Lovin' a Good Ol' Boy Read online

  "Buck. Let's not do this," she said, as she turned in his arms. She framed the face she loved so dearly with her hands and pressed her lips to his tenderly. "Let's enjoy our last night together."

  She didn't have to coax him. He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her with a passion that seemed to have no boundaries. It was as if he were trying to put a lifetime of kisses into one. Anne felt it and recognized it, because she was trying to do it too.

  Buck broke off suddenly and slapped himself violently on the leg. "Dammit. Come on," he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. "I wanna make love to you somethin' awful, but if we do it here, you'll wind up with 'skeeter bites all over your cute little butt."

  Anne laughed. "And wouldn't that make for an interesting plane ride tomorrow."

  Hand in hand they walked back through the woods. The sky was darkening quickly. Already Anne could see the stars beginning to twinkle. She was amazed that Buck's steps seemed so confident, when she couldn't see as far as three feet in front of her.

  The long silences between them had never bothered Anne. She had accepted from the start that even though he was sharp witted and well informed, Buck didn't initiate conversations just to hear himself talk. He kept his own council and appeared to enjoy the stillness around him. However, he seemed particularly talkative on this night.

  "I suppose Webster's pretty dull compared to what you're used to," he said out of the blue.

  "It's quieter, but I certainly haven't been bored," she said, intimating that he was the reason things hadn't been dull in Webster.

  "Well, what if we hadn't met. What would you think of Webster then?"

  "I don't know." It was a truthful answer.

  "We live simple, ordinary lives here. We grow up, get jobs, get married, raise kids, and die. Along the way we laugh a little, cry a little, struggle a lot, and do what we can to be proud of ourselves. All in all, our lives are good, but they're not a thrill a minute. Do you think you could ever live like that? I mean, without all the lights, the fancy stores, and the city hubbub."

  Anne's heart had begun to race, chugging full steam. What was he trying to ask her? Was this it? The moment she had all but given up on?

  She took a deep breath and tried to answer him as honestly as possible. "This is all on the speculation that I hadn't met you, right?"

  "Right. I don't really enter in to this. This is just you, alone."

  Her heart was still hammering, but it was up in her throat now. She had a sick feeling this wasn't going to be what she thought it was. She tried to clear her throat before answering. "Well, I do love Kentucky, but I don't think I'd be very good at staying home with the kids and keeping the kitchen sink clean, like some of the women do here. I don't have that kind of patience. I like the kind of work I do. I wouldn't mind having the kind of life you talked about, but I'd need an outside job too."

  She couldn't see his face, but he seemed to be considering her answer. Then he said, "You told me before that you liked it here. You could still move here. We could use a controller at the mill. I can't see you havin' any trouble gettin' a job there."

  “Thanks," she said meekly. For the mill, he could ask her to stay. But not for himself. "I’ll keep it in mind. . . if I ever want to change jobs."

  Swallowing her pride had never come easy to her. Even as they emerged from the woods and began to cut across the small field to the house, her dignity was stuck tightly in her craw.

  Still, she wanted to be fair. Buck hadn't meant to hurt her. She instinctively knew that. At the moment he was as much against ending their affair as she was. And there was no denying that if she came back to Webster and took a job at the mill, their liaison would go on. She would be happy. But for how long? She knew herself well enough to know that she was an all-or-nothing person. She wanted Kentucky, the mill, and Buck, but not necessarily in that order. If she were going to make a new commitment, she'd make it to all three or not at all.

  "Annie?" Buck's voice gently called her from her reverie. "You got somethin' on your mind? You're awful quiet."

  "I was just thinking about tomorrow."

  "What about it?"

  She stopped in the middle of Buck's backyard and turned to face him. One hand was already locked in his, the other automatically reached out to touch his chest. "I want you to go to work in the morning before I wake up."

  "I want to stay until you have to leave for the airport."

  "I'd rather you didn't. I—I'm not very good at good-byes," she said, thinking of what an ironic lie that was. She'd been saying good-bye all her life. She just couldn't say it this time. With slightly more enthusiasm she added, "You know what I'd really like to do?"

