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The Vacation

By: Jeanttesome



My wife and I finally decided to take the vacation we desperately needed. April and I had been working long hours and had seen very little of each other in the previous month, so we decided to spend a weekend away. 

It was February, close to Valentine's Day. We had once spent a few days in Henniker, New Hampshire, years earlier when we first met. We decided to return. The bed & breakfast was a tranquil place, romantic and remote. We left early on a Friday morning, taking our time on the drive. 

A little about April: she's 31 now, 5'3", with shoulder-length blond hair, brown eyes, and full lips. She's cute, and slim, with kind of full breasts and a beautiful rear end. 

We arrived sometime after 6 pm and checked in. As we walked into the lobby, a woman entered from a back room. It appeared that the back room was part of the living quarters of the B&B owner. The woman looked to be in her fifties, was friendly, and introduced herself as Linda, the owner of the inn. As we filled out the check-in card Linda told us about the B&B. She pointed out a building near the front of the inn that housed a large hot tub. We remembered the tub from our previous visit. In fact, it was one of the reasons we wanted to return to this particular place. Linda explained that there were plenty of towels in the rooms and not to forget to bring them with us if we decided to use the hot tub. She also said that if we wanted to use the fireplace her son David would fetch the firewood and start the fire for us. Strangely, Linda pointed out that we didn't need to be quiet during our stay, as there were only two other couples, both elderly, staying overnight and she had placed them in rear rooms. She then recommended some local restaurants and handed us our room key. 

April and I left the lobby and mounted the stairs to our room. The room was large, very cozy and well appointed, and had a large stone fireplace. The bed was a canopy type with off-white, hanging curtains. I think April was a little disappointed to see the bathroom only had a shower and not a bath. So we showered and changed and headed out for dinner. We stopped at the lobby and asked if the fire could be lit in a couple of hours, as we would be back from dinner. Linda assured me that David would have it going for us. We ate at an expensive restaurant that was crowded, but served delicious food. April and I had a couple of mixed drinks before dinner and a few afterwards. The alcohol went to our heads and we soon began to want some privacy. We surreptitiously stroked one another's legs under the table with our feet. 

After an eternity at the restaurant, we decided to head back for the inn and have a little fun in the hot tub. When we arrived at our room, a fire was blazing in the fireplace, warming and making the room even cozier. I changed into swim trunks and April put on her bikini--a little aqua blue number with a risqué thong bottom. We grabbed several towels on our way out. Upon entering the hot tub building we were enveloped by the warm, humid air. One wall of the room was glass, from floor to ceiling. Tiny Christmas bulbs were strung along this wall, reflecting in the glass, and provided the only light in the room. The huge hot tub steamed in the center of the room, covered with foam pads. We removed the pads and turned the tub on. The room filled with noise and bubbles rushed to the surface. I checked the water with my toes before climbing in. April did the same. 

We both sighed with pleasure as we submerged our bodies. Needless to say, it felt terrific. The water and bubbles instantly relaxed us. Within a minute, however, the door opened and I was disappointed to see that someone else would be joining us. I looked at the doorway and saw a young man, about 27, walking towards us. He introduced himself as David, the owner's son. We said hello to him and he asked if everything was OK in the room. April told him everything was great and he asked if we needed anything. I asked him if the inn sold wine, or if there was a package store nearby. David told us that they kept a supply of liquor inside the house for guests, but there would be a fee. We asked for a bottle of white wine and some glasses and David left. 

April teased me then by remarking that she couldn't believe how cute David was. He had tousled brown hair, hazel eyes, was slim and toned, and was wearing a white long-sleeved mock turtleneck and loose-fitting blue jeans. I just smiled and told her not to push her luck if she wanted to get laid, by me anyway. She smiled mischievously in return. A few minutes later David walked in with the bottle of wine, glasses, and a few more towels. April immediately stepped out of the tub and ran her hands through her hair to squeeze out the water. She casually walked in David's direction and I could see him looking her over. She then turned to smile at me, pivoting just enough to give David a quick, alluring view of her bare ass. She asked if he could pour her a glass of wine. David reached for a glass, filled it, and handed it over. Then my wife took a seat in a nearby chair and proceeded to initiate a conversation with this guy, as if they had been seated together for a long plane flight. I couldn't believe it. She asked him questions about the B&B, about what school he had attended, about Henniker. She asked with apparently real interest; his replies were suspiciously enthusiastic and friendly, I thought. 

After a few minutes of chatting, she asked the guy if he ever used the hot tub and he said that he sometimes went in at 11pm when he closed up the room. I noticed that it was already 10:30 so I spoke up, asking if we needed to be out by 11. David smiled and said no, he would be glad to come back after we left. April shocked me again by asking him if he would like to come back at 11 to have a glass of wine with us. David looked over at me and I shrugged and told him to bring another bottle of wine. He grinned and said he'd be back. April looked sheepish when she asked me if she shouldn't have teased him. I recovered a bit from my surprise at her impromptu performance and told her to have another glass of wine and relax. She told me again how cute she thought David was, and that it really turned her on to be so forward with him. I kind of knew that my wife liked to flirt, and it didn't bother me, so whatever. 

We started making out a little bit and I had another glass of wine and then I noticed that it was now ten minutes after 11. I was a bit relieved that David had decided not to show. We were out of the tub, sitting in lounge chairs when April got up to get the last of the wine. Then she abruptly turned and sat in my lap, straddling it. She was actually pouting that David hadn't shown up. I put a towel around her and hugged her. I was surprised to discover that I felt a little sad for her. She had really been looking forward to flirting with him. I told her it was time for us to get naked in bed and I slid her off me. She stood, and as we were grabbing the wine bottle and glasses, David walked in. He was carrying a huge tray with another bottle of wine, more glasses, and an assortment of cheeses and crackers. April told him, a little too hastily, that she was glad he showed because she thought he wasn't coming back. David looked at me and then back at April and smiled, saying that he had had to lock the house up and check on things as his mother had already gone to bed. 

I asked him if he was going to hang out with us and he hesitantly replied yes. I took a deep breath and poured myself more wine. April asked for another glass as she stepped into the tub, giving both me and David a great view of her strong legs and stunning backside. I had already had too much wine and was starting to feel kind of giddy. I gazed in amazement at my beautiful wife. In all our years together I had never before seen her so calculating and confident, and yet she maintained an appearance of graceful, innocent, nonchalance. 

She leaned luxuriously back into the tub, her arms outstretched along its walls, her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her bikini top. I poured her glass of wine and David handed it to her. I watched as she reached up for it with one hand, and lightly grasped his other hand, as if to help him with his balance. David stepped away and poured himself a glass. It was with that small touch, I think, that all pretense dissolved. The three of us made small talk for several minutes, but I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest and April's casual movements in the water began to look more seductive. Maybe it was just an effect of the wine. I stood up from my chair to clear my head and sat at the edge of the tub with my legs immersed. I nodded my head at the water and asked David if he was going in. He looked over at me and I just shrugged my shoulders. Then he walked to where he had put the towels. 

I momentarily caught April's glance and tried to read her thoughts. Her lips puckered slightly. Was she blowing me a kiss? David pulled out a pair of swim trunks and walked over to a far corner. We both watched as he pulled off his turtleneck. I could see the muscles flexing in his back as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off. He was wearing white boxer shorts, and then a moment later his ass was bare. In the low light his nude body looked carved from marble. Michelangelo's David, I thought wryly. He quickly put on his swim trunks, but I'm sure April caught a glimpse of his heavy balls as he leaned over to put them on. David stepped in the tub and April moved over to be directly in front of him as he sat in the water. He let out a sigh as he relaxed. We chatted about everything from tourists to summer at the inn. I realized the tension of the situation was dissipating. We spoke and laughed freely. I liked the guy. I couldn't help but notice how frequently David's eyes were drawn to my wife, however. 

With the ice effectively broken, I decided to dare April to play a little. I felt good, and really aroused. When April looked over at me, sitting on the edge of the tub, I winked at her and she seemed to get my cue. She gradually slid from her seat, sinking a bit deeper into the water as she moved to the center of the tub. As the conversation continued she lightly, almost imperceptibly, began to touch David's leg. He began to stare intently at April as he spoke, mesmerized by her fingertips on his knee. When he finally looked at me, I paid him no attention and just watched my wife. David slouched forward a bit into the tub so April could reach him better. Chatting all the while, she danced her fingers underwater over his calves, then his knees, and thighs. She touched the edge of his trunks and lightly tugged at them. David sank lower in the water, thinking she wanted to reach higher, but I knew she wanted them off. By now, all conversation had stopped. The water was calm, the room absolutely silent but filled with incredible tension. I marveled at my wife's boldness. As I watched the rapid breathing and controlled movements of the pair before me I developed a raging erection in my suit that was straining at the wet fabric, begging for attention. 

April succeeded in yanking down David's shorts and she somehow managed to pull them off. Then she threw them out on the floor. David looked over at me like I was a parent, and so I responded like one. "To make this fair," I said sternly, "you really should take hers off." David grinned and looked over at April. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the hunger I saw in that grin. Suppressing my emotion, I added, "She's got an incredible body." Without further hesitation, David leaned over and pulled the straps down from April's shoulders. My wife gazed calmly, even passively, at him. He undid the clasp and my wife's pale breasts were suddenly naked. Her nipples stood out full and hard. I could tell David didn't know what to do next, although it looked like his cock was getting some ideas. April said nothing. I suddenly felt the awkwardness of the moment, so I got up and walked over to the table for more wine. I asked if April wanted some, but she shook her head. So I turned to David and asked, "Well, what about the bottoms?" He reached out, put his hands on April's hips, and pulled down her suit. We both stared for a long moment at my wife's neat little pussy in the water. Even I heard April's low groan under her breathing and I knew she was struggling to maintain her composure. 

I sat down in a lounge chair and slid my aching cock from my suit. The wine and my own excitement had left me without much inhibition. My penis quivered stiffly in front of me like an electrified pole. I began to run my fingers lightly over it, lubricating my shaft with pre-cum. April and David watched me for a moment and then climbed out of the water. Standing by my chair, they looked at each other for a moment and then began to kiss. I moaned a little as I watched my wife's lips brush David's. He put a hand on her waist and I watched as it tentatively crept around to her ass. They kissed awkwardly for a minute and then fell into deep, passionate kissing. Their tongues mingled and David reached for April's tits. My mouth went dry as I stared at David rubbing my wife's hard nipples under his palms, his tumescent cock squeezed against her stomach. 

Suddenly April stopped kissing him and pushed his head between her breasts. David immediately went to work on them with his tongue and teeth. I watched April throw her head back in pleasure. Soon she was reaching for his penis. David's tanned body stiffened when April closed her fist around his thick, solid cock. I savored this novel view of a grasp so familiar to me. Her hand looked so small against his enormous cock, but she was in complete control. David continued to relish my wife's nipples and breasts, but they were both beginning to thrust their hips together. As their erotic gyrations continued, they pivoted so that my wife's back was to me. I gazed, mesmerized, at my favorite part of her anatomy: the smooth skin of her ass. I watched its sensual undulations as she and David moved in gentle rhythm. The urge to plunge my penis into her was overwhelming. I leaned forward and pressed my finger deep into that inviting cleft. April reacted with a gasp of pleasure and surprise and bent forward at the waist to better accommodate me. She found herself staring directly at David's throbbing erection. Grasping his hips she sucked his cock into her mouth and David began to thrust his pelvis. Now David's head was thrown back in pleasure and I continued to probe my wife's ass with my finger, listening to her moans and vividly imagining the feel of her wet lips and teeth sliding over my own shaft. 

I closed my eyes at this point. Watching my wife blow another man was rapidly taking me to the brink of the abyss. But as I moved my hand from April's bottom she caught my wrist and pulled me out of my chair. Now I was standing--uncomfortably--right next to David, watching the top of April's busy bobbing head with my swim trunks wrapped awkwardly around my knees. It took a moment, but I understood what my wife wanted to do when she took my cock in one fist and let David's meat slip from her lips and into her other palm with a wet slap. As she got down on her knees she looked up at us, somewhat shyly, her full lips swollen and glistening with saliva and semen. The she went down on my cock, sucking it into her warm mouth and verrrry slowly swallowing its shaft until her lips were pressed to my pelvis. Then she pulled away quickly, lightly dragging her teeth the length my erection. She repeated this slow, exquisite torture until I begged her to stop. She popped the head of my cock out of her mouth and repeated the routine on David. Then she simultaneously stroked us, taking little licks at the jism leaking from our slick rods as they squished through her fists. 

As she rubbed us she brought our cocks closer together until their heads were touching. I couldn't feel it much, but it was intensely exciting for April. She moaned and slid our crowns together, pressing her lips to them. It was time to attend to her. I pulled April to her feet. Her eyes were glazed with lust and she started kissing me hungrily. Her hand disappeared between her thighs. David got behind April and pressed himself against her. I did a remarkable job of not making eye contact with him. He wrapped his arms around my wife and played with her tits. April lifted my cock and stuffed it into her snatch. She was so wet I could barely feel myself inside her, but she was whimpering with pleasure. David and I had her in a pretty good cock-sandwich. A manwich! As David gyrated against April's ass and I fucked her pussy she whispered that she needed to cum. I didn't want things to end so soon. I pulled out of her and turned her to face David. She pushed him onto the ground and knelt over his face. David grabbed a hold of her perfect ass and stuck his tongue in her pussy. She bit her lip and pressed her swollen labia into his face. I watched David humping the air, his cock a proud flagpole. As April rocked over David's head, grinding her soaked snatch on his mouth, using his nose to stimulate her clit, I realized I wanted to cum while watching her fuck this guy. Apparently I was going to get my wish. 

April got on all fours and she moved back to straddle David's thighs. She looked up at me with hooded eyes as she sat on his fat erection, which easily parted her lips and slid neatly into her. I heard her pleasure-groan and she told David in a breathless voice that he had a gorgeous body. Then she began to ride, bucking her hips and grinding her pelvis against his; her hands rested on his chest as she moved and her head was thrown back in ecstasy. I masturbated as I watched them. It was strangely exciting and satisfying to observe April in the throes of a passion induced by someone else. The sound of her panting. The way her hips rocked back and forth on a hard prick. The gentle movement of her breasts. 

She caught my eye and motioned for me to come closer. I barely managed to close the small distance between us when I ejaculated. A thick stream of cum arced from my cock and hit April in the chest. She smeared it over her breasts with both hands and then a moment later an orgasm surged through her, her body spasming and flooding David's cock with her juices. Before her orgasm subsided, David took hold of April's hips and continued to pound her. His fingers dug deep into her ass cheeks as he tried to bury more of his taut erection into her swollen cunt. He suddenly tensed and began to pump his load deep inside her. He let out a long, muffled moan as he climaxed. 

For a few minutes we all recuperated without speaking, drenched in sweat from the sex and the humidity of the room. April broke the silence by tenderly kissing David's lips. He started to say something but she put a finger to his lips and said goodbye. Then she got up and walked over to the hot tub. We both watched my marvelous wife as her nude body slipped gracefully into the steamy water. I got up and followed her in.

