by Dawn McClure
Misty was going to let go of David’s arm. At the very least she was going to tell him to stop. But in the end, she did neither. Fact was, she let go of his forearm, slipped her arms around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Their kiss was just the natural follow-up.
She couldn't make up her mind when it came to David, but her body was calling the shots anyway. A large part of her dared to risk getting her heart broken again just for a night with him. And the small part that was still dragging its feet was getting its ass kicked by the much stronger, larger part.
But truly, what was wrong with a hot kiss under the moonlight?
With a boy you’ve loved all your life?
The heat of the evening had been washed away by the cool, lapping water of the lake. His body was hard against hers, but his lips were soft and his hold on her was gentle, as though he were perfectly ready to let her go at a second’s notice. But she wasn’t putting on the breaks. There wasn’t one cell in her body that even thought about ending their kiss.
So when he pulled away she was as confused and awkward as a one-legged grasshopper. She didn't know whether she should let go of him and go back to doggy paddling for air, or demand they continue. She just wasn't courageous enough to do the latter, though that’s exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to stomp her foot like a four-year-old throwing a tantrum.
“Slow down there, killer. You made no qualms about lecturing me about a line.” His expression was dead serious.
She supposed he was trying to prove that he could be a gentleman and give her the space she'd asked for. She wished she could take back her lecture right now, but maybe it was for the best. She'd wanted to take it slow. It was her body that was acting like Mario Andretti on a racetrack during the final lap.
Could she take it slow with the boy she'd wanted all her life?
With his face this close, those chocolate brown eyes fixed on her, and his lips only inches away from her mouth, she was more than jacked-up. But he'd slammed on the breaks, and she couldn't rightly blame him after all her talks about taking it slow. He was trying to prove himself, and she was testing him in every way.
“You're right,” she managed to say through the tightness of her throat. She pried her arms from around his neck. A few sweeping strokes of her arms and she was able to reach the bottom of the lake. See how easy that was? Tease.
“You ready to talk about the weather now?” he drawled.
Hell, the weather was what brought them to this. She could hardly recall sweating earlier, what with the cool lake water giving her a bit of a chill. The weather had also had a hand in starting this whole thing between them. A storm. His actions when a tornado had been heading her way. Which brought to mind a question she’d meant to ask him for days. “What the hell made you leave the house when you knew a tornado was coming directly at you?”
He looked at her as though she were crazy. “Where did that come from?”
She shrugged. “I’m just curious. Why would you head straight for a tornado when the odds were good that you would get caught up in it?”
His brows came together as though he figured she should have more sense than to ask a dumb question. “Because I knew it was coming directly at you. What do you think I would have done? Gone to the basement and hoped you'd found shelter? I texted you on my way out to the truck. Even when I was driving down the dirt road I texted you, asking where you were. You didn't answer. What would you have done if it had been me?”
Same thing you did. “I never thanked you. At least I don’t think I did. So...thank you. I would have died if you hadn't come after me.”
“Not something I want to think about.”
She wasn't real keen on thinking about it either. When it came to the two of them, she felt like she was on a teeter-totter, but it was her own feet doing the kicking, sending them high and bringing them down low. Going from past to present like a ping-pong ball. She ran her palms through the water and put a little more space between them. All she wanted to do was get right back to what they'd been doing before he'd pulled away. They’d had a bit of a barrier when they’d been in the hayloft, considering there were others roaming around the Buchanan’s spread. But here? She doubted anyone was going to come knocking on their door tonight, and even if they did, they wouldn’t think to come out to the lake.
Nothing holding them back. All the time in the world. Damn.
“You ever think of getting back into barrel racing?”
Where had that question come from? She shook her head. “There would be no reason. I wouldn't have any time to put into it.” And Lord knew you had to practice if you wanted to win.
“How about the reason being that you enjoyed it?”
“Like you said, enjoyed. Past tense. My rodeo days are over. You know as well as I do that you have to put a lot of time and effort into that to make any real money out of it.”
“I'm not talking about making money. Some people enter rodeo events here and there, like Shane. He doesn’t jump on the back of bulls for money and I doubt he practices all that much.”
Was David trying to reach for the past? “Shane is different from the rest of us. He wanted to become a professional bull rider.” She'd been in rodeo more for the comradery. The fun and excitement. Not because rounding a barrel on a horse had been her dream. “I’ve always wanted to teach. You know that.”
“Some folks in town are talking about Garner hosting a rodeo to help offset the cost of some of the residents who have to rebuild. They're only in the discussion phase, but it won't be long before they start talking to the SDRA. I think if they put it on, you should consider entering. It's for a good cause.”
This was the first she’d heard of the town putting on a rodeo. She was surprised Abby hadn’t texted her. If Garner put on a rodeo, Abby would be competing in the barrel racing event. Period. The thought kinda put a little spark in her soul, thinking about Abby and the competitiveness they’d shared. But just a spark. A spark she could ignore. “When are they planning on putting it on?”
He shrugged. “Before school starts, probably sometime in August, I'd assume.”
She'd be gone. She didn't even feel as though she had to say the obvious, so she let it lie. “Are you thinking of entering?”
