Chapter 29

The house was dark when Pat pulled in behind her minutes later. Once in the foyer Clarissa dropped her purse and then turned into his outstretched arms. Without a word said between them, he lifted her and carried her up the stairs.

She’d left the curtains pulled back and the bright, golden autumn moonlight shone brightly into the room, illuminating the canopied bed. From her own cushioned resting place next to Clarissa’s bed, the kitten opened one eye, glanced at them as if peeved to be interrupted from her slumber and then tucked her head back under her paw, ignoring them.

Pat dipped and gently let go of Clarissa’s legs. As she stood upright, her arms still woven around his neck, he bent and kissed her, pulling her body to lie fully against his. Her hair smelled like fall sunshine as it tickled his nose, clean and fresh and warm.

“I missed you so much these past few days.” He sighed and tightened his grip around her shoulders. “So much.”

She smiled and traced her finger along his bottom lip. The little gasp she let out when he sucked her finger into his mouth slammed through him. Her eyes were huge and filled with desire.

A gentle tug and her shirt was out of her pants. He popped the buttons on it before she could draw another breath. When he pushed it back off her shoulders and down her arms, he dipped his head and his tongue found the gentle swell of one breast above the lace cup of her bra.

Her hands and intent were equally as industrious. She had him out of his own shirt and pants, her fingers fisted around the full, rock-hard length of him through his boxers in a heartbeat.

When they were both naked, he lifted her and fell with her onto her massive bed.

Under the moon’s hazy glow Pat made love to her as if his life depended on it. His mouth and tongue took her over her first body-arching peak, her hands fisted in the sheets beneath her for support. When she cried his name the second time, he slid into her and, as she tightened around him, whispered, “Look at me, Clarissa.”

When her lids fluttered open, he said her name again and found his own release as she watched him.

When their breathing slowed, he tucked her under his arm, her hand on his chest, his heart still drumming within him.

“I love you,” she said thickly falling into sleep on the last word.

Pat’s grip tightened involuntarily around her shoulders as he stared up at the canopy.

****

Clarissa sensed the gentle pat on her face twice before she opened one eye. The kitten meowed at her, loudly, and swiped at her hair again with its paw.

“Good morning to you, too.” Clarissa pulled the little—now purring—body to her face and kissed her warm nose. The curtains were still opened, as they’d been the night before, and fresh, warm morning light played over the bed. Clarissa realized she was alone with the cat. She sat up, cocked an ear and heard silence greet her.

She pulled a t-shirt from her dresser drawer, and, with the kitten in her arms, padded downstairs in search of Pat.

The kitchen was empty. On the table she spied a piece of paper with his handwriting.

Had to make an early farm call. Talk to you later.

It was signed simply with the letter P.

Disappointment shoved through her. They hadn’t spoken more than two sentences to each other once they’d arrived back last night. Need had made speech superfluous. While she fed her charge, Clarissa’s thoughts filled with the intensity and depth of Pat’s lovemaking. Last night something had changed between them. He’d gone slowly, much more slowly and carefully with her than ever before. She remembered crying out his name as a flood of pleasure more intense than at any other time had flowed within her. Through opened eyes, eyes he’d commanded she look through, Clarissa witnessed a well of sentiments fill Pat’s own gaze as he’d exploded within her.

She filled the teapot and set it on the stove. The memory of the warmth of his arms as he’d cuddled and kissed her to sleep had been as rewarding and pleasurable as their union.

Her hand froze on the handle when she remembered what had happened next.

“Oh. My. God.”

She grabbed the counter so she wouldn’t drop to the floor when her knees started to tremble.

She’d told him she loved him. Admitted it. Out loud.

A thousand reasons why it had slipped from her lips rushed through her mind. She’d been exhausted from working and not thinking clearly; she’d been so overcome with the aftereffects of their lovemaking, she’d dropped her guard. None of the reasons mattered. She’d confessed the one thing she’d thought never to reveal, the one thing she was terrified of his knowing.

She loved him. Completely and totally. The knowledge he now knew was overwhelming.

How could she have been so foolish? It was one thing to know she loved him, quite another to give it a voice. In so doing, she’d given him the potential power to hurt her, deeply and totally.

With care, she lowered into a kitchen chair. Her hands shook with the pulsing of her blood as she realized one other very real and true thing. Her declaration had gone unreciprocated.

Pat hadn’t said the words back to her, and she knew he’d heard them because his grip had tightened on her shoulders right after.

And this morning he was gone.

She tried not to let the implication of that fill her thoughts. After all, he’d left her a note saying he got called out early. He hadn’t bolted from her bed the moment the words had left her lips, hadn’t abandoned her, hadn’t left her alone.

He wasn’t like her father. He wasn’t.

After repeating it to herself several times, her heart rate started to return to normal.

With the morning ahead of her, she picked the kitten up and went back to her bedroom, determined not to dwell on the negative.

After a quick trip to the market, she unpacked her groceries, played with her foster kitten and started a load of laundry. By dinnertime she still hadn’t heard from Pat. She fixed a light salad for herself and then took a shower. By bedtime, she hunkered down with the kitten and a medical journal, still with no word. She wanted to text him but something pulled at her not to. He must be busy and she didn’t want to be one of those clingy, constantly in contact girlfriends, like Angel Thompson.

Girlfriend.

It was the first time in their relationship she’d used the word. It meant then, Pat was her boyfriend, a totally ridiculous description for him. Lover was a better one and much more suitable for what he was.

While she drifted off to sleep, the kitten curled next to her instead of in her princess bed, Clarissa wondered what Pat was doing and if he’d thought of her at all that day.