Crazy for You

  “Screw what he realized,” Nick said. “He goes to jail.”

  Darla stole a look at Max as the truck bumped down the road. She didn’t think he was mad, but he wasn’t saying anything and she didn’t know what to say, so she couldn’t start a conversation. She’d already tried “Quinn needs me,” and gotten back “Nick’s there,” so now she sat silent wondering how she’d gotten into this mess.

  She’d wanted excitement. Well, she’d gotten that. And now she’d gotten an orchid and been kidnapped by her own husband. That was interesting, even if they were going back to the same old life at home—

  It was right about then that she noticed they weren’t on their way home.

  “Max, where are we going?”

  He turned instead of answering, and she realized they were out on the edge of town, and then he hung a sharp right and skidded into the first lane of the old drive-in.

  “This has been padlocked for years,” she said. “Max, look out!”

  He kept driving toward the padlocked chain, and she flinched when they hit it, breaking it and a headlight at the same time.

  Maybe he was mad.

  He drove straight for the back of the lot, and she thought for a moment that they were going to go through the back fence the way they’d gone through the chain, but he swerved at the last minute, making the truck fishtail in a half circle, and brought them to a stop in the last row of the theater.

  “Haven’t done that in twenty years,” he said, his voice deep with satisfaction.

  “More like fifteen,” Darla said.

  The lot stretched out for an acre, ghostly posts marking row after row of parking spaces, the speakers long gone, some broken spiral cords still bouncing in the wind. The screen ahead was smaller than she remembered it, but the old concession stand was about right, a cinder-block rectangle with the best barbecue and the worst restrooms in Tibbett. They’d come here a lot, both of them just babies, seventeen, amazed by life and by each other and especially by sex.

  Maybe that’s why Max had brought her out here, sex in the front seat again. Well, it was a nice idea, she thought tiredly, but they could just go home to bed. That’s where she’d be for the rest of her life anyway, home. Why put it off?

  Max cut the engine and turned to her, leaning back against the seat. “We had some good times here.” He smiled at her, acting a little nervous, which was the way he’d been back then, come to think of it. “Remember?”

  “Yes,” Darla said. “Pretty exciting.”

  “Yeah.” Max nodded, clearly at a loss for what to say next, and she felt awful for him. He’d gotten her an orchid, for heaven’s sake. That was enough.

  “It’s okay, Max,” Darla said. “I know we can’t get that back. And it’s pretty sweet of you to bring me out here to remember.”

  “No problem.” He shrugged.

  His voice was offhand, but the way he sat wasn’t, his hand tense on the steering wheel, so clearly unsure that her heart melted. He was so much dearer now than when he’d made her shiver here all those years ago. You got some good tradeoffs when the excitement went, she realized. He might have been more exciting in high school, but she’d never trade the man he was now for the boy he’d been then, sweet as that boy had been.

  “So.” He turned to look at her and then evidently lost his courage. “What’s new?”

  “Aside from Bill mugging Quinn?” she said. “Not much. And you?”

  He shrugged again. “Oh, I’ve made some changes.”

  “Right.” Darla sighed, feeling sorry for both of them. “It’s okay, Max. I give up. I’ll come home.”

  “You don’t have to give up,” he protested. “I’ve taken some risks. Hell, I took Barbara to dinner. That was a change.”

  “Yeah, I loved that one,” Darla said flatly.

  “And the play.” Max sounded as if he was digging for stuff. Probably was, poor schmuck. “I really am into that play. That’s a big change.” He nodded in the dark. “And I’m cooking dinner, did I tell you that?” He nodded some more. “Buying stuff and cooking it. I’m not bad, too.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Darla felt her throat catch. He was trying so hard. “You’ve always been good at everything. It’s okay, I’m coming home, you don’t have to—”

  “And I”—he looked around a little wildly—“and I bought this drive-in.” Darla jerked back. “You what?”

