Page 30 of Miles. Alton & The 9:04 (Modern Mail Order Brides #19)

T hom Brown wasn't a man who colored inside the lines of the box. He saw the box. He would even acknowledge the existence of said box, but nowhere in his spirit did he feel it necessary to remain confined to the containers.

Mae pulled cookies from the oven fifteen minutes before her husband was due to arrive home.

Dinner was ready and sitting on the stove in the orange cookware, warming on the burners.

The cookies, taken from the baking sheets and neatly spaced on cooling racks, sat on the counter to greet her man when he came in the door.

However, today, Thom came through the back door fifteen minutes early.

Wearing a comfortable dress and a pair of sandals, Mae usually tried to freshen up a bit before he arrived home.

She turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb, watching her pluck yellow leaves from plants she'd over-watered. The look on his face made her stop what she was doing. The dusty, sandy, brownish, almost blond hair sat askew on his head and the green eyes bore into her.

“Thom, is everything okay?”

“No,” he said, moving towards her. “I haven’t been able to get shit done all day. All I keep thinking about is you.”

“Me?” she said smiling, “Tell me, Mr. Brown, what you've been thinking.”

“Mary, would it be okay if I simply showed you where my mind has been?” he asked, moving closer.

Mae smiled at him, putting down her snips and removing her gloves. She nodded to him, wondering where his mind had taken him today which made him leave work early.

“Oomph,” was also she could utter as Thom lifted her in his arms. Strong hands held her close to his body, wrapping her legs about his hips as he took a slow stroll down the hall to the master bedroom.

Thom placed her feet on the floor while his right hand removed her panties and the left hand took off the dress.

She wasn't sure what magic act he used to get off her bra, but she was bare before him, unashamed of her nudity, excited about what came next.

Before she knew it, they were on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

Mae didn't know how the man managed to get out of his clothes so fast, but he was nude, his hands were everywhere, and her body responded.

She'd learned with Thom, the man didn't simply have sex.

Thom Brown made love with his entire body.

He used his thighs to shift her body into positions and angles her yoga instructor would admire.

Strong fingers pressed into her hips, raising them slightly as he plunged deep.

His shoulders shifted her body to any position that allowed him to go deep into her love.

“Good grief,” Mae cried out, holding onto him.

His mouth came to hers, his tongue in a mating dance with her own, teasing, taunting, tasting. He withdrew his hips, using long, even strokes, undulating each time before coming back to her. Mae felt herself tightening around him.

“With me, Mary,” he whispered in her ear while his lips worked feverishly against her skin with hot kisses, making her cry out in pleasure.

The wave of orgasmic joy hadn't ended when Thom flipped Mae to her belly, shoving a pillow under her abdomen.

He braced his arms on either side of her as he assumed a pushup position and began again with long, deep strokes.

Mae's toes curled into the bedding, her hands fisting the sheeting as she gnawed on the pillow where she'd buried her face to keep from screaming out in sheer delight.

He could feel the second start of her climb, and he leaned forward, demanding, “With me, Mary.”

She didn't argue with the man. Mae moaned through her second release, raising her hips to meet each of the deep thrusts. Her legs shook through the second orgasm. Her mouth was dry from the panting as he rolled her to the side, raising her leg, plunging deep.

“My goodness,” she said aloud, wanting more of the sweet torment. “More, Thom. More.”

He didn't disappoint. Calloused hands roamed over her body, cupping her breast, squeezing the nipple, and eliciting a soft mewl from her lips.

The mewl wasn't enough. His hand clamped down in the nipple as he rolled Mae to her back, one leg on his shoulder, the strokes were deep, and Mae simply closed her eyes to enjoy all the feels.

“Bring me with you, Mary,” he pleaded as his hips worked.

Mae gave as good as he was giving, meeting each stroke, rolling her right thigh, catching Thom unaware.

Her nails razed his back creating goosebumps on his skin.

His eyes grew wide when Mae flexed her inner muscles, clamping down on him while she did a wiggle.

“Well, damn,” he said, pumping his hips, thrusting hard, emptying the frustrations of his day, connecting with his wife, and finally spent, collapsing on top of her.

Thom never spoke much during these times between them.

Outside of knowing when she was getting there and his innate ability to help her reach her goal, he said little.

These times between them for Mae were almost magical.

Thom made her feel precious and cared for, but he was also a beast, not taking the easy road and working for an idealistic ending for them both.

He curled Mae into a ball, spooning behind her. His hand rested on her bare hip as his thumb gently stroked the warm skin. A gentle kiss went to her shoulder as he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said softly, enjoying the postcoital bliss.

Several moments passed before he said, “Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Were those cookies I saw on the counter?”

“Hmm, hmm, walnut chocolate chip,” she said.

“I like those,” he said, softly, kissing her shoulder again. “Did I also see glazed carrots? The little baby ones?”

“Hmm, hmm, along with roasted broccoli and pan seared pork chops and caramelized onions with a balsamic glaze,” she replied.

The silence came again as he sighed deeply. “I'm torn, Mary; honestly I am. It would be rude to not get up and dine on such a lovely meal, but it would also be remiss of me to not give you this Round Two because you know, you deserve to be loved right by your man.”

“I’m torn as well,” Mae replied. “Was that some of what you said you’ve been holding for your wife? If so, don’t hold back anymore. I feel like curling up and sucking my thumb.”