The Vacation



A girl's get away was how it all started. A germ of an idea that blossomed into a full blown vacation, ten days in scenic Costa Rica. Plenty of laughs, lots of fun, a completely care free time. Due to the tropical heat in the country, very little clothing was on display at the resort. In fact, after the first few days, practicality bowed to typical puritanical American mores as the women who had not brought bikinis replaced their conservative bathing suits with skimpy bikinis that barely covered their bits and pieces, This also led to some of the more extreme waxing since no-one wanted unsightly body hair poking around their new wares. But we digress, this little story is not about such things.

Despite the air conditioning (which was sparsely used by the locals) our fair women are still struggling to keep cool and even the most energetic abandoned their daily exercise regimen for time at the pool, mixed drinks and the opportunity to gaze at the gorgeously shaped young men serving drinks. And the boys kept coming back, incentivized by generous tips and the skin that was liberally on display. Still, it was one of the older men who kicked off what would become a truly unbelievable sequence of events. Seeing these poor women suffering he suggested that they take a trip into the mountains for cooler airs. At 8000 ft, this was no small feat on dirt roads, but the guide assured them it would be well worth the trip. 

The group left in a convoy of 2 jeeps accompanied by 2 guides who would also double as guards keeping away some of the less honest locals away from the fair headed matrons and maidens. It was slow going up the mountain that overlooked the resort but there was plenty of wild life to take pictures of including wild parrots and other exotic birds. Switch back after switch back was carefully navigated by the guides until they pulled off to the side the road. A small path led into the lush jungle canopy that even at 8000ft seemed to grow before their eyes. The guides were right about one thing- although it was still very humid, the edge had come off the heat and it was almost comfortable. After a short trip along the path the group came to a beautiful opening in the forest. A waterfall flowed down into a pool, clear aqua colored water covered a sandy bottom that showed little vegetation. 

"Senoras! Enjoy the pool. There is a diving rock off the right, it is safe- the water is about 20 meters deep there. You can follow the path through those trees to get to it" One of the guides announced. 

At first everyone was content to paddle around the shallow side of the pool and enjoy the cooling water on their skin. After days of heat, this core cooling temperature change is welcomed. Two of the more adventurous companions decided to take the short walk up to the diving rock and splashed everyone with their cannon balls. Before you know it, everyone has joined in and splashing and frolicking abounds.

So far nothing extraordinary has occurred. Famous last words. On the fourth trip up to the dive rock one of the party, a girl named Missy, hears a rustling coming from the vegetation along the faintly marked path. Missy ignores this as she has already heard a number of strange and unidentifiable sounds. But then within 20 feet of the canopy opening that led out to the dive rock she heard something that made her stop and tilt her head to listen more closely. She can faintly hear the most beautiful music filtering through the trees. She wants to hear more. The rational thought processes that would normally rule her brain are swept aside and she starts to follow a path that leads away from the dive rock and into the woods. 

The music becomes clearer as she wanders along led by the sub conscious desire to hear more. The music fills her head with a strange enchanting sense of peace. There is a stillness to all the life around her as if no other sound in the world matters or would even be processed by her auditory senses. The flip flops she is wearing have left her feet and her feet can only feel a cool, massaging texture as she moves closer to the source of the music.

After a short distance she comes upon another mountain glade. She is overcome by an overwhelming sense of calmness and inner peace as she walks into the center of the area, amazed by the beauty of everything that surrounds her. She cannot see the source of the music, it is all around her, filling her soul. It seems such a natural thing to hear his voice. Again, she cannot tell where it is was coming from- it surrounds her. A lilting, deep voice that immediately tugs at her subconscious gently pulling at the strings of her libido. Missy cannot remember what he is talking about, and yet slowly but surely the strings are fully loosened. 

It seems like they have been talking for hours as close friends and confidants. His voice is deep with a sexy lilt and despite the moderate temperature her nipples are at full attention, her bikini is soaked with desire. The primal urgings in her brain are coming to the surface of her mind filling her with an overwhelming need to release years of pent up urges. The beautiful sexy voice has turned her inside out into a quivering mass of want.

The invitation from the voice is subtle, and knows which chords to strike. It seems the most natural thing in the world to be naked in this place and her clothes are soon laying on the floor. She does not remember removing them, but she is naked and engaging in a deep conversation with her confidant. Her body is on fire despite the lack of clothes and the need for relief is very evident. A subtle invitation from the sexy voice is followed by such a gently, understanding query for some restraints. It will feels better he soothes, let me release you. Does she trust him? Does she care? Wouldn't she allow that voice to do anything as long as it touches her? 

He already knows the answer, he has since she left the path to the rock. The light suggestions could have been orders barked out in a shrill tone and she would have complied. She has no will to resist- there is no need, it is what she wants. She walks up to a nearby tree and grips the vines that wrap around the trunk. She is facing the glade, as the vines gently tighten around her arms and waist preventing further movement.

She is quivering with excitement and anticipation. Across the clearing the most beautiful man is walking towards her. Golden curly hair adorns his head. He has a lean, muscular and the most gorgeous man she has ever seen. He is smiling as he comes closer and closer. She knows she will let him do anything he wants. On her, inside her, deep and soul satisfying. 

His first kiss on her lips is almost a brotherly peck. She leans in further for more pressure, to feel his tongue in her mouth. He pulls back and smiles. The vines release and she wants him to take her in his arms.

"Turn around Missy", his voice again is so gentle and suggestive that she ignores her urges and complies. She faces the tree and feels the vines constricting around her limbs. Her legs and arms are pulled apart this time. She feels part of the tree pushing into her pelvis forcing her butt from the tree, still supported by the tightly wrapped vines.

"No matter what happens or what you think, remember two things- you will be alright and enjoy every second." Calm, relaxing, inviting.

She feels the air moving before she hears it. There is a cracking noise and simultaneously she feels a searing pain across her bottom. A hand sensuously rubs the area that is on fire. She moans, stifling a scream. The hand's touch is entrancing, so beautifully sexy. Her clit is throbbing, the pain on her bottom is still there enhancing her feelings of desire. A voice whispers, almost inaudibly:

"May I?"

There is only one possible answer in her brain, she chokes out the response.

The hand is removed from her bottom to be replaced by the swish of air, the cracking sound and more searing pain. Without waiting the beautiful man starts to stripe her backside. Her whole body is shaking, her clit is perversely responding by throbbing, filling her loins with heat. She starts to welcome each stroke which takes her closer and closer to an edge she has never been to before. 

Her nipples are rubbing against the bark of the tree, multiplying the overwhelming sense of need. After half a dozen strokes the man switches from her bottom to her back and crisscrosses it with bloody welts. Each stroke causes her to scream in pleasure and pain. His hand returns to her back and massages it, his touch accentuating the dichonymous feeling. She is so close to the edge, so close. She would beg, but she knows it will do no good. 

The vines release her from bondage and she falls on her knees in front of him. She stays- still waiting. And then in the most fluid of movements, she feel his throbbing member between her legs. Her body welcomes it, wants it, needs it. He slides it deftly into her pussy, filling her. She falls off the edge into a free fall of pure pleasure. Imagine falling to the center of the earth, the terror of falling being replaced with the pleasure of being filled by god's own creation? 

The perfect cock stroking inside her, a motion that barely registers as she falls down and down and down. She is screaming from the sheer joy of it. It seems like there will be no end. Time has stopped still to permeate her soul with life filling joy, excitement, desire and wonder. His perfect cock slides out of the her creaming pussy, leaving her with an aching emptiness. She is so close to release and now her pussy aches for more attention. 

His cock is dripping with juice and he gently slides it into her butt, filling her again. Compared to the pain of the whipping, the discomfort of his penetration barely registers and she welcomes the filling sensation as he slides deeper and deeper into her. He starts to stroke slowly and then building up speed. Her body responds, craving the raw violence as he changes from gentle thrusts to lusty pounding. Her pussy is drooling a steady stream of cum as his balls slap her pussy with each stroke. The man's hand reaches inside her pussy and massages her g-spot. The perfect combination. She shakes. He shakes. She feels his cock throbbing and he cums inside her. Long, deep thrusts as her lover fills her with his potent cream while at the same time her pussy squirts juices in rhythm with his release. Her heart feels like it is being ripped though her chest, her lungs gasping for breath. Long after his magnificent cock his shriveled away, her pussy is contracting with pleasure. An orgasm of orgasms.

She collapses on the floor, breathing heavily. The weight of her partner is gone, replaced by the clammy jungle air. She passes out and time ticks by. An awareness of the passage of time slowly comes back to her and where she is- alone in a clearing. The path that leads though the jungle is clearly visible. She lays there for a while inhaling the flowers and scent of the jungle feeling perfectly safe. Eventually she leaves staggering along the path until she reaches the edge of the pool. She hears the sounds of innocent frolicking through the roar of the waterfall. Without a thought she jumps. Peace fills her soul as gravity accelerates her towards the pool. Life is good.



The Vacation



I recently ended a relationship with my boyfriend. I have been feeling down and booked a vacation to cheer myself up. I am going to St. Lucia to an all inclusive resort. I cannot wait to go.

The door bell is ringing, and transportation is here to take me to the airport. The driver puts my luggage in the trunk, and I sit in the backseat. I close my eyes, and take a nap on the way to the airport.

When we arrive at the airport, I get checked in, and go through the necessary security checks. There is a long line, but it moves pretty fast. Once through, I walk to my gate, find a seat, and sit down. The plane does not leave for an hour.

I get myself comfortable, and go into my bag, and pull out my book. I bought a best seller, and I am looking forward to reading it. It is a very hot, and sexy book. I look up, and in the corner of my eye, I see a very attractive man. He appears to be alone. I am thinking to myself, I must find a way to speak to this man. He is very much my type.

I get up, and start talking on my cell phone. I casually walk in front of him, and I drop my bracelet. I make sure the bracelet falls into his lap, and I walk away.

"Miss, I think you dropped your bracelet."

I look on my arm, and I say, "You're right." Thank you so much.

"Hi, I am Kate. It is so nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you Kate, I am Rob."

We sit down, and start talking. The rest of the time goes by rather quickly. There is an announcement, over the loud speaker, that our plane will be taking off soon.

The employees at the gate call the passengers to board the plane. Rob and I get in the line and walk to the entrance of the plane. I ask him where he is sitting, and we are in the same row. The plane is not that crowded, and he moves his seat next to me.

Rob helps me put my carry on luggage in the storage department over our seats. I sit by the window, and Rob sits next to me. We continue talking, and I am so excited that he is sitting next to me. Once the plane takes off, the stewardesses are starting to bring the drink carts out, and start serving the passengers.

The stewardess comes to our aisle, and Rob and I order a coffee, and she gives us each a danish. We are getting along really well. Rob tells me he just got out of a relationship. I laugh, and tell him that I also did. We have so much in common.

There is definitely some sexual tension. I put my hand on Rob's lap, and to my surprise he is hard. Rob's erection is growing up his leg. I smile, and Rob gives me a smile back. I rest my hand on his lap. He then grabs my face, and begins to kiss me. Our tongues are entangled in each others mouths. I am rubbing his cock through his trousers.

I am wearing a dress. He moves my dress up a little. I open my legs a little wider. His hand is moving up my thigh. He moves my panties to one side, and starts to rub my clitoris. He is fingering me, very slowly, and I start to moan quietly under my breath. I am so aroused, and my pussy is very wet. He is fingering me for awhile, and I can't hold back. I cum on his fingers. Rob then takes his fingers, and puts them into my mouth, and then in his mouth.

I whisper in Rob's ear, and tell him I want to show him something. I tell him to meet me in the bathroom. I go to the bathroom first, and then Rob knocks on the door. Once inside, we kiss very deeply and passionately.

Rob pulls his pants down. I pull down my panties, and hike up my dress. I put my leg over the sink, and Rob slides his cock into my wet pussy. We are fucking really fast, and very hard. I moan to him, and tell him how good it feels. We fuck for maybe ten minutes. At about the same time, we climax. We kiss, and get ourselves dressed, and go back to our seats.

We sit down. Rob gets a blanket from the storage compartment, and drapes it over our laps. Rob moves my panties to one side and continues to play with my pussy. I am squirming in my seat, as he rubs it. His fingers are finger fucking me very fast. I am dripping wet.

I unzip his pants and take out his cock. I rub it from his base to his head. His cock is so hard, and thick. I I am jerking his cock really hard in my hand. His cum is oozing down his shaft. I remove my hand, and lick his cum from my fingers. I tell him that his cum tastes delicious. I go into the bathroom to wash my hands. The rest of the flight goes very fast.

The pilot makes an announcement, that we will be landing in 10 minutes. We all need to sit down, and buckle our seat belts. Rob and I are laughing, and we both say at the same time that we are so glad that we met each other. There is a definite connection, and we just had really great sex. I am looking forward to really getting to know him, and having sex in a bedroom, or somewhere other then a bathroom.

We go to baggage claim area, and get our bags. The hotel has a bus waiting for all of us to go to the hotel. Rob and I are sitting next to each other. We are still kissing and holding hands. We really like each other. It turns out Rob is staying at the same resort as I am. We are talking on the way to the resort. We have so much in common, and I am so happy that we have met. The bus takes us to the hotel. We go to the main desk, and check in. We both get our keys. Rob is on the same floor as me.

We kiss each other, and then go into our rooms. We decide we will meet in about an hour. We want to explore the resort, and see what it has to offer. I put all my clothes into the closet, take a shower, and get ready to go out. I am wearing a purple dress, and white sandals. I do my make up, dry my hair, put on my jewelry, and spray some perfume on.

After an hour, Rob knocks on my door. We kiss and we are all over each other again. We just can't keep our hands off of each other. We leave the room, and start looking around the resort.

The ambiance of this inclusive resort is just breathtaking, exotic flowers in big vases, beautiful pictures hung on the walls. The pools are just stupendous with waterfalls, and bars within the pools. The water is a very dark blue. The ocean is just a short walk from our rooms. The ocean is magnificent. The water is calm, and blue. The sand is so white.

We check out the dining room. The dining room is set up like a buffet. There are so many choices. There are bars everywhere. We go to the bar, and order drinks. Rob orders a beer, and I have Malibu and Pineapple. Rob puts his hand on my lap, and I just feel so aroused, when he is near me. We take our drinks, and take a walk to the beach. There are chaise lounges there. We sit down and start to talk.

Rob leans over, and starts to kiss me. Our tongues are dancing in one another's mouths. Rob's hands are all over me. He starts to feel my breasts through my dress. The kisses are very passionate. We undress each other, and he tells me to lay down on the chase lounge.

Rob spreads my legs, and puts his head between my thighs. He rubs my clitoris, with his thumb. He slides his fingers into my wet cunt. He is moving his hands very fast, and I am so wet. He then starts to lick around my pussy. His tongue is darting in and out of my vagina. I am bucking my pussy into his face. I tell him that I am going to cum, and my legs start to shake as my juices flow out of my pussy. My cream is all over his tongue. He is lapping up all my juices.

