Page 30 of The Marine's Homecoming

"I need to talk to you about the permits for the main stage area and the vendor corridor. We're running up against the deadline and I need your signatures on the applications before end of week."

"End of week? I thought we had until the twentieth."

"The city clerk moved the timeline up. Something about overlap with another event permit." He pulls a folder from inside the car and holds it out to me. "I've already filled in what I can, but there are a few sections that need your authorization as the event chair."

I take the folder and flip it open. There are more pages than I expected, and half of them reference budget lines and vendor agreements I still need to review. My stomach tightens as I scan the numbers. Some of these figures run higher than what I approved, and new line items appear that I've never seen before. Something inside my chest feels tangled up, like he's trying to slip something past me. I don’t like it.

"I'll need to look these over before I sign anything." I close the folder and tuck it under my arm. If he thinks I'm just going to blindly get behind whatever he's doing, he's wrong. I'm no fool.

"Of course, but Hannah, time's a factor here. If we miss the window, we lose the permits entirely and that sets the whole festival back weeks."

His tone is polite but there's pressure underneath it. He's smiling, but his eyes are locked on mine, and I feel the walls of my carefully maintained control crumbling. I've been more than patient. I let him have as much control as he wanted, then I even gave him more. And it creeped me out when he tried to act overly friendly at the Easter parade. I'm not sure what his game is, but I’m pulling back until I do know. He's a nice man, and his money for the festival is helping me do something I could never do alone, but red flags are waving everywhere for me.

"I'll get them back to you by Thursday," I say, and I turn toward my car.

"Thursday would be cutting it close."

"Thursday, Mr. Dorsey."

I don't look at him, but I can imagine the scowl on his face as I walk away. "Thursday it is." He opens his car door and pauses."And Hannah, take care of yourself. You're looking a little peckish."

I watch him pull away from the curb and stand there on the sidewalk holding that folder against my chest. I'm one hundred percent certain that when my mother said to let others help me carry my load, she was not talking about that creepy man. What did I ever see in him that was so charming, I got instantly swept off my feet and charmed into letting him have his way with my festival?

As I climb into my car and head home, I find myself grateful that Calvin Dorsey isn't fifteen years younger and hitting on me, or I'd have made a much stupider mistake than having sex with Luke Maddox.

The rest of my day goes by in a whirlwind, working from home, signing the persistent Mr. Dorsey's contracts, and avoiding my emotions. And by the time I collapse into bed, the entire day's worth of worrying about Luke and this baby all catch up with me.

Exhaustion pulls me under almost immediately. My eyes close, my body sinks into the mattress, and everything fades until I'm sound asleep being bombarded by a dream again.

I stand on the shoreline where the festival grounds will take shape in a few weeks. The sea grass stretches out around me, and Luke walks toward me. His shoulders are set and his gaze locks on mine. When he reaches me, he stops close enough that I feel the warmth of his body. He lifts one hand and cups the side of my face, his thumb brushing slowly across my cheekbone.

"God, you're beautiful," he says, and I believe him. God, I believe so much that I want more with him, so much more.

"I'm afraid," I whisper, and a tear slips down my cheek which he brushes away.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart. I'll take care of you," he whispers before his lips brush mine. "You don't have to cry. I can help you."

I whimper against his lips because I need to hear him say those words. I'm desperate to feel safe with him, but I just don't. Flashes of Nick's face appear in my mind, pulling at me, but I choose Luke. I cling to him as he pulls me against his body and I won't look anywhere but his eyes.

He kisses me harder this time. His tongue slides against mine and I stop thinking. My hands push under his shirt. His skin is warm and I feel the muscle move under my palms. He yanks his shirt off, then mine. The air hits my bare skin as he lowers me down onto the sea grass and his mouth goes straight to my breast. When he sucks on my nipple I groan, and he keeps going, using his teeth just enough to make me squirm.

“You’re making me want you,” I tell him, and in the dream, somehow, I’m totally naked now, open to him and so vulnerable. I want it to be this way. I want to be exposed to him and safe at the same time.

“Good,” he says against my skin. “Because you’ve been making me want you for months.”

He moves lower and kisses my stomach where it’s just starting to curve. Both of his hands rest there. “This is mine too,” he says. “You and me and this kid. We're family now."

Part of me wants to believe him so badly, it hurts. The other part is still scared. “What if this is a mistake?” I ask. “What if I tell you everything and you leave anyway?” The dream snapsto some strange room where half the town is watching and I'm feeling exposed. They are angry with Luke, and Nick is sitting in the corner weeping.

But Luke looks up at me. “I could never leave you, Hannah. You're everything I want, and no one can take you from me."

I pull him back up and kiss him while the rest of the world fades away again, and we're back on the sand, lying in the surf as he settles between my legs, kissing me. I hear the crash of the water, it's so loud. And his lips make me feel like I'm drowning.

“Look at me,” he says as he moves between my thighs. His eyes stay on mine the whole time. "I'm in love with you, Hannah Marie Brooks." He pushes inside me in one slow thrust. I gasp and dig my nails into his back. He feels so good it almost hurts. It makes me forget why I’ve been running from him. His hand slips between us and his fingers rub right where I need it.

I hear him speak muffled words, but this time when I try to speak, nothing comes out. I moan and gasp and grunt, but I can't tell him I love him. It's like the words are tangled in my throat, unable to escape because fear of his being angry and fear of the town judging me force them back.

One minute, he's so gentle and the next, my body is coiling around him, spasming and jerking, and I am lost to any sensation but the release I feel rippling through my body.