He burst into laughter as his stomach growled like a bear. She'd sent her husband a decent lunch to work with him this morning, but after loading and unloading luggage, passengers, and dealing with Pearlie Mae, a man came home on E.

“Fine. Food it is. My man also deserves a good meal and at least two of those cookies,” she told him. “I made extras for you to take some to Pearlie Mae and Joe at the station.”

“Nope,” he said. “You're not going to start spoiling those two knuckleheads, and they are going to be bugging me about the next time you're making cookies. Nope. Not on my watch, Mrs. Brown.”

He groaned as he rolled over, not wanting to end the embrace, but needing sustenance. Slowly, they made their way to the kitchen. Mae plated the meal, which had been kept warm on the burners, and they shared the simple dinner. She wanted to talk to him about the weekend.

“Not much to talk about,” he said. “We turn in the car, pick up the rental truck, and load in your stuff. We pack up your apartment into the rental truck, back it into the fence in the parking garage so no one can get in it, and then we head to your folks’ place for an uncomfortable ass dinner and then come home. ”

“You make it sound so simple,” she said, pushing the carrots around on her plate.

“It is simple, Mary.”

“Baby, my folks. You just don't know them and how they can be,” she said.

“And your folks don't know me and how I can be,” he said, offering her a smile. “Listen, I got me. I know me well, and I know where my lines are. I also understand you and the delicate balance. I got you as well, which means I have us.”

“You have us,” she repeated.

“Your father will either accept me as the man in your life, or he will exist as the man on the outside of yours,” Thom said. “I'm not going to ask you to choose between us because you've already chosen. The task is to find a middle ground. He's not ready for me.”

“Thom, I married you, and I'm not ready for you,” she said, laughing.

“And you know this, my love,” he said with a wink. “Relax. I've got you.”

****

M AE DIDN'T KNOW EXACTLY what that meant until they reached the dealership to return her vehicle.

A phone call came for Thom, who stepped away from the leasing office and the sales agent from Hell as Mae attempted to turn in the keys.

She wasn't interested in leasing another vehicle, and she didn't purchase any additional mileage.

It should have been cut and dry; however, the salesman, attempting to pressure Mae into another vehicle, didn't want her to return the keys.

He made several attempts to show her the latest model with the newest features, although she'd told him no several times.

“Hold on a minute, LeBeau,” Thom said into the line.

His wife's body language indicated distress.

He stepped into the office and looked at the man, the keys on the desk and Mae's face.

“The vehicle is under the mileage, there is no excessive wear and tear, and she didn't buy any additional miles. What is the issue?”

“No issue. I was simply trying to show her the latest model,” the salesman said.

“Did she ask to see the latest model?”

“Well, no,” the salesman said.

“Then, allow her to sign what needs to be signed and take the keys so we may leave,” Thom said.

“But...”

“But what? She’s not interested in another lease. We're done here,” Thom said, “and furthermore, when a lady tells you no, it is not the opening line for you to start negotiating. She said no, and it means no. Mary, are you ready?”

“Ready,” she said, rising.

Thom went back to his call while leading her out the door to an awaiting town car. A burly man with a beard down to his belly stood beside the car and opened the door for Thom. He provided a hearty shake as he helped Mae inside the town car.

“Car service?” she asked.

“Curly here drives Mateo and Claypool around when they are in town,” he said. “I also brought him a jar of Aunt Sue's pickles that he loves, so we get to use his service for a few bucks and some delightful dills. It's not what you know, but who you know.”

“I'll remember that,” Mae said as the man looked in the rear-view mirror.

“Thom Brown, you ole alley cat, who have you got back there with you?” Curly said.

“Curly, this is my wife, Mary. Mary, please meet Larry Curly Mortensen, a bass player whose hands gave up on him before the music did,” Thom said.

“I still have a song in my heart,” Curly said and started to sing an old bluesy song that sounded familiar, but with a few touches from Curly. Thom joined in with the man as if it were a thing they did every weekend as he pulled up to the moving rental company.

Thom passed along the jar of pickles and a few bills and thanked the man.

Curly asked if they would need him again for the weekend, and Thom told him it was a quick turnaround.

Passing out bear hugs, Thom said farewell to an old pal who watched them as they went inside, securing a fifteen-foot truck when Mae explained she had a storage unit in the basement with a few items she'd purchased for the home she'd yet to buy, but she had a perfect place for now.

Arriving at the apartment, Thom wanted to get started. They began at the storage unit. He smiled when he spotted the dining room set along with the china cabinet. He understood why she never mentioned buying one. The seats of the chairs were covered in a peachy toned fabric with blue accents.

“Ahh, makes sense now,” he said, loading in the items.

As he'd mentioned before, he placed a lock on the tailgate of the truck, backed it to the fence, and carried the boxes to the apartment. He arrived at the door at the same time the delivery driver did with a deep-dish pizza and two salads.

“Food,” he said with a wink.

In between slices of pie, Thom made boxes.

Mae used a large marker to label each carton as she packed up her life in Chicago to move it to Alton where her heart already resided.

Her brother Jae would come in the morning to help Thom load the heavier items and one last night in her apartment, then she was moving on, but first, they had to get through the dinner with Mae’s family.