The big fluffy Maine coon cat snuggled into Trip’s unbuttoned lab coat to leave another layer of hair on her dark green Beaumont Veterinary polo shirt in his journey to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against her chin. The breed was typically affectionate, but Romeo was aptly named. He had purred through his vaccinations, barely flinched and instantly forgave Michelle for taking his rectal temperature, but had to be distracted with a feather toy to make him stop purring long enough for Trip to listen to his heart and lungs.
“I’d say you have a very healthy, handsome fellow here, Taylor.” Trip handed Romeo over to the eighteen-year-old waiting at the end of the exam table. “When do you head off to Emory?”
The girl made a face. “I want to go to Georgia Southern so I’ll be closer to home.” She stroked the big cat and he raised up on his hind legs to rub his face on hers, too. “I just know one of my stupid brothers is going to leave the door open while I’m gone, and Romeo will get out in the street, or they’ll do something mean like tie a firecracker to his tail.”
Trip could sympathize. Boys in their early teens could be careless, insensitive, subject to peer pressure and, well, just stupid. Not to mention they usually smelled really bad when they sweated or took their shoes off.
“I’m sure your dad will keep an eye on Romeo. He says they like to watch those fishing shows together.”
Taylor hugged Romeo to her. “What if he isn’t home when they do something stupid?”
She propped against the exam table and studied Taylor. Blond and pretty, she was the type every Emory sorority would rush. And while Taylor might join one, Trip knew she would choose wisely. She’d look for the one that produced the highest number of undergrads that went on to medical school, law school, or other professional schools. Taylor had the grades and IQ to be accepted into any of those programs after three years of undergrad work, but she was most interested in environmental science and astrophysics. She wanted to be in the first group sent to establish the first colony on a new planet. Taylor had confided that her plan was to go to Emory her first year and transfer to MIT her second year when she was old enough to get an apartment and keep Romeo with her.
“You tell your two brothers that if anything happens to Romeo, even if he’s okay later, they will have to deal with the three amigas. That means they’ll have to drive clear to Alabama to buy a decent hunting dog, once I put the word out on them. They can forget ever getting a tow from Clay when they end up in a ditch because they’re drag racing. And Grace will have her new deputy on their bumper every time they look in their rearview mirror. Officer Grant loves to write tickets. Already busted the Pine Cone record after only a few months.”
Taylor smiled. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll tell them.”
Trip nodded. “Tell your mama and daddy I said hello.”
“I will.”
Michelle appeared in the door the moment Taylor exited. “That’s it for today. It’s noon and I just put the ‘gone fishin’ sign on the door.”
“Hallelujah.”
Michelle followed Trip to her office. “Tell me again why Dani isn’t working today.”
God, that girl was nosy. Trip shucked off her lab coat and tossed it into the laundry hamper in her office, then peeled off her hair-coated shirt. “Don’t know. Said she had to tend to something out of town and should be back tonight. I don’t pry into people’s personal stuff.” She had promised Grace that she’d stay out of it, and so she would. She still wasn’t sure she could trust Dani, but she had to trust Grace. She opened the closet in the corner of her office.
“I wonder if Grace knows where Dani’s gone.”
Crap. Empty hangers and nothing on the shelves. She hadn’t restocked her emergency supply of clean clothes. She pointed at Michelle. “Whether Grace knows where Dani has gone is their business. Stay out of it.”
Trip glanced in the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door. Her dark sports bra did have racing stripes. Maybe she’d start a new fashion trend. She trotted down the hall toward the back door. “Put me on pager, please. Today’s my volunteer day.”
“Do you need some help?” If Michelle could have unbuttoned jeans with her eyes, Trip’s would have been around her ankles.
“Nope.” Trip turned to her and grinned. “I’m expecting a new volunteer to help out today.”
Michelle averted her gaze and her face flushed. “Oh, right. Okay.” She stared at the floor, refusing to look at Trip again. “I wasn’t…I mean, you’re my boss. I can’t help if I haven’t had a real date in a month and you’re running around here half dressed. I’m not dead, you know. But I wasn’t flirting. I was really offering to help because I don’t have any plans for tonight.”
