Lovin' a Good Ol' Boy Page 16

  "How am I different?" she asked, worried. She couldn't change who she was, but she did want his approval, she wanted him to like her as a person, love her as she was.

  "You're more. You're more woman than any other female I've ever known. You're as smart and tough-willed as any man I know, and you're as gentle and tender-hearted as a momma with a brand new babe." He walked across the room to the window and stood looking down into the street.

  Again Anne was struck by the difficulty this man had in expressing his feelings. Every word seemed to cost him dearly, yet he went on talking because he needed her to understand how he felt.

  "It makes me crazy that you don't seem to need a man in your life. I kind of admire your independence, but then . . . well, it makes me wonder what I have to offer you."

  "Who said I didn't need a man in my life?" she asked, floored by his remark, wondering how she'd given him that impression. "I may not need one to support me financially, but I've often wished I could find one to support me emotionally. One who would meet me at home every night. One I could share a life with, raise children with, grow old with. There are different ways of needing someone, you know. I think financial need is probably the most insignificant of all."

  First he glanced over his shoulder at her, then he turned around completely, leaning back against the windowsill. "All I know is that I sure have one helluva need for you," he said without a trace of humor in his voice. "Annie, I love you somethin' awful."

  Anne was as restless as spit on a griddle. Already she was trembling with desire. She wanted Buck to touch her, to feel his lips on hers, and to know his hands on her bare skin again. She longed for the taste of him, for the heat of his body, and to hear him groan in misery and delight. If he wanted to kiss her again, now would be a good time, she thought. If he was going to act, this would be the moment to do it, she urged him mentally.

  But quite obviously, Buck wasn't finished with his speech. He held up his hand and motioned her to be silent when her mouth opened to speak her heart's desire.

  "No. Wait a second," he said gravely. "There's more. I need to get it all out and over with."

  This was beginning to sound like the big BUT that all too often accompanied good news. She swallowed her words of love and devotion and sat half-thrilled, half-dreading whatever he was about to say.

  "I quit my job."

  "You what?"

  "I quit my job at the mill."

  "Why?" she asked in disbelief.

  "Because I want to be with you!" he said, holding his hands out at his sides, as if the act explained itself. "I wanted you to stay with me. Stay in Kentucky, work at the mill and marry me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I couldn't ask you to give up your life here. I didn't have anything better to offer you. So, I thought—" he looked down at the toes of his boots, "I thought I'd come to New York and live with you."

  Everything and nothing flashed through Anne's mind and sent it spinning. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. He'd quit his job? He'd given up his beloved Kentucky just to be with her? It was a very good thing she couldn't think of anything to say. The lump in her throat would have choked her. Tears stung her eyes as she stood and crossed the few feet that separated them physically.

  He looked up at her when her feet came into his view. She couldn't help smiling at the uncertainty in his expression. She'd probably never know what it had cost him to come to her like this, but she knew he had paid dearly.

  She hadn't realized that she was crying until he reached out and tenderly wiped a tear from her cheek. She swallowed hard several times and finally managed to speak his name.

  With both hands he cupped her face and feather-touched her cheeks with the pads of thumbs as he probed her soul through her eyes. With the same light touch, the same reverent awe, he pressed his lips to hers. He sipped at her bottom lip, and she leaned into his embrace, pressing herself close to his warmth and his strength, feeling anchored for the first time in her life.

  There were no loose ends, no questions, no fear of never belonging in her life. Buck was her hearthstone. His arms were her home. It didn't matter where they were; as long as they were together she was sheltered, cherished, and bound deeply and eternally in one safe familiar place. Buck's heart.

  Feverish kisses dulled the memories of the weeks spent in misery without him. She was exultant. She wanted to bellow from the rooftops that she was in love and that Buck belonged to her. His lips tickled down her neck, and she giggled her delight.

  "Quitting your job was a stupid thing to do," she said, laughing. She took his face in her hands to draw him away from the cleavage of her cotton shirt. She wanted his full attention.