  Max nodded, now a lot surer. “I bought this drive-in.” He looked at her and nodded again. “Bought it this afternoon. The station’s doing good, no point in risking that, but I thought, ‘Well, a new generation ought to have what we had,’ so I bought it. Took a chance, what the hell.”

  Darla’s mouth fell open. He’d bought a drive-in. In a million years, she’d never have seen this one coming. Just like she hadn’t seen the orchid coming, but this—

  This was huge. Sweeping. “Max,” she said, her voice breathless.

  He swallowed. “ ’Course I’m going to need help with it. Can’t start a business by myself.” He turned to her, looking as vulnerable as a seventeen-year-old. “I thought we could do it together. Like the old days when you ran the register at the station.” He tried to look offhand, but she could see the tension in his eyes. “You in?”

  “Of course I’m in,” she said, surprised to find tears choking her voice. “I can’t believe—”

  He leaned over and kissed her then, solid and so Max, and he felt so good she grabbed onto him, kissing him back, holding on to him for dear life.

  “Don’t leave me again,” he said into her hair. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t leave you alone, you’re too unpredictable. God knows what you’d buy next.” She kissed him again, hard, so glad she could, so glad she was with him again. “Oh, I missed you. I’m so happy. I can’t believe it, I’m so happy.”

  He laughed, and she could hear the relief there, and with the relief all the tension left him, and he was Max again. “Have I ever told you how sexy you look in a T-shirt?” he said, and she shivered as she felt his hands move down her back.

  “No.” She shook her head, swallowing tears. This was no time to cry. “You never did.”

  “You’re even sexier out of it,” he said and slid his hands under her shirt.

  She moved closer to him and breathed him in, closing her eyes as she felt his hands move against her skin. “I missed you so much.”

  “Thank God,” he said and stripped the T-shirt up over her head.

  “Max, we’re in public.” She shivered in the cool air, crossing her arms over her bra.

  “No, we own this place, it’s not public.” He was looking at her in the twilight, his eyes roaming hot on her, really looking at her, and she stopped covering herself. “I know you’re hard to get,” he went on and flipped open her bra catch, one-handed, just like the old days. “I know you don’t put out.” He pulled her bra off her shoulders and slid his hand to her breast and she closed her eyes. “So we can just pet until you say stop.” He bent his head and kissed her breast. “I swear I’ll stop when you say stop.” He leaned over her, so close he was almost on top of her, his hand sliding her zipper down, his body hot against hers.

  “Don’t stop,” she said, as he bent to her again. “Do it all.” She started on his buttons by feel since his head was in her way. “Just don’t tell the kids at school. I want them to think I’m still a good girl.”

  “Best I know,” Max said breathlessly, and she pulled his shirt open and climbed into his lap.

  Outside Quinn’s house, Bill watched through his shutter. Quinn and Nick were in the living room where he couldn’t see—he should have broken a shutter in there, too, should have thought ahead, he could do that tomorrow—but they might come back through when Nick went home, so he stood and watched an empty room. Then they did come in, heading for the kitchen, and he slipped into the backyard to look through the lace curtains of that window. Nick was opening a cupboard. Quinn had her wrists unde
r running water, and he winced, realizing he’d hurt her more than he’d thought. If she’d just listened, he wouldn’t have hurt her. Bill scowled at the dog as it stood on its hind legs to see what Quinn was doing. The damn dog had started it all.

  Nick took a box down from the cupboard and dropped it on the counter. He picked up a blue-checked towel and when Quinn held out her wrists to him, he patted them dry, carefully, and Bill felt his throat catch. It should have been him, not Nick who got to comfort her, not Nick the old friend who couldn’t hold her later. Friends were fine, he was glad she had Nick, but it would have been better if Nick hadn’t been there tonight. If he hadn’t, Quinn would have gone home with him, he would have been the one drying her wrists.

  Nick opened the box and took out a roll of gauze and began to wrap it around her wrists, bending his head close to hers to see what he was doing. Too close. If anyone saw them it would look funny, that close, even if it was good old Nick. Nick wrapped her other wrist, taping the gauze in place carefully, and then Quinn said something to him, and he laughed, way too close to her.

