and she looked young and fresh in a scooped-neck long-sleeved tee, hip-hugger jeans, and low-heeled boots. Her raven hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” Flynn said, looking past Allie around the room. She didn’t see Ash Walker anywhere. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m good too. Shoulder okay?”

“It gets stiff now and then, but it’s healed up.”

“Good.”

“So, how are
we
doing?”

Flynn smiled. “I think we’re doing okay. How are things with Ash?”

Allie smiled, the kind of smile a woman in love smiles. “You know we had a past, right? Before I went out with you.”

“Yeah, I figured that from some of the things Ash told me. And—well, the way you looked at her. You couldn’t see anyone else.”