Clean Slate (9 page)

Louis looked from one of his sons to the other and back
again. One was quite angry. The other looked bemused, leaning against a nearby
column with his arms crossed over his chest. Louis understood both reactions.

“If I had known you were going to show up here, I wouldn’t
have told you about the flight change. The only reason I told you in the first
place was so you knew Clara was around and you could keep Kate away,” Jerry
said. “It was hard enough getting her to come. She worries she’s not wanted.”

Louis scanned the terminal in search of incoming travelers,
but there was no fresh surge. Flight hadn’t started unloading yet. “Don’t worry
about Kate.”

“Why not?”

“Jerry, this isn’t a good time.”

“The hell it isn’t. You’re the one who’s complicating
this. This was supposed to be a stress-free pick-up. Now she’s going to see you
and try to bolt to get back on the plane.”

“Don’t exaggerate.” He knew Jerry wasn’t particularly
prone to hyperbole. The last year had been a strained one between the two of
them, ever since Jerry learned about his origins in Belgium, and how his father
had, in a way, stolen him from his mother. Louis didn’t regret taking him. He
loved his son—was proud of how Jerry had thrived in spite of how
difficult Kate, and himself to some degree, had made that. Jerry was a genius.
A bloody genius! And tattooed from neck to ankles, but was another matter.

He appealed to his other son for assistance. “Ben, do you
really think she’ll be upset?”

He blinked at his father, and lifted his shoulders in a
shrug. “Out of sorts?
Ja
. Bewildered.
Upset? Hard to say. I’m not certain on what her current feelings regarding you
are or if she’ll be openly hostile.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Louis said. It was as if he wasn’t even
listening, because he really wasn’t. Not completely. A cluster of travelers
started filing into the baggage claim area, and moments later, there was a
woman, searching the room for someone she recognized.

His heart beat in double-time. More than thirty years
since he last saw her, and yet it was like the first time when she’d been
standing behind the desk in that hotel lobby. He couldn’t catch his breath
then, either.

She was small-boned: delicate. Shorter than average, which
was stunning now since they’d somehow managed to make two sons who stood over
six feet tall. Blonde hair, bright eyes, and far too pretty for this Earth,
even in middle age. Back then, when she was barely a woman, he’d wanted to wrap
his arms around her and protect her—whisk her away. He hadn’t done that.
He’d hurt her in one of the worst possible ways. He took a piece of her because
he was a coward and didn’t know what else to do. He’d made a series of wrong
choices. Once he decided to go through with one bad idea, they built upon each
other and created some monstrous thing.

She stood frozen, eyes locked on him broken only by the
stream of harried travelers walking between them in search of their baggage.

Jerry broke the standoff. “Mom, what does your luggage
look like?”

Clara turned her head toward him, lips parted, and eyes
slightly widened. “Uh…” She closed her eyes and furrowed her forehead. When she
opened them again, she shook her head and gave Ben’s shirt hem a small tug. “
De strepen
?”

“Oh. Right. Jerry, they have stripes. Black with dark gray
stripes if I remember correctly.”

Clara nodded. “Yes,
stripes
.
Two bags.”

“Got it.” Jerry eased himself through the clump of
travelers and positioned himself near the baggage carousel.

Louis shifted his weight. With Clara temporarily
distracted by the task of stuffing her travel documents into her purse, he
wondered, much like Jerry had, what he’d been thinking showing up there. Surely
he could have exercised some patience, but when Jerry had given him the update,
something inside of him had clicked and the errand suddenly became an
obligation. He
had
to be there. Maybe
he was waiting for his chance at making penance: the sooner she got her initial
anger out, the sooner he could try to make amends.

At least, he hoped.

He took a step toward her, and then one more when he
realized he wasn’t going to turn to ash. When he was a few feet away, he
extended a hand and touched her shoulder.

She flinched, but he kept his hand there.

“
Welkom
.”

“Hello,” she said, forcing her wary sea blue gaze up to
his.

He couldn’t read anything in it. Her expression was
neither angry nor particularly friendly, but at least she hadn’t brushed his
hand away. That was a start.