I then drop to my knees. I lick and suck his warm and fleshy balls. I give attention to each one, slowly sucking them, enjoying them. I then trace the outline of his cock with my tongue. Starting from his base of his shaft. I lick in an upward motion, and a slow suck to the tip of his head, and then continue licking in a downward motion down his shaft.

I slap his cock across my face hitting my nose and chin. I slap his cock across my tongue. Looking into his eyes as I am playing with his cock. I slowly glide his cock, inch by inch down my throat. I am fondling his balls, squeezing them gently.

My cheeks are bulging, spit oozes down the corners of my mouth. I slip my finger into his asshole and start to rub and massage his prostate. His cock is twitching in my mouth. I am nose pressed in his groin swallowing his cock.

I tell Rob I want to make love to him. He gets on top of me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He slowly begins to enter my pussy. I am so wet, and he glides his hot cock right inside of me. It feels amazing. We are making slow erotic love to each other.

We are kissing very deep, and very passionately. I start to moan, and whimper as the penetration is so deep. Our bodies are in perfect rhythm with each other. We both begin to climax. Our cum is mixing with each others inside of my dripping pussy. We then kiss and just roll around in the sand.

We get dressed, and walk back to our rooms. We are holding hands, and Rob takes me back to my room. He kisses me, and says to meet him at his room in an hour, and we will go to dinner.

I then take a shower, and wash my hair. I get dressed, dry my hair and do my makeup. I decide I will wear a pink dress, and white sandals. I put on my white lacy bra, and lacy white thong. I put my jewelry on, and spray on some perfume. I admire myself in the mirror.

An hour has passed, and I go to Rob's room to get him. Rob is dressed in a nice polo shirt, and dress pants. Rob tells me how nice I look and gives me a long, deep passionate kiss. His hands are all over me. Every time we are together, I just want to have sex with him. But, we need to get to dinner.

Rob and I walk hand in hand to the dining hall. It is buffet style. We get on the line to get our food. There are so many interesting choices. All types of fishes, chicken, beef prepared in all different ways. Rob and I sit at a table with a few different couples. All the couples are about the same age, and we are getting along with everybody. We are drinking wine and eating our dinner.

We meet a nice couple. There names are Layla and Jim. They are very friendly, and are a very attractive couple. They are about our age, and we seem to have a lot in common, with the two of them. We are all pretty drunk, and are having a good time. We move to a lounge, and begin to talk.

We order many drinks. This is an inclusive resort, and everything is included in the price. Layla and I are both rather drunk. We both have to go to the bathroom, and we leave together. Once in the bathroom, Layla approaches me, and says that she, and Jim are swingers. Layla asks if Rob, and I would like to have sex, with the two of them.

I am confused, but aroused with the thought of this. I tell her that I would have to speak to Roband ask if that would be okay. Layla leans in and gives me a kiss. My mind is going in a thousand directions. I have never been with a woman before, but she is very beautiful, and seems to really like me.

Layla is kissing me very deep, and very passionately. Our tongues begin to explore each others mouths. We are both very drunk and seem to be into each other. There is a couch in the lounge area of the bathroom. We sit down, and our hands are all over each other. She begins to feel my breasts. We both slip off our dresses and begin to explore each others bodies. Her hands are on my nipples. She begins to suck, and twirl them. She is rolling them between her fingers.

We are kissing so deep, and so passionately. Layla is rubbing my clitoris, and slowly begins to finger fuck me. I am so aroused, and start to moan. Her tongue is penetrating my pussy as she darts her tongue into my vagina. I am so wet, and start to moan. She is fingering me, and then licking me. She is rubbing my breasts, and sucking my clitoris. Her tongue is all over my pussy. I can't stand it anymore, and squirt my love juices on her tongue. Layla is lapping all my juices up.

I tell Layla to lie down. I start to play with her breasts. She has beautiful large breasts. I start to massage, and caress them. I put my mouth on her nipples, and begin to suck them. Her nipples are very erect and very hard. Her nipples are pink, perky and so beautiful. I turn, and twist them and start flicking them with my tongue. I am rubbing my hands all over Layla's body. I start to finger her pussy very fast and then start to lick the juices that are coming out of her pussy.

I am sucking her clitoris, and moving my tongue in and out of her wet cunt. Layla is moaning, and she is creaming on my tongue. I have never tasted anything so delicious in my life. I make sure to get it all, as I don't want to waste any of her delicious juices.

We get dressed and go back to the table. Jim and Rob are very drunk. They seem to be getting along well. Jim must have explained everything to Rob. We get a bottle of champagne at the bar, and bring it to Jim and Layla's room. Layla again starts to kiss me. We are all over each other. Rob and Jim are on the couch just watching. We remove each others clothes, and again begin to kiss each other. Our hands are all over each others bodies. The men start to remove their clothes, and start rubbing their cocks.

Layla and I stand up. I start to kiss Rob. Layla and Jim begin to kiss. Then we switch. I am now with Jim, and he is all over me. Jim begins to suck my nipples, and his hands immediately go to my pussy. He lays me down, and puts his head between my thighs. He is sucking my clitoris, and his tongue is darting in an out of my wet pussy. His hands are on my breasts, and he is kneading them with his hands. He is eating my wet, bald cunt. My breasts are so sensitive to his touch. I am moaning and squirming.

Layla lies down, and Rob is massaging her very large breasts. Rob's mouth is on her beautiful nipples, sucking and biting them. He is rubbing her clitoris, and slips his fingers into her wet pussy. He is finger fucking her, very hard and very fast. He then begins to lick her pussy. She is very turned on and is moaning. She is bucking her pussy into Rob's face. Layla begins to cum on Rob's tongue.

I am laying on my back and sucking Rob's cock. He has his legs on the side of my head. Layla is on her knees eating my pussy, and Jim is fucking Layla doggie style. We are all so busy pleasing one another. I am sucking Rob's cock deeper, and deeper into my throat. I am massaging Rob's balls. His cock is so hard inside my mouth.

Layla is eating my pussy. Her tongue is licking my pussy lips, and she starts to suck on my clitoris. Her fingers slip into my pussy, and she is fingering me very hard. My pussy is so wet, and I am moaning as it feels so good.

Jim enters Layla's pussy and is jamming it into her dripping cunt. Jim is thrusting deeper and deeper into her pussy. She starts screaming as he is fucking her. We are all moaning and cumming together. There is so much primal sex in this room. We are all fucking like wild animals, as the sweat pours from our bodies. The room smells of our sex.

I then get on all fours and Rob enters my tight asshole. He lubes my ass and slowly begins to fuck me. Jim is lying on his back, and I slide his cock into my wet pussy. We are now fucking, and both cocks are in my pussy and my ass. Layla is kissing and playing with my breasts. We then switch. Layla gets in doggie position, and Rob is laying down. She guides Rob's cock into her pussy, and Jim lubes Layla's tight asshole, and slowly begins to fuck her ass. She is moaning, and I am kissing her and rubbing her breasts.

After we enjoyed our foursome, we all hug each other, and kiss. We had an instant connection to each other and are so glad we all met. We decide we will get together again during the vacation and have another foursome together. We all get dressed. Rob and I leave and go back to Rob's room. On the way back to the room, Rob and I laugh and say these are the types of things that happen on vacation. When you are drunk, and acting a little wild, interesting scenarios can happen. We just giggle and go back to Rob's room.

We take a shower together. The water feels so warm, and we each begin to soap each others bodies in the shower. I take the soap on my wash cloth, and start to rub it all over Rob's body. I start soaping his neck, then his arms, his stomach. I then do his back and the back of his legs. I then let Rob stand under the water to rinse it all off.

Then it is my turn, and Rob uses a wash cloth and soaps it up, and soaps my breasts, my neck, arms, legs, back, back of legs. Rob tells me to stand and rinse the soap off under the shower. The water is so hot and feels amazing on our skin. We then dry each other off.

The vacation went very fast. Rob and I have decided to date each other. We live very close to each other, and are so happy that we met. The vacation was lots of sex and interesting foursomes with our new friends Layla and Jim. We have exchanged numbers with them and hope to get together with them when we all get home. Rob and I will never forget our wild and amazing time in St. Lucia. 



The Vacation



Thanks for checking out this story! It's a slow-build type romance, so if you're anxious for the sex, skip to about halfway through. This is my first longer story and I welcome all constructive feedback to help me improve my writing skills for the next one. Thank you to Ed and the others who have reviewed it and contributed to making it better. 

** 

Samuel sat in the rigid plastic chair waiting for his number to be called and the acetaminophen to take effect. 

It was too slow. 

His head pounded and focusing his eyes felt like hard work. It was lucky he hadn't caused an accident driving himself to the city. 

The emergency room at Saint-Luc Hospital in Montreal was busy, more than half the waiting chairs were filled with people of all ages, from children with their parents all the way up to the elderly. 

Samuel felt fortunate to have found a seat in a corner where he could only be assaulted by noise from one side. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall to block out the rest, but then couldn't stop replaying the suddenness of the attack in his head. 

It was one thing to admit to his village GP he'd been surprised by a surly bull, but the city doctor? Embarrassing. It was the kind of accident that only happened to a country bumpkin. Or maybe to thrill seekers in Spain. 

Samuel didn't consider himself the former, and he'd never been to Europe. 

"Do you know what this place needs?" 

A husky female voice cut into his ruminations from the chair next to him. When had she taken it? And was she speaking to him? Samuel opened his eyes to the glare of harsh white fluorescence. "Pardon?" 

"A string quartet." 

"Excuse me?" 

"It's hard to be stressed out when there's a cello playing. Plus, I'm guessing some of the crowd here could use a little 'chamber music', get it? We don't have enough beds but we have chamber..." She shrugged at his confusion. "A string quartet would be soothing and educational." 

A young woman with straight dark blonde hair had taken the seat next to him, and now gazed out at the small crowd. She looked like she was in her late twenties and sat with her left hand held up by her shoulder as if she was about to wave to hello. It was completely bound up in gauze. 

"It's just an idea," she said, filling his silence. "They say it helped on the Titanic. I'm not one for boats myself. I once went on a deep-sea salmon fishing trip in a misguided effort to impress a boyfriend, and those were the worst eight hours of my life." Earnest green eyes met his. "It's surprisingly hard to empty one's stomach cleanly over the railing of a rocking boat." 

"They didn't offer you a bucket?" 

"The buckets all smelled of fish," she said wanly. 

Samuel laughed. "That wouldn't help matters." 

"Not a bit." Her eyebrows, slightly darker than her hair, pulled together just before she turned her attention back to her bound hand, then the waiting room. 

He wondered how bad her injury was. 

"Trains are more my speed," she continued. "There's only one plane of motion. I like watching the scenery pass and being able to get up and move. The rocking and thumping of the wheels on the tracks are relaxing." She turned back to Samuel. "Are you waiting for someone? You don't look like you belong here." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"I don't see any blood or gauze," she said, waving her bandaged hand. 

"It's a concussion," he admitted. 

"And you're waiting for a scan?" 

Samuel nodded. "My village GP sent me for a more in-depth workup." He hoped to God she wouldn't ask what had happened. 

You could make something up. Could, but he wouldn't. It wasn't worth being dishonest just to protect his ego. It could be a funny story, just not so soon afterward. 

"Were you unconscious at any point?" she asked expectantly. Probably trying to distract herself with grisly details. He'd happily give those up as there weren't any. 

"For a few seconds, I think. It's hard to say for sure. No one was around." No one but the damn bull who'd done the damage. 

"I almost passed out when I saw all the blood from this." She waved her hand again. "I know people say knives are safer when they're very sharp, but I only manage to cut myself on very sharp knives, so I'm not sure who they're meant to be safer for. Trained chefs? Butchers? I am neither." She sighed in resignation and Samuel laughed again. 

Everyone knew sharper knives were more precise. 

Her expression was bleak when she turned back to him. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling. You probably have a headache." 

Samuel was surprised to notice it had gone. Only a low throb remained at the back of his head where it had impacted with the metal railing in the barn. Stupid me. "It's not so bad." 

She examined him in his chair. "Concussions can be tricky, but at least they don't involve needles. I loathe needles, and there's no way this doesn't need stitches. Christ, just thinking about it makes my heart race." 

"I'm sorry," he said, at a loss for what else to say. He was a bit out of practice consoling beautiful women, and she certainly qualified as that. Wide eyes over a straight nose, high cheekbones and plump lips, she had a natural beauty that was only marred by a small silvery scar running into the right side of her upper lip. Makeup probably would have made it invisible. 

She continued, "It's a phobia. Phobias aren't rational, so there really isn't anything to apologize for. It's not like I had a bad experience with a needle once. I just hate the idea of..." She shuddered. "Sorry, can't even say it." She wiped the palm of her right hand on her jeans then shook it out. "I guess we're all afraid of something." 

Samuel surveyed the waiting room as he considered. What was he afraid of? Not many things. Fears weren't something he dwelt on, but the few he had were of a personal nature. Not for sharing with a stranger in a hospital waiting room. 

"I'm afraid of the weather," he finally said. 

A short burst of laughter left her. "Are you serious? As in, sunshine scares you?" 

He grinned back. "Not scares, precisely, but I live on a farm, and when the wrong kind of weather comes at the wrong time, it can be quite devastating to the crops, which is devastating to me. The weather forecast can be ominous." 

"Huh," she said. "I think that's the most rational fear I've ever heard. Also one of the most futile. Not much you can do about the weather." 

Sam smiled. "Not really, no." 

After a moment of silence, she said, "I guess most fears are futile." 

"If only it were so easy to convince ourselves to forget them." 

A crowd of young men in football kits came into the emergency room then, half-carrying a friend who limped with his left leg held up. They raised the volume in the waiting room considerably. Two trailing behind noticed Sam's conversation partner and elbowed each other. The elbowing turned into a pushing match until an elderly lady stopped them with sharp words. 

The woman next to him watched them and Sam watched her. He missed the pleasant distraction of her talking. 

"I'm Samuel," he said. 

Her attention returned to him. "Justine," she replied with a little wave of her gauze. 

"Do you live nearby?" 

"No, I'm just visiting with my cousin for a few weeks." 

"That sounds fun." 

She nodded. "It does doesn't it? Only, it turns out she works all the time, and I only understand about five words in French." She eyed him. "I'm guessing that's not a problem for you." 

"Non, je suis Francophone. I am French speaking. What does your cousin do?" 

"She's a programmer. Works for some IT consulting firm, but I don't understand what they're trying to do, so don't ask." 

Samuel wouldn't dream of it. "What do you do?" 

Justine sighed and slumped down in her chair. He wondered if her shoulder was aching yet from holding her arm up. It had to be. 

"I run a bed and breakfast outside Whistler, in BC." 

Judging from her body language, she wasn't having an easy time of it. 

