She's Up to No Good(44)
Inside, the furniture was covered with sheets, the wicker porch furniture stacked in the corner. Tony lit the lantern, and she pulled the sheet from the living room sofa, which had been recycled from the Main Street house when Joseph purchased a new one. She shrugged off her heavy coat and sat; Tony set the lantern on the table, pulled off his thick peacoat, then spread the heavy blanket over her and climbed under it as well, putting an arm around her. She nestled in against him, holding his hand in hers, her head on his chest, soaking in the feeling of his presence.
He sighed, and she looked up at him, seeing his furrowed brow in the flickering lantern light.
“What is it?” She took his face in her hands. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing.” He took one of her hands and kissed her palm, but she shook her head.
“Tell me.”
Leaning back, he rubbed his knuckles across his jaw. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“What is?”
“All of it. You being gone. The new job. Keeping everything a secret. Not knowing what your father will say. Everything.”
A small stab of guilt ran through Evelyn. She missed him desperately when she was at school. But she was also gone and experiencing an entirely new world. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was living in the same place with a huge, gaping hole shaped like her, while she was out with new friends, going new places and even sometimes agreeing to double dates.
Not to mention she knew exactly what her father would say.
That was going to be another difficult conversation soon, though she hoped they would get some time together before it came up. But maybe if she steered him away from the most sensitive parts— “What’s wrong with the job? Do you not like it?”
“It’s an adjustment.”
“What does that mean?”
“I—I know the town looks down on us. But I mostly stayed with my own people before. I’m the only Portuguese in the department. The only one ever. And it’s constant.” He saw the look on her face. She was ready to jump in the car, drive to the police headquarters in town, and give them all a piece of her mind. “It’s fine. I can take it. They’ll stop eventually. They’re like this with anyone new. It’s just harder than I expected. Especially when I don’t have you.”
Evelyn felt her heart breaking. She had always been selfish—oh, she had a good heart, but she had always done exactly as she wanted without a thought to consequences because things just worked out. But she had been off enjoying herself, telling him nonchalantly that she was going to this party and that, while he never complained about what he was suffering for her sake.
She climbed onto his lap and kissed the tip of his nose playfully. “You always have me.”
“Do I?”
“Always.” She brushed her lips lightly against his. “I’m yours.” Then a deeper kiss. “Forever.”
“Even when you’re not here?”
“I’m always here,” she whispered, touching his heart. She took his hand and pressed it to her chest. “And you’re always here.” She kissed him again, greedily this time, moving his hand lower until it cupped her breast and she felt him stirring beneath her.
He reached up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and running his hands up her abdomen to her chest, the feel of his fingers electric along her skin. She reached down and felt him stiffen. He pulled back and looked at her.
“Don’t stop this time,” she said, holding his gaze. “And you’ll know, no matter what, that I’m yours and you’re mine.”
He stared into her eyes another moment, losing both himself and his desire to do what was honorable in their depths. Then he kissed her again, leaning her back onto the sofa, himself on top of her, and did as she asked.
When they were finished, they lay pressed against each other on the sofa, huddled under the blanket against the cold of the cottage. Evelyn traced her fingers along his chest silently.
“Are you all right?” Tony asked quietly.
She looked up at him. “Never better.” He squeezed her even closer to him.
“I do have to speak to your father now.”
“That might be a little awkward right now.”
“You know what I mean. When you come home after the term. Like we planned.” He felt her tense against him. “What?”
She hesitated. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Why not?”
“He—Bernie made a comment the other night . . . and he—well—he didn’t react well.”
“What does that mean?”
“What does it matter? He’s going to say no. I don’t care what he thinks. I know what I want and it’s you.”
He leaned forward, surprising her as she fell back against the sofa. “Was this a setup? To trick me into running off with you?”
“What?”
“I know you, Evelyn Bergman. Don’t think for a second that you can put one over on me. I love you, but I’m not going to let you do what you do to everyone else.”
She sat up, genuinely stung. “You claim you know me, but that’s what you think this was?”
He swallowed dryly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You tell me.”