Ben reached in and relieved her of the tote she wore on
her other shoulder as Jerry rolled over two suitcases.

Louis dropped his hand and tore his gaze from her face. He
looked at the boys. “Buy you all dinner?”

Jerry shook his head. “I think Trinity was going to put in
a big take-out order. I can call her and see if—”

He put his hands up. “No, that’s okay. I guess I’ll see
you at the rehearsal dinner Friday.” He looked at Clara again and chewed his
lip before talking. “Do you need anything?”
Anything
.
Just tell me what you need—what
would make things better?

A slight shake of her head.

“All right. I guess I’ll go catch up on work.”

With a wave, he turned on his heel and strode toward the
parking deck.

His first interaction with his long lost love in over
thirty years hadn’t been a rousing success, but at least she hadn’t tried to
maim him. To Louis, that sounded a lot like a coup.

Daisy checked her watch and grimaced before edging off her
stool. That old idiom about burning the candle at both ends came to mind as she
considered her odd work hours over the past couple of days. She’d been avoiding
the barn during normal working hours for much of the past week, and instead
showed up a few hours before opening or a couple of hours after closing to
tweak the soaps.

Her mother had been calling her phone, leaving messages
questioning where she was and warning her that her behavior would ultimately
result in Nikki’s disenchantment. The benefit to being at home during midday
and at work at dark was that she didn’t have to interact with anyone at her
house. She loved her roommates but lately, and far too often, there’d been an
extra body lurking around which Daisy was decidedly disinterested in engaging
with. Been there, done that.

She cleaned up her station and locked up. When she turned
around, car keys poised and ready, she yipped at the sight of Ben moving toward
her on the path. She clutched her chest as he approached.

“What are you doing out here this late? It’s after one.”

He nodded and gestured toward their waiting vehicles. “I
know. Been busy with my mother the past week. She’s trying to adjust to the
time zone. Anyhow, over dinner tonight, Trinity said you’ve been working off
hours. I thought I’d see if you wanted some company.”

“Oh.” She lingered with her hand on her car’s door handle.
“Nice of you. You don’t have to be so nice.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to be nice?”

She shrugged. “Nice seems inconvenient for a lot of
people.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re quite odd.”

“Tell me something I haven’t heard before.”

“Okay.” He leaned against the side of her car and crossed
his arms over his chest. “How about this? I’m the one who turned your phone off
last Monday morning so your alarm didn’t go off.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why would you do that?”

He took a step closer so the fronts of their bodies
skimmed, and she was forced to lift her chin up to meet his gaze. “I figured
you’d wake up and run. I didn’t want you to run.” He traced the shape of her
lips with his fingertip. “You felt nice.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you?” No, that was
lame. She swallowed. “You felt nice, too.”

He leaned in and replaced his finger with the end of his
tongue, making a slow, sensuous lap around her mouth before flicking at the
seam of her lips.

She parted them, letting him in, and he tipped her head
back more.

He seemed to study her face for a moment, then kissed her
lips, the end of her nose, and her forehead with feathery pecks. “Daisy?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you really marry me if I were desperate?”

“Yes,” she answered without thought. She squeezed her eyes
shut. “No, I mean—” She sighed and opened her eyes. “Why would you be
desperate?”

Some dark thought showed on his face for a moment then
quickly flitted away. He brushed an errant curl back from her face, and tucked
it behind her ear. “Do you want to go home with me? I don’t think anyone would
mind, and it’s late for you to be driving to Edenton.”

“I do it all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean you should.” He bobbed his head toward the
Jeep. “Come on. Follow me home.”

“I have to get up early. I need to make some headway on
the new soap bar, and if I have to go all the way home to change, it’ll take me
forever to get back.”

He scanned her apparel from neck to feet and she suddenly
felt very self-conscious in her simple blue tank and jeans. He looked wonderful
in everything he wore thanks to his swimmer’s physique. In the slightly sagging
track pants and clingy T-shirt he wore, he looked positively edible. He seemed
to be too good to be true. Why was he even talking to her? Engaging her?
Certainly, he had better things to do.