She seemed too young for that kind of responsibility, but then he practically ran his father's farm himself these days and he was only 31. Of course, the farm wasn't what it once was. 

In English, a voice over the intercom said, "Miss Pritchard, return to reception." 

"Well, that's me." Justine stood and tugged a black canvas backpack out from under her chair. 

Samuel almost offered to go back with her to give moral support, an unusual and impulsive urge for him, but he didn't want to risk missing his own turn to be seen. Also, she didn't know him. Why on earth would she want his company? 

"Bonne chance," he said. "Good luck." 

"Thanks. You too." Her smile was warm and genuine, and Samuel didn't want it to go away. But a moment later, she'd turned and was retreating toward the reception area. 

Justine was somewhat tall, and her height seemed to be all leg. She wore short black boots over dark jeans that hugged her skin and a gray long sleeved shirt with a wide neck that teased the curve of her shoulders. He could tell she would be a good athlete. 

Ça, c'est des belles fesses! he thought to himself. The football players must have agreed since they suddenly got quiet and followed the sensuous sway of her ass walking away down the corridor. 

Sam's heart and cock both jumped when she looked back at him and smiled. 

*** 

Justine left the treatment room nearly crying with relief. She'd actually hugged the nurse who had fixed her up, clearly taking her by surprise. But... no stitches! Never had she felt so much like celebrating. Rarely, anyhow. 

She couldn't help circling back to the waiting room to see if Samuel was still in his corner. Justine wanted to share her good fortune and also to apologize to him for her babbling. 

Had she really mentioned puking off the edge of a boat? She pursed her lips against the horrible imagery that memory conjured and hoped he was still there. 

Maybe it's better if he isn't. Why relive her verbal mania? 

Samuel was exactly where she'd left him, but now a little girl played in the chair beside him. Justine heard the mother hiss something in French from two chairs down, presumably telling her to take her feet off the wall. Her little red head hung over the seat of the chair, probably improving the view of the waiting room immensely. 

Samuel wasn't looking, though. His mussed dark hair pressed into the wall and his eyes were closed. His jeans hugged muscular thighs and Justine wished for a second that his shirt wasn't obscuring his hips and everything in between. The sleeves of his forest green shirt were pushed up to his elbows, and strong arms were crossed over his chest, a further barrier to block everyone out. 

He probably didn't realize how such a stand-off pose might actually draw attention. 

Farming was obviously good for a body. Good for his body, anyway. He was nicely weathered and strong. 

She snapped out of her daydream but before she could announce herself, Justine noticed his nostrils flare, and though his eyes were still closed, Samuel said softly, "You're back. How did it go?" 

Justine gripped her bag to her chest in surprise. "Okay, that was a little freaky! How did you know it was me?" 

"Your perfume, there is a hint of lilac." He finally opened his eyes and added, "Plus it's a sharp contrast with the stench of this place. It was easy to know you were back." 

His smile came out when he noticed the look of surprise still plastered on her face. 

Samuel said, "Well at least it was fast, and I see no signs of tears. Does that mean stitches weren't necessary?" 

Justine shook her head, grinning her triumph. "They used steri-strips and glue. I didn't know there was such a thing as medical glue! It's a modern chemical miracle." 

Samuel laughed and the little girl finally listened to her mother and vacated the seat. Justine flopped into it, dropping her pack to the floor and kicking it under the chair. She held up her left hand to display the evidence of said miracle, a single wide plaster over the cut on the meaty part of her thumb. "I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I mean, obviously I'm not going to start juggling knives or anything, but now I know I could." 

Samuel arched a dark eyebrow. "Glue probably won't help a cut tendon." 

Funny. She chewed her bottom lip. "True. I'd better not get carried away." She gave him a teasing grin. 

Then the implication of Samuel sitting in the same place she'd left him hit Justine. Frowning, she asked, "They still haven't called you?" 

"No. I don't suppose a concussion rates as high for triage purposes." 

"Apparently not, although if it makes you feel better, I was waiting for two hours before I came to sit next to you. I guess if you don't mind, I'll sit with you for a while longer. Because you made me feel better before." 

After a pause, during which she wondered if she was being too forward, he said, "I would like that very much." 

"Also I want to apologize for the crazy talk. I really do hate needles." 

"I picked up on that, but don't worry. You're a better distraction than a string quartet." 

"That's nice of you to say, even if it isn't true. Nothing compares with a well-played cello." 

Samuel regarded her for a long moment, his eyes wandering her face and shoulders, before he said, "Let's agree to disagree, shall we? Now, how long have you run the bed and breakfast?" He shifted around in his chair to angle toward her. She did the same, effectively blocking out the chaos of the room behind her. 

"Well, I lived there and learned the ropes through childhood, but I only took over when my Grammy died. She left it to me. It's been a little over four years now." Even after so much time the ache from Grammy's absence still made itself known. At least she didn't tear up anymore. Baby steps. 

"You still miss her." 

"Yeah, she was my only real family. I don't know my aunts and uncles that well, and I hadn't seen my cousin in years." 

"But it must be interesting to meet new people all of the time through your work." 

Justine shrugged. "I love the house, and I enjoy knowing people have a good time staying there." She didn't mind the constant flow of people, but lately they just served to illuminate how shallow her own existence was. Her guests had regular lives to return to, big families, normal homes, and predictable jobs. Friends who would want to hear about their stay in the River's Edge B&B. She was even envious of their imagined problems. They were small, unlike her own. 

Justine gave herself a mental shake. It wasn't the time to get melancholy. Melancholy wouldn't make a nice distraction for Samuel. "So, you're a farmer? Is your property very big?" 

"A farmer, yes. The property isn't so big. Enough to make a living." 

"Was your concussion farm related?" 

Samuel looked away and laughed a little too long. He shifted in his chair before speaking. "It was Boris. He's a bull. I have a few head of cattle, and a couple of the young cows are in heat. Boris was determined to get to them, and I was determined to keep him away." 

Justine grinned. "Poor Boris." 

"Boris isn't the one with the concussion," he said dryly. "And it's the wrong season for mating. I don't want winter calves." 

"It's hard to fight instinct," she said, and she was speaking from experience. Too bad her instincts were so fucking off. 

"He'll have to fight it for another couple of months. Spring babies are better." 

"In that case, the cows are lucky you're looking out for them." 

"It's entirely selfish," he said with a shrug. "How are you able to leave the B&B? Do you have a caretaker?" 

"Yes. It's a woman from town who's cooked for us for years. Her daughter is helping out as well. It's not very busy in the spring, though. There's more mud than snow, and it rains a lot." 

"So what brings you here, if you're not spending time with your cousin?" 

Justine wasn't sure how to answer the question, because she didn't really know what she hoped to achieve herself. Some measure of peace, some kind of rest, hopefully. It had been too long since she'd been able to relax properly. To breathe deeply. 

It all came back to fears, but there was no need to expound on those. "I just needed some space. We had a busy winter and I'm a bit burned out. Montreal seemed like a good idea at the time." 

"You've changed your mind?" 

Justine held up her injured hand. "I've just spent day four in the emergency room, so..." 

Samuel laughed, a bit uncomfortably. "Don't let me keep you if you've got exploring to do." 

"It turns out exploring isn't as much fun on one's own," she admitted. She wasn't used to being alone, and Samuel was easy company. It didn't hurt that he had a handsome face and broad shoulders. Big hands that could probably do glorious and wicked things with her body, not that she was the kind of girl to hop in the sack with someone she didn't know. Didn't stop her from noticing. 

Just then, a nurse holding a clipboard strode into the waiting room. She raised her authoritative voice and addressed the crowd, in French. When she'd finished, Justine turned to Samuel for an explanation. He didn't look happy. 

"There's been a high speed, multi-vehicle accident and the ER will be handling the victims. We've been instructed to go to a different hospital, or come back later." He sighed. "I'm going to retrieve my referral." 

He stood and stretched his long body, then headed to the reception desk. Justine followed. She felt bad for him, wished there was something she could do to help. 

Samuel spoke quietly with the young receptionist who blinked and smiled excessively. The girl disappeared into the back, and returned a few minutes later with his intake paperwork and the written referral from his village GP. 

He thanked her, that much Justine understood, then jerked his head toward the door to usher her out. What would he do now? 

Outside the hospital, Samuel ran a hand through his hair and looked as though he wasn't sure himself. He said, "They've made an appointment for me at a diagnostic center for tomorrow morning, but it's on the other side of the city." 

"Will you go home?" 

"I don't know. It's a lot of driving if there is something wrong. I'd hate to be the cause of an accident." Samuel seemed genuinely perplexed. 

Because of his head injury? He might be feeling a little scrambled up on the inside, and if that was the case, hanging out with him a while longer was the responsible thing to do. Purely coincidental that she wanted to know more about him. 

Justine pulled out her phone to check the time. "Do you want to go grab an early dinner with me? I was in the ER during lunch and I passed an interesting looking café on the walk over." 

Samuel regarded her with his deep brown eyes, kind eyes, and she wondered how many girls had gotten lost in their depths. 

She really hoped he wouldn't say no. 

He smiled a crooked grin and said, "I would love to." 

They ate and talked for several hours, about farms and B&Bs and the places they would travel if they could. Both were tied to their properties, both were devoted to their family businesses. 

Seemingly without warning, the day was fading, making room for the night. 

Justine insisted on splitting the bill and found out when she returned from the restroom that Samuel had paid it all anyway. Sneaky man. 

Outside the café, the awkwardness of goodbyes took hold of her, and Justine realized she didn't really want to say goodbye. 

After a call to his father, Samuel had decided to spend the night in the city, but he had nowhere to go. She did, though. 




The Vacation



"Hey, I have an idea," she said. "Why don't you come back to Bethany's house with me? She's got an extra room. It's an office, technically, but it's got a futon, so you wouldn't be on the floor." 

Samuel smiled uncertainly. "I don't know..." 

Justine put an encouraging hand on his arm. Goodness, it was hard. "It's a great idea! Beth is never home and you shouldn't be alone with a concussion. It's the perfect solution." 

"Do you really think she won't mind?" 

He was considering it, which made Justine unaccountably happy. Was she really so lonely, or was it Samuel himself that excited her? Since standing on the darkening sidewalk wasn't really the time to ponder it, she hooked her arm through his and asked, "Where are you parked?" 

** 

Samuel suspected he was being managed by Justine, but he didn't really mind. She just happened to be the kind of woman who inadvertently turned men into complacent fools with ready smiles and cheerful banter, and they followed along happily. 

Sam followed along happily. 

When they got to his truck, she insisted on driving, stating he shouldn't because of his head injury. He didn't bother pointing out he'd already driven right after the accident, when he'd been at his worst. She was a good driver, though, handled the stick shift like a pro. He imagined her hand on him instead of the shifter, slender fingers curling around the smooth head of his cock. 

The flirting Justine did, the casual way she touched him, was just friendly. He didn't think she had any interest in him sexually, and he wasn't sure what to do with a woman like her anyhow. 

Well, he knew. Given the chance he'd worship every inch of her with his hands and mouth then fuck her senseless, but he wasn't impulsive like that. Not a one-night stand sort of guy. Never had been. 

Still, the men in the café had noticed her just like the men in the hospital. Justine probably had guys falling over her all the time, but somehow she was sitting beside him, driving his truck. 

Justine got lost twice on her way to her cousin's townhouse on the west side of the city. When she finally found it and parked, she draped her arms over the steering wheel and craned her neck to look up at the lit windows. 

"Will you look at that," she said. "Bethany's home. She hasn't been home before nine once since I arrived. Oh well." 

She pulled out her phone and selected a number. Pressing the device to her ear, she said, "Hey Beth. What are you up to tonight?... I'm all patched up, no stitches... So listen, I'm bringing a new friend over to hang out... yes, a man..." 

Justine pulled the phone away from her ear and covered the speaker. She seemed ready to ask him a question, but instead looked him over and gave a thumbs up before raising the device at her ear. "Nope, not a serial killer. He's a farmer. He cares if calves are born in the winter or spring and is afraid of the weather." 

She smiled apologetically at having revealed his personal information to her cousin. "...yes, I know." Turning toward the side window and lowering her voice, she said, "You remember that thing we talked about the other night? The thing with the thing? Now is your perfect chance to... well, get yourself a glass of wine and... Okay, see you soon. Bye." 

Justine disconnected and slid the phone back into her pocket, presenting him with a wide smile. "We're good to go." 

"Are you sure?" Because Samuel wasn't at all certain her cousin was good to go, judging from Justine's half of the conversation. What the hell was the thing with the thing? 

"It'll be good for her," Justine said, pushing the truck door open. "I doubt she's had a man in her house since she moved in. Maybe ever." She hopped out and slammed the door shut. As she rounded the bed of the truck, she said, "Bethany is a little bit... reserved. She doesn't really get people, but don't let her put you off. She means well. Mostly." 

Justine used her key on the front door while Samuel surveyed the cozy and quiet neighborhood and still wondered what he was getting himself into. 

The foyer contained a coat rack, a door at the far end, probably to the basement, and carpeted steps up to the living space. 

"Helloooo," Justine called out as she neared the top of the stairs. 

They came out into a large room with a kitchen to the left and a sparsely furnished living room to the right. It was an open floor-plan and a woman stood frozen in place between the two rooms with a glass of wine in her hand. 

She was more petite than Justine, less lanky, and her yoga pants and fitted tee-shirt showcased a tight little body. She had Justine's good bone structure, but dark brown hair cut in a short bob and lighter eyes behind glasses. She was cute, clearly good genes ran in the family, though the frames of her glasses didn't do her any favors. 

"You called from outside?" Beth's voice was low like Justine's, but slightly monotone. She didn't sound particularly put out, even though she probably felt it. 

Justine grinned. "Surprise!" 

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'll leave if you want me to. This wasn't probably the best plan." 

"Nonsense!" Justine said. "Beth, this is Samuel." Before Sam could offer his hand, Justine guided her cousin to a worn wingback chair. "Sit. He's not leaving, and you're going to be okay. Take a deep breath." 

Apparently Justine had the ability to manage women, too. 

Beth obeyed and glanced over at him. Samuel dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and waited for her verdict. 

Beth finally looked back to Justine and said, "This guy's a farmer?" 

Justine arched an eyebrow. "So he claims. I don't think anyone but a farmer would give credit to a randy bull for causing his concussion." 

"You have a concussion?" Beth asked, her eyebrows rising. She switched from mildly apathetic to interested in a split second. 

"Yes," he replied. "I'm only in the city for an MRI, but they can't see me until tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow will probably be too late," Beth said authoritatively. "If you've had a bleed, anyway, and that's the only thing that would show on an MRI. Remember that one actress? Bumped her head, right as rain, then, boom. Dead." 

Justine laughed uncomfortably. "I don't think he needs to be reminded about that. It's only a little bump." 

"You never know," Beth said ominously. 

Justine rolled her eyes and Samuel prepared himself for a long evening, 

It wasn't that bad, in the end. Justine tried to engage Beth in conversation, but it was one-sided, so she eventually put on a movie. 

