Part 28 (1/2)
Considering how her areolas had puckered, she couldn't blame him. Chuckling, she finished removing her undergarments and stepped carefully into the tub with him. The heat from the water was heavenly. Kneeling carefully, she scrubbed his abdomen with the sponge, then sat back and worked on his legs, taking her time to refamiliarize herself with every inch of his skin she could reach.
Her fiance had a decent body; working in the dairy had kept him reasonably fit, and there was just enough hair on his chest and legs to say he was a man, but not enough to suggest he was a beast. Some women liked their men to be downright furry; Rachel just wanted a little bit of curl on her man's chest, and not much elsewhere. The texture of Steve's spa.r.s.ely dusted skin was just the way she liked a man to feel: warm and silky in some spots, warm and crinkly coa.r.s.e in others. Perfect.
Leaning forward, she made him sit up, then wrapped her arms around him, kissing him somewhat awkwardly while she scrubbed at his back. Getting him to stand, she scrubbed the parts the water had covered, then urged him back down again, rinsing and using the sponge to trickle water over his body. Midway through her task, he stole the brown sponge from her.
Against her protests, he lathered it up again and scrubbed her in turn from neck to toes, shus.h.i.+ng her mouth with kisses. Catching on to his silencing scheme, Rachel mumbled a few more protests, making him kiss her again. The water had turned too murky to rinse with, but she had antic.i.p.ated that. Standing, Rachel urged Steve to his feet, and with his help, lifted the final milk bucket over both their heads. It was still full of hot, clean water. Steve helped her pour it over both of them for a rinse while the tub drained at their feet.
Steve laughed when the last of the water was done dripping out of the can. ”We still have soap on our bodies. I think we'll need to risk a brief shower.”
Rachel nodded. It was now late; if any of the other guests had taken a shower, there might not be much hot water left, but it also shouldn't be a strain on the generator to siphon some from the tanks. Letting him pull the curtain into place, she turned and worked with the faucet, waiting until warm water spilled forth. The position left her bent over at the waist. She didn't know why she was surprised when he grasped her hips, but she was. Pleasantly, at least.
The sight of her stooped over like that excited him. Being bathed had been more sensuous, like a backrub, but this was just too s.e.xy to resist. Swaying closer, Steve teased her flesh with his own. He didn't have a condom handy, so he wasn't going to penetrate her...mostly wasn't going to penetrate her...she pushed back, slotting him into position, then into place with a soft, feminine groan. A spasm of l.u.s.t twitched through his entire body. Gritting his teeth, he held back, held himself still within her.
”Rachel...I'm not wearing a condom,” Steve managed to warn her.
”We're getting married in less than ten days,” she reminded him, grinning over her shoulder. ”I won't tell if you won't!”
”Well, since not even the worst blizzard in the history of the whole Midwest would stop me from marrying you,” he conceded, pulling out almost all the way before pus.h.i.+ng back in again, nice and slowly, ”I think we can keep our mouths shut.”
She turned off the tub faucet again to conserve the hot water; they could always rinse off after making love, but not if they ran out first. From the slow pace he was setting, she figured they'd definitely run out of hot water if she left the taps open. Not that slow was a bad thing...but it was getting cold in the bathroom without the shower running. Changing her mind, Rachel stood up, letting him slip free. Turning, she silenced his wordless protest with a kiss, looping her arms around his shoulders. ”Let's finish rinsing off, then get dirty in bed, under the nice, warm covers.”
As much as he wanted to just take her, Steve conceded not only the increasing chill in the air, but also the slipperiness of their location. Kinky was only okay if it didn't lead to a broken neck, in his book. ”Alright. Rachel...I've been thinking,” Steve added as she turned on the taps and lifted the lever for the shower head. ”I kind of miss the way we used to, you know, court each other. Not that I'm aiming to be spoiled or anything, but I liked you pampering me just now, and I liked doing it to you last night.”
Turning to face him, Rachel let the hot water rinse any lingering soap from her back. ”I liked it, too. I missed doing things like that.”
He nodded. ”That's what made me think. What if we set aside one weekend each month, or a weeknight, whatever works with the rest of our schedule...and just make sure to pamper each other on that day?”
Considering the idea, Rachel finished was.h.i.+ng off the soap, then s.h.i.+fted out of his way so he could rinse himself, too. ”It's not a bad idea at all. But I'd rather spend one day on one of us, and the other day on the other person-the one being lavished with love can reciprocate if they want on their day, but it's their day.”