Now his lips were on her earlobe, tickling the fine hairs
there. “No one has seen what you’re wearing today except me.”

Breathe, breathe,
breathe
. “Um.” Where did all the air go all of a sudden? “True, but…”

“No excuses. Come home with me.”

When she didn’t immediately crawl into her car, he growled
and leaned in close, his stiff erection probing against her belly. “You feel
nice.” He clamped his teeth onto the top of her left ear and gave it a gentle
pull as he worked his hands down her back. He cupped her ass, and the act
seemed almost possessive.

He ground himself against her, and having found her
breath, she moaned at the pleasurable friction of his hard chest against her
aroused nipples. She even conceded that being wanted felt
good
, even if that wanting was just physical. She couldn’t hope for
more than that.

She nodded. “I’ll—I’ll follow you.”

He didn’t let her go before giving her one more searching,
skillful kiss.

All the way, her heart pounded and head reeled. She barely
saw the road. She felt like some besotted teenager sneaking off for an illicit
tryst with the popular boy at school—their little secret.

Except it wasn’t.

When they arrived at Jerry and Trinity’s dark house, Ben
hustled her through the kitchen door, pulling her by the hand, but then they
were stopped at the sight of a small woman who leaned into the open
refrigerator.

He gave Daisy’s hand a little pull. “It’s all right.
Moeder
is the night manager at the hotel
she works at in Belgium. She would just be getting home from work right now if
she were there.”

The woman straightened, eyes wide as she clutched a carafe
of orange juice.

He drew Daisy in closer, apparently feeling absolutely no
shame about bringing a woman home in the middle of night. “Daisy, this is my
mother, Clara Thys.”

“Oh.” Clara set the orange juice back in its rack, dried
her moist hand on her dressing gown, and extended it to Daisy.

Daisy wrapped her hand around it and shook.

“
Moeder
, this is
Daisy. She works with Jerry and Trinity and makes fabulous soaps.”

Clara’s eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled. “Soaps?
Uh,
natuurlijke zeep?
”

He shrugged. “Well, as natural as they can manage.
Sometimes they’ve got to add preservatives.” He turned to Daisy. “Sorry,
Moeder
’s English is questionable.”

Clara rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry.

He put up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Sorry,
what I meant to say is she understands English and can read it, but isn’t as
good at speaking it.”

“Oh,” Daisy remarked. “Well, I bet you both speak a bunch
of languages, so you’re ahead of the game.”

He shrugged. “Product of necessity. I learned French as my
second language, German when I started school, and English when I started
swimming.
Moeder
started learning
English when she met my father, but she gave up.”

Clara rolled her eyes again.

Daisy smiled at her. “I only know two languages. English
and Redneck. Fluent, though.”

Clara lifted both eyebrows in confusion, and Ben covered
his face as he laughed.

Daisy grinned. “What? I’m serious.”

“You’ll have to demonstrate for me sometime,
liefje
. Come on.” He wrapped his arm
around her waist and guided her toward the hallway. “Good night,
Moeder
.”

Clara waved them off and resumed her scanning of the
refrigerator contents.

Ben guided Daisy down a corridor and led her into a guest
bedroom which containing few furnishings besides the queen-sized bed and
dresser. He shut the door and heeled off his shoes.

She cleared her throat and hooked her thumb in the
direction of the kitchen. “Um…does your mother think…”

He sat on the edge of the bed and cocked his head to the
side. “Think what? That we’re going to have sex?”

His expression was so flat—unreadable—all she
could manage was a small nod.

He shrugged. “I don’t know what she thinks. I’m over
thirty. We have a
don’t ask, don’t tell
sort of relationship when it comes to these things.”

Blood rushed to her head so fast, the dizziness made her
reach for the doorframe. “You do these sorts of things often?”

“Bringing women home?” He peeled his T-shirt over his head
and let it fall to the floor as he locked his gaze on her.

She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest.

The barest grin quirked up his lips. “Why do you ask?”

Good question. Why
did
I ask?
She tracked across the room to
the picture window and stared out it. He didn’t seem like the innocent virginal
sort to her. He had to have gotten his practice somehow and with someone. “Just
curious.”

