Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Rebel Ink Press
Now available on Amazon.com, Amazon.com uk, Amazon.com de, Barnes and Noble, All Romance Ebooks, Manic Readers, Coffee Time Romance and more.
“Take your shirt off,” she said and he sat up, unbuttoned the shirt, and tossed it to the floor, leaving his white undershirt above his jeans. “That’s better.”
He settled onto the bed and her hands moved beneath the T-shirt, smooth and cool against his warmer skin. With gentle motions, she rubbed his back, the heels of both hands moving upward toward his shoulders, on either side of his spine. He sighed with contentment as she reached his shoulders and then used her thumbs to make a circular motion before descending back down to where she'd began. Beneath her touch, she could feel the taut muscles relaxing and she worked hard so that his tension drained away. There was nothing erotic about the back rub. It was therapeutic and eased some of his anxiety.
Caroline knew it would; she'd done this for him before on the terrible night when his mother died in a head-on collision out on the highway. He'd been sixteen, Caroline just fifteen.
“That feels so good,” he murmured, his face against his pillow. “Thanks, Caroline. You’re making me sleepy,”
“That’s the idea, babe.” The old endearment slipped out, unbidden. “Go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to miss this.”
Twenty minutes later, her fingers were almost numb but he was asleep, his breathing deep and even. Caroline pulled his shirt back down, and then, since he wouldn't know, she stroked his hair, her hand soft against his curls.
“Sleep well,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss his face.
Caroline extricated herself, moving with slow precision so she wouldn't disturb him. On tiptoe, she slipped out into the living room, then into the kitchen. Reid slept but when he awakened, he needed to eat and she thought she'd cook something hearty and hot. A hasty search of the cabinets yielded nothing but a box of single serving microwave macaroni and cheese, a few cans of soup, half a can of coffee, and a canned ham. She fared no better with the contents of the fridge, where a few cartons of instant pudding, a half-gallon of milk, and three packages of hot dogs looked small in the empty space.
Caroline didn’t want to leave though, in case Ross called. Perplexed by the dilemma, she sat down on the gold couch. On the floor, the old rotary dial black desk phone sat on top of a phone book. She flipped through the yellow pages, found a small grocery she didn’t remember that delivered, and wrote the number on the back of her right hand with a ballpoint pen.
With very quiet steps, she took her cell phone out to the stairwell and called in an order, then left the door ajar so she could listen for the deliveryman. Thirty minutes later, she paid the van driver and carried three bags of groceries into the apartment. Reid always slept with the radio or music playing so she turned on the stereo, low, the sound masking any noise from the kitchen. He had it tuned to an oldies station so she left it there, wishing she could listen to something current like Avril Lavigne or Beyonce. She peeked at him, smiled when she saw that he was still asleep, and then set to work.
When he woke three hours later, Caroline had a meal ready. She heard the springs creak on the bed and went to the bedroom door. Reid sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“Did I sleep very long,” he asked, grinning.
“You’ve been asleep for more than three hours. Do you feel better?”
He nodded. “The headache’s gone but I feel logger headed. I might be hallucinating, though.”
Alarm flared within. “Why?”
“I smell fried chicken.”
Caroline relaxed and let her smile show.
“The chicken is real. So are the mashed potatoes, cream gravy, corn, biscuits, and strawberry shortcake.”
Reid groaned.
“Those are all my favorites.”
“I know.”
“I know.”
“I haven’t been hungry.”
“I know, you told me.”
His grin broadened. “I’m starving now. It smells good. Let’s go eat.”
The table was set and his mismatched rummage sale reject dishes looked all right arranged around the platter of fried chicken. They sat down across from each other and he reached over the chicken, above the bowls and plates, to take her hand.
“I haven’t done this for a long time,” Reid said, hesitant. “But would you ask a blessing, please?”
Caroline bowed her head.
“Dear Lord, thank you for the food before us and thank you for the opportunity to be together. Be with Ross, Lord, and help him find his way home safely. In Jesus Name, Amen.”
“Amen,” he mumbled and began filling his plate.
She offered him a biscuit and then served herself.
Breaking bread with him again was like communion.
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