Justine sat next to him on the little love seat, the only other piece of furniture beside the wingback chair and a coffee table. The TV hung from the wall, and Beth was completely entranced for the entire film. Aside from her eyes occasionally darting Sam's direction, she didn't move, didn't speak, just seemed to be hypnotized by the screen. 

At one point, Justine leaned into him and whispered, "I don't think she's even watching. I think she's dreaming about code with her eyes open." 

She had no idea what her warm breath and soft scent did to him. 

Samuel stifled a laugh and moved his hand into his lap to cover his growing erection. Justine's proximity was dangerous to his dignity, and the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was only there to bed her. He shifted into the arm of the couch to give himself distance and she pulled away, too, tucking her legs under her and curling into a snug ball against the other arm. 

Sam wished he was the couch and couldn't remember anything about the movie when the end credits finally rolled. 

By 11:00, Beth was satisfied Sam was safe and didn't protest when Justine offered up her office futon for sleeping. 

It wasn't especially uncomfortable, but Sam had a hard time sleeping anyway. He'd stripped down to his tee-shirt and boxers, Justine was just down the hall wearing who-knows-what, and he felt like a teenager wondering whether they would pass in the hall in the night or if she would come to his room to ask if he needed a glass of water or more Tylenol. Ridiculous. 

Instead he tortured himself by imagining everything he might do to her if she did come to his room. If he could touch her. 

** 

Justine wasn't a morning person, which was a serious problem for someone running a B&B. All the action took place in the morning, for the most part. 

But the next morning, Justine bounded out of bed feeling surprisingly buoyant and more than a little proud of her early start. 

The townhouse was quiet as she rushed through a shower and got dressed, so she was surprised to see Sam was already up and dressed when she came out. He was sitting on Beth's little couch, reading one of her magazines by the dim light from a window. 

"Good morning," he said when he noticed her. 

Damn. He looked good just rolling off the futon, with a days-worth of beard growing over his jaw and his hair a little messy. She could fix the hair for him. Also could offer him a new razor, but slightly rugged worked for him. 

"I guess I should have expected a farmer to be an early riser," she said, walking into the kitchen. She turned on lights and started the coffeemaker, then began retrieving breakfast ingredients out of the refrigerator. "How's your head? Did you sleep alright?" 

"As well as could be expected, knowing I could drop dead at any moment." Samuel laughed at his own joke, and she couldn't help laughing with him. 

He brought the magazine up to the island and pulled out a stool. "What's on the menu?" 

"Frittata. I'm not a great cook, but I'm really good at a couple of dishes." 

"A couple of dishes is all it takes," he said "But none for me." 

"You don't eat frittata?" 

"I don't eat eggs. Chicken eggs, anyway. I'm allergic to them. I'm really sorry." 

Sam's apology was cute, as if she'd take it personally that he had an allergy. "What kind do you eat?" 

"Duck. We have some ducks on the farm that lay." 

"Hmmm. Well, I also make kick-ass pancakes, but they contain eggs too." 

"Duck eggs make for really rich pancakes. You should try it sometime." 

She grinned. "Just as soon as I establish a duck egg hook-up. How about bacon and toast? I think I saw some oatmeal, too." 

He gazed at her for longer than proper and said, "Perfect." 

Samuel's joking tone had gone, replaced by something quiet and serious. Justine felt herself blushing, unsure he was still talking about breakfast. 

Best to change the subject to something she was sure about. "So, do you want me to drive you to your appointment? My day is wide open." 

"I think I'm alright. Not that I don't enjoy your driving, but I need to get back home as soon as possible. It's a really busy time for us." 

"Sure, I understand," Justine said. She rummaged around in the pan cupboard to hide her disappointment. So far, Sam was the best part of her trip, and she knew if she could spend more time with him, she might actually return home able to say she enjoyed herself. 

But Justine wasn't going to push him, and it wasn't as though she was available, anyway. Technically. And she would be leaving in a matter of weeks. 

They ate breakfast without hearing a sound from Beth, and at half-past seven she walked Samuel out. 

If she thought the prospect of goodbyes the day before were awkward, it was nothing compared to standing outside his truck, looking everywhere on the street except at him. For once, Justine was at a complete loss for words. 

"Thank you, Justine," Sam said, stepping into her space. "For looking after me." He ducked his head down and kissed her right cheek lightly, then her left. Before pulling away, he dipped lower, to the curve of her neck and drew in a deep breath. His warmth, the tickle of breath caused gooseflesh all the way down to her knees. Her nipples ached and she wanted to throw herself at him, but she didn't. 

Samuel straightened and stepped back with his crooked smile in place. "Goodbye, Justine." 

"Bye, Sam. Happy farming." 

He chuckled and climbed up into his truck. 

All Justine could do was watch him go. He hadn't left his number, hadn't asked for hers. 

What did you expect? Samuel had a life that didn't include some woman who was going to be catching a flight home in three weeks. 

Justine returned to the townhouse and considered going back to bed. Not like she had anything else to do. 

Beth wandered out in her pajamas then, looking as disheveled as she ever did, which wasn't much. She preferred order even in sleep. 

"Is he gone?" she asked. 

"Yes, and you didn't even try to say two words to him. I thought you wanted to practice your conversational skills. He's about as safe as it gets, Beth. It's all downhill from here." Unless she found a man as socially challenged as her, which was not something Justine would say aloud. 

"You didn't say he was so handsome. I froze." 

"I noticed." 

"Is he coming back?" 

"Nope." 

Beth looked relieved and Justine wished she could, too. Instead her stomach churned with discontent and made her wish she hadn't eaten so much bacon. But that wouldn't change the fact he really wasn't coming back. 

Beth asked, "So what are you going to do today?" 

Justine shrugged and poured herself another cup of coffee. "I don't really know. I thought I'd give Mrs. Dupris a call to see if I can visit." 

"My therapist?" Beth asked, confused. 

"You have a therapist?" And that might not be a bad idea... Justine shook her head. "No, this Mrs. Dupris was a friend of Grammy's. They met through the B&B association." 

"She's out here somewhere?" 

"In the Eastern Townships, I'm not really sure where. If she has space, I might see if I can stay for a few days. Country air might do me some good." 

Beth poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned into the counter. "Have you ever considered moving out here? I mean, with Grammy gone, there really isn't anything to keep you in BC anymore. Unless Gordon is still on the scene?" 

"God, no." He was one of the reasons she needed a break from home. Too many people knew him, knew what had happened between them. "I won't sell the house, though. It's the only real home I've ever had." 

Beth continued her deadpan stare and said, "It's just a house with some memories. You're probably the only person in North America who hasn't moved at least five times by the time they're thirty. It happens. People pick up and move on. Your memories aren't any more special than theirs." 

Justine sighed and bit back her kneejerk response. 

Her cousin had a knack for simplifying complex situations into bites of information, removing all of the superfluous emotions. That was how Beth made sense of the world, but in this case, she didn't have the whole story, and Justine wasn't in the mood to enlighten her. It wasn't a conversation worth having. "I'll think about it. There's bacon on a plate in the oven if you want." 

Beth said, "My mom asked us to come over for dinner tomorrow night. Can you make it?" 

"Can you? I'm not the one who works all hours." Justine hated that she sounded bitchy. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled-for." 

"No, you're the one with a mission to preserve the past," Beth snapped. 

Justine gritted her teeth and said, "Thanks Beth, that's really helpful." 

"Good, I'm glad." 

Bethany completely missed the sarcasm and eye rolls were wasted on her, so Justine walked her coffee to the living room and sat where Samuel had the night before. She felt miserable because she was alone again, and miserable because Beth, in her awkward attempt to help, might have been right. 

Justine called Mrs. Dupris and made plans to go visit her B&B two days later. It was a Monday, but she'd had a cancellation and was excited for Justine to visit. 

The elderly woman had traveled to BC several times over the years to visit Grammy at their B&B, and the two women had built a friendship over being widows making a living doing something they loved. 

Thinking on it made Justine wonder if it was something she really loved, or just felt obliged to do. When it came right down to it, she had nothing else. 

The next night, Justine went to family dinner with Aunt Paula and Uncle Cray who lived in a suburb not far from Bethany. 

Beth didn't make it after all. It figured. 

They were warm and welcoming and she wondered at the fluke in their genetics that had produced Bethany. Of course, they asked questions about Gordon she didn't want to answer and encouraged her to consider selling and moving. Justine got the distinct impression the family had planned in advance to create a united front with the goal of moving her east. 

But they meant well, and over the course of the evening, Justine realized she actually liked them, which was unexpected because she hardly remembered anything about them from her childhood. 

On Monday, she plotted a course for the La Petite Auberge B&B and rented a car to take her there. The city faded quickly to rolling hills and gorgeous countryside. It was greener than it had been back home, and the sky felt more open without snow-capped mountains looming on every horizon. Unseasonably warm weather for early April had bulbs and wildflowers making showy appearances in front of homes and along the roadside. 

She drove by many fields, small farms, old barns and silos with family names painted in big letters. Trees were in bloom everywhere, and there was hardly a pine tree in sight. Justine didn't miss them. 

Justine finally pulled through a final village and up a hill on the far side to the B&B. It was walking distance from the village, but felt remote because of the hillside of trees between them. 

The house itself was a white two story structure, Victorian style with a peaked roof and two turrets. Barren oak trees flanked each side like sentries, their leafy regalia not yet in full bloom. 

The house was simple for a Victorian, but grand feeling all the same. 

Mrs. Dupris had aged a decade in the four years since Justine had last seen her at Gram's funeral. The old woman limped to the edge of the porch with the use of a cane fashioned from dark wood and topped with a brass handle. She'd lost weight which made Justine sad because the way her body shook when she laughed had been one of the most memorable things about her. 

The sparkle in her eyes hadn't diminished though, and Mrs. Dupris smiled down from the top step as Justine made her way up. 

"What a pleasure it was to hear from you," she said, wrapping an arm around Justine when she was within reach. She still smelled the same, like old-fashioned violet perfume. 

"Thank you for having me on such short notice." 

"You could have shown up on my doorstep with no warning at all and I would have found a place for you," Mrs. Dupris said. "You're welcome here anytime you care to make the journey." She turned away and hobbled through the front door. "I don't make trips anymore, myself. Fractured my damn hip last year and I haven't been the same since, even though I've been assured it's healed quite well." 

"That must make it hard to take care of the house." 

"And the guests, yes." Mrs. Dupris led her into a warmly decorated sitting room and landed heavily in one of the armchairs. Justine took one beside her. "You probably won't believe me, but I've been thinking about your grandmother a lot lately. About how lucky she was to have you, and lamenting my own relatives." 

Justine raised an eyebrow. "What have they done?" 

"It's more what they won't do, dear." 

Just then, a young woman with beautiful auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and a slightly unfortunate overbite came into the room. "Can I get you anything?" she asked Justine. 




The Vacation



"Oh, no, thank you. I'm not a guest. You don't have to wait on me." 

"Of course you're a guest!" Mrs. Dupris exclaimed. "Anyone under this roof who isn't paid to be here is a guest. What will you have, coffee or tea? Or perhaps something a bit stronger?" 

"It's only 10am, Mrs. Dupris." 

"Call me Martha, and I'm well aware of what time it is." Her grin was impossibly mischievous for someone pushing 80 years old. "So what would you like?" 

"I'll stick with coffee, thanks. Black." 

Mrs. Dupris, Martha, chuckled. "I suspected you were made of stern stuff." She turned to the girl. "I'll have my usual, Theresa. Thank you, dear." 

They watched the girl retreat from the room, her slender form silent as she moved. "I'll have her give you a tour later," Martha said. "She's been a life-saver. A hard worker, and she really is keen on keeping this place successful. I worry she'll get married and leave, but lately she has her eye on a handsome young man who delivers here, a local, so that would be ideal." 

"Sounds like you rely on her quite a bit," Justine said. She knew how it was to be in Theresa's place. 

"Mmm, yes. As I was starting to say, my family isn't interested in keeping the place going in my eventual absence. None of them wants to take over the mantle, not like you did for your Gran. She was lucky to have you." 

"I think I was the lucky one," Justine said, but the sentiment didn't ring quite as true as it once had. 

"They want to sell and take the money instead. I've put it on the market now so I'll have a say in who runs the house later." 

"Really? What's your asking price?" 

"3.5 million." 

Justine's jaw dropped. "Fucking hell!" She slapped her hand over her mouth and mumbled, "Sorry," but good God it was a lot of money! 

Martha Dupris laughed. "It's quite alright dear. It is a fucking hell sum of money. I'd consider less from the right buyer. But if I don't like the people looking, I tell them that number and they slink away with their bank accounts untouched. There haven't been many lookers so far, but they've all left with their tails between their legs. By the way, your Grammy's B&B is probably worth far more than this place on the BC market." 

That last sentence didn't even register with Justine because she was stuck on the astronomical amount of money Martha was asking for the place. 

Justine hadn't seen much of the house or grounds yet, but it was hard to imagine the property being worth even half that. Bed and Breakfast's weren't the golden egg producing goose many people thought. Most owners were happy to make enough profit to go on vacation themselves during the year. "You'll never sell it." 

"I will to the right person," Martha said with a sly smile. 

Justine grinned back. "Good luck with that, crazy lady." 

Theresa returned holding a tray topped with a mug of coffee and tea set. Half a dozen homemade ginger cookies rested on a little plate. 

Martha said, "Thank you, Theresa. By the way, this is Justine. Her grandmother was a dear friend who owned a B&B in Whistler. She was one of the best letter writers I ever met." 

Justine was surprised to hear that about her grandmother. She'd spent so many years with the woman, effectively thought of her as a mother, but she'd never considered there might be things she didn't know, surprises or secrets. 

"It's nice to meet you," Theresa said with a little bow of her head. 

"You too. You have beautiful hair, by the way. I tried for that color of red once, but couldn't get it remotely right." 

The girl blushed and ducked her head, then said, "You have pretty skin for it. I hate my freckles." 

"Freckles are sweet," Justine replied. "When I was fifteen, I spent the entire summer in the sun to get them because a boy I liked was fond of them. Come to think of it, the red hair was for a boy, too." Theresa seemed pleased with her revelations, but Justine saw them as an embarrassing trend that hadn't waned much in adulthood. 

Martha said to Theresa, "She's right, freckles are charming. I was hoping you'd give Justine a tour. My hip is aching too much this morning. You'd think it would be happy about the warmer weather, but it's not." 

"Of course I will!" Theresa said. Her bright smile and enthusiasm were catching. "I'd love to. Would now work?" 

Justine looked expectantly at the lady of the house. 

With a nod, Martha waved them off. "You can take your coffee with you." 

Justine followed Theresa, who looked to be about twenty, through a wide circle of ground floor rooms, kitchen, formal dining room, solarium, and then to the curved stairway leading to the second floor. 

"I can only show you your room because the others are occupied, but here it is." She turned a key in a lock and opened the door to a sunlit room with south facing windows. 