“If Garner hosts a rodeo I'm going to enter. I'm betting Matt, Shane and Tucker will too.” He cupped some water and let it drip through his fingers. “It'll obviously be held on a Saturday.” He looked at her. “You could come home for it.”
“David, I won't be coming home every weekend.” Is that what this conversation was leading to? His thinking she'd pop home to Garner whenever he wanted? That would be impossible. That would be a minimum of eight hours in a vehicle every weekend. Not to mention, during the winter months, it would be flat-out dangerous at times.
And there was that word again. Impossible. She'd been so relieved to see him at the cabin when she'd arrived, and just as he'd said back at the cabin, she didn't want him to leave. Impossible wasn't the word of the day. It was more like temporary. Their time was temporary, and knowing that, David was already trying to think of ways to bring her home.
“I know. I just thought you might be interested in the rodeo, considering our hometown is putting it on.”
“I don't even have a barrel racing horse.” She might come home for the rodeo, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to compete.
“Easy fix.”
She laughed. “And when exactly would I get the time to practice? The answer is no, David.”
“Typical woman. The answer is always no.”
She cupped her palm and tossed a handful of water his way. “Typical woman, huh?” If only he knew how hard it was not to say yes, and not just to the idea of getting back in the saddle, but to him. A little voice in the back of her mind was telling her to stay here, with him. She could find another teaching job. Might take a few years to get one close to Garner, but would that be so bad? She could work on the farm. But she
was under contract, and she doubted she could break it.
He swiped a hand down his face to wipe off the water she’d sent flying his way. “Really? You want to play that game with me?”
She knew he was referring to the splash, but her mind went straight into the gutter. The gutter wasn’t exactly a long distance to go, considering the way her thoughts had been running. She glanced back at the cabin. In a very short period of time they'd be settling down for the night with only a sleeping bag between them—if even that. They should have made a run for the guesthouse and grabbed another blanket at least.
“You think you're going to make a break for it?”
She glanced back at him. He wasn't thinking along the same lines as she was right now, but yeah, she was thinking of making a break for it. But not from a little water. No, she was thinking of later that night, and wondering if they were going to cross that line she’d made.
Chapter 20
He was what the Marines would call a tool.
David was motionless, stretched out on the tiny sleeping bag, just stopping himself from shifting positions every five seconds, because in reality, he wasn't going to get comfortable in any sleeping position. Not after their dip in the lake. He'd put a stop to their kiss because he knew deep down she wanted space. She'd asked for it, and on more than one occasion. And he was going to prove to her that he wasn't in this just for a screw.
They'd showered in the coldest water on the planet. Separately, of course. Unfortunately. She'd slipped into a small pair of cotton shorts and a snug pink T-shirt. He hadn't brought a pair of pajamas because he didn't own any, so he was wearing the T-shirt he'd been planning on wearing tomorrow and a clean pair of boxer briefs.
When his four years in the Corps had ended, he'd wondered how Misty would react to him being home again. He'd known without a doubt that their paths would cross eventually. He just hadn't been prepared for the instant need when it came to her. How often had mail come in Afghanistan? He’d stood around while all the boxes and cards had been passed out to the platoon, hoping his parents or someone cared that he was still alive, and he'd gotten shit. He hadn't deserved anything less, but he'd wanted a letter from Misty something fierce. Just a letter or card. And to think, a month after returning, here they were, sleeping under the same roof, so close he could reach out and touch her.
Might as well be miles apart by the way they were acting. Back at the guesthouse, he'd fallen into bed each night thinking about her being in the next room. That'd been bad enough. Simple fact was that he'd do anything for her. It had always been that way with Misty. He'd loved her before he'd ever known what love was.
He shifted his legs and glanced at his watch. It lit up with the flick of a wrist. Eleven-thirty at night. The shower had cooled him off even more than the lake water, and he wondered if Misty were cold without a blanket.
Every instinct told him not to look at her, but he did anyway. Under the light of his watch, the sight was a beautiful one—just as he'd known it would be. She had a leg bent and kicked up while lying on her stomach. Her head rested on her crossed arms, and her blonde hair spread across her shoulders. She had the most angelic face he'd ever seen. That face had kept him up so many nights he didn't even want to think about it.
Her full lips were slightly parted, and her long lashes were set against her skin...
Dear God, don't think about it.
The light on his watch went off. He rolled off the sleeping bag and covered her with his half. If he stayed here the next night, they'd have electricity, and he'd purchase a bed and some blankets and have them delivered. He didn't want her sleeping on the floor again.
Yeah, he'd do just about anything for her. Even if that meant keeping his hands to himself to earn a degree of respect where he'd lost it.
Misty woke sometime in the middle of the night. She was snug and comfortable wrapped in the sleeping bag. She snuggled into the satiny feel of the material against her skin and groggily thought it was a good kind of warm and not the heavy, stifling heat she'd felt earlier. Something made her pause—there was a blanket under her and over her? She opened her eyes and lifted her head off the floor. It took a few seconds to realize David had given her his half of the sleeping bag. He'd cocooned her in it.
