Heap of Trouble (Trouble, Tennessee 2)

“I don’t think she was raped,” Justin said.

“Me either.” Then again Gabe wasn’t in position to make that kind of call. Justin had dated her and most likely knew her intimately.

“I love her, Gabe.”

“Yep. I figured as much.”

“Curt, too.”

Gabe nodded slowly, studied the tree-lined driveway and dared to ask the question. “Where is Curt anyway?”

Justin massaged his neck. “Inside.”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t have to ask. If he’d been in Curt’s shoes, he would’ve stayed with her, too.

Curt was helping her dress, helping her gather her things, being there for her. He should’ve been there for her. They were close once. Hell, maybe Curt and Heather were still close.

Besides, Gabe intended to be there for her, too. She could have her minutes with Curt.

She’d have a lifetime with Gabe.

* * * *

Heather used the shampoo as bath soap. She didn’t want anything to touch her skin that might have been used by one of the Vance brothers. She lathered up the cheap brand, inhaling the strawberry scent as she ran her hands over her arms and legs, breasts and stomach.

She turned her face to the water and enjoyed her shower to the fullest. It had been five days since she’d been permitted to use their bathroom, and she planned to take her time, just for spite.

Lathering her hair, she closed her eyes and scrubbed her scalp, relishing in the memories. Her brother and his friends had been there. They’d come to save her. Justin and Curt…Gabe….they’d all risked their lives to save hers.

As she ran her fingers through her hair, she couldn’t help but think of Gabe then. He’d looked so tortured. Had she caused him that much pain? Had he been so concerned for her that he hadn’t even thought about his own well-being?

She knew the answer, of course. Gabe had always been there, waiting in the shadows, watching over her. Her friends used to point him out at ballgames. They made little comments about how he watched her like a man watched a woman.

She’d been a mere girl and still remembered how her heart once raced. She recalled the way he’d responded to her, too. He always looked so pained to walk away from her when they’d casually meet at the concession stand or some other unexpected place.

Her fingers were at her nipples. She rolled them under her fingertips, trying to resist the urges building inside her. They were waiting outside to question her, to interrogate her and yet all she could do then was think, fantasize, and crave the touch of the one man she’d longed to have.

Pushing her head under the water, she stood on her tiptoes and pretended Gabe was there with her, staring at her like he always did, with that brooding lust, a man’s desire. Her free hand slid down her side. She reached between her legs with probing fingers. Her ragged breath caught in her lungs. She longed to act, to react to what she’d seen.

With her fingers lingering at her pussy, she gripped the bar until she could’ve sworn her knuckles popped. What would it be like? What if he came to her then, stepped into that shower, and just whispered the most absurd sexual remarks at her ear. What would he say? What would he want her to say in return?

She thrust her fingers inside her cunt, loving the fantasy, the thought of his body towering over hers. He’d watch her respond to him, look on as she loved him.

And then….

“Are you okay in here?”

She jerked at the sound of Curt’s voice. The transparent shower curtain gave everything away.

He stood on the other side of the room, a beast of a man, a solid man, a man who was more than ready to take away her longing and soothe that burning lust.

“I…”

Curt’s hands went to his shirt and he loosened the buttons. She tried to force an inviting smile, a smile that would welcome and encourage him.

At the same time, Curt wasn’t who she wanted right then. He wasn’t who she needed. He was familiar and while familiar was good, wonderful even, she didn’t need the comfortable and common. She wanted the wild and reckless.

“I’m almost done,” she rasped, holding her hands in front of her breasts.