“Fair enough, but if I answer that, you have to answer a
question for me in return.”

Some animal—a hunting dog, probably—made a
white bolt past the window and toward the woods. She tracked it with her eyes
until it disappeared into the dark, and jumped a bit when Ben’s warm hands
grasped her waist beneath her shirt.

He pressed his lips against the crook of her neck and
kissed. “Why did that scare you?”

As he dragged his lips up her neck, she put her head back
and savored the caress of his hands, moving slowly up her torso toward her
breasts. “Trouble zone for me,” she said when she’d managed to catch her
breath.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffed and squirmed free of his grasp, crossing her arms
over her chest once more and leaning her rear end against the window ledge.
“You’re probably used to really athletic women, seeing as how you’re around
swimmers all the time. The only exercise I get lately is running out of the
rain.”

He braced his hands against the window ledge on either
side of her and planted one foot between the two of hers. His expression went
flat again—dark, even—as he nudged her feet a bit further apart. He
leaned in close to her right ear and dragged his tongue along the lobe before
pulling the lobe between his teeth.

Her body bowed toward his at the sensation, her hardened
nipples pressing against his chest at the tiny pain he caused.

He whispered, “If I didn’t like the way you look, you
wouldn’t be standing here.” One of his hands left the window ledge, and his
fingers gripped the front waistband of her shorts, giving her a yank forward.

It wasn’t an angry yank or even a possessive one. It was a
pull that said, “Pay attention.”

So she did. Blood thrummed in her ears as his deft fingers
unfastened her button and lowered her fly. He pulled her shorts down in one
easy yank, sending her panties following quickly after and never breaking their
eye contact.

“Step out,” he said in a commanding tone not much louder
than a whisper.

Even at that volume, her compulsion was to obey, though
she had no idea why. She just picked one foot up, then the other, and nudged
her bottoms aside.

He raised her shirt hem just over her navel and paused
there. “Lift your arms, please.”

She raised them high over her head and shuddered as the
cool air from the nearby air register tickled the skin of her torso. Feeling
very exposed all of a sudden, she looked down to find her bra had shifted and
provided no cover for her tormented nipples.

Cheap bra. Gramma
Boudreaux was right. Buy cheap, sag by twenty.

He shored up her chin with his hand, angling her face so
her eyes met his once more. Strong, warm hands kneaded her shoulders and edged
down her goosebump-mottled arms, pulling her chest against his. “Are you going
to answer my question?”

She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with air, hoping
it’d calm her nervous core. Truth or lie? What lie could she possibly tell? She
was a human being with human feelings and a whole lot of estrogen steering
them. Her fingers tightened their grip on the window ledge as she forced
herself to lock on his blue gaze.

“I don’t want to think about you with other women.”

There. The truth. Self-esteem was a very fragile thing, so
even for a fling, she didn’t want to think about what he’d had before and what
he’d likely be returning to in Belgium.

She forced herself to be brave and studied every inch of
his face for signs of revulsion. There were none. No narrowing of his eyes. No
clenching of his jaw. No flaring of his nostrils. The only movement he made was
to hook the top of her bra cups further down so the fabric was hidden beneath
her breasts and bunched with her underwires. He flicked his thumbs over her
nipples and she moaned.

Standing there against the window, she suddenly felt a lot
like the whore Barry always accused her of being on all those evenings she’d
returned home from a night out with friends or late from work.

But, that wasn’t right. How could she be?

For once in her life, she needed to do something
solely
because it made her feel good,
even if only for a little while. So, when Ben ceased fondling her breasts and
dropped his shorts, she put her chin up a little higher and willed all the dark
thoughts away. He picked up one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist. “Trust
me,
liefje
.”

“Yes,” she whispered. She thought of pleasure once more
when he scooped her up by the bottom and pressed her back against the window.

He wrapped her other leg around his waist and nudged her
wet, waiting opening with his cock.

She thought of nothing at all when he pushed himself into
her, beyond nothing the anticipatory intensity of his blue stare.

He wanted her, so she didn’t have to think.

Just feel.