  "I’ll find somethin' else to do," he said, shrugging. "I'm pretty good with my hands. And I saw a help-wanted sign in Queenie's Massage Palace down the way a bit."

  "Queenie's ... do you know what that place is?" she asked, her eyes wide.

  "Sure. Folks go in there to have their backs rubbed. I think a walk in the woods would take care of a lot more of their tension, but this bein' New York and all ..." He shrugged. "Anyway, I thought I could give back rubs until somethin' better comes along."

  "Back rubs? Buck—"

  He broke out laughing then. He snatched Anne up into his arms and twirled her around once before kissing her soundly.

  "You do love a country bumpkin, don't you?" he said, laughing at her gullibility, insinuating that she'd most likely never get over thinking she was more worldly than he. "I don't care what I do. I’ll find something. I’ll get used to New York. All I care about is being with you, my Annie."

  He kissed her again, and she let him, but just once. Then she pushed him away. "I want to be with you, too, my love. But now that you’ve quit your job, we're both out of work. We won't be able to afford to feed each other. We’ll be too weak to make love. We’ll die in bed—"

  "What?"

  "We’ll die in bed—"

  "No. What do you mean, we're both out of work? You quit your job too?"

  "Yep," she said, smiling and stepping away from him. "And I'm not all this clean." She gestured with her hands to the room in general. "This is how things look when I'm moving."

  "Moving?"

  She nodded once. "I had this great offer to be controller at this little textile mill in Kentucky. I've decided to take it."

  Things she hadn't previously noticed in his facial expression began to melt away. Regret, sadness, some pain. A slow grin came to his lips. His green eyes twinkled with awareness. Tension slipped out of his shoulders, and his stance seemed to loosen all at once. The knowledge of what she'd done, of how she felt about him, returned the cockiness to the tilt of his head. It was like creating a macho monster, something no woman in her right mind would do, but she laughed anyway. He was her macho monster, and she was crazy about him.

  "How come you didn't tell me you were in love with me?" he asked, a sly grin on his face. He took two easy strides forward and looked down at her face, taking in every detail with great care.

  "How come you didn't tell me?" she countered.

  He looked surprised. "I did, sugar. A hundred different times. A hundred different ways. Don't you remember?"

  All she could do was nod silently. She did remember. She'd felt his love. He'd told her every time he'd touched her or looked at her. It was in his kiss. It had shivered through his body every time they'd made love. He wasn't a talker; he was a shower, a doer.

  "See where bein' too proud’ll get you?" he went on, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face with the palm of one hand, while the other slid possessively over her hip to her bottom. "Up here pinin' away for me all that time, when we coulda been lovin' each other."

  "Pining? Me?"

  "Weren't you pinin'? I was pinin' for you somethin' awful, Annie," he murmured, moving closer.

  "Then why didn't you stop me? Tell me not to go?"

  "What? You think a good ol' boy like me would ever think of gettin' by wit
h tellin' a modern Yankee lady like you what to do?"

  "I think you've gotten by with it before," she said, refusing to fall for his dumb yokel act again.

  He took a quick glance at her apartment, and then looked back at her, all the teasing light extinguished from his eyes. He looked exposed and in need of reassurance. "I'm real sorry, Annie. I thought this was what you wanted. I love you so much, I thought letting you go was the only way I could make you happy."

  "You're what I want, Buck. You make me happy."

  "And I'm going to make you a whole lot happier in a minute here," he muttered, his mouth moving against her neck, his hands fumbling at the buttons on her blouse. "That is, if you haven't packed up the bed yet." After a half-pause, he tumbled her to the floor, and added, "Ah hell, who needs a bed?"

  Who, indeed, she wondered sometime later. They had rarely gotten to a bed in Kentucky. Why should anything be different in New York? Diamonds were diamonds. Men were men. Women were women. But there was nothing else in the world like lovin' a good ol’ boy.

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