Page 17 of Saving Texas

She turned her head and gave me a long look before leaning forward and pressing her lips against mine. I curled my hands into fists on the rock, letting her take the lead. The kiss deepened and Clara twisted to throw one leg over mine, coming to straddle my lap. I moved my arms around her back, pulling her closer as she threaded her fingers through my hair and tugged on the strands. I responded by rolling my hips upward, humping her through our clothes. Clara made a needy sound, deep in her throat.

I slid my hands under the light fabric of her shirt, my fingers tracing the soft skin of her back and sides before slowly moving around to cup her breasts through the fabric of her bra. I kneaded her breasts, plucking the tips with my thumbs, until she pulled away, breathing heavily. I dropped my hands to her thighs, watching her carefully.

“We’d better stop,” she said regretfully. “Anyone could come by and see us.”

“Don’t fancy giving someone a show?” I teased, even though I knew she was right. My brother was probably working around here somewhere.

She shook her head. “Your mother is going to be expecting us for lunch soon.”

I pushed to my feet, offering her a hand, and hauling her up next to me.

“I’d like to do more of that later,” I told her. “When we can have some privacy.”

She gave me a saucy smile. “Oh, you would, would you?”

“Yeah, but we’ve done it your way already. The next time we sleep together it’ll be on my terms.”

Clara

I obsessed about Allen’s cryptic comments the entire way back to the main house. I was torn between being impressed with how quickly he was worming his way back into my heart and irritated that he seemed to know what I needed better than I did. The reminders of things I used to like, the horseback ride and now, eating his mother’s fried chicken.

“This is delicious Mary,” I said sincerely.

“Why thank you dear.”

We all looked up as the door opened with a clatter, bringing a younger and bulkier version of Allen into view.

“Clara, this is my brother Peter. Peter, my friend Clara.”

Peter gave me a nod. “Pleased to meet you.” He turned his gaze to his mother. “Sorry I’m late Mama, I was busy with Annabelle.”

At my curious look, Allen explained, “His favorite cow.”

Peter gave his brother a glare but didn’t respond, instead tucking into his food with the appetite of a man who’d already put in a long hard day’s work. He wasn’t really a talker, Allen’s brother. He seemed almost shy.

“How are you liking spending time with our little hurricane baby again?” Allen’s mother asked.

“Hurricane baby?”

I looked at Allen, noting with fascination the flush of red that was traveling up his cheeks. Allen Jeffers was blushing?

“Mama, she doesn’t want to hear about all that,” Allen protested.

“I bet she does,” Peter teased.

“Oh no, I really do,” I piped up at the same time.

“When Lionel and I were newlyweds, we were vacationing down at South Padre Island when Hurricane Allen hit. We didn’t have power and were trapped down there for several days with lots of free time and not a lot of money. And, well, nine months later we had our hurricane baby.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re named after a hurricane?”

“Thanks Mama,” he grumbled good naturedly. “I’m sure Clara enjoyed hearing my conception story.”

“I really did.”

The rest of lunch passed quickly. As the only child of a single mother, it was fascinating for me to watch the family dynamics. Allen’s father was mostly quiet, letting his mother alternate between grilling her sons and scolding them as they gave each other shit like they were middle schoolers. The brothers were clearly tight despite their obvious rivalry.

After lunch I helped his mother load the dishwasher, then we headed back to the car, carrying a bag full of leftovers that Allen’s mother insisted that we take back to Houston with us.