Trip put her hand on her shoulder. “Michelle. There are plenty of women more your age. If you’re looking for a party girl, go to the Savannah bars. If you’re looking for a serious girlfriend, go to the colleges and hang out in the student center or the library. Check their intramural sports calendar and look for softball, basketball, and rugby schedules.”
Michelle’s smile was small and tentative. “I’m pretty good at softball.”
“There you go. Go watch a few games in Statesboro or Savannah, and you’ll have them swarming around you like mosquitoes before you know it. It’s Saturday afternoon. I’ll bet the fields at Georgia Southern are humming right now.”
Her smile broadened. “I think that’s exactly where I’ll go.” She grabbed her purse and followed Trip out.
“Don’t go alone, and don’t drink and drive. If you do drink too much and don’t have the money for a motel room, go to a reputable hotel and have the desk clerk call me for a credit card number.”
“Yes, Mom.”
Trip pointed her middle finger toward the sky as she trotted toward the house and a change of clothes.
* * *
Millicent Williams, the Boys and Girls Club director, wasn’t a short woman. She just wasn’t tall like Trip. And what she lacked in height, she normally made up in bulk. But the cancer she’d been fighting had taken its toll. She looked weary and forty pounds lighter than the last time Trip had seen her.
Trip bent to hug her. “You look like hell, Millicent.”
When Millicent laughed, her face came alive and her whole body shook with it. She patted Trip’s arm. “The doctor says he’s done all he can do. My time has come. But I told him it’s not over until I hear the good Lord calling me home.” She peered up at Trip with that somebody’s misbehavin’ expression. “I don’t know why you’re out here, though. She’s inside with the kids.”
“I thought we’d play basketball.” Trip held up a bag of new basketballs. She’d called Millicent to find out which day Jamie was scheduled to volunteer. She’d been looking for a way to get Jamie on a court and remind her how well they fit together. But Millicent shook her head.
“Our usual problem beat us to the court.”
Trip followed Millicent’s gaze. The neighborhood small-time drug dealers and corner bullies were playing two-on-two, producing more profanity than they were points. She handed the bag of balls to Millicent. “Can you manage that?” Trip asked. “I’ll bring the shoes inside.”
“I don’t know why you asked me for shoe sizes again. You know what happened last time.”
“I think I have a solution for that.”
She managed to gather up two tall stacks of boxes and balance them in both arms while Millicent held the door open. She barely made it inside when her boxes went flying as the children rushed past her with cries of “Miss M” and tussled over the ball bag to carry it in for her. Jamie turned from the computer where she and a girl were working and laughed when Trip stumbled over a small boy, lost her balance, and landed on the floor among the boxes. Petunia rushed over and licked her face.
“That was graceful,” Jamie said.
Trip started to rise, only to be pounced upon by a bright-eyed eight-year-old.
“Doc, are you going to show us how to faint today?”
She rolled onto her back and tickled Jamal’s ribs. “No, but I might show you how to fake when you’re coming down court.”
Darius—probably around twelve but at the age when his attitude was growing faster than his body—drew a new basketball out of the bag Trip had brought. “Ain’t you got eyes? We can’t play today. Jubal’s boys is playing.” He threw the ball hard at the younger boy’s face and Trip put up a hand to block it. But the ball never met its target.
Jamie snatched it midair and spun the ball on one finger. Then she tossed it up to spin it on the index finger of her left hand. “Don’t you have eyes? Jubal’s boys are playing.”
“My brother says that’s white talk,” a girl said, then glanced at Trip. “Sorry, Doc.”
“Then I must speak brown talk,” Jamie said in Spanish.
Jamal eyed her. “Are you from Mexico?”
“No,” Jamie answered in English. “I’m from Atlanta. I grew up in the projects there with black kids and brown kids.” She put some more spin on the ball, executed a few lunges to pass it under her thigh or bounce it on her knee, and caught it again on her fingertip. “And a few white kids, too. My mother is from Central America.”
