by Wendy Cole
“Where are we going?” I asked as I followed his steps.
Bard bounded off the steps, seeming much younger when he did so. He turned to shoot a blinding smile at me as he walked backwards with light, sure-footed steps. “It’s a surprise.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Here it is,” he said, his tone light. He rushed through the trees, and I fought to catch up.
The woods cleared to reveal a field. Yellow flowers grew wild and stretched on for what felt like miles before the trees cut them off again.
Bard ran out into it and spun around to face me. His smile was blinding. His arms extended out at his sides.
My lips parted. Not just at the natural beauty of the place, which would have been enough, but at the sight of him standing amidst it, looking so carefree and infectious.
I was falling.
“What do you think?” He spun in a circle, then stood and let his gaze roam over the view. His shoulders lifted on a heavy breath. His stance was that of a man at peace.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “It’s beautiful.”
Bard cut a look over at me, and his gaze softened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is this too much? Too good?”
His lip twitched.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “No. No. It’s perfect.” I stepped further into the field and plopped down to rest my aching legs. “I hate yellow.”
He laughed, big and loud. It echoed out in the open space and sent a shiver across my skin. Next thing I knew, he bounded over and dropped into the space beside me. He stretched out onto his back, hands behind his head and eyes fixed on the clear blue sky. His chest rose and fell as if he’d ran a mile, and his smile was wide and eyes clear.
“I feel like I can finally catch my breath, Tequila.”
Probably because you stole mine.
He flipped over to his stomach and looked up at me. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving!” I blew out a breath. “It feels like we walked for hours.”
“We did.” He pushed himself up from the ground and extended a hand. “C’mon. Let’s catch lunch.”
“Catch?” I let him pull me to my feet then dusted the back of my jeans.
Bard winked and walked off towards the trees.
I followed his steps, and as we reentered the woods on the opposite side, water burbled in the distance.
Bard reached back and grabbed my hand without turning to look at me, then pulled me the final stretch.
A creek weaved its way between the trees and cut off our path.
Bard turned and grinned at me. “This connects to the river just east of here, and it’s just deep enough for decent fish to swim in.”
The whole time he spoke, he busied himself with yanking off his boots.
I furrowed my brow at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to catch some.”
“But you don’t have a pole.”
Bard’s grin widened. “Don’t need one. Just watch.”
He waded out, jeans and all, until the water reached his thighs, then stared down into the water.
The world fell quiet as he focused. Just the sounds of water. The occasional chirp of a bird. The rustle of wind through leaves. Then splash!
Bard jammed his hand into the water and pulled out a fish as long as his forearm by the mouth. He smiled that blinding smile. “I’ve still got it.” His voice was deep and smooth, richer than before, as if the mountain air had somehow made him healthier. “Hope you like trout, Tequila.”
He tossed it onto the bank where it flopped, then focused his attention back on the water.
I watched him go, one after the other, until four fishes sat in various stages of panic on the rocks in front of me.
Bard waded out and gathered them all, two in each hand held by two fingers through a gill.
My nose scrunched. “You’ll cook them, right? And…remove the heads? I don’t want them looking at me.”
Bard rumbled a laugh. “Yes, Tequila. I’ll take off the heads and cook them.” He paused and looked down at me as he passed. “I’ll even take the guts out.”
“Eww.”
His chest rumbled again as he started back for the field. I followed his steps then watched him grab a knife from the pack, skin the scales off the poor creatures, split them open, and cut off their heads. It was gross, but I didn’t say so. I’d been hungry enough before it wasn’t a skill I was averse to learning. So I paid attention as he finished them up, laid them across a pan, and retreated into the woods to collect sticks and old pieces of wood.
He built a pile in the center of the field, lined it with moss, and used some special rock from his pack to spark it to life.
“You’re good at this,” I said once he placed the pan over the flames and sat down.
His lip twitched. “Too good?”
I grinned. “No. This I’m okay with.”
Bard’s eyes shot to mine and cut. He was back to reading me, searching. “You regret last night?”
It took me a long, drawn-out moment to respond. “I don’t, but…”
Bard nodded, and his focus went back to the sizzling fish. “You’re scared.”
I clamped my mouth shut, unable to deny it. I wasn’t just scared. I was fucking terrified.
“I’d prefer to keep it casual.”
Bard didn’t respond. He stared at the flames and idly flipped the fillets. It wasn’t until he pulled the pan off the fire that he finally spoke. “How about we just don’t overthink it?”
I met his gaze. “Not thinking never did me any favors.”
“And overthinking did?”
I focused back on the flames.
Bard grabbed the pan and circled the fire. Then he dropped down to the spot beside me and worked a bite onto the fork. “Try it.”
I turned to look at him. He had a soft smile and an open expression. The light had dimmed, and the glow of the flames accentuated the angles of his face.
Too damn good looking.
I leaned forward, took the offering, then groaned at the flavor. I lifted a hand to my mouth. It melted like butter and had the same richness. “That’s really good.”
“See? Now, if you’d thought about what it looked like earlier, you wouldn’t have tried it.” His gaze bore into mine, his expression more serious.
