We reached the stream and she stopped at the bank, looking down at the fast-moving water. I stood next to her then touched her lower back impulsively, my hand resting inches above her pert, tight little ass. She didn’t pull away and let the stick fall from her fingers. She looked up at me, her big eyes glistening, and I leaned down to touch her cheek.
“You killed a man in front of me,” she whispered. “And now you want to kiss me.”
I brushed my lips against hers then said, “You can stop me, if you want.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about making out with a murder.”
I pulled her closer, hands on her hips. “It’s not so bad,” I said. “All you need to do is close your eyes and let me do the rest.”
“Do you have experience with this?” she asked. “Kissing killers?”
“Not yet,” I said. “And unless you have some enemies you plan on cutting down, hopefully never.”
She laughed gently, and I bit her bottom lip—then held her tight and kissed her deep.
We stood in the woods with wild bird sounds and the water rushing over rocks and it all disappeared, as if a mute button was pressed. There was only Mags and her lips and her taste on my tongue and her body against mine and my heart thudding against my ribs and, god, what I wouldn’t give to slide those little shorts off her body, to pull that tank top up, to palm her breast and make her gasp and whisper my name in that cute way she had—
But she pulled away, stumbled a little over a scrubby bush, and walked back to the path. “I can’t do this,” she said, shaking her head.
“Mags,” I said. “Wait.” I went to follow, but her held up her hands and stared.
“Just let me go,” she said. “I need to think, okay? I’m not sure I’m ready for—whatever that was.”
“It was a really good kiss,” I said. “One I think you enjoyed.”
“Whether I enjoyed it or not isn’t the point,” she said. “Leave it, okay?” And more softly, “I just need to think.”
“Think fast,” I said.
She gave me one more look, confused and tangled, then turned and hurried back down the path.
I picked up her fallen stick. That girl was lodged inside me, right between my teeth, deep inside my guts, in between my eyes. She was in me, a part of me, and I only wanted more and more. I was greedy for her, and I knew it would be hard, getting past those defenses, that natural aversion to men in the family, but I’d persist.
I always did.
I tossed the stick into the water then wandered slowly back to the house, making sure I didn’t catch up with her again.
14
Mags
The kiss, those presents, that conversation, it swirled in my mind over and over. I tried to numb it all and forget it, tried to drown it away in cheap paperbacks about detectives and dames and murders, but I couldn’t manage to push him away.
Not when everything reminded me of him. Not when I lived in his house. Not when I was his wife.
God, what a mess. Even for those brief amazing seconds when he kissed me, I still got flashes of that guy’s head breaking open. Dean drove me nuts, and when I could put away all my reservations for a few minutes, I had a lot of fun. Telling him about Bea was probably mean, but he took it well at least, and it made me laugh—and it led to him touching me by that stream.
I wished I could get over the terror that rang through me like a siren each time I shut my eyes and thought about him killing, but couldn’t make it happen.
That night, hours after his kiss, I went down into the kitchen for a late snack. I couldn’t sleep—I kept reading and reading, but my eyes never got heavy. My schedule was getting all messed up. I kept sleeping later and later, and staying up until all hours of the night. I needed to get it together soon, or else become an insomniac.
I found leftover mac and cheese and ate it cold from the bowl like an animal, standing in that big industrial kitchen all along. Out in the hall, I heard voices, soft but insistent, and I froze. It was a little past one in the morning, and the house was normally dead at this hour.
I put the food away and crept out. More voices, muffled. They were coming from Dean’s office. I recognized Bea but couldn’t make out the words. I walked down and the floor creaked, and I froze just outside the office door.
Dean said, “Doctors said there was nothing they could do.”
“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Bea said. “I know you liked him.”