The children drifted over, mesmerized by Jamie’s ball work, so Trip grabbed a second ball and spun it. They tossed the spinning balls between them, each catching the other’s on fingertips. For their closing trick, Trip took both balls, and Jamie turned her back, closed her eyes, and pointed index fingers shoulder high toward the ceiling. The children gasped, then applauded when Trip tossed the balls and they landed neatly onto Jamie’s fingers and continued to spin.
Trip wanted to applaud, too. The little display was a show they’d sometimes treat the crowd to during pregame warm-ups. It took precision and trust, but they still had it. The precision, at least.
She pointed to the bench that ran the length of the room. “Okay. Everybody have a seat and Miss M will hand out your new basketball shoes.” She caught Jamie’s eye and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go do a little reconnaissance.”
Jamie followed without question, and they stood against the building to watch Jubal and his friends play. Jubal was the star of his high school team, but was thrown off his college team for selling drugs out of his dorm room before his freshman season even started. Neither his grades nor his game was good enough for any other college to invest the time needed to straighten him out. Trip’s grandfather had tried, too. He got Jubal to enlist in the army, but drugs washed Jubal out of the military after two years.
“Think we can take them?” she asked Jamie.
Jamie snorted. “You and me against those guys? Sure. They’re all mouth and no finesse. But you’ve been in the heat too long if you think they’ll be honorable enough to just walk away after we embarrass them in front of their hombres.”
“I might have another card up my sleeve. Come on.” Yep. Just like old times.
Trip strode onto the court, right on the edge of their play. “Hey, Jubal.”
Jubal ignored her and laid in a jump shot when the other three paused to look at her. Jubal got his own rebound and slammed the ball into the stomach of another guy. “Play ball.”
“Your dyke sister wants to talk to you, man,” a guy shouted from the sideline, and the others laughed.
“She ain’t my sister.”
“I thought we were friends, Jubal.”
Jubal stared at the ground. “This ain’t your neighborhood, Trip. Things are different down here.”
“You’re wrong. The rules for honorable men are the same no matter where you are. Right now, we’re on public property that’s currently leased to the Boys and Girls Club. You should be showing the children how to play, not running them off their court.”
“What do you want, Trip?”
“I want to play for the court. Me and Jamie against you and your next best guy. Full court, first team to reach twenty-six points.”
Jubal’s boys hooted. Trip knew Jubal couldn’t back down now without losing face in front of his guys. “What do we get when you lose?”
“The court,” Jamie said. “But we won’t lose.”
Jubal laughed. “We already have the court.”
“The puppy they wouldn’t let you adopt from the shelter last week.”
Jubal stopped laughing and stared at Trip. “How do you know about that?”
“The director told me when I went by to look at another dog for them. You get the puppy or we get the court. Go pick your other player.”
While Jubal huddled with his guys, Trip discussed strategy with Jamie, and the kids crept out of the building and sat along the brick wall on the sidelines.
Jamie and Trip stretched while Trip talked. “Let them score first, then we’ll match them point for point unless they come on strong. They’re already warmed up, and we aren’t. But they’re also tired and we aren’t. So I don’t mind giving them a little early lead, then winning it back when they tire. After we see how good they are and how quickly they tire, we’ll decide whether we can risk letting them lose by just one point. I don’t think we’ll gain any ground in the neighborhood by embarrassing them today.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jamie said.
Jubal won the coin toss, and brought the ball in from under Trip’s basket. His fake was easy to read when he reached half-court, but Trip took it anyway and let him lumber past her and muscle Jamie out of the way to score. He would have been called for the offensive foul of charging if they’d had a referee, but Trip was okay with letting it go.
Jamie grabbed the rebound, and the men trotted downcourt to wait for her and Trip to cross the half-court line.
“Your pal is slow. I could have easily blocked that.”
“He’s put on a few extra pounds since high school.”
Trip picked up speed to join Jubal under the basket. Jubal had chosen wisely from his ranks. Blueberry, dubbed that after he was sent to juvie for stealing blueberry pies from the neighborhood convenience store, bested Jamie’s height by a few inches and was fast and lean. But while he had a physical advantage, Jamie had better game skills. She gave up a few turnovers, testing his reach and quickness, but Trip or Jamie would recover the ball each time until Trip gave a nod and Jamie let Blueberry past her for a showy dunk that brought cheers from Jubal’s gang and groans from the children.