  "What?"

  His voice was so soft, it was hardly more than a whisper. So she whispered too, very seductively, "I want to go to bed with you right now." Both of her hands came up to work on the buttons of his shirt. "I want to make love with you all night long." She pressed her lips to the underside of his chin as she pushed his shirt aside and pulled upward on his white t-shirt. She slide her hands across smooth, taut abdominal muscles and murmured, "I want to fall asleep in your arms at dawn, and when I wake up, I— "

  She'd had Buck all primed to kiss her when his head bobbed up as if he were an animal sensing danger. "What the hell is that?"

  "What?" she asked, and then she heard it too. Laughter. Children's laughter. And it was coming from the other side of the house.

  The flash of light from the bulb hanging over the back door blinded her, but it didn't impair her hearing.

  "See. I told you they'd be back soon, if we waited," she heard Bryce saying to someone Anne couldn't see.

  "He is going to die this time," Buck muttered, as he took Anne by the arm and led her to the back door. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I used to live here. Remember?" Anne could see Bryce's teasing smile as her eyes began to clear. Buck opened the door and let her pass through into the kitchen. "Not that I'm complaining about my present living arrangements, mind you. But now I have a woman of my own to deal with, big brother. And she wanted to come callin'."

  There was some muttering about "controlling women" and "look who was talking," but Anne missed most of it as Liddy Evans entered the room with all three of her children trailing behind her. Anne hadn't realized that her "middle boy" was only about five, while the other two were probably six and four. They looked so much alike, they could have been triplets.

  "Hello, ma'am. Ms. Hunnicut," the young woman said in a nervous voice. She kept reaching out to touch her children, pulling them close to her, as if keeping them corralled. "I'm sorry if we're disturbin' ya, but I made Bryce bring me over here as soon as we found out you was leavin' tomorrow. I wanted—"

  "Oh, please, call me Anne," she broke in to avoid what was about to become a very awkward moment. "And you're not disturbing us. Why, do you know that I had no idea your boys were so young. . . or so handsome," she said, turning her attention to the boys.

  She stooped down to get their names, and that was all it took. For the next two hours the boys ran wild in the yard or came into the house to add life to the adult conversation in the living room, where Buck had finally broken down and offered coffee to their guests.

  Liddy Evans slowly relaxed enough so that Anne could finally get a glimpse of the girl Bryce was so interested in. She was really very charming in a shy, sweet way that no doubt appealed to Bryce's protective instincts. She obviously was under a great deal of pressure and suffered from stress, but Anne could tell from the boys’ behavior that she was handling things very well. She simply didn't look or act as if it were possible. There was a lot more to Liddy Evans than met the eye.

  "Gutsy girl," Anne said, thinking out loud as she and Buck stood on the front porch watching the tail lights of Bryce's truck fade in and out of the night shadows.

  "Yep." Buck loudly filled his lungs with fresh, clean air and just as loudly released it before pushing himself out of his slouch position
against the railing. His arms circled her from behind, and he nuzzled her neck. "But I’ve got one of my own to deal with now. And she was just about to tell me what she wanted. Remember?"

  "Yep. I do," she said, turning in his arms, locking her own around his neck and smiling up into his face. "Lordy," she said, affecting a poor imitation of a southern drawl and rolling her eyes. "Aw thought they was never gonna leave."

  "You makin' fun a me, lady?" he asked, his eyes narrowing dramatically. He grinned at her in his own special way, that way that made her stomach flip over and try to turn itself inside out.

  "Why, Aw’d never dream of doin' such a thing, Mr. Buck. Least ways not with you bein' so big and strong and all."

  "I'm gonna big and strong you, if you don't stop that," he said, swatting her bottom playfully. Anne's hand instantly went to the same place to scratch vigorously. He grinned. "What's the matter? Got an itch?"

  “Why, Aw do declare! Aw do believe one of them varmints bit me, clean through mah dungarees."