She turned her head to the side to find him still next to her, with nothing covering him. It was dark in the cabin, but she could see his outline next to her. He was sleeping on his side, turned toward her, his arms tucked across his chest like a mummy. He looked uncomfortable and cold. He was hands down one of the sweetest men on the planet.
But that was David. He'd always been this way toward her until... No, let it be. Think about all the good times. All the times he’d pulled her ass out of a bind, helped her out at the ranch, and broken horses for her. Not to mention the gifts he'd given her throughout the years. All those gifts she'd tossed in anger. Did he still have the gifts she'd given him? The sweatshirts and the hats? The fishing pole? The toolbox? She doubted he'd thrown a fit like she had and tossed all of it.
Without thinking, she scooted out of the sleeping bag and managed to spread it over both of them without waking him. She gently tugged the top of the sleeping bag until it covered his shoulders. The wind must have picked up outside because she could hear it in the trees just outside the living room, and she could feel the cool breeze against her skin. Sounded like a front was moving in the way the old cabin creaked and moaned. The house had cooled considerably, but the musty scent still lingered even with fresh air coming in from every open window.
She was still stuck on the fact that he'd covered her at some point in the night. His consideration brought a smile to her face as she tried finding a comfortable sleeping position on the nasty shag carpet. It was damn near impossible, but she finally decided to lay on her side, facing him. She needed a pillow. And by the look of it, he did too.
The new arrangement brought them face-to-face. Damn, he was handsome. The super short haircut he sported wasn't exactly the same haircut he used to get in high school when his hair would usually curl from under his ball cap. The new cut accentuated the hard line of his jaw. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to run her fingers over those hard lines, to kiss that stubble once again, to cuddle into him and fall asleep in his arms. She knew he'd have no problem with it. The only problem is it would be game over.
She scooted a little closer to him. The sleeping bag rustled, and he mumbled something and turned over on his back, taking most of the sleeping bag with him. At first she thought he had gone right back to sleep, but he pulled his arm out of the sleeping bag and checked his watch. It illuminated bright green, and in the darkness of the room, the light from his watch was like the light from a lighthouse over dark ocean water. Frowning, he looked at the blanket that now covered him. Then he looked at her.
Like a deer-in-the-headlights she froze. She should have closed her eyes and feigned sleep. That would have been the safer route to take. Instead their gazes locked, and she couldn't look away. “I...uh... You looked cold, so I covered us with the blanket.”
“You're hardly under it,” he said, stating the obvious.
His voice was gravelly and deep from having just woken up, and the sound did strange shit to her chest. He leaned toward her, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and covered her with it, much like she’d done with him just a few minutes earlier. He scooted closer to keep the blanket over the both of them, but settled on his back again.
What would he do if she closed the distance and cuddled into him like she wanted? He'd probably warn her that she was pushing him too far. He'd say it with a hint of amusement and with that underlying seriousness, just like he'd done at the lake.
The light on his watch went off. He cleared his throat. “Are you comfortable?”
On the shag carpet? Hell no. “We should have thought to run and get a few pillows from the guesthouse at least.” She wasn't going to say they should have grabbed another blanket, because then they wouldn't be this close, an
d she was rather enjoying that.
“Here, I have an idea.” He sat up, tugged off his white T-shirt, and bunched it up. He set it on the floor and put his head on it, then stretched his left arm out. “There. Now you can use my shoulder as a pillow.”
Was he high? Hell, was she for considering it? Did either of them understand the definition of slow? First, she'd thought it was a great idea to basically skinny dip, and now here he was stripping down to his boxer briefs and offering her his body to be used as a pillow. Oh, yeah, this was a great idea. She could certainly come up with a few ways to use that hard body of his, but a pillow wasn't one of them.
Good idea or not, she cuddled into his side as though they'd ran this drill countless times, when in fact, this was the first. It didn’t surprise her at all that they fit together as though they'd been created that way. With her cheek now on his bare shoulder, she thought nothing of slipping her left leg over his. She'd wanted to snuggle into him, and here they were.
She should have known it wasn't going to take much lying there in the dark with him. His fingers started a slow track up and down her arm. A thousand nights of wondering where he was and what he was doing, countless prayers for his safe return, and a lifetime dreaming of a life with him seemed to coalesce to this one moment. To his simple touch.
To hell with the line. They were about to obliterate it.
Chapter 21
Nothing could bring Misty down today. Not the blazing heat of the afternoon as she helped run the hay baler or the dust the thing kicked up. Not the questioning looks Matt gave her, Brandon’s shitty texts, or Caroline's glare when Misty had stopped at the guesthouse to grab a few pops right before lunch. Tagged my truck, bitch? You're lucky I'm in a good mood. The bruises on Caroline's face helped a little.
Last night had been amazing. Full of pent-up passion and desire. Their morning session had been slower. More exploration than the raw, animalistic venture of the night before. Both had been late to start their duties at the ranch, which was a first for both of them. Instead of taking two vehicles, they'd only taken her truck back to the guesthouse, to hell with small town pretenses. Just the simple act of holding his hand while he’d driven her truck back to the ranch had put a smile on her face.