“Time out.” Trip walked Jamie to the end of the court where the children sat, ignoring the wide smiles from Jubal and Blueberry. She noticed they didn’t protest the timeout and shooed a few guys from the bench so they could sit and wipe the sweat pouring from their faces. “What do you think?” she asked Jamie.
“I think you’re toast.” Darius crossed his arms over his slim chest. “I think we’re never going to play basketball on this court again.”
Trip grinned at him. “Remind me to take you down to the river, young man, and show you how to tickle the bait to lure the big fish before you set the hook to haul him in.” She turned to Jamie. The point guard always ran the game.
“Blueberry is fast, but easy to read. Jubal’s skills are good under the basket, but he has no shot outside the arc. All he knows how to do is dunk or hook. I say we lay back like we’re tired and let them get ten ahead, then turn it into a running game and light up this dog and pony show.”
“You got it.”
Darius’s frown indicated he was skeptical, but the game unfolded exactly as Jamie planned.
The catcalls from Jubal’s gang turned to groans when Jamie swished in one almost from half-court. Then they fell silent when Trip streaked along the sideline toward her goal as Blueberry dribbled into his offensive half-court. Her movement distracted Blueberry a millisecond, which was long enough for Jamie to cleanly swipe the ball from his hands and fling a pass that Trip leapt up to intercept and dunk into the basket. The children were on their feet cheering until a glowering look from Jubal silenced them.
The next twenty minutes was filled with behind-the-back, no-look passes, hook shots, fast breaks, reverse layups, and fakes that left the guys staring at empty air. Jamie and Trip flowed up and down the court like they were one brain operating two bodies. In the end, they won twenty-seven to twenty-five.
Jubal doubled over to catch his breath, hands on his knees and sweat dripping onto the pavement.
Trip went to him and offered a handshake. “Good game, Jubal.”
He swatted it away. “Fuck you.” He headed for the street and his guys gathered to follow.
Trip followed, too, and touched his shoulder. He whirled on her, and she backed up a step, her hands up, palms out. Jamie and a growling Petunia were instantly at her side. Jubal’s gang surrounded them, but Trip touched Jamie’s arm while she held Jubal’s angry gaze. “Jubal and I are just talking.”
Jamie flashed a signal and Petunia sat and quieted, but her lips still curled up to show her fangs. Jubal’s gaze flicked down to take it in.
“I just wanted to tell you to come by the clinic tomorrow morning and pick up your pup. He’s going to be a big boy, but a real sweetheart. I already neutered him and took care of his first shots for you.”
He glared at her. “I didn’t win.”
“But this pup can win if you come get him. I told the lady at the shelter about Buster, how you took great care of him for fifteen years until he passed in his sleep a few months ago. She thought you would chain him in the front yard and make him mean. I told her that you and I had fenced your entire yard years ago for Buster. I explained to her that you only needed a dog that looked fierce to protect your mother when you were out. This pup needs you, Jubal.”
He rubbed the back of his hand against his chin for a moment, then looked up into her eyes, and she saw the man she knew as a friend. “You still open at eight thirty?”
Trip smiled and held her hand out for a fist bump. “Yeah, but bring Brenda a ham biscuit from the diner and she’ll let you in at seven thirty.”
Jamie elbowed Trip to take the center of attention. She made a show of scanning the young men surrounding them, then pointed to the kids who were waiting by the building to see if they needed to run or stay and play basketball. “These kids need all of you like that pup needs Jubal,” she said to them. “This is your neighborhood and those are your neighborhood kids.”
“Nobody protected me,” one guy said, spitting on the ground. “What’s in it for me?”
“I want a dog like Jubal,” another said.
“Me, too.” Seemed everybody wanted pups.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “A hundred hours of volunteer work here at the club for a pup and veterinary care for the lifetime of the animal.”