It wasn't an enormous space, but like downstairs, it was tastefully decorated with an eclectic variety of antiques and newer pieces. There were elements of the past combined with elements of modern day, and they mixed in a way that was surprisingly organic, natural. Justine was impressed. The small en suite bathroom had a claw foot tub combined with a shower along with the usual amenities. 

They went outside next. New growth showed in the mostly bare flowerbeds, but Justine could imagine them bursting with riotous blooms and lush greenery. At the end of a lawn was a gothic style metal and glass greenhouse. 

"That is the most gorgeous greenhouse I've ever seen!" 

"We're kind of a gardener's B&B," Theresa said. "Martha has a pretty extensive hardy perennial garden and raises some exotic annuals in the greenhouse. If guests want to potter around with plants, or take clippings for propagation or whatever, they can. It's surprising the number of people who want to go on vacation just to get their hands dirty." 

"Who knew?" Outdoor sports and photography were the pull for Justine's property. Gardening sounded much more tranquil. 

Theresa led her around to the front drive to grab her bag, then Justine was left alone while her guide left to finish chores. She decided to explore the village while the weather was so fine, and grab some lunch while she was there. 

Justine took her bag upstairs and changed into jeans, a light-weight cowl neck sweater, and her running shoes. She toyed with the idea of a tee-shirt, but thought that might be tempting fate. It was only early April after all. 

The walk to the village was pretty, with expansive views of the countryside from the top quarter of the hill. A park bench had even been perched near the trees off the driveway to encourage leisurely viewing. Birds flitted about in the sun and the trees hummed with the labor of bees. 

The village itself was quaint and picturesque, with a colonial feel that couldn't be pinned to just one aspect. The facades of the buildings were decorated with planter boxes filled with fragrant primroses, tulips, and pansies. 

Justine passed a barber shop and a small drugstore, "pharmacie" she tried to enunciate to herself, a produce market, and a café. Several antique sellers were interspersed with a dozen other shops lining the street. 

This is nice. It was an entirely different feel than Whistler, or even the nearest towns. The kind of place where a person could brush shoulders with locals and tourists and not feel threatened by either. 

Justine decided then she would see if Mrs. Dupris could put her up for the remainder of her trip, put her to work even, because if she could absorb the cheerful energy of the little village and the B&B, then she'd be able to say her trip east was successful. 

After an indulgent lunch in a café, she made her way back up the hill to the B&B. With a full belly and the warm sun at her back, she felt at peace for the first time in ages. 

As Justine exited the wooded trail onto the drive up to the house, she noticed a big refrigerated truck backed to the rear of the B&B. Produce delivered past midday? She shook her head at the poor service, then chastised herself. Maybe they did things differently at La Petite Auberge. 

Thinking Martha and Theresa might need help putting things away, she ran up the porch steps and made her way through the house to the kitchen. She found them chatting at the old kitchen table, seemingly oblivious to the truck out back. "Isn't there a delivery?" she asked. 

The wooden screen door flew open. "Ok Martha, j'ai fini c'est la dernière," boomed a masculine voice. 

The bright light behind him obscured his silhouette, but the voice was unforgettable. "Samuel?" 

He froze with box in hand, slowly turning his head her direction. "Justine?" 

"You two know each other?" asked Theresa incredulously. 

"Uh, yeah," Justine said, a horrible understanding washing over her. Samuel was Theresa's crush! Of course he is. 

"But it can't be! How in the world did you find me?" Samuel asked, still in disbelief. 

Not as much as Justine, though. Once again, fate was an utter bitch. Her eyes had adjusted and he was just as beautiful as he had been two days before. Dammit! 

"Found you?" she asked, trying to cover her discomfort. She didn't want Theresa to get the wrong idea. "I'll have you know I'm a guest here at La Petite Auberge, I'm a friend of the family." 

"Yes she is," Martha chimed in. "And what a wonderful coincidence that Samuel here, and his father before him, delivered the best farm products in the region. They have for as long as I've owned this place." 

Justine smiled politely and tried not to care, but she did. She forced her eyes back to his. "Was your MRI clear, then?" she asked, trying to sound casual. 

"So they tell me. There don't seem to be any lingering problems. How's your hand?" 

She held it up to show a white and pink Hello Kitty Band-Aid over her cut. "Healing nicely." 

Sam gave a tentative smile. "Glad to hear it." 

"So, how do you know each other?" Theresa asked, hand planted on her hip. 

Justine couldn't look the girl in the eye, so she picked at a nick in the countertop. "It's a long story. I had to go to the hospital and Samuel was there." It was terse accounting of what had been the best day of her trip so far, but she didn't want to hurt Theresa's feelings. Best to just leave them alone. She straightened and turned a last time toward Samuel. "Is it back to the farm now or do you have more deliveries?" 

"Back the farm." He looked confused, a little bit concerned. 

"Well, I won't keep you then." With a tight smile, she turned and left. 

She hadn't quite made it to the stairs when she heard Martha say, "What was that all about?" 

** 

Sam stood with the box in his hands wondering what the hell had just happened. But of course he was the one intruding on Justine's vacation, and he had no right to ruin it. 

She hadn't expected to see him. 

Maybe he'd misread her friendliness in Montreal. Maybe he'd misread her interest in his home and work. 

Maybe he'd misread her altogether, like Valerie and the others. 

Theresa took the box from him and started sorting through the vegetables at the sink. 

Martha told him, "I don't know what's gotten into Justine. Maybe she isn't feeling well." 

"Maybe." Samuel scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, unsure what to do. 

"These look great!" Theresa said. "I wasn't expecting asparagus." 

Sam forced himself to focus on her. "We used cold frames this year. I've got to get going. See you Wednesday." 

"Yeah, sure," she said, hesitant. "Is everything okay?" 

"How could anything be wrong on such a beautiful day?" Sam muttered. "See you later." He forced a smile and bolted for the door, thinking what a disaster. 

** 

Justine was consumed with the unfairness of losing Samuel once again. Not losing him, but having to let him go. 

Who else could Mrs. Dupris have been referring to? How many handsome young men could possibly make deliveries to the house? 

So fucking unfair. 

Sam had seemed happy to see her which was no consolation at all. Neither was the fact that he was more handsome than she'd remembered. He had such an honest, unpretentious way about him. He was Gordon's opposite in every way, and that was a very good thing. The best thing. 

Still, better to find out he was Theresa's crush sooner than later. Justine didn't want to earn Martha's ire any more than Theresa's. 

After she heard the truck rumble to life and roll away, Justine gathered herself up and returned to the kitchen to help Theresa. Her trip to the village had inspired her to find out about running this particular B&B, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Maybe she'd even learn something to take home with her. 

A strange little knot formed in her stomach at the thought of home, composed primarily of disappointment and anxiety. She wished her family had never mentioned moving, because for the first time she really questioned why she continued to stay. 

The easy answer, as Beth had so astutely stumbled upon, was a devotion to the memory of their grandmother and her childhood. Justine couldn't deny that was a part of it. Maybe the main part, but not the only part. 

Memories were what kept her going, but were they enough when confronted with her sadly lacking roots in the only place she'd ever called home? 

Justine didn't have the energy to brood over it. When night fell and the lights went out, there would be time enough. She wouldn't be able to stop herself, then. 

She found Theresa standing at the sink with a pan of water and a scrub brush. 

"So, Samuel seems nice," she said to the redhead. 

"Sam? Yeah, he's a good guy." She continued scrubbing asparagus and said no more. 

Justine was confused. "He's handsome, right?" 

"Sure, if you like the strapping farmer type," Theresa smiled over her shoulder at Justine, then started on the spinach. 

"Don't you?" A sick trickle of doubt started to make its way into her bloodstream. Had she gotten the entire situation wrong? 

Theresa's hands stilled and she gazed out the window over the sink. "I guess I wouldn't say no if he showed an interest, but he's kept to himself since he and Valerie split." She glanced back at Justine. "He seemed happy to see you, though. Maybe he likes you." 

Holy shit! 

Theresa continued, "My tastes run more toward the baker variety." 

Justine's mouth went dry and she clenched her hands together to stop them shaking. "A baker delivers to the house?" 

"Yes. We bake our own bread, but they make the best pastries around. That stuff's hard to learn. Do you make your own at your B&B?" 

"No." Justine couldn't remember if they even offered pastries, her mind was too busy wondering how to make things right with Samuel. What must he have thought? "I think I'm going for a little drive. Do you mind?" 

"Course not. Have fun. You might want to go check out the lake, it's a beautiful afternoon." 

"I might." 

She wouldn't. 

Justine had no intention of sightseeing. She only wanted to track down the Lafortune's Farm, assuming the name on the side of Sam's delivery truck had been correct. 

She ran up to her room for her phone, spun up the search engine, typed the name in, and a moment later a number of hits came up, along with a map. 

Would he think she was stalking him? Christ, she'd never chased after a man before, but something told her she should chase him. 

What if your instincts are wrong again? 

Samuel had already shown himself to be a more genuine person than Gordon ever had. It was just an apology anyway. 

Justine grabbed her purse and her keys and raced down stairs and out the front door. 

Mrs. Dupris stopped her on the porch. She was sitting in a rocking chair, talking with some guests. "Justine, I'd like you to meet the Smiths. They've come to stay twice a year for the last eight years. They're some of our most loyal visitors." 

The last thing Justine wanted was a meet-and-greet, but she forced a smile and shook their hands. They both looked to be in their fifties, both dressed optimistically for the warm weather in shorts. "It's a pleasure," she said. "I'm sorry, but there's something urgent I need to take care of. Will you please excuse me?" 

Martha's silvery eyebrows rose. "You just arrived! What could possibly be so urgent?" 

"Uh, it's a misunderstanding I need to clear up. I'll be back later. Sorry again. Bye!" 

Justine hurried down the porch steps before anyone else could protest. If they thought she was a bit unhinged, well, they were probably right and she'd deal with it later. 

Her GPS led her south several kilometers, toward the US border. The Lafortune Farm was off a quiet road that led to another small village. 

There was only one house in the vicinity of the GPS target, a white two story farmhouse up a long gravel drive. Behind it was an enormous barn and several other outbuildings. Most of the fields were freshly plowed, the raised rows of soil rich and dark. 

It's got to be his. Where else would he live? 

Justine turned up the drive and tried to calm her dangerously high heartrate. When she pulled to a stop at the front of the house, reason reared its head and asked if she was really doing the right thing. 

It's just an apology, she assured herself. He hadn't deserved her rudeness, though it didn't entirely explain her sense of urgency. Or, at all, really. 

She climbed out of the car and forced herself up the front steps before she could change her mind. 

A frail elderly woman answered the door, looking surprised. 

Was this the wrong house after all, or Sam's mother? She hadn't gotten the impression he lived with his parents. 

"May I help you?" the woman asked. She had gray hair cut short in a no-maintenance style and wore a big fluffy blue cardigan over her yellow housecoat. 

"I hope so. I'm looking for Samuel. Is this where he lives?" 

"Yes, and who are you?" 

Justine shifted on her feet, wondering how much to tell. How much Samuel might have shared himself. She'd gotten the impression his family was quite close. "My name is Justine. He and I met at the hospital in Montreal. I don't suppose he mentioned...?" 

The woman considered her through cloudy gray eyes. "No, but Sam is like his father. He doesn't reveal what he doesn't think we need to know. He's private that way, but you must be the reason he's been so distracted. It makes sense now." She smiled. "Come in, please. I'm his mother, my name is Hélène, but you can call me Helen." 

Samuel had been distracted? Over her? 

Justine stepped into the foyer and pushed the door closed. Coats hung from hooks on the wall and boots were lined up neatly on rubber mats. The air was a tad too warm and smelled of a cooking roast. 

"Thank you, Helen. I hate to intrude. He's probably busy." 

"He's out back collecting eggs from his ducks, but you're welcome to wait. It's a bit of a relief, you showing up. His father and I were thinking maybe his bump on the head was worse than he told us. What brings you out here?" 

That was a very good question. As with her entire vacation, Justine wasn't sure what she hoped to achieve. She thought it safest to focus on the micro rather than the macro. "I'm staying at the La Petite Auberge and I happened to see him there earlier. There was a little misunderstanding and I wanted to apologize." 

"I see. And how is Martha Dupris faring? Recovered from her hip surgery yet?" 

"She doesn't think so," Justine replied with a grin. 

Hélène laughed long and loud, more than the comment really warranted, but it was endearing. Justine could see where Samuel picked up that particular trait. 




The Vacation



When she'd finally calmed, Hélène asked, "May I offer you coffee or tea?" 

"No, thanks. I'm not staying." 

"Come into the sitting room then, I don't do so well on these old sticks myself lately." Hélène gestured dismissively at her legs and hobbled into an adjacent room that had a couch, rocking chair, leather club chair, and TV. A huge old oriental rug spanned the hardwood floor under the furniture, all of which looked several decades old, excepting the leather chair, which seemed newer. Was it Sam's addition? 

Blue fleur-de-lis wallpaper provided the backdrop for what must have been a hundred family photos, most of which showed a toothy, smiling Samuel and his dark haired sister through their childhood. They looked a lot alike. 

Just after they were seated, a door at the back of the house squeaked open and closed, that simple sound making Justine's heart jump in her chest. Next she heard running water in a sink, but only barely over her heartbeat in her ears. 

What was she even doing there? Why had she decided this was so freaking urgent she couldn't wait until the next time he delivered to the B&B? 

It was too late to second guess her own motives and certainly too late to leave. 

"Mom?" he called. 

"In here," Hélène replied with a wink at Justine. 

The shock on Samuel's face at finding her in his sitting room with his mother was almost funny. Except it was still shock as he obviously didn't want to see her. 

Justine stood. "I'm sorry to show up like this." 

"How did you find me?" 

"Google. And the name on your truck." 

Hélène said, "I'll just leave you two to talk." 

"No," Justine said quickly, "stay. I'm leaving, I just want a word first. Will you walk me out?" 

Samuel looked as though he was shell shocked, but he said, "Yes... yes, of course." 

He led her out the front door and down the steps to her rental car before he turned on her. 

"Why are you here, Justine?" A deep furrow resided between his eyebrows and his crossed arms flexed with tension. 

Justine blew out a shaky breath. Was he angry? It was hard to tell. "I misunderstood something Mrs. Dupris said about Theresa. See, she told me Theresa was pining after a handsome man who delivered to the B&B, and I realized it was you and I didn't want to interfere, only it wasn't you it was the baker, who I haven't even met so how could I know if he was handsome or not, but then you were already gone and -" 

He placed a finger lightly on her lips. "Stop talking, Justine." 

"What?" 

"I don't want to hear about Theresa and Mrs. Dupris." His hand dropped and he took a step closer until he was in her personal space, forcing her to look up at him. "I want to know why you're here, right now." 

Her mouth was suddenly dry and she was aware of tickling strands of hair blown into her face by the breeze. She tucked them behind her ears. "I'm here because I didn't want you to think the wrong thing." 

