The Summer He Came Home Part 18

"Is there a specific time you'd like these delivered to your mom's?"

He signed the receipt. "Ah, they're not for my mom. I want them delivered to Maggie O'Rourke. Not sure of the proper address, but she's renting Old Man McCleary's house."

If Mary Avery was surprised, she didn't show it. "Why yes, I know Maggie. Lovely girl, and that son of hers is such a polite young man."

"Great! Thanks for this, and hopefully I'll see Frank around."

Mary's pale hazel eyes were intent as she stared at him. "What would you like on the card?"

"Nothing." Cain turned. "She'll know who they're from."

One down, two to go.

He decided to leave his truck parked where it was and walked to Jack's Hut, which was located at the end of the main drag. It was exactly what the name implied-a small dwelling with a thatched roof that looked out of place in northern Michigan. But the beer was cold, they served the best d.a.m.n wings he'd ever had, and he was hoping the jukebox still worked.

The owner owed him a favor from way back, and he was kind of hoping it wasn't too late to cash in.

Twenty minutes later he'd finished his business at the Hut and crossed the street, his eyes fixed on the Super Drug Store that was up the way.

Large gla.s.s automatic doors slid open for him, and Cain walked inside. A wall of cool air greeted him, and it felt d.a.m.n good. He glanced around. The place hadn't changed at all. It still held that antiseptic scent that, if inhaled for too long, was nauseating.

The store was well lit and busy. s.h.i.+t. He kept his head low and cursed the fact that his trusty Bruins cap was on the seat of his truck.

He paused for a moment, not liking the uncomfortable feeling that settled in his belly. It had been so long since he ran an errand like this that he felt like a d.a.m.n teenager. With Natasha there'd been no need, and while on tour, well, there were always roadies to do this sort of thing.

Cain slid through the aisles, his focus on the last one to his right. If his memory was correct, that's where the condoms were. And Lord knows his evening wouldn't progress the way he wanted unless he was equipped. He somehow didn't picture Maggie as the type of woman to keep a box full of rubbers by her bed.

He sidestepped an elderly man-"Sorry"-and peeked into the aisle. Yep. There they were. Right beside the jock-itch powder-and Mrs. Lancaster. Her pink and red dress was d.a.m.n hard to miss, but it was the white hair and black rubber boots that gave her away.

He groaned inwardly and glanced at his watch. It was now nearly two in the afternoon. He'd told Maggie he'd pick her up at five. Time was running out, and though he'd have liked nothing better than to grab them and go, there was no way in h.e.l.l he was going to pick out a s.h.i.+ny box of condoms while Mrs. Lancaster stood inches away.

He scowled. And really, why the h.e.l.l were the boxes so d.a.m.n s.h.i.+ny anyway?

He headed down the next aisle, not really focusing on anything and hoping like h.e.l.l Mrs. Lancaster would leave already.

"Hey Cain." It was Dave Edmonds, his old football coach. The gravelly voice was distinct though not as robust as he remembered.

It seemed his delicate mission was going to be interrupted by every d.a.m.n person he knew. Figures.

The man shuffled over from the pharmacy counter, and they chatted for several minutes about the weather, football, music, and the upcoming fundraiser. Coach Edmonds had aged, but his humor was as sharp as ever, as was his opinion, which was strong on most every subject imaginable. He thought Cain's music was c.r.a.p and that he'd be more successful if he had a banjo in his band. And a fiddle.

"Well, sorry to bother you, Cain. I'll let you get back to whatever it is you're doing."

He shook Coach's hand and then gestured crazily. "Thanks, I'm just trying to find the right ones..." His words trailed off as Cain took a second to glance at the shelves in front of him. They were crammed full of products-feminine products, to be exact, in all shapes, sizes, colors, and-he cringed-wings. What the h.e.l.l? His eyes narrowed. They even had them for thongs?

Coach Edmonds frowned and shook his head, a weird look in his eyes. "Sorry. This is beyond my scope. I can't help you with this." Coach took a step and paused, laughter underlying his words. "Good luck with that."

Cain grimaced and nodded. "Yeah, thanks." He waited until Coach was gone and crept to the end of the aisle, a smile widening his mouth as a memory rushed through him.

The first time he ever bought condoms, it had been a group effort. He'd come in with the boys-Jesse, Jake, and Mac. It had been late, a Friday night. The Super Drug was open until midnight, and they'd waited till Brenda Borstrano had left for the night, leaving only one of their schoolmates at the register. If not, she'd have spread it all over town that the Bad Boys were rubbering up.

They'd had no clue what to buy and in the end had grabbed a box of every kind that there was. Size large, of course.

He smiled at the memory. They'd spent a small fortune, and as it was, most of the condoms they bought had never been put to use. Even then their dreams had been larger than their reality.

