Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(46)
He’d thought he’d heard the Ozarks in her voice, just slight, but there—like the way she said “hill” for “heel.” He gave her a squeeze and pressed his lips to her head. “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I left when I was eighteen and never looked back. Didn’t really affect me much when it was gone.”
Show tried to imagine not loving the place you were from. The story of Signal Bend had been a tragedy for most of his adult life—loss and pain, violence and poverty. People had left town in droves—they left voluntarily, or they were driven out—until there were only these few hundred people left, clinging to a memory of the town as it had been, to the only world they knew. He himself had lost as much as anybody.
More. But his love for this place was sunk deep in his marrow. It was home. Nowhere else ever could be.
But he thought of Daisy and how he’d known she wouldn’t stay, how she was meant for bigger things than this little wide spot in a forgotten road. He could see Shannon, so smart and gorgeous, packing up and driving out of her own little town, heading to college, to the city, to a life big enough to hold her. And he knew enough of her to know she’d found that life.
Why she was back in a little town like Signal Bend, then, was a mystery. Maybe her secret was wrapped up in it.
“What about your family? Where’d they end up?”
She sighed, and he could tell he was getting into territory she wanted to avoid, but she answered him. “I have an aunt and uncle living in one of those golf retirement communities in Arizona. I…don’t talk much to the rest of my family. I keep up with them a little online.” She rose up on her elbow and looked down at him, her hand resting on his chest. “Don’t ask about that, okay?”
Her expression was so vulnerable, tears still glimmering under her eyes and on her lashes, her hair mussed from their sex, that it hurt to look at her. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. “Okay, hon. You tell me when you can. I won’t ask.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” Still she looked down at him. “You…scare me…a little.”
“What? Why?” He didn’t want to scare her. He thought she’d handled his story about Daisy and Holly without fear, and that was the worst thing he had.
“You make me feel—a lot. More than I’m used to.” She lay back down on his chest, and he held her close. “I know that’s not very articulate, but I don’t know a better way to say it.”
She didn’t have to say it better. He knew exactly how she felt. Hell, she’d made him feel anything at all again. “You said it fine, Shannon. You said it fine.”
oOo
Show woke early, just past dawn, and his first thought, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, was a happy one. Shannon was still curled in his arms, sleeping quietly, tucked under her thick comforter. Deep in the night, the room had gotten so chilly that the throw he’d covered them with had not been enough, and they’d gotten all the way in bed, under the covers.
He didn’t want to get out of this warm bed, curled up with this beautiful woman, and trudge across the cold room, but he needed to check his phone, and he needed to get a sense of the weather. Then Shannon sighed and stirred in his embrace, her knee grazing his cock, and he decided the cold day could wait. He rolled her onto her back and hovered over her, watching her wake slowly from sleep as he ran one hand over her smooth, warm skin.
When she blinked her eyes reluctantly open, he leaned down and kissed her. “Morning.”
“Mmm. Morning.”
“What are your feelings about morning sex?” He knew she could feel his feelings about it pushing against her leg.
She smiled. “Usually I like to pee first.”
He pushed his hand between her thighs, over the neatly trimmed, pale red hair. She was hot and already wet. “Yeah?” He rubbed over her clit and then pushed a finger inside her. She gasped and moaned, squirming under him.
“Usually, yeah.”
“Now?” He pushed a second finger into her. She was beginning to pant.
She spread her legs. “No.” She pulled on his arm, and he rolled onto her, grabbing his cock and sliding easily into her. “Oh God,” she whispered.
He felt her clamping down around him, pulling him into her, holding him tight. “Shannon,” he murmured in her ear. She whimpered and arched at the sound of her name.
oOo
Nobody was going anywhere. Not for awhile. That thunder and lightning they’d heard the night before had portended very bad weather. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving, but there was a foot of snow on top of an inch and a half of ice. Signal Bend was socked in good. Don Keyes had sent out word to the Horde that he had his plow on his Jeep and was picking up Havoc and working his way to his farm implement business, where the town plow was garaged. Havoc would drive it and get the roads clear—they had no expectation that the county crews would ever make their way this far out, not before the snow melted on its own—but nobody else would be moving much for the day.
The sky was still heavy and threatening, but the forecast called for no more than flurries continuing through the day. Show had started a good fire in the parlor fireplace, and now he stood at the front window, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, and enjoyed the way the snow and ice had turned the world into a sparkling, silent, perfect slice of peace. He hated winter, because it forced his bike into the garage, but he loved snow. He’d loved taking his girls out in it, crunching bootprints through the crisp, white blanket, building snow forts, lifting them out of their angels so they’d be perfect. Then they’d go in, and Holly would feed them homemade soup and grilled cheese sandwiches while their wet clothes and boots hung dripping on the back porch. With the girls between them, things had always been okay with Holly. She’d put on a decent front for them with her feelings about him.