  Bill frowned. She should be careful. Nick could get the wrong idea.

  Nick picked up the gauze again and wrapped it once around her wrist—that made no sense, she was bandaged—and then around her other wrist, wrapping them together, winding the gauze loosely as he laughed into her eyes. Quinn lifted her arms, and Nick bent under them, straightening so her wrists were locked behind his neck and her body fell against his.

  The extra gauze unrolled from her wrists to the floor. Bill concentrated on the ribbon of cotton snaking its way down Nick’s back, tried to ignore the way Quinn laughed up at Nick, the way she pushed herself against him, the way Nick’s hands went to her hips—there was a rushing noise in his head—and then Nick kissed her, hard, not a friend’s kiss, a lover’s kiss, they were lovers, Nick was kissing her hard, his hands were on her butt, in the back of her jeans, her hands gripped the collar of Nick’s T-shirt—that was worse, the air left Bill’s lungs—twisting the material as if she wanted to rip it off, and then Nick pulled Quinn toward the stairs, still kissing her, kissing his Quinn, Nick had no right, that damn dog dancing around them—

  It wasn’t until they disappeared, until they’d been gone minutes, maybe hours, Bill couldn’t tell, that he realized all the screaming he’d been doing had been silent, that it was all inside his head.

  Quinn watched Nick peel off his T-shirt. He had such a lovely body and she was going to have it. Again. Only this time, she could touch him. Nick all over her, inside her, to wipe away all the bad memories. She thought about Bill and went cold for a moment before she pushed the thought away. Nick was here. She was safe. “Hurry up,” she said.

  “Shhhh.” Nick looked back at the closed door. “Do not wake up Joe. I’d just as soon he didn’t come in and pull up a chair.”

  He stripped off his jeans and he was beautiful. She whispered, “I’m crazy about your body. Get it over here.”

  “Pushy.” He slid under the sheets to hold her, hard against her softness, and she rolled until she was on top of him.

  “You’re mine,” she told him.

  “Works for me.” He ran his hands up her sides until she caught at his wrists and pulled them over his head.

  “You are going to feel me for a week,” she whispered, moving against him.

  “Honey, I already feel you every minute of the day.” He lifted his face to kiss her, taking her mouth, licking into her and making her shudder again. “I’ve been thinking about you for so damn long it’s a miracle I get anything done. Every time you turn your back on me, I want to bend you over something, and every time you don’t, I want to take you against a wall, and if you’re not around I close my eyes and imagine you’re naked and I’m inside you.” He kissed her again, making her blood heat with his words and his mouth and his long, lovely body shifting under her.

  Quinn was breathless. “This domination thing doesn’t seem to work when I do it,” she grumbled, trying to be cool, but he was hard under her hips and she tensed against him just to feel him thrust back.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Nick kissed her neck, evidently unconcerned that she held his hands. “We get some leather and handcuffs in here, you could do some damage.”

  Quinn let go of him. “I can do some damage without leather,” she whispered and began to kiss her way down his chest.

  “Oh, Christ,” she heard Nick say as she ran her tongue across his stomach. “You’re right. I’m yours.”

  Damn right, she thought, and took him.

  Nick woke up the next morning at eight, as usual, with the covers kicked off, as usual, and with Quinn’s head against his arm, not as usual. He felt a spurt of panic, and then she stirred in her sleep, and her hair slid silky against his skin, and he remembered the stage the night before and Bill and felt a rush of relief that she was safe with him. She moved again, and he thought, This is good, and rolled against her back to feel how warm she was all over.

  He was sliding his hand up to her breast when Darla knocked and came in without stopping, saying, “Max is waiting, I just came back for my—”

  Nick froze. Eight a.m. was not his best time for fast thinking even when he wasn’t naked in a strange bed.

  “Nice ass,” Darla said. “Not that I’ll ever see it again.”