  Always the gentleman, he placed his hand where hers had been doing the scratching. "I'm gonna bite you clean through your dungarees if you don't stop talkin' like that. I like your snooty twang better, and I want to get down to some serious business here."

  His hands cupped her bottom and held her pelvis close to his. Anne gave him a sly, knowing smile. "Why, Aw do believe you've already fallen upon the best way of shuttin' me up, Mr. Buck. And, Aw swear, if you don't do it pretty soon, Aw’m gonna say something right nasty about your general Robert E. Lee."

  Buck was not a man to take a threat lightly. His mouth swooped down on hers like an owl on a field mouse. In no time at all he'd kissed her senseless, her body yearned and clamored for his most intimate touches. She grew hot and wet and feverish until she felt her fingernails digging into her palms, even through the wads of Buck's shirt she had fisted in her hands.

  "What was that you were saying about biting me through my jeans?" she murmured weakly on a quick gasp of air, her Southern drawl forgotten.

  Buck laughed but not in his normal, robust way. "Come on," he said, scooping up her limp body into his arms. "I've got a better idea."

  And that he had, indeed. In their lovemaking before this he had taken her to visit the stars and the moon. He'd sent her soaring to Jupiter and Mars. He'd loved her gently; he'd taken her fiercely. He'd shivered at her touch and surrendered to her unconditionally. But on this night, their last night, their love was like nothing that had taken place before.

  They left the planet Pluto in their wake, as they suffused eternity with their passion. It was their epoch, their moment in time. They filled light-years with their ecstasy. They injected a lifetime of need with their exhilaration and joy. Their contentment spanned a generation of boundless desires; an age of seasons knew of their emotion, and the universe was their home as they lay in each other's arms.

  And when at last reality overpowered their rampant splendor, and they began to count time in seconds and minutes once more, Anne's heart broke. Under the weight of Buck's head, as it rested peacefully on her breast, her heart shattered into a thousand unmendable pieces. She brushed her hand across his back, trying to memorize the feel of his skin, the strength of his body, and knew that she'd never be able to recall the exact same texture in her mind.

  Time was her enemy. It was moving swiftly toward dawn. Time was also sadistic, she knew from past experience. It would fade her memory of the past week. It would blur Buck's face until she could barely remember what he looked like. But it wouldn't change the love she had for him. It wouldn't ease the pain of leaving him or alter the emptiness his absence would create.

  She held him close and relished him. She couldn't bear the thought of saying good-bye to him.

  "Buck?" she said, her whispering voice sounding loud and harsh in the darkness.

  "Mmm?"

  "Please don't be here when I wake up," she blurted out, afraid she wouldn't be able to say it, afraid she was going to start to cry.

  His body tensed. "Annie. . . "

  "Please," she pleaded when he sounded as if he were going to argue with her. "I want this to be my last memory of you. Holding you like this."

  He released a sharp breath, but he didn't say anything. Anne thought he was going to give her this one last wish, but as his body began to relax against hers, he also began to shudder. His arms tightened around her possessively. Concerned, she intensified her own embrace. She closed her eyes and allowed her tears to run freely from their corners as she realized that he, too, was weeping, softly and quietly against her breast.

  She held him in her arms, loving him more than he'd ever know, until the sun changed the black of night to the gray of early dawn. She listened to his deep, rhythmic breathing, feeling drained and numb. Tired eyes, stinging and dry, closed. When next they opened, Buck was gone.

  Eleven

  Gray. A mixture of all colors and no color. A very dull color, to be sure. Anne didn't think she'd ever seen so much gray in all her life. Everywhere she looked, everything she saw was gray. The New York sky was overcast, smoggy and gray, not at all like the blue skies of Kentucky. The buildings were gray. Men in elevators were wearing gray suits and women's summer fashions seemed to be predominantly gray this season. The world's hue was just as it should be to suit her disposition. Gray.

  She stood in a throng of pedestrians waiting for the lights to change. She tried to recall exiting the subway and walking the three blocks it took to get her to this particular corner every morning. But as was the case so frequently these days, she feared she was doomed to spend another day wandering around in a dim, mindless fog. Not in hopeless despair, mind you, just a nothingness, a numbness that filled her heart and body. A dispiritedness in her soul.

