Chapter Sixty

Climbing from the backseat of the hired car, Richie tipped the driver and picked up the bouquet of flowers from the seat next to him. The driver retrieved his suitcase and his guitar from the trunk. It had been a long few weeks, but the tour was on break now, he had spent the last several days with his daughter and he would be heading to rehab on Sunday.

Jon had been surprisingly supportive when Richie told him what he wanted to do.  The fact that Richie had already lined up Phil X to fill in might have had a something to do with his friend being amenable to him missing a bunch of shows.  He hated to miss the shows, but he needed to do this.  It was way past time to get himself sorted out once and for all.  He’d catch up with the circus when they headed to Croatia and he’d be with them for all of the last leg of the tour.  Maybe he could even convince Stephanie to come over for a few shows, maybe in July so he didn’t have to spend his birthday alone.

He started up the walk and stopped to admire the front of her house.  It was a sweet little place. He liked the flowers that bloomed in a riot of colors in the boxes on the windows and the ones she had planted in the pots by the door.  His girl had a bit of a green thumb and loved the pretty spring and summer colors.  The idea of her doing something as mundane and normal as planting flowers brought a smile to his face and filled him with a sense of peace and warmth.  

Letting the handle of the suitcase go he dug in his pocket for his phone.  He sent himself a reminder to have flowers delivered to her at least once while he was in rehab and then again while he was away on tour.  She had done so much for him, it was the least he could do for her.

At the squeak of the screen door opening he looked up and watched her step out onto the porch, a pink metal watering can in her hand.  Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he followed her movements as she bent to water the pots and then leaned over to water the flowers in the boxes on the front windows.  Even in denim cut-offs and her hair in a ponytail she was the best looking woman in the world.

Stephanie felt his eyes on her as she sprinkled water on her flowers.  She turned with a smile for him.  “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come inside?”

He chuckled.  “Just admiring the view Sweetheart.”  He climbed the step up onto the porch, dropped a kiss on her lips and pressed the bouquet of roses and Queen Anne’s Lace into her hands.  “Here, these are for you.”   

She buried her face in the pretty lavender and white bouquet.  “Thank you.”  She looked back up at him, “they are totally unnecessary.  You realize you don’t have to bring me something every time you come over, right?”  She opened the door and headed inside.

“I know” he said as he followed her inside.  “I wanted to” he continued as he set his things down in the front room.  “You sure you don’t mind driving me to the clinic on Sunday?”  He came around the corner into the kitchen to find her on tiptoe trying to reach a vase on the top of one of the cabinets.  “Here, let me get that.”  Standing behind her, he reached over her head and pulled the vase down for her.

“Thanks.”  She stepped around him to the sink and ran water into the vase.  “And no, I don’t mind driving you.”  She fiddled with the flowers, getting them just so in the vase.  “I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”

He sat down at the kitchen island and watched as she fussed with the flowers.  Sunshine streamed through the window over the sink haloing her in its light before falling across the newspaper that was open on the counter in front of him. He picked it up finding several ads for cars for sale circled in blue ink.  “You looking to buy a car, sweetheart?”  He couldn’t imagine her giving up her camaro, but she must have been circling the ads for a reason.  He squinted, trying to read one of the ones she had circled.  It was for a truck.  He scanned the page.  They all were.  His brow furrowed, why would she want a pick-up truck?

She set the vase of flowers on the counter and came around the island to stand next to him. “No, not a car” she pointed at the ads he was looking at.  “A truck.”

Richie let her take the paper out of his hand and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.  She smelled of sunshine and the beach.  “Why do you want a truck?”

She set the paper down and pointed to the one she had decided on.  It was a used, red Chevy S-10 pick-up, with not quite 30,000 miles on it.  “This one sounded the most promising out of all the ones I circled.  I just need to call and set up a time to go look at it.”

He squeezed her hip.  “That really didn’t answer my question.  Why do you want a truck?”

She slid her arm around his shoulders, her fingers combing through the thick, dark hair that brushed the back of his neck.  “So I don’t have to take my Camaro into some not-so-nice neighborhoods and so I don’t risk it on any of the Habitat sites.  Don’t want her getting all scratched up or her hubcaps stolen or worse.”  The sites weren’t all in bad neighborhoods, but, still, she didn’t want to take any chances.  That car meant too much to her to do something foolish with it.

He swiveled on the stool and they ended up nearly face-to-face with her standing between his knees.  He wrapped his other arm around her, his lips grazing across her jaw.  “Why don’t you see if you can go and take a look at it today and I’ll go with you if you want.”

She slid her other arm up and around his shoulders, “you don’t have to do that.  I can go next week sometime.  I don’t need the truck right now.”

He studied her face, noting the excitement in her eyes at the thought of not having to wait to at least go see the truck.  “But you want it right now.  I can see it in your eyes.  Besides, it’s a beautiful day for a drive.”

She frowned slightly.  “But, I thought we’d just stick around here today.”  They hadn’t seen much of each other in the last few weeks and she had thought this weekend they’d just hang out here at her house and not let the world intrude until it absolutely had to.