I rolled my eyes and finished chewing. “What are you trying to say, Bard?”
His lip twitched. “It’s okay to have good fish.”
I snorted then barked a laugh. “Are you really going to use this fish as a metaphor for why I should accept your…too-good sex?”
He didn’t look ashamed. “And other things.”
I shook my head. He was something else. He was too damn good at talking and too damn good at reading what the fuck I was thinking. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like being happy.” His gaze met mine, and it held a softer glint than before. “It’s okay to let yourself be happy.”
Really happy, inner Jessie sang, once again sticking her big fat nose where it wasn’t wanted.
I didn’t stand a chance.
I snatched the fork from his hand, cut away a bite, then pointedly stuffed it into my mouth and chewed. “What if I decide I don’t want fish?”
He watched me with an amused expression. “Then I’ll just pack you a sandwich next time.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Bard gathered more wood and formed a pile big enough to last the night, and we just…sat. We sat and talked until the night took full bloom and the stars once again shone in the millions.
Bard stretched out on the ground across from me and told stories about this place and his childhood. That shadow of joy that lingered in the cabin echoed out in his voice. It was more words than I’d heard him say in the entire time I’d known him, and each time he smiled, my lips would curve to match his. Each booming laugh made my chest swell.
I stared at the sight of him painted in firelight.
I was falling.
&
nbsp; Bard rolled to face me, propped his head on his hand, and smiled that blinding smile. “When I was a kid, I remember Zeke dating this girl named Lisa for a while.” He snorted. “She wanted a pot belly pig real bad, so Zeke got her one. Biggest, ugliest damn thing. Shit-brown colored, nasty smelling.” He wrinkled his nose.
I grinned.
“I was visiting him when he decided to do all this. He didn’t plan at all. Just, let’s go get a pig. So we do. He’s in the front seat. I’m in the back with a pig that really wants to be in the front. I’m holding the fucker, and it’s squealing and kicking the shit out of me. The person that gave it to us sent a bag of dog food with it, so Zeke starts feeding it to get it to calm down. Now, at this point, this thing is wedged between the two front seats, half its body up front, half in the back. Guess which half I got?”
I barked a laugh, and he grinned at me.
“So, Zeke opens this bag of dog food, and lets the pig have at it. Only problem is, no sooner is this thing eating it, it’s shitting it out right beside me.”
I couldn’t help it. I snorted and covered my mouth, but the look on his face when he said it made me laugh. I laughed like I’d never laughed in my life. I clutched my stomach and doubled over.
Bard gave me a moment to calm myself while watching me with a warm expression.
“Then we finally make it back, and he doesn’t have a place for it. He stuck it on the screened-in porch until he could figure something out, but the damn thing hated it.” His chest rumbled. “It was squealing its ass off. Going nuts. Didn’t stop the whole night. By the next morning, this thing starts body-slamming the screen door.”
He paused and lifted a brow. “Have you seen Zeke in the mornings yet?”
I remembered the day I’d shown up and he took me for pancakes. He’d looked ready to chew my head off before he figured out who I was, then he’d just looked ready to take a hand. I grimaced. “Oh, yeah. That was fun.”
Bard rumbled another laugh. “Yeah, well this shit happened early as sin. Zeke’s coffee wasn’t done yet. I’m peeking out the back, watching this pig slam against the door, and the damn thing starts to break.”
He stopped and took a breath, as if fighting for composure. “So I go find him in the kitchen, and he won’t even look at anybody until he’s had his coffee. I say, ‘Zeke, the pigs gonna get out’, and he says, ‘The pigs fine, Bard.”
I laughed at his impression. “You make him sound like an angry toad.”
Bard grinned. “I go back to watch the pig, and the damn thing almost has the door off its hinges. I run back, ‘Zeke! The pigs about to get out!’ and he shouts back, ‘The pigs fine, Bard! Leave me the hell alone until I’ve had my coffee!’”
I leaned forward, cheeks sore from smiling, but it didn’t matter. I was absorbed. In him. In the setting. In how open he’d become since we got out here. It was as if he’d been set free. This was the Bard from the photos. This was who I would have met if his life hadn’t been torn apart.
I was falling.
“I go back again. I watch this damn pig tear the door down, and it just goes.” He slaps his hands together then shoots one off in front of him to signify how it looked. “He takes his ass off quicker than anything that round should be able to. I run back to Zeke, ‘The pig got out.’”
He smacked the ground beside him and rolled onto his back, chest rumbling with deep, hearty laughter. “He shouts out…” he paused, unable to form the words, “he shouts out, ‘Motherfucker!’, then takes off after it, still no coffee, angry as all hell. He can’t catch it. He’s running all over the yard, but every time he grabs it, the damn thing goes nuts and sends him sprawled across the ground.”
His laughs barreled out of him, deep, and thick, and rich. I laughed too, but it was hard to focus when he looked like he did. I couldn’t stop it. I fell a little more. I didn’t even try to catch myself.
“So then, Zeke ends up walking around the yard, holding a bag of dog food, shaking it in one fist, chanting in the angriest damn voice I ever heard, ‘Here piggy, piggy, piggy.’”