Trip sputtered. “Lifetime?”
Jamie smiled and nodded.
Trip looked around her. The men’s faces filled with distrust a second ago had turned hopeful. “Okay, but I don’t crop ears, and Jubal has to vouch that you’ll provide a good home before I’ll hand over a puppy.” She slung her arm over Jamie’s shoulder. “Also, Deputy Grant will be holding puppy training classes here each week. I’d suggest that you take advantage of them because once you get your pup, she’ll pop by your home periodically to check that you’re taking good care of your animal and to help you with any training issues you might be having.”
It was Jamie’s turn to sputter, but her glare held little heat.
“A hundred hours is a lot. And I ain’t cleaning no toilets,” Blueberry said.
“A full-time job is forty hours, so it’s just like two and a half weeks of a full-time job,” Jamie said. “And I promise no toilet duty.”
Their lure was working, so Trip decided to set the hook to haul them in. They put the guys and kids to work stripping rust and old paint from the goal posts, then spraying them with bright white paint and hanging new orange nylon nets. They sprayed the weeds that were pushing up through almost every crack in the concrete, but she’d send a contractor out later to see if the court could be repaired or would need to be replaced. The kids were collecting empty paint cans and sweeping up paint chips while Millicent was getting contact information from Jubal’s gang. Trip tensed when an arm went around her waist, then relaxed when Jamie’s voice filled her ear.
“The puppy card you had up your sleeve was the game changer,” she said.
Trip sagged into Jamie. Even though she was a few inches taller, Jamie was solid and strong. “You had the winning game plan on the court.” Trip smiled at the instant replay in her head. “Our old mojo came back like it was yesterday that we wore college uniforms.”
Jamie pushed her away playfully. “You think so? You’re a little slower, Beaumont. But I was able to adjust.”
“Slow?” Trip put her hands on her hips. “If I was slow, it was to allow you to keep up.”
Jamie snorted. “In your dreams.”
“How about you prove it with a little one-on-one. First to reach twenty-one.”
“You’re bluffing. You know the paint on the backboards won’t be dry enough until tomorrow.”
“Not here. I know where there’s another court, a better indoor court. Just us.”
Jamie hesitated, her eyes searching Trip’s. They both knew the powder keg waiting for them to light.
Please, Jamie. Take this chance with me.
Jamie nodded.
“Follow me.”
* * *
Trip slid the door to the barn back, and Jamie stepped onto the gleaming court. “My grandfather built it,” she said, “but I’ve recently updated everything and put in a new floor and goals. This is where he taught me to play.”
“No wonder you were so good when you showed up for our freshman year.”
Trip shook her head. “I got the basics from him, but he only knew old style. When I began to play with you, a whole new world opened up for me. Those first few months at school, I stayed a lot of evenings to study the film our recruiters had of your high school games. I learned so much from you.”
“I thought your late nights out were because you were changing the definition of “sorority rush.” Jamie shifted her feet and scanned the building. Or was she avoiding Trip’s gaze? After a minute, she strode over to the rack of balls and bounced a few before choosing one and snapping a pass to Trip’s belly. “You have first in.”
Apparently, Jamie wasn’t ready for verbal exchange, so they’d fall back to the language that had always worked between them.
They measured each other during the first ten minutes, testing fakes, rolls, and fading jumpers, then the play became more physical. They bumped to create space, spun around each other, clashed under the basket, raced and dove after each ball. Trip matched her to protect the goal side as Jamie streaked down the court, but found herself defending empty air when Jamie spun at the last minute and laid the ball in on the opposite side.
“You didn’t learn some things from me.” Jamie scooped up the ball and slammed a pass at Trip’s gut.
“Like what?” Trip took the ball out and back in quickly and fired off a long three-point shot as soon as Jamie cleared the foul line. Jamie whirled, waiting for the first indication of where it would bounce if it wasn’t true, but Trip already knew it wouldn’t go in. She’d intentionally shot it too hard and spun it so that it should bounce off the rim to the left side of the court. By the time Jamie read its direction Trip was already there, catching the rebound and sinking a short jumper.