Cain pretended to walk by the aisle, shot a covert glance toward his prize, and was happy to see that Mrs. Lancaster had moved on from the jock itch. He turned quickly and headed straight for the rack of condoms. His eyes scanned the variety that was there, and for a second he was that kid from back in the day. Confused and entirely way too excited.

He had no idea there was so much to choose from, mostly because he'd only ever had straight-up, normal condoms.

Where to start? Christ, there were glow-in-the-dark condoms, flavored condoms, studded-for-his-and-her-pleasure condoms, and warming condoms. Warming?

s.h.i.+t. He grabbed the closest one and raised an eyebrow at the name emblazoned along the side of the box in bold neon green, Rough Rider. It was somehow...appropriate. A grin cracked his face and he chuckled. It was one of the studded brands. Why the h.e.l.l not?

Another box caught his eye. He hesitated and then grabbed it too. He'd never even heard of a vibrating condom ring before, but h.e.l.l, it couldn't hurt to try. He smiled wickedly at the thought. It sounded very interesting.

He turned and nearly ran over Mrs. Lancaster. The woman was scrunched near the display of antifungal creams, and there was no way he was getting around her. He was about to head the other way when she spoke.

"You played football, didn't you, Cain?"

He glanced down at the box in his hands and froze. The neon color seemed to pulsate beneath the harsh fluorescent lights above. d.a.m.n, anyone other than her and he'd have been fine. But Mrs. Lancaster? The pastor's wife?

"Cain, are you deaf, my dear?"

He turned, kept his right hand behind his back, and smiled. "Mrs. Lancaster, sorry, didn't see you there." He nodded. "Sure, I played some ball."

"You ever get the jock itch?" She straightened and peered up over her gla.s.ses.

"No, ma'am." He chuckled. "I never had a problem in that area."

Her eyes narrowed. "Hmm, well, this isn't common knowledge, so I'd appreciate it if you could keep it under your hat, but my Franklin sweats a lot."

Okay, that's not what he'd been expecting to hear. "Ah, sorry to hear that, Mrs. Lancaster."

"Yes, well, it's been his cross to bear"-her eyebrow arched-"so to speak." She pointed toward the display behind her. "I Googled it."

"It?"

"Jock itch. He's got this rash, and it's something fierce to behold."

"Oh."

"Playing football and all, I thought you might have a suggestion as to which antifungal cream or spray is better." Her face was screwed up into an intense frown, as if this was a life-and-death decision. "There's powder too, but I'm just a little confused."

"Sorry, Mrs. Lancaster, I don't know which is the best, but I'm sure they're all equally effective." He shrugged. "Maybe a cream?"

Or a shot of something in the a.s.s? He hid the smile that accompanied that thought.

She nodded. "Yes, that's what I was thinking." She shrugged. "He's an old man with an itch. This can't be rocket science."

"Well, I've got to get going, so..."

She grabbed a tube of cream and chuckled. "Goodness, of course. I'm sure you've got much more important things to do than discuss such a thing with an old lady."

Cain let her pa.s.s, his face hot. He swore everyone in the d.a.m.n store was staring at him. He clutched the box in his hands tightly. Mrs. Lancaster kept up a pleasant chatter all the way to the front cas.h.i.+er, and he followed behind.

"I hope Pastor Lancaster feels some relief soon." He smiled tightly. c.r.a.p, Rebecca Stringer was heading his way. He needed to get the h.e.l.l out of the store.

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

Cain stepped by her and stood just beyond the cash register, his intent to inch past.

"I'm sure he will, but Cain, you might want to pay for those before you leave." Her gaze moved to his hands, and she smiled, a devilish twinkle in her eye. "Stealing is a sin, son, among other things."

He looked at the s.h.i.+ny black box in his hands and swallowed. Not cool to be caught by the pastor's wife with a box of big-a.s.s studded condoms, and a vibrating condom ring to boot.

Rebecca was nearly to the cas.h.i.+er, a determined look on her face. His blood pressure rose significantly. He so didn't want to deal with her right now.

"Do you want to..." Mrs. Lancaster motioned in front of her. "I'm sure you're in much more of a hurry than I am. Why don't you pay for your purchase first." She winked and whispered, "You might want to ask for a paper bag, though you should know they charge a quarter for them now."

He forced a smile and clutched his Rough Riders.

Sure, he'd get right on that.

Chapter 19.

Maggie had changed at least six times in the last half hour, and at the moment, her bedroom was a disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and shoes littered the floor. She didn't have a whole lot in her closet, so the mess represented most of what she owned.

Her fingers smoothed the soft lines of the skirt she wore. She'd forgotten about it, mostly because she'd had no reason to wear it for the last few years. It was an older piece, but hugged her curves in exactly the right way. She glanced around. The mess was worth it. She felt s.e.xy, anxious, and excited. Things she hadn't felt in years.

Her hair was loose, fell past her shoulders in a curtain of crimson that she'd carefully straightened. The subtle highlights Lori had added shone like slivers of gold, and when she turned her head, her eyes were luminous, emphasized by the new makeup she'd purchased.