I laughed. “Did he catch it?”
“Eventually.” He nodded. “But he was so fed up by the time he did, he broke it off with Lisa. Then he told me to never date a woman that would want a fucking thing like that as a pet.”
I shook my head and stretched out onto my back with a sigh. Above me, the stars stretched on in the millions, and I felt light enough to float up and join them. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”
Bard was quiet, but I could feel the heat of his gaze on my cheek. It burned hotter than the fire beside me and made me acutely aware of him.
“I can’t think of a single memory like that. Not in my whole life.” My smile dulled, but I didn’t feel bitter. I didn’t feel regret. Instead, I just felt…warm. I didn’t allow myself to think too hard about it. I couldn’t let myself analyze the fact that I was happy that Bard had those memories because that would mean too much.
I was not falling.
“Your life’s not over yet, Tequila.”
You hit the ground, bitch, inner Jessie snarked.
I cut my eyes over to him and nodded. “Not yet.”
Bard studied me, but he didn’t look like he was searching anymore. Instead, he looked like he knew; like he’d figured out whatever it was he was set on discovering.
“This is a memory.” His lips curved into a soft smile. “And I can promise you, I’ll think about this way more than Zeke chasing a pig.”
My skin heated. I turned back to the stars and tried to focus on anything other than him.
Fucking hell. I was falling.
Bard was quiet for another long moment. “And right now…” His voice thickened.
Don’t look over.
“God, you look beautiful,” he breathed.
I sucked in a breath and screwed my eyes shut. I needed him to stop before I hit the ground.
Inner Jessie’s laughter echoed loud and clear.
I ground my teeth. “Sweet words, Bard.”
His chest rumbled, and I heard him rustle around. “I apologize.”
I cut my eyes over.
His gaze met mine, light and amused. He’d flipped onto his stomach, leaned forward, and propped his face into his hands like how a little girl would pose for pictures. He fluttered his lashes.
It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen.
I laughed.
Bard smiled. “What? I don’t look cute?”
“You look…” I couldn’t finish.
Damn him! I was trying to be aloof. I was trying to keep a distance. I was trying not to get sucked into how amazing he was, but instead, I laughed again.
“Pretty?”
“Dumb.”
“Ouch.” His lip twitched. “You really know how to hurt a man’s pride, Tequila.”
I snorted. “Something tells me your pride is just fine.”
He grinned. “Because I’m too good at so many things?”
I deflated. I was losing. I wasn’t equipped for this type of arsenal. “I don’t want to…feel.”
Bard’s grin disappeared. His eyes cut, and his face sobered. “I know.”
He lifted himself up, slid around to my side of the fire, and sat beside the top of my head with his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked down at me.
“I know.” He brushed the hair away from my temple, then settled back and stared at the flames.
I tilted my face back the slightest of fractions and caught a glimpse of his strong profile.
“One thing about catching those fish earlier…” He fixated on the fire, but I could feel his attention on me. “You’ve got to be real patient to grab them like that. If you get too eager, you’ll scare them, and they’ll swim away.” He looked over at me. “It’s the same with hunting.” He shrugged. “I learned a long time ago how to be patient.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Drake tried to come.
The moment I lost the b
attle to stay awake, he slithered into my mind as if the door had been left wide open.
But this time was different. This time, I wasn’t alone.
“There you are.” His voice echoed out.
There was a cloud of smoke, and the smell of thick, heady cologne. The familiar heat of a cherry just before it hit the skin sizzled in the air. A whip cracked.
An arm around me. A murmured word. A soft caress across my hair.
Drake faded away, and each time he tried to come back, it ended the same. He couldn’t get to me, not when the warmth was there. It acted like a barrier. It cocooned me in safety, and I embraced what it offered.
When morning light turned my eyelids red, I opened them to the sight of that warmth.
Bard sat beside me, a pan on the fire, and my stomach rumbled at the smell of pancakes.
He cut his eyes over to me and smiled softly. “Good morning, Tequila.”
I pulled myself up and took in the sleeping bag I never remembered climbing into. “I fell asleep.” I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “How’d you get me into this thing without waking me up?”
He snorted. “You were exhausted.” He slid a pancake onto a plate and held it out to me. “Here.”
I took it, my mouth watering. “Where’d you get the stuff to make pancakes? You catch those in the river, too?”
He poured more batter from a tumbler cup into the pan and rumbled a laugh. “It’s instant. All you need to add is water.”
It sizzled and smoked, so he lifted it up and shook it rapidly, then flipped it again as if he’d been training for Iron Chef- Camping Edition his whole life.
I took a bite and chewed slowly while I watched him cook. A shadow of my dreams played across my mind. I hadn’t drank the night before, and that should have been enough to let him in. Despite the fact, Drake hadn’t found me. The warmth I’d woken with the day before had.
I stared at his profile. “Did you sleep beside me?”
Bard slid his food onto a different plate and grabbed a fork from beside him. “I didn’t sleep.”
He didn’t look over, just focused on cutting off a bite and shoveling it into his mouth. Then another, and again, as if he hadn’t eaten in a year.