“Like bedding the entire volleyball team.”
Trip stared while Jamie took the rebound back to half-court. “They were on target to win a national championship, and the coach asked me to tutor them in math. I’m good in math, but that’s not a character flaw last time I checked. Who told you I was sleeping with them?”
Trip moved to thwart Jamie’s drive toward the goal, then blocked her shot. They both scrambled for it, but Trip snatched it away when Jamie’s foot slipped. She took a few steps and cocked her arm to shoot, but Jamie had recovered and swatted the ball out of Trip’s hands from behind, followed it, and threw in a reverse layup. She trotted to half-court to wait for Trip to pick up the ball and bring it out to reintroduce it.
Trip fumed over her unanswered question. “Who told you I was sleeping with the entire volleyball team?”
“And the tennis and rowing teams,” Jamie said without turning to face Trip.
Trip crossed the half-court and turned to face Jamie. “I wasn’t a virgin when I arrived on campus and I dated, but I can count on one hand the number of women I slept with the three years I went there.” She turned her back and worked her way down court moving left and right, pushing Jamie back with small bumps. “Who told you I was sleeping with half the campus?” Trip switched into high gear with a double fake and dunked the ball. Jamie was too far under the basket to defend the shot and had to jump back when the ball slammed through the net.
“Suzanne. My girlfriend who you were always flirting with.” Jamie snatched up the ball and stalked toward half-court.
“She was always flirting with me.” Trip’s frustrated response echoed in the cavernous building.
The score was tied at nineteen-all. Jamie turned when she reached half-court and faced Trip. “I guess that’s why you jumped at the chance to climb in our bed. Because she was chasing you? Why should I believe that for one second?”
Before Trip could reply, Jamie executed a triple fake and broke free. Trip scrambled to catch up, then reposition for a block when Jamie pulled up at quarter-court and rose to fire off the winning jump shot. Off balance and too late, Trip crashed into her midair and they fell to the floor. Trip took advantage of her momentum and rolled them to lessen the impact, but they slid the last couple of feet before coming to a stop with Trip’s weight pinning Jamie.
Trip rose to her elbows and searched the hurt, anger, and something else battling, swirling in Jamie’s eyes. “It was a poor decision made by an immature teen. But I didn’t know what else to do. I was desperate to get you to look at me as something other than a friend and teammate. I knew Suzanne was sleeping around on you, but not with me. I was never interested in her. I wanted you, Jamie. I only ever wanted you. And after all these years, I still want you.”
Trip lowered her head to rub her cheek against Jamie’s, then closed her eyes and took a chance. She caressed Jamie’s lips with hers, peppered Jamie’s neck with small kisses, then returned to her lips. When Jamie didn’t respond, Trip withdrew. She rolled off and onto her feet. “Lock up when you leave, please.” She strode out of the barn and was almost to the pool when Jamie called out.
“Trip, wait.”
Trip stopped and, after a heartbeat, turned. Jamie had closed the barn door, but stood there uncertainly.
“You know what else hasn’t changed, Jamie? You’ve never wanted me the way you wanted Suzanne. Don’t worry. We’ll still be friends. I just…I just need a few days.” She turned before she further embarrassed herself by breaking down into tears and continued toward the house. She’d taken only a few steps when Jamie slammed into her back, propelling them both into the pool.
Trip was struggling to orient herself under water when Jamie’s hands grasped her T-shirt and yanked her to the surface. Trip coughed, then sucked in air, but Jamie didn’t release her hold.
Jamie shook Trip. “Let me tell you what hasn’t changed—you are wrong. You’ve always been wrong. Suzanne was who I settled for.” She yanked Trip to her and took her mouth with a hunger that left Trip reeling. When neither had a wisp of breath left in her lungs, she reluctantly withdrew, soothing Trip’s ravished lips with gentle kisses. “You were the one I really wanted. Suzanne convinced me that you were out of my league.”
“I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” Trip said, grasping Jamie’s face. Jamie’s mouth was so sweet as Trip explored it, her tongue so gentle as it roamed Trip’s mouth. The spotlight over the barn clicked off, and Trip slid her hands under Jamie’s basketball shorts and underwear to caress her smooth hips.