It was amazing how a little bit of mascara coupled with dark, smoky shadow made her eyes pop. Light blush across her cheekbones and some gloss on her lips, and she was good to go.

The skirt was a wraparound, plain black and short, falling halfway down her thigh. She'd joined it with a soft green silk halter and black sandals that she'd borrowed from Raine. She was braless and a little nervous about the fact, but she didn't have one of those fancy crisscross halter bras.

Her fingers ran over her chest lightly, and her nipples hardened, their rigid tips very much in evidence. She thought of Cain's hands on her and blushed when she thought of how boldly she grabbed him between the legs. He'd felt so big and strong.

As the image lingered, the slow, heavy ache she'd been fighting for days intensified. Good G.o.d, she had no need for color on her cheeks. Her natural embarra.s.sed tone would be more than enough.

A stab of fear shot through her, and she blew out a nervous breath. All she could think about was s.e.x. With Cain. Her mind had been filled with erotic images of him since Sunday night, and she groaned as her hands rested against her heated cheeks.

She couldn't do this. She was no practiced actress or knowledgeable model. Heck, she only knew of one way to do it. What if Cain expected something...spectacular? What if there was some new way to do it that she'd never heard of? Some weird, kinky thing that was all the rage with rockers and models and...

You sure as h.e.l.l had no problems with inhibitions the other night.

The thought snuck into her mind and her blush deepened.

The things I'm going to do to you, Maggie, just might be illegal in some states.

His words echoed in her head, coiled around the heat in her belly, and kick-started her into action. Cain would be here any minute.

She grabbed the pile of clothes off the bed, stuffed them in her closet, and threw the shoes in as well. She could deal with putting them away properly tomorrow. A giggle escaped, and she made a face. If only her clients could see her now.

Her gaze fell to the red tulips on the small nightstand beside her bed. They'd arrived a few hours earlier. A cla.s.sy arrangement in a beautiful crystal container. There was no card, but she knew who'd sent them. It was a simple gesture but one that meant more than Cain could know.

Tulips had been her mother's favorite.

After straightening up the mess of makeup in her small bathroom, she slipped into the delicate black sandals and straightened the corner of the comforter. The bed was a king-size monstrosity and filled a good portion of her room. It had come with the house, as had most of the furniture. The mismatched sheets she had didn't exactly fit properly, but it had never been an issue.

Because she'd never had a man back to her house before.

Maggie bit her lip. Should she change them? Did it matter?

She took a step toward the bed and froze as the doorbell ripped through the silence of her home. Her heart beat a furious rhythm, and her skin rippled with another wash of heat. She s.h.i.+vered from a violent chill and hated the way her stomach tightened, full of nerves.

For one second she considered staying put, pretending she wasn't home. What if people started talking? What the h.e.l.l had happened to her need to lay low and blend in?

The bell sounded again, and she closed her eyes. Was it so awful to want something special for herself? To want Cain as much as she did? Her resolve faded as the doorbell echoed once more.

"Don't be a coward," she whispered, and followed the fading echo of the bell out to the small foyer. Her tongue darted across her lips nervously, and she yanked the door open before she lost the nerve.

She was sure the birds still sang, that Mrs. Johnson's lawn mower still mowed, and the laughter from the children a few doors down still echoed in the street. And yet she heard nothing.

Everything faded away like fog rolling across the road in the early morning. Just like in the movies. There was nothing but Cain. He was larger than life, and in that moment, she could acknowledge wholeheartedly he was the s.e.xiest man she'd ever laid eyes on.

His long legs were covered in faded denim, while casual Doc Martens adorned his feet. He wore a white b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. It was formfitting and emphasized his wide shoulders and tapered waist. His sleeves were rolled up, and his tattoo peeked out at her, a vibrant picture against his darkly tanned skin.

Her eyes slowly traveled up to his face, and the breath caught in the back of her throat. His hair was still damp as if he wasn't long from the shower, and the slow smile that spread across his mouth left her weak. It spoke of secrets and desires and promised all sorts of naughty things.

s.h.i.+t.

"Hey." His voice was husky, low.

"Hi," she answered, and took a step back. "Do you want to come in or..." Maggie didn't know what the heck to say. She hadn't been on a first date since she was sixteen. But back then things had been different. Expectations were so not what they were tonight.

"I think we should just go." His eyes glittered, and his smile was full-on devastation. "You look..." His eyes caressed her body with one hot look, and he leaned down close near her ear. "Amazing." His breath tickled the side of her neck, and Maggie's mouth went dry. She swallowed, a gut reaction, but nearly choked.

"Let me grab my bag."

She knew his eyes followed her, and it took a lot of willpower to walk in a calm, controlled manner. She grabbed the small bag Raine had dropped off with the shoes. "Okay, I'm ready."