He could practically read her thoughts.  “We have the rest of today, all of tomorrow and at least until after breakfast on Sunday, sweetheart.”  His thumb found its way under the hem of her t-shirt, stroking the smooth skin at the small of her back.  “Don’t put your life on hold just because I’m here.”  He waited for her to look at him.  “Make the call.”

~

Stephanie kicked off her shoes and stretched out next to Richie on the chaise end of her sofa, setting the bowl of popcorn on his stomach.  They had spent the day looking at a truck, driving along the coast, walking on the sun-warmed sand of Malibu Beach and having an early supper at a seaside shack of a restaurant with the best chowder she had ever had except for that one summer she and Mark had vacationed in San Francisco.

Now, the Yankees were taking on Los Angeles in their first west-coast road trip of the season. Maybe she’d take him and Ava to a game this summer.  She had never seen the boys in blue pinstripes live and in person before.  She made a mental note to check their schedule for the next time they were out this way.  Could the day get any better?

His hand bumped hers in the popcorn bowl and she looked up to find his eyes on her instead of the television.  A little shiver raced through her.  It was almost as if he could see right inside her soul the way he looked at her sometimes.  Like she was the only woman in the world.  She had been that to someone once.  Her eyes flitted to the picture of Mark and Ben on the mantle before finding Richie’s again.  It was still hard to believe that she had found it a second time. Most people don’t find honest-to-god real love once in a lifetime, and yet her she was, teetering on the brink of it, for a second time.  The words still tripped her up, got stuck somewhere between her heart and her lips, but even if she couldn’t spit them out, she could show him.  He would understand, wouldn’t he?

She set the bowl of popcorn on the floor next to the couch.  Turning back she levered up on her arm and pressed her lips to his.  They were soft, warm and inviting.  His mouth opened under hers, their tongues sliding against each other in a long, slow, passionate mating of their mouths. She eased her mouth from his, catching her breath before delving in for another, longer, hungrier kiss.

Her hands fumbled blindly along the buttons of his shirt, each one taking longer than the last to open.  She growled against his mouth as the last one finally came free.  Pulling her mouth from his she shifted and straddled his lap, pushing at his shirt, helping him get it off. Her fingers played across his chest, ruffling the light smattering of hair, teasing his nipples. 

 
Abruptly, she sat up.  She wanted to feel his skin on hers.  Finding the hem of her t-shirt she pulled up over her head, chuckling quietly at the crack of the bat and the roar of crowd as the shirt fluttered to the floor.  She had forgotten the game was still going on the television.

“Something funny, sweetheart?”  His whisper was hoarse and heavy with need.

She leaned over him, her still-covered breasts brushing across his chest.  Her nipples hardened instantly at even that slight touch.  “I’ve never had any one applaud and cheer when I took off my shirt before.”

His hands made quick work of the catch of her bra.  He looked down at her chest and then back up to her face.  He smiled wickedly.  “That’s a shame.”  The white lace and satin slid down her arms. “You have a great rack.”

She chuckled and slid back on his lap, “thanks.”  She tasted a path across the broad expanse of his chest.  She lingered where his heart beat so erratically, still amazed that she could do that to him.  She peppered kisses further, finding a nipple, sucking lightly.  Easing back further, she kissed her way down his abs, circling the indent of his navel, pausing at the buckle of his belt.

She slid the leather strap through the buckle and looked up at him.  His eyes were closed, head back in anticipation.  She lowered her head, nuzzling him through the heavy denim.  He shifted restlessly under her, his hands trying to finish what hers had started.  She batted them away, tugging the button open, dragged down the zipper and his pants were added the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

She added her jeans to the pile and slid back onto the couch, sidling up next to him, dragging her fingertips over his burgeoning erection, scraping her nails lightly across his taut stomach and up, across his broad chest.  He was so hard where she was soft.  Her legs slid against his.  He was coarse where she was smooth.  The differences were delicious.

Their mouths came together again.  Their kisses were sweet, hot and hungry.  He pulled her closer, over on top of him.  She sat up, the fading sunlight playing around her in golden rays and deep shadows.  His hands moved over her, pushing her, urging her to take him inside.  Rising on her knees, she stroked him.  He was satiny smooth and hard as steel.  She guided him, took him inside her, reveling in the sense of wholeness, the completeness she felt with him.

Finding his hands, she locked their fingers together.  She moved on him slowly, the pressure of her impending release warring with the pressure building in her heart.  

Every roll of her hips, every brush of her clit over the coarse hairs at the base of his cock brought her closer until she could do nothing but let the wave take her.  Her body tightened, her muscles rippled around him, her head dropped back and a long, low moan escaped her lips.

She was so beautiful to watch in that moment.  He could do nothing but follow right behind her as she got lost in the ecstasy.  He surged up, holding her tight as his release overtook him and he gave her all he had.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, kissing her shoulder, stroking her back lightly.  He settled back against the cushions, reaching for the blanket that was along the back of the couch.  She was so quiet.  He looked down as he covered them.  Her eyes were wet and a tear slid down her cheek.
 

“Sweetheart?”

She didn’t look up at him.  She clung to him closer, holding him tightly.  

Her words, when they came, were a whisper so quiet he couldn’t be sure she had actually spoken.

“I love you.”