  She couldn't bring herself to feel happy about being home and once again in familiar surroundings. Nor could she still feel the acute pain and wretchedness she'd been submerged in a month before, when she'd first returned from Kentucky. Sustaining that kind of agony for a prolonged period took up too much of her energy, a commodity she found little enough of these days. And so her life was neither black nor white, happy nor sad. Her life had become empty, void. It was gray. Not a pretty color, but one she could exist with without expending too much effort.

  Still, as accomplished as she had become at not thinking, avoiding memories, and suppressing her feelings, some things did manage to filter through to her consciousness.

  She stepped off the curb and looked up at the towering blue-gray building on the other side of the street. The Harriman Building. She'd looked up at it in the exact same way her first morning back. She had felt everything that morning. She'd felt beaten and haggard. She'd looked up at the building with intense hatred, despising everyone inside and everything it stood for. She'd been angry with Buck for not telling her that he loved her and begging her to stay. She'd missed him grievously.

  "So. You're back." Calvin Schwab had said, leaning against her office door, a superior look on his long, clean-shaven face, his gaze knowing.

  "Yep. I'm back," she'd said, using one of Buck's words. She'd kept her glance quick and otherwise hidden from his as she'd shuffled through the papers on her desk. She'd been afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

  "Did you hear what happened when they called and tried to make their bid?" he'd asked, a gloating sound heavy in his voice. Anne bit her tongue. She'd wanted to stand up and call him a pig. Had he any idea how much he'd hurt and disappointed those people?

  Instead, she'd slit open a letter a little too zealously, then leaned back in her chair to consider it. "I heard." "Well, your plan worked perfectly, Anne. Letting them play at being businessmen for a while to keep them quiet and then slapping them down hard worked like a charm. We haven't heard a peep out of them since Monday. Ya done good, kido.'

  “Thanks.” She hadn't realized that had been her plan, but she'd plastered what she hoped would look like a grateful smile on her face and looked up at him. He nodded his pleasure
several times, and then strolled back to his own office.

  However, the next time she'd looked up to see him standing in her doorway had been much more gratifying to Anne. She had set out to win his approval and respect, and she had apparently done that. But to see him glowering and angry was much, much better.

  "Those damn hillbillies are at it again!" he'd announced later that afternoon. "They've given us until tomorrow morning to reconsider our decision to sell, before they go to the press."

  "No," she'd said, her face a study of disbelief. "Well, which one of those dummies do you suppose thought of that?"

  "LaSalle. He's the one who called Harriman." She'd half-suspected that being bypassed by Buck, who had gone directly to the top with his threat, was why Calvin was so angry. He believed in the chain of command, especially since he was so near the top of it. "That guy irks the hell out of me."

  Anne had nodded sympathetically. "He does have a way of getting to you." She knew better than anyone. "What’ll happen now?"

  He'd shrugged restlessly. "Harriman doesn't want the publicity." He'd stopped to reconsider the problem for a moment. "Hell, I say give 'em plenty of rope. Let them hang themselves with it. They won't last six months." Anne knew better, but she had let her head sway back and forth as if she agreed, as if to say he was probably right. Inside, her heart was smiling.

  In that moment she had felt connected to Buck. Miles separated them, but they'd touched. And she'd known, as well as she'd known the pain in her heart, that he'd been feeling the same closeness at that moment. Their spirits had embraced, caressed and become one.

  That was the last warm feeling Anne had had in almost a month. It had lasted well into the evening, and she had cherished it. She was happy for Buck and for the people of Webster. The mill would continue to nurture the town. Little would change, and that made Anne happy too. She liked to think that Webster, Kentucky, would always be as she remembered it. Beautiful, peaceful, and safe.

  The phone rang. She was stretched out on the sofa, thinking of Webster and missing Buck. The phone was less than two feet away from her. She could have answered it, but she didn't want to exert that much effort. Her machine answered for her.