”'Lavished with love,'” Steve repeated over his shoulder, twisting under the spray. ”I like the sound of that. And a day apiece, that's good. Nothing too extravagant-we live in Iowa, so no buying either of us a yacht,” he teased, making her laugh. ”But little things, we can do that. Things we can do around the needs of the Inn. And we could even s.p.a.ce it out every few weeks between the two of us. Say, you get the first and I get the sixteenth of each month?”
Rachel thought about it as she twisted off the taps again. ”No, that runs up against New Year's Day. That conflicts with our wedding, which is supposed to be about both of us. How about the fifteenth and the thirtieth? That way, it's separate from any possible holidays or anniversaries, and makes the days in question ours alone for a celebration.”
Stepping out of the tub, Steve fetched a large towel from the stack on the shelves in the corner and enfolded her in it with a hug, before fetching one for himself. ”I like it. The fifteenth and thirtieth it is. And you get the thirtieth, so I can spoil you before our wedding day.” He paused, then added quietly, looking off to one side, ”I wish we could still afford a big wedding, then I could've spoiled you on that day, too.”
Tucking her finger under his chin, Rachel turned his gaze to her. ”I'm marrying you. That's the important thing. If we can survive tornadoes and mortgages and once-a-century blizzards-and we have-then the rest of our lives will be good, and that's all I could ask for. So long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Steve ducked his head, kissing the tip of her finger. ”I don't deserve you, woman.”
”Every fifteenth of the month, you will,” she returned, grinning. ”Now, dry off so the important bits don't freeze before we can get into bed. I'm still in the mood to start a family with you, mister!”
”Yes, ma'am!” Grinning back, he complied.
CROCHETING IN THE LIGHT OF THE FOUR VOTIVE CANDLES she had brought upstairs with her, Ca.s.sie blinked sleepily. The infant-sized jumper suit was almost done. Just a few more rows to finish the collar, and she'd be finished. Which was just as well, since she was almost out of pink yarn in the skein she had brought.
Pink.
Blinking again, this time to clear the sleep from her eyes, she grinned and crawled out of the quilt-covered bed. Padding out of her room, jumper and skein wadded in one hand, a candle in its gla.s.s holder carried in the other for illumination, she tapped lightly on the door across the hall from hers with a knuckle. Bella opened it after a moment, one of her dark brown eyebrows arched in silent inquiry. Still grinning, Ca.s.sie lifted the jumper into view, displaying it to her longtime friend.
For a moment, Bella squinted in confusion. Then her brow cleared, her eyes widened, and she smiled as well. Tipping her head to the left, she indicated Mike's door, there at the end of the hall. A nod and Ca.s.sie moved over to that panel, rapping quietly on the painted wood. It opened after a moment. Lifting the votive holder and the nearly finished jumper, Ca.s.sie displayed it to him as well.
He grinned and nodded, speaking softly. ”Everything will be taken care of on my end. Don't worry. Just keep up your own work. I trust the snow will end in time for us to get going.”
Ca.s.sie nodded, clutching the pink jumper to her chest with that same pleased smile. ”Everything will work out, I'm sure of it.”
”When does it not?” Bella murmured from the doorway of her room. ”Good night, you two.”
SOME OF THE SNOW HAD SWIRLED INTO THE TRENCH BETWEEN the farmhouse and the barn, and some of the snow had swirled away from the house, reducing the six feet of snow in the drifts around them to about five and a half. But it was still pa.s.sable when Steve slogged through the knee-high powder and wind-blown flakes on his way to help Pete with the morning's milking. The air was still bitingly cold, too, threatening to freeze him from nostrils to lungs with each cautious breath.
He wanted to be back in bed with his wife-to-be, but tending animals was a responsibility, with cattle to milk and chickens to feed. He did allow thoughts of last night's unfettered coupling to keep him warm, since the wind was blowing hard. Of how deliciously naughty it had felt to enter her without any protection...of how she had laughed at one point during a position s.h.i.+ft when he complained about the cold drafts down his back, since the covers had also s.h.i.+fted.
Opening the barn door, he stepped inside, and heard an unexpected sound. The lowing of the girls in their stalls was joined by the bleating, higher bawl of a calf. Blinking, Steve closed the door behind him. There, in Ellen's stall on the other side of the barn, was a newborn calf! And a very tired but pleased-looking Pete, seated on a stool as he fed the hungry thing from the oversized baby bottle of colostrum they had collected.
The slats of the stall were angled wrong for Steve to tell if it was a future bull or heifer. Joining the younger man, he saw the gender. ”A boy. Ah, well.”
”Something you don't need in a dairy herd. Not when it's the offspring of one of these ladies,” Pete agreed. ”It's hard not to get attached to 'em when they're newborns. A girl, you could've kept. What'll you do with him?”
