dress in her car all day. Said the sun would discolor the
white lace.” I shrugged and stared out the passenger window at the rows of corn
slicing by. They’d be down soon and our world would turn into a
post-apocalyptic desert of empty, broken fields. “Anyway, forbidden topic.”
I felt him look at me, but I
couldn’t acknowledge that look. Are you ok? it would say, all blue-eyed
and sincere. No, I’d scowl. Then I’d get catty and morose, not that I
didn’t have a corner on that market anyway. But that wasn’t really why I didn’t
look at him. Truth was, I didn’t want to share him with Jonathan and Bailey and
the wedding dress. They didn’t deserve him.
Jason pulled his hand away
and slowed the truck. I glanced up, sure we weren’t quite at the turn off. He
pulled onto an overgrown, unmarked road – really more of a scruff in the grass
than an honest-to-god road - that disappeared into a thicket of trees and
headed back over the hill towards the old apple farm no one cared about
anymore.
“Where are we going?” I
asked, nervous as we bumped along. If not for the occasional bald tire ruts,
the road would have been swallowed completely by now. Jason dropped the gear
into something low and mean and the truck lurched through the brush with a
growl.
“You’ll see.”
Then the path evened out very
suddenly and pulled off along the wide orchard of overgrown apple trees. The
ground here was paved by years of fallen leaves, rotten apple cores, and sprigs
of rusted barbed wire poking through the underbrush.
Jason pulled the truck to a
stop. We were dusted with amber sunlight half shaded by the thin tree branches.
If they’d been half cared for they would have been in full green and filling
with new fruit, but their gnarled bellies hadn’t seen much light back here
since the trees we’d just plowed through had been allowed to overgrow the
orchard and block it from half a day of sunlight.
Instead the trees looked
crouched like an army of old men, gnarled boughs stretching wide instead of
high, creaky and mostly dead.
Without waiting for an
invitation, I climbed across the seat to his arms and he caught me up like he’d
wondered why I’d waited so long. I pinned him to the seat, one knee on either
side of his hips and lowered my mouth to his. I hadn’t pulled my hair back and
it shaded us from the low sun and tickled his rough cheeks. He smiled against
my mouth and caressed the long gold strands from my face.
But I wasn’t so romantic. I
dug at his shirt, untucked it and ran my hands across his strong chest. I
marveled at his muscles, tight and shaped like stone, not real flesh. I had no
idea bodies could feel like this, strength in every breath, every stretch of
his hand.
When I went for his belt
buckle, he caught my hands, pulled them away, and kissed each wrist. “Whoa,
whoa… Hold on now, Cass. Angry sex isn’t going to calm you down.”
I leaned back against the
steering wheel and blew hair out of my eyes, frustrated. “Then what are we
doing here?”
“You need to be settled, not
stirred up. Let me.”
He slid his hands, fingers
splayed, across the small of my back and pulled at my shirt until he felt skin.
I tried to slow my heart. I recognized the anger he’d felt, like adrenaline in
my heart. I let him stroke my skin and kiss my mouth. He pulled at my lips,
licked at them. He had a great tongue.
I curled against him, my
cheek close to his as he touched me, wound his hands down over my buttocks and
thighs. I was grateful I’d worn shorts today, green canvas things that rose
higher than I typically liked but gave him ample access to my thighs. He grabbed
the back of them, each in one hand, and trailed his fingertips teasingly up the
path of delights to the gusset of my shorts.
“Turn around,” he panted, and
I did with some difficulty so that I was pressed between him and the door, my
legs across his lap, settled comfortably in his arms. “Just relax, Cassidy.”
I tried to
white lace.” I shrugged and stared out the passenger window at the rows of corn
slicing by. They’d be down soon and our world would turn into a
post-apocalyptic desert of empty, broken fields. “Anyway, forbidden topic.”
I felt him look at me, but I
couldn’t acknowledge that look. Are you ok? it would say, all blue-eyed
and sincere. No, I’d scowl. Then I’d get catty and morose, not that I
didn’t have a corner on that market anyway. But that wasn’t really why I didn’t
look at him. Truth was, I didn’t want to share him with Jonathan and Bailey and
the wedding dress. They didn’t deserve him.
Jason pulled his hand away
and slowed the truck. I glanced up, sure we weren’t quite at the turn off. He
pulled onto an overgrown, unmarked road – really more of a scruff in the grass
than an honest-to-god road - that disappeared into a thicket of trees and
headed back over the hill towards the old apple farm no one cared about
anymore.
“Where are we going?” I
asked, nervous as we bumped along. If not for the occasional bald tire ruts,
the road would have been swallowed completely by now. Jason dropped the gear
into something low and mean and the truck lurched through the brush with a
growl.
“You’ll see.”
Then the path evened out very
suddenly and pulled off along the wide orchard of overgrown apple trees. The
ground here was paved by years of fallen leaves, rotten apple cores, and sprigs
of rusted barbed wire poking through the underbrush.
Jason pulled the truck to a
stop. We were dusted with amber sunlight half shaded by the thin tree branches.
If they’d been half cared for they would have been in full green and filling
with new fruit, but their gnarled bellies hadn’t seen much light back here
since the trees we’d just plowed through had been allowed to overgrow the
orchard and block it from half a day of sunlight.
Instead the trees looked
crouched like an army of old men, gnarled boughs stretching wide instead of
high, creaky and mostly dead.
Without waiting for an
invitation, I climbed across the seat to his arms and he caught me up like he’d
wondered why I’d waited so long. I pinned him to the seat, one knee on either
side of his hips and lowered my mouth to his. I hadn’t pulled my hair back and
it shaded us from the low sun and tickled his rough cheeks. He smiled against
my mouth and caressed the long gold strands from my face.
But I wasn’t so romantic. I
dug at his shirt, untucked it and ran my hands across his strong chest. I
marveled at his muscles, tight and shaped like stone, not real flesh. I had no
idea bodies could feel like this, strength in every breath, every stretch of
his hand.
When I went for his belt
buckle, he caught my hands, pulled them away, and kissed each wrist. “Whoa,
whoa… Hold on now, Cass. Angry sex isn’t going to calm you down.”
I leaned back against the
steering wheel and blew hair out of my eyes, frustrated. “Then what are we
doing here?”
“You need to be settled, not
stirred up. Let me.”
He slid his hands, fingers
splayed, across the small of my back and pulled at my shirt until he felt skin.
I tried to slow my heart. I recognized the anger he’d felt, like adrenaline in
my heart. I let him stroke my skin and kiss my mouth. He pulled at my lips,
licked at them. He had a great tongue.
I curled against him, my
cheek close to his as he touched me, wound his hands down over my buttocks and
thighs. I was grateful I’d worn shorts today, green canvas things that rose
higher than I typically liked but gave him ample access to my thighs. He grabbed
the back of them, each in one hand, and trailed his fingertips teasingly up the
path of delights to the gusset of my shorts.
“Turn around,” he panted, and
I did with some difficulty so that I was pressed between him and the door, my
legs across his lap, settled comfortably in his arms. “Just relax, Cassidy.”
I tried to
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