Page 70 of Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
In the middle of Katie’s panic attack, Jane noticed my surprise. “Aiden, haven’t you ever heard Katie sing? Oh, you’re in for a treat.” Then she grabbed Katie’s hand and pulled her toward the makeshift stage in the corner of the lounge.
With a hand firmly on her long-lost friend, Jane spoke into the mic. “Good evening, everyone. Welcome to Galyn’s karaoke night. If you’d like to try your hand at it, speak with Greg at the bar. He can sign you up. Now, some of you might remember Nellie Gallagher’s granddaughter, Katie, from when she’d visit here in the summers.” She raised their joined hands up high. “Well, here she is, come back to live with us. You might recall that flaming, curly hair of hers, or perhaps you remember her sharp tongue. Others may still be in awe of her legendary parade-float scandals.” If possible, Katie’s blush deepened. “But what I remember best about Katie is a voice that could make angels weep.”
She squeezed Katie’s hand. “Now, as a welcome-back present for me, Katie is going to sing for us tonight. Greg, play ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me.’” Jane turned to Katie. “It’s my favorite, and you still owe me for covering for you when we were twelve,” she said with a smile.
“Jane, not that one.” Katie’s whisper traveled through the microphone just as the first strains of the melody began.
Jane ducked out of the way and Katie was left standing in front of a live microphone. The lights dimmed while the spotlight illuminated her. She took a breath, her spine straightening, and began to sing about need and loneliness and settling for touch rather than love.
The crowd slowly started taking notice. Most were still talking, but a wave of rapt attention gradually swelled toward the apple-crate stage. I’d never heard a more heartbreakingly haunting rendition of that song. To the rest of the patrons, drinking and chatting with friends, it was simply a surprisingly on-key performance. They didn’t understand that Katie was baring her soul, exposing a yearning for love that seemed forever withheld.
It was too much, too intimate. I looked away from her, taking in the bar. She held the room spellbound. My atrophied heart lurched. I wanted nothing more than to turn off that damn song, pick up Katie, and carry her away somewhere safe, somewhere quiet where I could hold her and love her the way I’d always imagined.
When she stopped singing, the bar erupted in cheers. Katie laughed and took a very theatrical bow. How did no one notice the glassy sheen of tears in her eyes?
When she popped back up, she leaned into the mic and said, “And that, Jane, is how it’s done.” She tapped her chin, eyes raised to the ceiling. “Now, I seem to remember a certain waitress who spent many an evening when she was thirteen singing Kiss Me to her hairbrush while dancing in the mirror.”
A bar towel flew at Katie’s face, but she snatched it out of the air. “What? I thought that was what we were doing.” She turned to the bar. “Greg, can you play Sixpence None the Richer for our scowling waitress? Payback’s a bitch, sister. Get up here.”
The crowd snickered at the battle before returning to drinks and talk. Having successfully thrown the attention away from herself, Katie skirted the periphery of the room and quietly made for the door.
I stood to follow. Someone grabbed my arm, but I kept going. By the time I reached the street, though, she was gone.
I did the only thing I could—I followed her.
When I pulled up in front of her house, the lights were off. On the drive over, I’d tried to reason with myself, but my brain was a morass of conflicting impulses, incapable of coherent thought. I knew only one thing; I needed her.
As soon as I slammed the truck door and started walking up the steps, Chaucer’s deep, menacing bark reverberated through the house. I reached for the bell, but the door opened before I made contact. Katie was standing in the dark, silhouetted in the doorway.
I intended to chide her for driving when she shouldn’t have, to ask if she was all right. Instead, I stepped forward, took her in my arms, and found her lips with my own. She gasped at the suddenness and I took advantage, invading her mouth, sliding my tongue along her own. I put my hand at the back of her head and tilted so I’d have greater access to a mouth I needed like my next breath.
Kate
My arms slowly, tentatively crept around Aiden’s waist. His strength enveloped me. My fingers dug into the muscles of his back. I craved him with a mindless need that overwhelmed me. I felt lost and yet finally found. He leaned over and gathered me up into his arms, kicked the door closed, and took the stairs to my room, two at a time, without ever breaking the kiss.
He ducked under the low lintel into the bedroom. I didn’t want him to put me down. As my feet hit the ground, I strained on tiptoe not to lose the connection, but when his lips traveled across my cheek to kiss and lick behind my ear, my knees weakened and a moan escaped.
His big, warm hands pressed me close before running under my sweater, spanning my back. A moment later, he pulled the sweater up and over my head, throwing it clear. He leaned back and looked down at me in my plain white bra and jeans. I felt suddenly shy, wanting to cover his eyes, not wanting to see disappointment there, wanting to pretend for just a bit longer that he desired me, just me.
He slid the backs of his fingers along my ribs before lightly cupping my breast, his thumb gliding back and forth over the skin above my bra. My breathing grew shallow and my heart tripped. Was I really going to do this? He met my eyes, his thumb slipping lower to rub circles around the hardening tip he’d found hidden beneath the prim white cotton. My legs buckled.
The chill I’d felt just moments ago disappeared under his heated gaze. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He found his way under my bra, his roughened thumb rasping against me; a shiver ran through my body. “Let me touch you, Katie,” he said before leaning down to take my mouth once more.
In answer, I reached back, unhooked my bra, and let it fall to the floor. I could feel his smile against my lips. I forced my hands in between us so that I could unbutton his shirt. I was distracted, though, as he deftly unbuttoned my jeans and dragged both hands down my body. My pants puddled at my feet as he gripped my backside, pulling me up along the ridge of his straining jeans.
He walked me backward until I’d stepped free of my clothes, the back of my knees against the side of the bed. I tried again to unbutton his shirt, but then he simply pulled it over his head, still buttoned, and let it fall.
His chest was broad and muscled, a dusting of dark hair tapering to a thin line disappearing below the trim waist of his jeans. I ran my fingers over him, as he had me. His skin was hot, shuddering at my touch. I traced the lines of his abdominal muscles, his breath hot at my neck before he grabbed my thighs, picking me up and coming down hard onto the bed with me.
He slid a leg between mine, rubbing me in a way that made me come up off the mattress. “Shh,” he said before leaning forward and dipping his tongue into the hollow at the base of my throat. He dragged kisses down my body, stopping to swirl his tongue around my overly sensitive breasts.
I wanted him now, but he was having none of it. He seemed determined to fondle, kiss, lick, and bite every inch of my body. I was panting, bowing off the bed by the time I was finally able to loosen his jeans and drag them down his body with my feet.
I wrapped my legs around him, cradling him between my thighs. He was right where I wanted him. I lifted my hips in invitation, and he groaned. I reached over and opened my nightstand drawer, revealing a large, multicolored assortment of foil-wrapped condoms. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Okay, see, there’s a really good reason I have?—”
He shook his head and kissed me, reaching into the drawer. “Later.” He ripped open the package, and I helped, maybe a little too well. Before long, he was batting my hand away.
