Page 45 of Anchored

The night was going so well. Hearing that woman’s name is like nails on a chalkboard. Then again, to the entire town, we’re engaged. The least I can do to make Maple feel comfortable here is to tell her the full history of me and my ex.

“We should never have gotten married in the first place. I was still getting my doctorate while also working at a hospital part-time to get work experience. We’d just dated for so long, it seemed like the natural next step. She was hinting around that she didn’t want to wait for me to finish school, and since she followed me to Atlanta, I guess I felt like I need to propose.” I shrug, thinking back on that time and wishing I could shout at myself to let her go.

Maple’s thumb sweeps back and forth on mine. “That sounds…manipulative.”

I bark out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I see that now. But it was fine for a little bit. Life didn’t change much. Except she kept pushing for more of my time when I didn’t have it to give. To punish me, she’d go out with girlfriends without me and I was never quite sure who she was with.” I scrub my hand across my face. “She was probably right. I wasn’t an attentive husband.”

Maple lets go of my hand and swivels toward me, grabbing my shirt in both hands and tugging me closer. She has a fierce look on her face that catches my entire attention. “No, don’t do that. Don’t place blame on yourself when it was clearly a her problem.”

“It’s kind of hard to think it’s not my problem when even my mom sided with her.”

Maple’s mouth drops open and her eyebrows both pinch and lift at the same time. “That’s ridiculous! Macy Bechtol has always been a mean girl, and it sounds like she never grew out of it.”

I kind of like this overprotective side to Maple. “Would it make you madder if I told you she made me feel less than because of my ADHD? She kept yelling at me for forgetting things. It was almost like she liked to see me flounder, like my inability to keep up with things just proved her right. That I was a mess and I needed her to function.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Maple growls, eyes narrowing.

With my chest overflowing with an emotion I can’t place, I cup her face and kiss her. I kiss her for protecting me. I kiss her for the thoughtful journal. I kiss her for trying to help me instead of pointing out all my flaws. I kiss her because I’m starting to feel the lines blur between what’s real and what’s fake for Grandma Gracie’s sake.

A cheer goes up from the crowd as someone throws something on the fire to make sparks dance up into the night sky. We break apart, but don’t let go of each other.

“If you were mine, I would never make fun of your ADHD.”

I believe every word. She’s already proven to be a better person than my ex-wife. My thumbs sweep across her smooth cheeks. “If you were mine, I’d never cheat on you.” Referring, of course, to Dexter the Dick, her own menace of an ex.

Maple smiles and it’s like the sun has come back out over the lake. Her voice is barely a whisper, so low I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear her. “You know, secret bonfires aren’t all that fun when we could be back home double penetrating.”

The grin is instantaneous. I jump off the log and haul her up with me. She’s giggling as we race away from the bonfire, retracing our steps back to the cabin. I recount lines from the alien romance book as we hurry back home, each more ridiculous than the last, but it’s worth it to hear Maple’s laughter filling the air.

Mookie greets us, indignant that we left her. A few doggie treats is enough to have her retreating to my bedroom where I’m sure I’ll find a stinky present later. But that doesn’t matter because Maple’s stripped off every last layer of clothing while I got out the treats. She’s short, but her legs are long and lean. Her hair is even wilder from the quick walk home in the humid air. I can’t wait to sink my fingers into it and hold her exactly where I want her.

“You’re overdressed,” she purrs, looking me up and down. Her hands skim over her breasts and down her waist. One hand dips between her legs. A buzzing noise fills my ears and I can’t seem to look away.

A growl slips out of my mouth. I jerk into action, getting rid of clothing as quickly as I can. I say something about needing a shower first, but Maple pulls me down onto the blankets anyway.

“I like my aliens salty.”

It takes less than two seconds before I find myself between her beautiful legs and slide home, both of us groaning at the feeling of being connected. Maple hooks her feet behind my back and wraps her arms around my neck. With her lips at my ear, she whispers, “I take it back. I only like one cock.”

I shiver and then unleash, giving her everything I have with my one cock until she screams my name. I’m right behind her, falling, tumbling, losing myself in this woman.

ChapterSeventeen

Maple

My laptop gives a satisfying snap when I close it for the day. A concerned musician, whose most recent song just hit the top ten on the billboards this week reached out about her mini labradoodle peeing at inopportune times. Emergency sessions are quite pricey and this lady didn’t bat an eye at my fee, so I gladly took the session while Holt went for a long run.

I spent most of the session informing the human client about walking schedules and letting the poor thing out to pee at regular intervals. I was as gentle as I could be, but I was fuming inside about people adopting pets and then not giving them the time and attention they deserved.

My head falls back against the couch and I stretch out my tired limbs. Between our workouts together and our extracurricular activities at night, I’m not getting as much sleep as I’m used to. Believe me, I’m not complaining. A grin spreads across my face, thinking about the alien romance Holt’s reading. He’s just so much fun. Full of life and open to possibilities.

Dexter was the opposite. Despite being a hardcore yogi, which I thought would make him flexible in life along with his body, he was the opposite. He was so rigid in his ideas that he was quite miserable to live with. Too loud of laughter was just as taboo as loud arguing. His environment had to be zen at all times, to the point of making me feel like I had to tiptoe around our apartment together. And I did. Literally tiptoed in my own damn apartment. I accommodated him, just like I always accommodated my family.

My gaze falls on the stack of books on the end table that Grandma handed off to Holt the other day. Most of them are romances, but one in particular on the bottom of the stack catches my eye. It has a faded brown leather spine. Certainly there are no Fabios on that cover. I stand up and head over, moving the romances to get to the leather-bound book. I smooth my hand over the almost glossy finish, like this leather has been touched daily for years. My heart begins to hammer against my ribs. This looks like…a journal.

I flip it open to the first page and see Grandma’s pretty cursive declaring the diary as hers. The date written beneath her name makes my breath catch.1963.

The cabin door bangs open and a deliciously sweaty Holt fills the doorway. His abs flex and expand with each heaving breath. Mookie’s tongue hangs out the side of her mouth. She sploots to the wood floor immediately over the threshold, pooped out from the run. She doesn’t even wait for Holt to unhook the harness or put a bowl of water in front of her. She just lays her little head down and looks at me with round, pathetic eyes.

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