"We won't go to each other's homes until after dark and leave before dawn, so people don't see our cars. We'll also park away from the homes, or I'll come and pick you up."
"That's fine," she shrugs, now standing and dusting off her dress.
"Most important of all, I don't share what's mine."
Gripping her around her waist again, I pull her close to me and kiss her deeply, enjoying the way she melts into me.
"Hmm," she makes a purring sound of pleasure. I can feel her smiling against my lips as the kiss relaxes from a hot need to cool friendship.
"I don't share either," she says, smiling up at me.
"Good," I whisper, looking deeply into her brown eyes. I never thought we would be here. How could we be?
Sighing now, I release her and take her hand in mine. "Can I escort you home?" I ask, hopeful, wanting to spend more time with her.
"I'd like that," she says, turning and walking with me, carrying my fishing rod.
Chapter Seven
LUCY
I can't believe it. I did it. If you asked me a couple of months ago if I thought it were possible, I'd have said only in my dreams. My dreams had been satisfying, but nothing like what I had just experienced. What I experienced was beyond words, beyond explanation. It wasn't how I imagined it being. I didn't think it would hurt as much as it did, but I also wasn't expecting the overwhelming pleasure. Or to like being spanked.
I wonder if I look different now? I feel different. Walking to the mirror, I examine myself. My cheeks are flushed, and I'm glowing. It was so wonderful to be loved. Loved? Was I loved? No, that would be ridiculous. We’ve only just started seeing each other. It was new, and it’s just a new avenue of our lives to explore together.
Who am I kidding? We’ve known each other for almost my entire life. What if this ends badly? It's not like we won’t see each other. He is Charlie's father, and Charlie and I are like sisters. We grew up together, attended the same classes; we were on the same gymnastics and track teams. Charlie and I were almost as close as Abbie and I are.
Add to all of that; he is the police chief for the small town that I call home, and he knows my dad. For better or for worse, we are connected. I can leave, though. I think I would too. If we weren't together, I would leave this sleepy town; I would go somewhere new, somewhere exciting. Maybe Abbie and I could get away together. I have never been to Paris; perhaps we could go spend a week there. Then what, though?
Sighing to myself, I decide not to think about it. I'm just going to live in the moment, enjoy my time with him while I can. Maybe he's right, and this will all end in tears. But at the end of it all, I'll know that I went after what I wanted, and I got it, if only for a summer.
Climbing into bed, I wish that he were here with me now. I feel like people who sleep together should, well, sleep together. They call it "sleeping together" for a reason, right?
I will have to work on him.
I’m okay with his rules, and they make sense in the short term. We want people to stay out of our business so that we can take the time and focus on ourselves.
Kenton is right; when people start talking, it becomes difficult to focus on what matters most. What do we want? How do we feel? If we can't answer those questions on our own now, how will we answer them when people are talking through the grapevine?
So, I will abide by the rules for now, but eventually, they will need to be amended if this is going to work in the long term.
There I go again, thinking long-term. I wonder if Kenton ever thinks of me long-term. I’m too afraid to be pushy. Even the healthiest relationships are ruined by moving too quickly. I just need to stop being a girl and focus more on the moment. We have the summer. The summer should be enough.
The next morning, I wake up early; I need to get in another run. Running is my way of working off excess steam. While last night was incredible and burned off some of my sexual tension, it left me feeling antsy in another way. Now, I’m restless for emotional reasons. I want to be with Kenton now, and I’m not sure how I can arrange a meeting with him. I want to run into him in a natural way. I'm not familiar enough with his daily routine, though. I imagine he leaves home by 7:30 and then drives to work. From there, he likely patrols and does paperwork. I know he responds to domestic disputes too, but I'm not likely to find myself in one of those.
You know what, I'll make this super simple. I'll go by the Sheriff's department, claiming to be dropping off something for Charlie, and bring him a coffee in the process. Everyone knows that we are friends, and in fact, I do have one of Charlie's t-shirts in my closet.
Jogging back to my home, I walk to the shower. I can't go in smelling like I ran three miles, which I did. I shower quickly, not wanting to waste the morning. I have to work at noon, and Annie will be furious if I'm late. I have worked hard to get on her right side, which means I am never late or lazy. If I am late today, it will give her everything she needs to confirm her suspicions: I am no good just like my father, and she knew it from the start.
Climbing out of the shower, I walk to my little closet and pull on one of my sundresses. Men were suckers for women in sundresses. Last night's red sizzler was an excellent example. Today, I will wear a sky-blue cotton dress with light fluttering sleeves. It's feminine and sings of youth. I'll wear my hair up in a high ponytail, allowing the long swing of my hair to fall down my back. Again, the image of youth and natural beauty. Kenton doesn't stand a chance.
A little while later, I walk into the police station with coffee in hand; I’m not sure what kind of coffee he likes. But he is a cop, right? He is used to drinking the crappy sludge that they have at police stations. Anything I bring is bound to be good in comparison. So, when I ask the barista what she recommends for a strong, handsome man, I accept whatever she gave me. She recommended a cappuccino, and I could imagine Kenton drinking a cappuccino. It certainly isn’t my taste. It’s too strong, which is why I order myself a new, German chocolate latte every time I go out. Lattes are nice. They feel useful and feminine, which is the look I am going for today. I think Kenton likes my baby face. While the age gap may pose a challenge, it certainly does not hinder our attraction for one another. I like that he is older, stronger, and has more life experiences. Abbie would say I have daddy issues, but so what if I do? When your dad is a drug lord, you are bound to have some problems, right?
“Hi, Lucy. How are you?” calls the older woman. Ms. Spinelli has been working behind the desk for years. I remember seeing her the first time my dad got caught. She was always nice to me despite my family heritage. I think that might be a difficult thing for members of the police force. It’s hard to draw the line between family and felon. I wonder if it’s something that Kenton struggles with? He swears that he doesn’t. Would he tell me though?
“Hi there. How are you?” I respond, aiming to be as casual as possible.
“Oh, I’m doing fine. Who is the coffee for?” she asks, her voice curious.