Page 10 of Needing Your Love
Mary Wallace, who I’d called Gram from the afternoon she’d sat me at her kitchen table and placed a plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of me, and Sutton Forrester, the man I’d set on a pedestal. He’d been my hero since the day I’d thought my dad had died, and the chief had walked up to me and got down at eye level, his gaze kind, voice and manner gentle when I’d experienced nothing but harshness from men in authority.
I shifted on my car seat and rested my forearm on the open window, breathing in the air ruffling my hair into a sure mess of blond waves.
Both Gram and Sutton had been the only two people who’d given a damn about me, and I still felt a sense of connection to them all these years later.
While Gram and I had kept in touch the old-fashioned way through monthly letters updating each other on our supposed boring existence—I’d lied about what I did for a living—I hadn’t seen or spoken to Sutton since the night he’d rejected my advances and broke my heart.
There wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done for a taste of him on my lips, to feel the stretch of my hole around his dick I’d fantasized over from the day I’d learned that sex didn’t only have to be between a man and woman. I’d been crushed when hehadn’t accepted my offer to suck his dick or bend over for my first fucking.
At that point, his bitch of a wife had been gone for over two years, and I hadn’t seen him take any woman out on a date. I figured maybe he ought to switch shit up a bit. Try out a boy’s mouth or ass.
I’d stupidly thought maybe I was exactly what he’d unknowingly needed to find happiness again.
Even though he’d said no, I couldn’t stop from dreaming about him and how that nightshouldhave ended. I’d gotten plenty of dick in Boston but never enough to fill up the holes inside me like I somehow inherently knew only he would be able to do.
Sutton wasn’t on social media, so the few images I had saved to my phone were from newspaper write-ups over the years. The newest headshot from the town’s site promised he’d aged like a fine wine, slight lines in the corners of his smiling hazel eyes and gray peppering his dark hair and trimmed beard.
So. Fucking. Hot.
“Goddamn,” I murmured to myself like always when getting caught up in fantasies of the man.
He was still single and not dating, according to Gram, who I’d spoken with over the phone last night, which had led to this unplanned jaunt northward. She was having some struggles, and I had unfinished business left rotting on the edge of town.
I’d expected dread to coil in my guts as familiar landscapes and buildings filled my windshield, but a strange sense of peace radiated through me like warm, summer sunshine caressing my left side. I found myself smiling rather than grimacing considering the details I would need to take care of now that I’d finally returned.
Dad’s house sat empty because I hadn’t been able to stomach looking at the place. I’d skipped out on his ashes being buriedthat I’d paid for but had been overseen by Gram. She’d been disappointed by my refusal to see the bastard laid to rest. His rotten-ass soul could burn forever in hell as far as I was concerned.
The thought of laying eyes on the dilapidated building I’d called home for most of my childhood years made my empty stomach churn, erasing the easy smile from minutes before.
Gram had warned me the house was a rat’s nest and would need to be cleaned out before I could put it on the market and finally unload the burden like I should have done years ago. The shed out back where Dad used to lock me up some nights, even when snow flew, had caved in and would need to be completely torn down. I wondered if the tarps I used to burrow under lay beneath the rubble.
A chill slid along my spine as though my body still felt the winter winds finding their way through the cracks in the dilapidated shed’s walls.
Breathing deeply, I focused on the sinking sun shining through my driver window, soaking in its warm rays as I entered town.
The Moose’s Muse Lodge sat at the corner of Route 16 and Main Street and had gotten a serious upgrade since I’d seen it last. Fresh green paint covered the clapboard exterior and made it blend into the pine trees at its rear. Brown shutters bracketed every sparkling window. Groomed flower beds spread along a new front porch that spanned the building. Various wooden rocking chairs sat along the deck’s length, quaint and inviting.
I pulled into one of the parking spots out front and climbed from my car, stretching my back while scanning toward my left and downtown.
The Outdoor Shop stood next door to The Moose, Ginny’s Salon next, then the police station, where I’d spent quite a few nights during my rebellious teenage years.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, causing jitters to affect my hands. I wiped damp palms on my tight jeans while hoping for a glimpse of a blue cruiser and the man of my dreams.
No such luck, but Dig-In Diner behind me and Pedro’s Pizza a little farther down the street promised the food my stomach growled for.
But first things first.
I grabbed my two suitcases out of my trunk and climbed the sturdy wooden steps toward the only place in Pippen Creek where travelers and visitors could rent a room.
The screen door squeaked on its hinges as I pushed into an open-concept interior that screamed country chic. Earthy tones on the walls created a warm, inviting atmosphere. Exposed beams spanned the ceiling above simple furniture that cradled blue and yellow gingham throw pillows. The hardwood flooring beneath my feet stretched straight ahead to the antique desk and the fifty-something blonde woman seated behind it.
“Welcome to The Moose!”
I returned the woman’s smile and approached, not recognizing her. “I’d like to book a room for the week—possibly longer—if you have one available.”
Her eyes brightened even more. “Of course. Kendra Cole.” She stuck out her hand.
“Jimmy Riley.”
