Читать книгу Wedding Belles - Beth Albright - Страница 12

7

It was just after 9:00 p.m. when I arrived in front of Sonny’s house. I sat looking at the front door, amber light glowing on the huge front porch, contemplating the changes that were taking place by this one, seemingly innocent act.

I’m just going for dinner, I told myself. But I knew me all too well. It was late, we would have a drink, and his arms would be warm and delicious. I’d been so lonely for so long that my heart ached just at the thought of him holding me.

Today had been hectic and stressful with the shower plans underway, and the Aaron case developing, not to mention the new search for Tressa. I just wanted to relax and make the world go away.

But I had never been inside Sonny’s home. Was I making a mistake even being here? My palms were sweaty and my heart began to race. What am I doing? I’m technically still married, at least until the paperwork is official. Good girls don’t do things like this.

Another errant thought popped in my head: Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere. Was I a bad girl now?

Sonny appeared on the porch. Oh, my, I thought. I would happily learn to be a bad girl for him.

I smiled helplessly at him, his silhouette big and yummy. He looked like a young Tom Selleck, without the mustache. I was a goner. The sight of him made me want to run to him, melt into his arms where it was safe and satisfying. I got out and shut my car door and walked around to the steps.

He whistled, and a chill ran up my spine. I felt the bad girl coming on. And I liked it.

“Hey, beautiful, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Sonny reached out and swept me against him, then kissed me passionately.

“Mmm—it’s good to see you, too,” I managed between kisses. “But we are on the porch,” I hinted. “I can’t wait to see the inside of your house.”

He kept kissing me. “Oh, it’s nothing much. I built it myself.” He gripped me around the waist and pulled me even closer. “I like to work with my hands.”

I giggled lightly, caressing his fingertips as they touched me. “You do have amazing hands.”

“Well, sweetheart, I’m even better when I have something beautiful to work with,” he said, brushing his fingers up and down my arm.

I got instantaneous chill bumps. It was after nine o’clock, but I was sure my evening was just getting started. I looked up into his glistening brown eyes.

He was looking right through me with that sexy grin on his face. I sighed. I had never felt loved liked this. With Harry, it wasn’t ever this deep, this real. I needed this feeling like a drug. How could I ever have walked away from him?

Standing on the porch of Sonny’s home, I was reminded of a summer’s night many moons ago when we lay in the back of his old red pickup truck and watched the night sky. It was crystal clear and lightning bugs twinkled over his backyard. We counted shooting stars and gazed at Orion.

Sonny was a lifelong Boy Scout. He was in his element outdoors. I always felt so safe with him. That was the first night he told me he loved me. We were sixteen, but Sonny had a depth to him that made him different from the other boys I knew. I remember being with him on a soggy night on a little dirt road just west of town when we were in our senior year of high school. He saw a baby deer tangled in some old rope in a ditch. The fawn had injured himself trying to wriggle free when Sonny pulled up and got out. He went over to the baby and freed him while I sat in the car and watched. He did this like it was all in a day’s work to him. Like it was nothing. A good scout is never without his pocketknife. He cut the rope and the little deer scampered away.

Now, years later, I stood on the porch scanning his amber-lit home under the pine trees. It looked like something out of a movie.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, leaning over to me. “I hope you will find the accommodations quite cozy.”

“I’m sure I will, Officer,” I said, flirting with him.

He kept up the playfulness. “Please, let me know if I can make your stay any more comfortable. Your satisfaction is my top priority.” He winked at me and lifted that left eyebrow. He was absolutely the sexiest when he did that.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said softly, batting my long lashes and letting him know to please, please keep looking at me like he could devour me with one bite. He could do anything he wanted to do to me, all night long, if he kept it up. He knew it, too. I bit my bottom lip, then rolled my tongue over my lips.

“Don’t you look at me like that,” he shot back.

I had him. He kissed me softly, then more deeply, his tongue tasting my mouth, then my neck. The chemistry was ridiculous with him. I felt his large hand cup my breast and his mouth slide down inside my silk collar to the flesh of my chest.

“We should go in, don’t you think?” I asked, breathing heavily against his neck. I knew anyone could be lurking out there, and I wanted to make sure we were seen only when and how we wanted to be seen.

“I could take you right here, right now,” he said.

“I know, but I wanna see your place,” I said. “Besides, we’re getting way too, um, relaxed, out here.”