Jamie’s hands caught Trip’s. “Wait. Where’s P?”
“Essie just let her in the house. Didn’t you see the spotlight go out and hear the door close?” Trip nuzzled Jamie’s neck.
“I thought it must be a motion light, and I can’t hear anything but…uh…the fireworks in my head.”
Trip scooped Jamie up and sat her on the lip of the pool, then pulled off Jamie’s water-filled shoes and wet shorts. Jamie’s shirt and sports bra were next, then all of Trip’s clothes quickly followed. She groaned when she drew Jamie into the bathwater-warm pool again, their slick skin sliding together, nipples touching, hips pressing, legs entwining. Jamie was long, smooth muscle under caramel skin as soft as down.
Jamie closed her fingers around Trip’s nipples and squeezed while guiding her back against the pool’s side. Trip gave herself over, letting Jamie explore with hands and mouth. She needed to be Jamie’s, maybe even more than she hoped Jamie would be hers. She pressed her thigh between Jamie’s legs and urged the thrust of Jamie’s hips. Trip gasped when Jamie’s deft fingers found her begging clit and stroked it with a rhythm that matched her thrusts. Trip called to whatever gods would listen when Jamie slid inside to claim her. But when years of contained emotions exploded free to wash through her, and Jamie’s soft cry of release joined hers, Trip held back the tears of surrender she feared would scare Jamie away. Instead, she let Jamie hold her until she could breathe again, until the shuddering aftershocks of her orgasm faded.
Trip nipped at Jamie’s ear and whispered into the stillness. “Come inside with me.” When Jamie didn’t immediately answer, she added persuasion. “You might as well stay. Essie has your dog. Do you want to face her right now after we’ve just been howling at the moon out here?”
Jamie dropped her head to Trip’s shoulder. “Christ. I’ll never be able to look her in the eyes again.”
Trip squeezed her and stood, lifting Jamie off her feet and setting her down on the first step to get out of the pool. “Essie knows how I feel about you. She’s known since I came home with my tail tucked between my legs after you joined the service.” And left without saying good-bye. She shook her head. “If it hadn’t been you out here, she would’ve flipped on all the yard lights and yelled, ‘Tripoli Miranda Beaumont, quit acting like an alley cat in heat…we’ve had indoor plumbing for years so if you want a bath, drag yourself inside like decent folk instead of flashing your possibilities for the entire countryside to see.’”
Jamie held her sides, she laughed so hard at Trip’s very authentic imitation of Essie’s voice. “Tripoli Miranda?”
Trip nodded solemnly. “TM. Trademark Beaumont. Tall and blond. That’s what Daddy said. Grandpa is responsible for the Tripoli, though. Everybody thought it was because of his family’s military service in either the marines or navy, but he told me his favorite dog from his childhood had been named Tripoli.”
Jamie smiled. “That sounds like something you’d say.”
Trip forgot to breathe for a second when she realized the college student she had loved no longer existed. Before her was a woman she wanted to know. Jamie was stunning in the pool lights, with her raven hair slicked back and her latte skin and contrasting hazel eyes. Even as they stood together naked and Trip reveled in Jamie’s beauty, she knew that wasn’t what drew them together. The irresistible pull between them was something soul deep. They could have both been men or a heterosexual pairing in some other life. It wouldn’t have mattered. She would never worry that she’d lose interest if Jamie suffered a disfiguring or disabling disease or accident. Jamie would always be at the root of her heart. They were alike, yet so different. Two parts meant to fit together. It was true in college, and no less certain now.
Trip took Jamie’s hand and tugged her up the steps and into her arms. “Stay tonight. Please. I want my mouth on you.”
“I have to work tomorrow.”
“We’ll set an alarm, but I usually get up at five to run before breakfast at seven thirty.”
Jamie kissed her. “That’s perfect if you loan me some clothes to run with you.”
Trip stopped Jamie when she reached to gather some of their wet clothes. “Leave them or you’ll ruin some of Essie’s fun. If you think I’m kidding or just being a princess, wait until morning and you’ll understand.”