  “Thank you,” Nick said, and she left, shutting the door behind her.

  “What was that?” Quinn said sleepily.

  “You owe me for that,” he told her, rolling her over. “Come here.”

  “For what?” Quinn said, but she came anyway.

  Quinn sat at the breakfast table an hour later and tried to make sense of her life. Talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly. She was going to have to go to the police, Bill was out of control, and that made her feel like hell. He’d been perfectly sane until he’d gotten involved with her, and he probably would be again once he forgot her. Maybe if she waited—

  She thought of him shoving her against the brick the night before. There was compassion and there was stupidity. She was going to the police.

  Nick came in, dressed in his workshirt and jeans, his hair still damp from his shower, and she remembered the good part. “You are gorgeous,” she said, and he said, “Nope, that’s Max,” and kissed her, reminding her that she was in love on a sunny Saturday morning.

  “No, that’s you,” she said. “Definitely you.”

  “Well, glad you think so.” He leaned back against the sink with such tense nonchalance that she knew something was wrong. “Because you’re going to be waking up with this face from now on. I’m moving in.”

  Quinn sat back. He looked uncertain as he said it, defiant and sort of miserable. “Why?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Because you need somebody to take care of you. Hell, what kind of guy would I be—”

  “I’m going to the police today,” Quinn said. “My dad is here. You don’t have to stay.”

  He stopped, taken aback. “I thought you wanted—”

  “I want you to move in,” Quinn said. “But only when you want to for you, not for me. I don’t need any favors.”

  “Don’t start this.” He turned to the fridge and got out the milk. “There is no way you’re going to tell me we’re not together after last night.”

  “Of course we’re together,” Quinn said. “I love you.” She waited for a minute to see if he’d say it, too, and then went on. “That doesn’t mean you have to live here. You like your space and your privacy. Dad’s here to keep Bill out until the police take care of him. You don’t have to move in.”

  He stood there with the milk carton in his hand, frowning at her. “That’s not it. I want to take care of you.”

  Quinn tried not to wince at the echo of Bill. “I know. But you don’t have to. You stay at your place where you’re happy and I’ll live here. And we’ll see each other every day just like we always have, only now we’ll be having lots of great sex, too.” She smiled at him. “I’m pretty sure
that’s your idea of the perfect life, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” he said and drank some milk from the carton.

  “Well, then, everything’s great,” Quinn said, ignoring the carton.

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “Thanks.”

  Sixteen

  Nick stopped by the police station on his way to work and filed a complaint, telling them to expect Quinn, but when Frank Atchity called from the station later that morning, he wasn’t reassuring.

  “We talked to Bill before he left for the game at noon,” Frank said. “He seems to think you’re exaggerating things.”

  “She has marks on her wrists from him,” Nick said, outraged. “He hurt her.”

  “The principal was there and he said Bill had told him that, ah, Quinn, well, likes things rough.” Frank coughed a little. “Bill agreed.”

  Nick almost went through the phone he was so mad. “Quinn does not like things rough. That asshole grabbed her in a dark parking lot and terrorized her.”

  “How do you know she doesn’t like it rough?” Frank said.

  Nick heard the suspicion in his voice too late. “I just know. She’s not that way.”

  “Because I’m against guys beating up women, but I’m also against getting caught between two guys being played by a woman. And she hasn’t been in to press charges, either.”

  “Oh, hell, Frank—”

  “See, the thing is,” Frank said, “I’m the sheriff, not just Joe’s poker buddy. I need evidence. And I need Quinn in here with a complaint before I can get real aggressive about looking for it.”

  “She’ll be in,” Nick said, grimly. “And she is not playing anybody. That guy is out of control.”

  “So you staying over there to protect her?”

  “No,” Nick said.

  “Real worried, huh?”

  “Frank—”

  “Get her in here,” Frank said. “Or forget about it. One or the other.”

  Nick slammed down the phone and turned on Max when he came in a few minutes later. “You’re late.”