“If you insist,” he said, still kissing my neck.

Sonny opened his front door for me and allowed me in first. Such a prince, I thought. Harry had stopped opening my door the minute we got back from our honeymoon. But this wasn’t a show from Sonny. This was ingrained behavior. He was a Southern gentleman. He had opened doors for me even in high school.

I followed him inside and he shut the door behind me.

Immediately, I was struck by the warmth of his home. Someone’s house says so much about who they are. His home enveloped me just like he did. I knew I was in trouble. Leaving would be very hard for sure.

His living room was awash in the glow of walls the color of milky mocha and trimmed in shiny white, extra-wide baseboards and crown molding. Shelves floor to ceiling flanked the doorways and were crammed with books, both hardback and soft, all mixed in together.

Some soft, vulnerable place inside me twisted, then released. I was really here.

I walked slowly, looking along the shelves, grazing my fingertips across the crowded unorganized collection. I wanted to explore every nook and cranny of his place.

“I’ll be right back,” Sonny said. “Make yourself comfy.” He headed off to the kitchen.

I was fixin’ to have a seat, but my uncontrollable curiosity took over and I headed toward his bedroom, which was just to the left of the kitchen door. I thought I’d only take a peek.

His room was dark with a cream-colored duvet and crimson blankets. His dark red mahogany dresser had a silver-framed picture of his German shepherd, Bryant, named after Bama’s legendary football coach, Bear Bryant. The coach died after retiring in 1982, and most of the town closed up for almost three days. It was one of those unreal events when you stopped in your tracks the minute you heard the news. Everyone in Tuscaloosa knows where they were the afternoon the Bear died. It was just like Sonny to try to keep a good man’s memory alive.

Bookshelves lined these dark cream walls like in the other room. But postcards and old photos of hiking trips and scouting knives littered the cubbies. A bay window seat looking out over the front porch was overflowing with mismatched pillows. In the corner stood his trombone, balancing on its case. I was certain that’s how he developed those talented lips.

An antique tulip sconce light was just outside the bathroom door, beckoning me inside. His closet was just to the right of the door and I found myself touching all of his things, feeling as though I was glimpsing a whole new side of Sonny—the real man underneath the slick detective’s suit. I inhaled deeply, and the scent of him filled me. His work shirts were well pressed from the cleaners, his ties hung around the neck of one hanger.

I paused a minute, then loosened the buttons on one of his shirts, my heart racing at my bravery. Well, he did say to make myself comfy...

I unzipped my skirt and it fell to the wood floor. I took off my blouse and pulled one of his old cop shirts off the hanger and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned halfway down. He hadn’t wore one of these uniform shirts since he’d become the chief investigator.

Bare feet and bare legs, I walked back out into the living room just as Sonny appeared in the doorway from the kitchen with two Baileys Irish Creams in highball glasses. He’d untucked his shirt and looked rather relaxed...until he caught a glimpse of me. He set the glasses down on the side table and walked toward me. He was slow and deliberate. He never took his eyes off me, sauntering across the floor.

He fingered the collar of the shirt I had on. “I do believe I prefer this new outfit to the previous one.” He smiled like a cat fixin’ to eat the canary. “It seems a little more, uh—accessible.”

“First, you have to catch me.” I ran from him into his bedroom, and he reached down, grabbing the glasses, and chased me. I jumped on his bed, scooching up the duvet and settling into his mound of down pillows.

He set the glasses on the dresser next to the picture of Bryant, crawled onto the bed and straddled me before taking off his white shirt. He was a big, gorgeous man, with a broad chest and strong muscular arms—every inch the sexy cop fantasy.

He stretched out on top of me. “I do believe I’ve caught you. What’s my prize?”

I laughed, loving the feel of his weight on me. “Accessibility. As much as you want.”

Sonny gave me a wicked grin. “Sugar, that’s an awful lot.” He began kissing me all over my neck and chest, in between the buttons of his old uniform shirt.

“You still have your clothes on.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He slid his pants off.

I heard them drop, belt and all, to the wood floor. I wrapped my bare legs around him and pulled him into me. I loved knowing I was in his bed, even if part of me couldn’t believe I was here and was totally shocked at my brazen behavior. The rest of me just reveled in it.

I was putting a pinky toe outside my predictable box, and amazingly enough, I was feeling like I was home.