Sassafras, Part 34

Joan


I reached around and pulled the covers back over his shoulder, and he woke up. He looked around the room then smiled and pulled me up next to him. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," I answered, suddenly feeling very shy. He touched my cheek, turning my head towards his, and kissed me. Then he rolled back over, pulling me on top of him, and kissed me again. The whiskers on his chin scratching lightly across my cheek made me shiver.

“What time is it?” he asked.

I looked at the clock. “About 10 till 6.”

“Damn,” he said, his hands sliding down my back. “I’ve got to go. I wish we had more time.” I kissed him and felt his arms wrapping around me. He buried his face in my neck and took a deep breath. I felt his chest expand beneath me and grabbed his side for support. Suddenly he was squirming and pushing me away. I looked at him in surprise. He was smiling, his hands held up between us.

“You’re ticklish!” I squealed.

“No,” he protested, but I was able to reach my hand over and run my finger along his ribs, sending him into another squirming fit before he was able to grab my hand and hold it away from him.

“You are ticklish!” I laughed and reached over with my other hand before he could stop me and tickled him unmercifully. We wrestled for a few minutes before he was able to get on top of me and pin my hands down on either side of my pillow. He leaned down and kissed me, then let go of my hands and casually ran his hand down my side. I was enjoying the kiss so much I never expected a sneak attack until he began tickling me.

We were laughing and giggling, then kissing again. I felt the little tiger inside stretch and start to purr. “Do you really have to go?” I asked him.

“I really have to. I wish I didn’t. I could get used to this.” He kissed me, then started sitting up. He stretched his arms up over his head and arched his back. I lay there watching his muscles move back and forth, wishing he wasn’t leaving. He picked up his clothes and got dressed. I threw on my pajamas and followed him to the living room. I asked if he would like some coffee, but he said he didn’t have time.

While he was putting on his shoes I looked at my list from last night sitting on the table. I was going to find out what happened to my sister. Maybe I could find out something from the people that came to the wake today. I wanted to go to Tanner's and talk to that bartender again, but I knew if I mentioned that to Rick he would try to talk me out of it. I didn't know why he was so worried. I survived 8 years in New York; I could survive one more night at Tanner's.

When he stood up and walked to the front door I followed him and put my arms around him. He leaned over and kissed me. “You don’t have your coat,” I said. It was still laying on the floor. I brought it over to him and gave him a kiss. After he put on his coat I gave him another kiss and wrapped my arms back around him, smelling a mixture of him and leather and a hint of his cologne that was lingering on his coat.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, running his hands across my back and kissing me.

“I know,” I said, kissing him back.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, pulling me close.

“At least you’ll die happy,” I answered, then sighed and let him go. “Okay, fine, leave. Go to work. Will I see you again tonight?”

“Yes,” he said. “If I have to dig a tunnel all the way here.”

“Okay, Colonel Hogan. You’d better get back to the stalag.” I stood in the doorway watching him walk to his car. While I stood there I looked at the front of Jenny’s car and thought about what Rick said about the damage to the front of it. How long had it been like that? I couldn’t imagine Billy running over his mother. On the other hand, I remembered what Detective Sneider said about whoever did it might have been drinking. Billy had been drunk last night when he came home. What if he got drunk and took his mom’s car for a joyride that night? Maybe that was why she was walking in front of Scott’s. If she walked out of Tanner’s and saw her car drive past she would have followed it. Maybe he tried to drive past her and she jumped out in front of him to make him stop but he was drunk and didn’t see her until it was too late, or hit the gas instead of the break or something. After all, he didn’t even have his driver’s license. Would the police have looked at Jenny’s own car?