"What's the wrong thing?" 

"That I don't like you. That I don't want to-" 

Samuel's lips stopped her talking this time, firm and warm as they pressed against hers. Big hands circled her head to angle her to his liking and all of her anxiety was replaced by a flood of relief and holy Christ he was a good kisser. The scent of turned earth and green shoots blended with his own earthy scent to stir a memory of something ancient and elemental, tempting her animal brain to primal acts. 

But the kiss was over too quickly, just when she was hoping his tongue would get in on the action. 

Samuel gazed down at her with flushed cheeks and seemed to be making an effort to pull away. "I don't want any games between us, Justine." he murmured, dropping his hands to her arms. His firm grip commanded eye contact. "If you don't want to get to know me, then I don't want to see you again. I can't." 

A sheen of anguish overlay his expression, making Justine feel the need to reassure him, and not just with words. 

But probably not in front of his house in broad daylight. 

She asked, "Will you have dinner with me?" 

"Where?" 

"I don't know. In the village? Either one. Any one. I don't care." Her hesitant smile was met with a slow grin. Good Lord she was in trouble. 

"I'll pick you up at 6:00 tomorrow at the B&B." 

** 

As he'd kissed her, Sam had known he was being reckless. That he was opening himself up for hurt he didn't want. 

It wouldn't be like Valerie, at least. She'd had five long years to wrap him up in security before deciding he wasn't what she wanted after all. While it was true there had been other interferences, if Valerie had really wanted him like he wanted her, she wouldn't have been deterred. 

Justine would be like a vacation from his own life, a tour of an alternate existence, all without having to leave home. He wanted more of her openness, more of her lightness, more of those sweet lips. Something about her called to the male in him, parts of his being that had been dormant since Valerie's betrayal. 

Justine was spring arriving, ending the long hibernation. 

And whatever happened at the end? Well, it would happen. 

In the meantime, there would be questions, primarily from his mother. She swooped in on him as soon as he reentered the house. 

Why didn't you mention her, Sam? She's lovely! Where does she live?" 

"BC. Whistler." 

"Ah. Now I understand. It's not ideal, is it?" she asked, walking slowly into the kitchen. 

"Not ideal? That's the understatement of the century." 

Sam offered his arm and walked her to the back of the house. She had gotten more unsteady over recent months, and the changes worried Sam. Perhaps he'd talk to his dad about getting her a cane like Martha Dupris'. She wouldn't like it. 

He helped her into a chair at the kitchen table and settled heavily into the chair next to hers. 

"How long is she staying?" 

"Three weeks, but I'm not sure how long she'll be at the B&B. Her cousin lives in the city and that's where she was staying when we met." 

"Well, why don't you invite her to dinner? Maybe on Friday if she's still around?" 

"I'll ask her." Sam wasn't sure about bringing her home to the parents in the first week, but she'd already met his mom. His family was close knit and would insist anyway, now that his secret was out. 

Samuel returned to the barn, throwing as much energy as he could into his work while also deciding on a memorable date to take Justine on. 

The rest of the day and the next passed in a blur, and before he knew it, the clock read 5:00 and he was running late to get ready for their dinner. 

He showered and dressed in clean jeans and a button down shirt. He put on his 'city shoes' which Valerie had picked out for him years ago and he'd only ever worn with her, in the city. They were black leather and not really his style, but they were the only non-work, non-sport shoes he had. 

Justine was waiting on the porch for him when he arrived. She wore skinny cut black trousers of some material with a slight sheen and a lightweight pearl gray sweater that hinted at the matching tank top underneath through the loose mesh. 

Her hair was held up in a twist with a happy spray of blonde hair escaping at the top and the only makeup she seemed to be wearing was sheer red lipstick. Sam wanted to kiss it right off her lips. 

He greeted her with kissed cheeks instead, then led her to his truck. As he helped her in, he noticed her black ballet flats, a shoe style he'd always found chaste and sexy at the same time. They suited her. 

Sam had chosen a restaurant in a nearby town, further down "La route des vins". It was quiet, with a terrace overlooking a small stream. He knew the place, but it wasn't one of his clients, so they would be just another couple, exactly the way he wanted it. And the restaurant was romantic, but not too romantic. He didn't want Justine to feel pressured by an excess of candlelight, and Sam wanted to talk and laugh without dirty looks for being noisy. 

The host seated them, paying special attention to Justine, but then every man in the restaurant cast glances her direction. Sam felt proud and a little self-conscious at the same time. Valerie had been beautiful, too, but in a more subtle way. There was nothing subtle about Justine, but she seemed oblivious to the attention. 

Once they'd ordered dinner and the wine had been poured, Justine asked, "So Samuel, what do you do for fun on the farm?" 

He grinned. "I play the cello." 

She laughed. "Liar! Never joke about the cello." 

"What if I did play the cello?" 

With a tilt of her head, her eyes roamed playfully over him. "It would be pretty hard to leave a man who looked like you do and played the cello." 

"It's decided, then. Where do I find lessons?" 

Justine laughed, "What do you play? Anything?" 

"Piano. Classical and Christmas carols, mostly. Is that close enough?" 

"I'll take it under consideration." 

Just then Justine's attention was drawn to a middle aged couple entering the restaurant. The woman waved, and Justine waved back. 

She told him, "Martha Dupris tried to introduce me to this couple yesterday, but I was on the way out the door. They're staying at the B&B." 

The hostess noticed the waves and sat the couple at the empty table next to them. 

"Hello, again," Justine said, once they were settled. "I'm sorry I had to leave so abruptly yesterday." 

"Did you get the misunderstanding taken care of?" The woman asked. 

Justine turned her attention on him with a grin. "Yes, I believe so. This is Samuel. Sam, Mr. and Mrs. Smith." 

"Please, Kathleen and Jacob," the woman said. 

"It's a pleasure," Sam said, rising to shake their hands. "Where are you visiting from?" 

"New York City," Jacob said. 

"Not that far away, then." 

"Not compared to some, no." 

His wife continued, "We live and work in the city, so we like to come north of the border for vacations. Martha's place is the perfect antidote to concrete and skyscrapers." 

"It's the first time I've been," Justine said, "but I love it already. I own a B&B in Whistler, which is very different. Quite rustic. My grandmother used to come here, though. She and Martha were friends." 

"Martha mentioned that," Kathleen said. She leaned closer and said in conspiratorial tones, "I think she's hoping you'll buy her place and move east." 

"Really?" Justine looked surprised and something else that made Sam's adrenaline spike. 

Had she already been considering it? 

Justine laughed off the suggestion. "It's too dear for me to afford, but I'm sure she'll find someone who'll be perfect for it." 

She obviously didn't want to talk about it, so she used him to change the subject. "Samuel delivers fresh produce from his family farm for the B&B." 

"Ah, a local," Jacob said. 

Sam nodded, "For several generations, yes." 

Kathleen looked between him and Justine and said, "Well, we'll let you get on with your evening. Maybe we'll get to talk tomorrow, Justine." 

"I hope so." She sounded sincere. 

They chatted through dinner, about music and movies and childhood memories. When Justine spoke of family, she revealed an underlying sadness. She'd glossed over the early death of her mother and her eventual abandonment by her father to her grandmother, but he felt like he was beginning to understand her better. He had an idea where her vulnerability came from and had the strangest urge to protect her from the things that caused it. 

After dinner, they walked to a bar down the block that offered live jazz music. The décor was as dark and polished as the music, old jazz standards covered by a four piece band. Justine complemented his choice of venue, stating that the standup bass was nearly as good as the cello, which pleased Sam more than it should have. 

At midnight, he drove her back to the B&B. 

Justine was quiet, watching the stars over the dark countryside through the side window. She seemed to need the solitude, so he didn't interrupt. In front of the house, he helped her down from the truck and held her hand as they walked up the steps to the front door. 

"Thanks for going to dinner with me," he said, pulling her hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles. 

"You're good company, Sam. Thanks for thinking of the music, I really enjoyed it." 

"I know it's not a string quartet, but..." He lowered his lips to hers and she grabbed on to his jacket to pull him closer. 

What he'd intended as a soft kiss was left behind in favor of something more urgent. He didn't mind. Her mouth opened to his and he had his first taste of her, their tongues sliding together in mutual exploration. 

Justine was soft and sweet. A bit tart from the wine. 

Sam's cock surged to life, straining for a taste of its own, resenting the clothes between them. He slid a hand to the nape of her neck and held her tight as he deepened the kiss, angling his mouth over hers. 

With her lips and her scent and her taste, Justine offered herself up, and for a split second, he thought about taking her up to her room. 

But he didn't want to rush things with her, even if time was short. 

Sam knew if he didn't stop, he'd regret it. 

He pulled away and Justine's fingers rose to her lips. "God, I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me." 

Sam pressed a kiss onto her forehead and said, "The same thing that came over me, apparently. It's in the air." Justine was the air, as far as his body was concerned. "What would you say to dinner at my house on Friday? I know it's a little old fashioned, but my mom asked me to invite you." 

Justine looked toward the starlit night as she considered, and Sam realized she might feel awkward about her lack of family in the face of his tight-knit one. The inevitable questions would be daunting. He said, "It's okay to say no. She'll understand. I'll understand. We can go someplace quiet instead, or maybe to the city? Assuming you want to do anything at all." 

Her smile was reassuring as she said, "Dinner at your place will be fine." 

"I'll tell them to go easy on you," he replied, squeezing her hand. 

"Thanks, but there's no need. Goodnight, Samuel." She leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek then turned to the door. 

"Goodnight, Justine. Sleep well." 

Sam thought he'd be lucky to get any sleep at all. 

** 

Justine slipped inside the house and closed the door behind her with a quiet snick. 

Years without this kind of giddy happiness made her want to hoard her newfound source. To keep him on hand to use at will for her own greedy pleasure. 

But she didn't really know Sam, and he certainly didn't know her. Didn't have any idea of her baggage or the unyielding, concrete nature of her biggest fears. It was the same wall she ran into every time she pondered starting over. 

Gordon would always force her back. He would hold that little piece of paper over her head and taunt her with everything she'd have to give up to make it go away, to burn it up for good. 

He'd once accused her of bringing out the worst in people, but the opposite was true. She'd never known she was capable of the kind of spite she nurtured toward him. To think I loved him. 

Up until her little venture east, she'd been content to wait him out. To maintain the status quo until he decided he wanted a different piece of paper with one of his long line of playthings. 

Now options had opened up, a glimpse of a different life. 

Samuel was a part of this change, certainly, but Justine knew it couldn't be about him. The cycle of trimming and reformatting herself in order to fit into the frame of other people's lives was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.  

But what if she could part with her B&B? What if the memories she carried with her were enough? What if she could somehow afford to buy Martha's place? 

It was unlikely, but there was no way of knowing without carrying out a little research. 

Justine crept into her room and fired up her laptop. She'd had a friend who was a real estate agent in Whistler, dealing mostly in condos and vacation properties, but she'd know how to investigate comps and the value of Justine's property. Nothing had to come of it, but Justine knew she'd always wonder if she didn't ask. 

She found her friend Rebecca's agency and typed out a quick email explaining her purpose. For several minutes she stared at the screen, wondering if she should add a line about keeping the research a secret. God knew Gordon would have a field day if he found out what she was considering. 

Not even considering, she reminded herself. It was all just a hypothetical scenario she was testing for feasibility. Nothing more. 

She sent off the email and felt oddly light for having done it, which was good because it freed her mind to think about her night with Samuel. To pore over their conversations and the long glances and casual touches, and what it could all mean. How he might have felt and whether it was anything like she did. 

Gordon had tricked her into thinking he was different, but something told her Samuel really was. She'd never, ever hit it off with anyone so quickly. Never shared about her family on a first or even third date or revealed the struggle of losing her parents so young. 

She hadn't been able to tell him about Gordon, though. The thought of his disapproval or, worse, pity was too much to bear. And it hardly seemed necessary since Gordon was on the other side of the country and Samuel could never be anything other than a vacation fling. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

The next morning Rebecca called her about the email. 

"Are you really thinking of selling?" she asked. 

"I don't know," Justine replied, "Not at the moment, probably. But I'm staying at a place that's for sale and it's got me thinking. I'm curious how mine would compare, price-wise. The properties are completely different, but I guess if the return was good, I'd do it." 

"Is there someone who can show me the inside? I'd need to see all of it to make an accurate estimate. Also, how much property, what's the square footage, all of that." 

Justine felt a happy tremble in her chest just talking about it. "Alicia is staying in my absence, I'll call her to let her know you're going to visit. The house is 6,000 square feet, the property is 150 acres. The river runs through the south part of the property." 

Rebecca whistled over the line. "That's bigger than I remembered." 

"It was a built as a hunting lodge by a logging magnate at the turn of the last century. All but two of the eight bedrooms have private baths." 

"And you own it outright?" 

"Yes." 

A puff of air sounded and Rebecca said, "I can probably check it out later today or tomorrow. I'll call if I have questions, but I'll just tell you now, your property is probably worth a lot more than it would be in Quebec. It wouldn't be a fair comparison." 

"Really? That's encouraging to hear. Thank you so much, Rebecca. I really appreciate your help." 

"Not a problem. When are you heading back? Gordon was asking about you at the Lodge last night. I guess he noticed you were gone." 

Amazing he was aware of anything other than himself. "The beginning of May. Please don't tell him about what you're doing for me, alright? I don't want to start another round of fighting over the property." 

"He still wants it, huh?" 

"If he wants it, he can fucking buy it." And she'd use the same tactic as Martha Dupris, because there was no way in hell he was going to own the place she loved the most. He didn't deserve it. Not even half of it. "Just try to keep it on the down low, okay?" 




The Vacation



"You've got it. I'll call you later." 

"Thanks. Bye." 

Just like that, events were set in motion, and she didn't feel especially guilty about it. Not about potentially leaving her home behind, not about going behind Gordon's back, and not about longing for some other future. 

** 

Friday evening rolled around and as much as he'd been anticipating it, Justine's knock at the door still surprised Sam. 

He ran down the stairs in his jeans, pulling on his shirt and swiping back damp hair. His mother had spent the afternoon cooking but he didn't know if his father had returned yet from their house down the road. 

"I've got the door," he called toward the kitchen, passing through the sitting room to the front door. His bare feet slapped lightly on the oak floor of the entryway. 

Justine wore snug jeans and a pale peach colored fitted shirt with a row of tiny pearl buttons down the front. 

Were they decorative or would he have to unbutton each and every one if he were to take it off her? 

Rip them. That was the easy way. Uncivilized, but fast. Although, there was something to be said for popping each one individually, making his way down with slow intention. 

Samuel shook himself and met her eyes. 

Justine laughed at him. Not aloud, but it was obvious none the less. 

"What?" he asked innocently. "I like your shirt." 

She stepped through the doorway and gave him a peck on his cheek. Near his ear, she whispered, "I'm glad you like it." 