Steve always hated this part, but he knew he had to be practical. They had room for six cows, in the count of the stalls and the milking machine stations in the dairy; if the calf had been a heifer, they could've kept her. ”Same as the last one, I guess. Raise to the point of weaning, then sell for veal, and keep the stomach for the rennet.”
”Rennet?” Pete asked, curious.
”The stomach lining of a milk-fed calf has enzymes that help turn milk into cheese,” Steve informed him. ”A lot of the enzymes are vegetable-based these days, and we mix it in, but there's no sense in wasting the calf rennet, either. Didn't you ever read the Laura Ingalls Wilder books when you were going up?”
”Nope; I was more into books with talkin' animals. I figured you'd raise him for veal,” Pete replied, getting back to the subject. He scratched the top of the calf's head. ”That's why I resisted naming him. This is the part about dairy farming I don't like. The rest of it, I do. Much more than pig farming.
”I've been thinking, out here at night,” he added, adjusting his grip on the bottle, tilting it higher so the calf could suckle the remaining milk. ”I think I should go back to my uncle's place and hire on as a hand. He's always been grateful for the help in the summers. Joey's turning into a real good plumber, an' Dave's got an offer in the works for the garage of the dealers.h.i.+p in the next town. It's time I did something with my own life, rather than just drift an' make trouble. An' I'm sorry I came here to make trouble for you an' Miz Rutherford. I shouldn't have done it.”
”I think you just finished growing up, Pete,” Steve observed softly. ”And your apology is accepted. It takes a man to admit when he's been wrong. Anyone who can't do it is still just a boy, no matter how many years under his belt.” From the shy smile Pete gave him, Steve knew his compliment had driven home. ”But I'm not too sorry you three came out here. Dave helped with the generator, Joey with the plumbing, and now you with the calf. Was it a hard birth?”
”Breech, like you thought; her lowing woke me up,” Pete admitted. ”But it was easy enough to scrub up, reach in, and turn 'im around.” He paused and laughed. ”I almost went up to th' house to wake you up, make a city-educated boy like yourself learn how do it...but I thought of all that sloggin' through the snow you did yesterday, gettin' the spark plugs an' such, an' I didn't have the heart to wake you so early. Besides, it was an easy turnin' to do.”
A yawn followed his words. Steve took pity on him. ”Why don't you finish up with the calf, then go on back to bed for a nap? I'll do the milking and the mucking, then wake you up when it's breakfast time.”
Pete smiled at him. ”I'll take that offer. This little boy's almost done, anyway. Darn near drained Mama dry when he first latched on, too, so I thought I'd offer him what was in the bottle.”
Nodding, Steve went to work.
THE WINDS CONTINUED TO SCOUR DOWN THE DRIFTS OF snow, but at least more didn't seem to be coming down from the thinning clouds in the sky. At the rate it was vanis.h.i.+ng, somewhat slower than it had arrived, Rachel figured the roads should be reasonably drivable by Christmas morning. They couldn't get out to church for Sunday services, but that was alright, in a way; Ca.s.sie found a book of hymns in the small, family-style library the Inn boasted, and coaxed the others into singing carols with her. It filled the old farmhouse with joy and tranquility, that eight people, three with diverse faiths, could enjoy such a simple yet uplifting task together while they waited for the last of the storm to abate. And with the drifts gradually blowing away, they'd be able to go into town for Christmas services.
Mike suggested it to the others, in fact, the afternoon of Christmas Eve. After peering out at the rumpled, shrinking mound that was Joey's half-undug truck, he came back to the others. ”I think,” the dark-skinned man stated with a smile, ”that we will all be able to go to your church tomorrow morning.”
”'We'?” Joey asked, arching a brow his way. ”Ain't you a Muslim?”
”Yes, but we do honor Christ in our own way. His birth is worthy of celebrating.” Mike looked at Bella, who shrugged.
”I'm willing to admit he was special, even if I don't know personally if he was the Messiah my people prophesied, or merely a prophet of G.o.d.” She looked at Ca.s.sie. They all looked at her. The faiths of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all shared common beliefs at their foundation, but Buddhism was different.
”What?” the vivacious blonde asked, glancing at the others in the front parlor. ”There's nothing in the writings that say I cannot also revere Christ. Buddhism is an addition to one's faith. Besides, between Joey and Steve's trucks, and our Bug, we can make it just fine, I'm sure of it. And it'll be nice to interact with other people,” Ca.s.sie added. ”As nice as we've all been to each other, it'll make an equally pleasant change.”