They crept into the house and found a note on the kitchen table.
The dog is sleeping with me. Try to keep the noise down and use those towels. I don’t want to find water tracked all over my floors when I get up. And don’t make me drag you out of bed naked for breakfast. You know I will.
Trip grabbed one of the big, plush towels and began to dry Jamie’s shoulders and back. When Jamie turned, Trip gently dried her breasts and stomach, then knelt to dry each leg. She brushed her nose and lips through the curls at the apex of Jamie’s taut thighs. Jamie’s legs trembled, but a towel dropped to cover Trip’s head. “You better dry off fast because I’m not going to wait for you long, and you will not track water on Essie’s floors.”
Jamie was already halfway up the stairs by the time Trip had the towel off her head and one leg dry.
* * *
Jamie took advantage of Trip’s delay to use the facilities and finger-comb her hair. She felt Trip’s presence before she saw her in the doorway watching her. They’d been naked together many times in many locker rooms, but this felt different. You never devoured your teammates with your eyes like Trip was doing now. Jamie turned to her as Trip pushed off the doorframe and moved toward her.
Trip’s hands were warm where they cupped her buttocks and lifted so that Jamie instinctively wrapped her long legs around Trip’s hips. Then they were in the bedroom and Trip lowered her onto soft white sheets, followed her downward, and mapped Jamie’s mouth with her tongue. Jamie stroked Trip’s silky locks, brushed along the buzzed hair at her nape, and then she closed her eyes to focus on the wonderful things Trip’s mouth was doing to her right breast, no her left breast…both breasts. She couldn’t decide because she was distracted by the maddening fingertips alternately rubbing and tweaking her left nipple while others stroked lightly up and down, up and down her leg, then tickled the back of her knee—a move that surprisingly made her belly clench and roll in a tiny pre-orgasm—before moving up the inside of her thigh. She wanted to grab that hand in frustration when it diverted to trace the crease where her leg joined her torso and along her hipbone.
She was so intent on the path of that hand, she hadn’t felt Trip’s shoulders slip under her thighs, lifting and parting her. “Please. You’re killing me.” She caught Trip’s hand in hers. “We can go slow later.”
The promise of later proved to be the gate Trip was waiting to open. She swiped the flat of her tongue over Jamie’s turgid flesh, then sucked Jamie into her mouth as she filled her with one, then two fingers. The slight scrape of Trip’s teeth as she sucked matched the thrust of her fingers and Jamie fought to extend the crest of her pleasure as she rode it impossibly higher and higher until she could hold back her orgasm no longer and snatched up the pillow beside her head to muffle her scream when it all shattered into a million electric shards that tore through her and left her gasping and weak.
After a while, Trip tugged the pillow from her grasp, and Jamie realized her whole body was shaking and her face was wet with tears. Trip hovered over her, her blue eyes full of agony and self-recrimination.
“Jamie, I didn’t mean to…I would never…did I hurt you?”
Jamie shook her head to stop Trip’s distress. “No.” Her answer was more of a croak, so she cleared her throat and looked away, embarrassed, before she tried again. She was sure she would have blushed if she wasn’t already flushed from that screaming orgasm. “It’s just been a while, you know? Too busy in the desert, then I was in the hospital, then trying to get resettled—”
Trip’s finger on her lips stopped her excuses. “Me, too…but we were in the pool and already wet so you didn’t notice what I couldn’t hold back.” She grabbed Jamie’s hand and held it to her lips, which made Jamie want to cry again, then rotated them both to pull the sheets up.
Jamie reached for her clock and set it for five. She normally woke at four thirty anyway, but her body might take longer to recover after tonight’s activities. She laid her phone on the bedside table, and Trip drew her down for another kiss. Jamie’s sex impossibly pulsed to life again, and she rolled to cover Trip’s long body with her own, pinning Trip on her back.
“If you keep that up, we might never sleep tonight.” Jamie nipped Trip’s earlobe and slid under the covers to kiss a path down her smooth belly. Her turn for a taste.