Maybe it was just the color of the shirt, but she smelled of peaches and smooth skin. The surge of hormones was becoming familiar, but putting it off was getting harder. If Justine was setting the tone for the rest of the evening, Sam was going to start resenting his parent's presence. 

Down, boy. 

He led her through to the kitchen and his mother put her to work making a salad and set him to ricing the potatoes. 

Nothing like ricing potatoes to kill a hard-on. 

"I want to ask all about your home," his mother told Justine, "but then you'll have to answer the same questions again when Arthur arrives. He went home to clean up. We live in a little house down the road now." She explained. "My knees can't take the stairs here anymore." 

"I know how it is. My grandmother went through the same thing several years back. Luckily we had a ground floor room for her. She passed away four years ago." 

"I'm sorry to hear that. Sam's grandparents all passed away when he was relatively young. We were older when we had him. His sister is ten years older than he is. She lives in Ontario with her family now. We don't see them nearly enough." 

His mom always started sounding morose when she talked about grandchildren. It was a subject he usually avoided since he wasn't actively contributing to improving the situation for her. Sam said, "She's bringing the kids to visit in June, remember. I give it a week before you're ready for quiet again." 

"Hush, you," she laughed. "When you're a parent, you'll understand." 

While that might be true, it wasn't a conversation Sam wanted to have with Justine visiting. Introducing her to his parents so soon was pushing matters as it was. When he glanced over at Justine, she was fully focused on tearing up lettuce leaves, a little more intensely than romaine usually required. Probably trying to block out the conversation. 

For the best. 

His dad came in through the back door then, and the room got a lot louder. 

"You must be Justine! Come here and let me have a look at you!" 

Her eyes got a little wild when his dad wrapped her up in a big hug, but she played along. 

The rest of the evening flew by, comprised of dinner, including his mother's famous carrot cake for dessert, followed by many rounds of rummy over short tumblers of whisky. 

Sam couldn't remember having had such a good time at home with his family. And Justine felt like family. She fit in with them seamlessly, and he could tell his parents adored her. 

All of which posed an even bigger problem once May rolled around, because she would be leaving them, too. 

At 10:00, his mom declared she was ready to go home. Sam waved them off and then it was just he and Justine. "How about a little quality stargazing?" he asked. 

"That's one of my favorite things," she replied. 

They pulled on jackets and Sam grabbed the homemade quilt off the back of his couch. He turned off all the lights in the house and led her down the back steps to the old bench swing his grandfather had erected for his grandmother in the yard many years before. 

Sam pulled Justine close under his arm and wrapped the quilt around them both before sitting her down next to him. The wooden bench creaked with their weight and started a gentle rocking under the long support beam overhead. 

Having Justine tucked in tight against him felt good, felt right. She was the kind of woman who could appreciate a quiet night under the stars, and Sam wished she could sit next to him on the bench once the weather was warm, when the sky was bright with the constellations of summer. 

"How long are you staying at Martha's B&B?" he asked. He'd been putting off the question because he dreaded finding out this might be her last day. It was the one question he'd requested his parents not ask. 

"Why? Are you anxious to get rid of me?" She bumped her knee playfully into his and cuddled into him. 

"I'm not a fan of surprises," he admitted. "I like time to prepare myself for change." Although, her very presence still counted as a change as he'd hardly had the time to grow accustomed to her. But he wanted time, even if it made things harder in the long run. 

"Martha's moving me out to a little three room cottage she had built last summer in the trees by the greenhouse. It's still mostly unfinished on the inside, but she said I could work on it while I was staying. I'm actually looking forward to it. I like projects with distinct beginnings and endings." 

Somehow that didn't surprise him. "I do, too. I'd like to help, if I may." 

Justine smiled up at him. "I was hoping you'd offer." She looked away before he could kiss her. 

"So, Theresa mentioned someone named Valerie. Was she a serious girlfriend?" 

Sam didn't want to rehash the Valerie era with Justine, but he supposed he owed it to her, especially since he was curious about her own history. "She was my fiancée. We met when I was 25 and she was just 20. We spent five years together off and on, but she was jealous of this other girl who I had no interest in. It was an excuse, really. Eventually she just left. She had other ambitions that didn't involve farming, I guess." 

Justine squeezed his arm in sympathy. "Do you still see her around?" 

"Not often. She lives in the city now. I heard she's engaged again." He shrugged. "It's well over a year, so I consider that particular chapter over." Sam pressed a kiss into her hair and said, "What about you? Any serious relationships?" 

She was quiet for a long moment, and he started to wonder if there was something awful she didn't want to reveal. A secret that would fracture the peaceful night and his smitten heart. 

Sam wasn't sure he wanted to hear it after all. 

She said, "Yes, just one. It ended badly almost two years ago and there's still a lot of animosity. Of course he insists he holds no blame. Mostly we just avoid each other, but he lives in Whistler and everybody knows him and likes him, so it's awkward." 

Defeat was something he hadn't expected to hear in her voice, and it was almost impossible to believe anyone could think anything bad about Justine. What kind of asshole would put her in that position in the first place? 

"Sounds bad," he said. "Maybe buying Martha's place would be a positive thing." Sam didn't like the thought of her living in distress because of some manipulative dick. Of living in fear. 

Was that what she'd alluded to in the emergency room? 

"It's not that bad," she said. "I never talk about it and I'm probably being dramatic. Anyway, I can't sell my house. It's... complicated." 

Nothing was that complicated, and Sam believed there was a solution to every problem, but it was clear Justine didn't want to talk about her property or her ex. 

Sam wished he had never asked because knowing she was returning to unhappiness was going to bother him for the duration of her stay. But the situation was beyond his control by about 5,000 kilometers and she seemed to be an independent woman. She could take care of herself. He hoped. 

Sam wrapped his arm tighter around her said, "What's on your agenda for tomorrow? I can probably come over in the late morning after chores to help with the cottage." 

Her tone brightened again with the change of subject. "I'm picking up paint in the morning, then attacking the walls. I spent most of the day today cleaning up all the dust from construction." 

"I can paint," he said. "I've been told I have excellent technique." 

"A true master of the roller, huh?" 

"Well, I don't like to brag." 

She smiled up at him and said, "I'm sure you're good at a lot of things." 

"I don't know about that. But I do believe practice makes perfect." 

"Is there anything you'd like to practice right now?" 

Sam grinned over at her. "Since you mention it, yes. There's this thing people do with their lips." 

"I've heard of that." Justine was trying hard not to laugh, which almost made him forget about the earlier conversation. 

Clearly he needed more distraction. 

Sam leaned down and brushed his mouth to hers, slid his tongue lightly against the crease of her lips so she opened, her tongue reaching out to meet his. The taste of whisky lingered between them, sweet and slightly smoky, warm and wet. 

Justine's cool hand slid up his cheek and back into his hair, securing him in place. 

The quilt fell away as Sam twisted and pulled her into him, his hands roaming up her back over her jacket. She was soft in his arms, pliant as she gave herself up to his lips and hands. 

His cock ached to be inside her and his hands craved skin, breasts, nipples, the wet parts of her he hadn't yet tasted. 

Sam wanted more from her, all of her, but the hardness of the bench and the cold night air gave him some perspective. 

Not tonight. There would only ever be one first time between he and Justine, and Sam didn't want to feel rushed. 

He gave a last sweep of his tongue against hers before withdrawing with a series of soft kisses. Her taste made him lightheaded. 

"It's getting late," he said. "We've got a busy day tomorrow. What with all the painting." He grinned and tugged the quilt back into place. 

Justine sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. "Thank you, Samuel." 

"For what?" 

"For not being pushy with me," she said into his jacket. "Theresa was right. You are a good guy." 

An alarm went off in Sam's head. Was he being relegated to the 'nice but uninteresting' category in her mind? "I'm not always good." 

She pulled back to look him in the eye. "No?" 

He shook his head slowly. "There are many things I'd like to do with you that don't fall into the category of gentlemanly." 

Justine's eyes widened slightly and she smiled. "When are you going to demonstrate these ungentlemanly things for me?" 

"When the time is right," he said lightly. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week." Sam kissed the tip of her nose and stood, pulling her up with him. 

"I don't know how I'm going to stand the wait," she said, and he laughed. 

"You'll manage." 

Although, Sam didn't know how he was going to stand it, either. He escorted Justine to her rental car and opened the door for her. "Are you sure you're alright to drive back to the B&B?" 

"I'm fine," she assured him, sliding into the driver's seat. "I'll give you a call when I get there so you know I made it in one piece." 

"It's a deal," Sam replied, closing the door and blowing her a kiss. He watched the tail lights disappear into the night before making his way back inside the house. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the phone rang. "La ferme Lafortune, bonjour?" Even Sam recognized the anticipation and threat of a giggle in his voice. 

"Oh, sorry. Wrong number!" 

Sam chuckled. "Thanks for calling, Justine. Sleep well and I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Sleep? With my head filled with thoughts of ungentlemanly things?" She laughed. "Did I ever mention I have a very fertile imagination? With you involved, it's positively filthy." 

She was teasing him? Two could play that game. "As you imagine me doing wonderfully wicked things to you, be sure to include some nice chamber music in the background." 

Justine made a gasp of pretend outrage and said, "If that's the way you want to play it, Monsieur Lafortune, please note that I always go to bed naked and I just slipped between the sheets. Sleep well!" 

The phone line went dead before he could reply, but Sam's cock reacted instantly to the image of Justine naked in her bed. "Touché!" he said to the dial tone on the empty line. 

He turned off the lights, undressed, and made his way between his own sheets. He also preferred to sleep naked and couldn't help lightly brushing his semi-erect cock with his fingers. "It won't be too hard to get going," he thought, having been tormented by the pearly buttons on her shirt all night. 

Why didn't I just bring her upstairs earlier? 

Because being a gentleman didn't necessarily coincide with the desire to perform ungentlemanly acts. 

Sam laughed at the thought of a funny voice asking, "Who's the idiot?" Insisting again and again in French, "C'est qui le cave?" 

Sam stroked his cock knowing he was the idiot who had to get some relief or risk spending the night restless and horny. 

His left hand had a firm grip of the base of his shaft, his fingers cupping his balls at the same time. His cock felt smooth and sensitive as his right hand slowly moved up and down. 

"Ah oui, Justine..." he whispered, thinking how nice it would be to suck her tits, to close his lips for the first time on her erect nipples. "Laisses-moi sucer tes seins," he murmured with images of his mouth kissing and licking her breasts. He was not a breast man, but he was a fan of proportion, and Justine's seemed to be perfectly sized for her body, small and soft. 

Sam's hand moved at a steady pace stroking his cock, feeling his pleasure rising. He imagined kissing her stomach, slowly making his way down to her mons, wondered if she was shaved or if she kept a small patch of curls. Kissing the inside of her legs, he could easily imagine how good she smelled, and the thought made him increase his rhythm, gyrating his hips on the mattress. 

Images of a naked Justine flew through his mind as he beat his cock more and more frantically. He was getting close, pictured himself holding Justine's narrow hips from behind, pumping his member deep inside her and bumping her cervix with every thrust. In his mind's eye, she begged him, "Harder Sam, harder!" as her cute ass pushed back wantonly to meet his every thrust. 

Imagining her turning her head to look back at him, smiling with pleasure, Sam exploded. He couldn't remember unloading so many times, with such force, in a long time. 

As his body slowly relaxed, he told his room, "Ostie que ça va être bon faire l'amour avec elle." Yes, it would be good to make love to her in due time. Justine was definitely his type physically, but he had to concede there was something more at work inside him. Justine was more than just her beauty, and even his cock knew it. 

Shaking himself out of his dreamlike state, Sam rolled to the night stand and remembered he hadn't replaced the tissue box. "Oh well," he said, licking a drip of cum off his hand. If a girl could swallow his load, he should at least be able to stand the taste himself. Finally, he snagged his boxers off the floor to wipe off the rest of the mess, then dropped his head back on the pillow and was out cold for the night. 

** 

Justine hung up the phone smiling and flopped back in her bed feeling as though she had a tickle under her skin that wouldn't go away. As much as she appreciated Samuel's patience, he was undeniably the source of her discomfort. 

She wanted him, plain and simple. Wanted his strong body over her and his dark eyes drawing her in with the promise of kisses and breathlessness and unbelievable orgasms. 

Justine's mind wandered to what he would be like in bed, how he would touch her. He had already shown he was patient, she didn't think that would change. He seemed detail oriented and unfailingly polite. Just how ungentlemanly would he get? 

She stretched out on her belly, breasts pushing into the bed, and savored the firm but soft press of the mattress on a side of her body where there wasn't usually pressure. 

'What do you want me to do?' he would ask. 

"Touch my pussy," she whispered into her pillow, sliding her right leg out to the side and her hand between the mattress and her body. She imagined Sam's hand on her instead of her own as she rubbed along the line of wet flesh at her center. Imagined his fingers circling and flicking across her clit, then sliding down to press into her clenching pussy. 

"Ah, yes... like that," she murmured. She rolled her hips into the mattress, grinding against her fingers. She pulled out and rubbed hard over her clit, before returning to her fantasy. "Put your cock in me, Samuel." She plunged her fingers back in her soaking pussy, picturing his cock pounding deep instead. Her body writhed under the sheet, ass rising and falling as he thrust into her. Within minutes, Justine was clenching and panting into her pillow, burying her face to halt the sounds of orgasm escaping her room. 

When her trembling had stopped, Justine pulled her hand away, discouraged to realize the tickle of desire wasn't gone, it had just migrated to a different place, deeper inside where only Samuel would be able to reach. 

The next morning, after a trip to the hardware store in the same town where Sam had taken her to dinner, Justine packed up everything from her room in the B&B, which wasn't much more than toiletries, clothes, and her laptop. She crossed the lawn to the woods where the cottage lived, plump dewdrops soaking her shoes before she'd made it halfway. 

The little cottage stood like a fairytale house at the end of the sawdust path, or it would once it was done. The big construction and priming had been completed in the fall, but moldings, paint, and all of the decorative touches had yet to be finished. 

The inside was just a studio with a little kitchenette, empty of all furniture except the fold-up cot Martha had procured for her. There were lots of windows covered in plastic, but even so the room was blindingly white in the morning sun. 

Behind a wall at the back was a large bathroom on the left side, and a small empty room on the right, too small for a bed. Martha hadn't decided on a purpose for the room yet, but she'd said it might be a private reading room, or a big closet. 

The wood floors were covered with heavy plastic that crinkled pleasantly with every step. Justine rolled the little bed into the back room and dumped her bags there as well. 

After organizing the paint cans by room, she laid out her supplies and poured paint into a tray. Justine loaded the knap of a roller with the soft yellow paint and set herself up on the widest section of wall. 

She'd painted enough to know she should start with the edges, but there was something so satisfying about using a roller on a pristine stretch of wall. About covering great swaths of space in a little time, overwriting tired color or, in this case no color at all, with a fresh hue. It was graphic, vivid proof that nothing was ever truly set, nothing was permanent, which had become a hopeful notion to Justine of late.