Love in a Small Town Box Set 1

by Tawdra Kandle

  And yet, I had to admit that I wanted it to be more than him giving in to me. I didn’t want to be the seducer. I’d been there before, more times than I chose to remember. I always regretted it, particularly when I was forced to end the relationship, as inevitably I did.

  I must have dozed off at some point, because when I opened my eyes again, the sky outside my window was painted in breathtaking shades of pink and purple. I rubbed the grit out of my eyes and stood to pull back the curtains. The wide blue expanse beckoned me, and without pausing, I picked up my messenger bag and slung it over my head, then hunted for flip-flops. Once I had them on my feet, I slipped out of my room as quietly as I could manage.

  The house was silent. I didn’t know whether or not Sam was already up and out in the fields, but I didn’t smell coffee, which probably indicated he was not. I went out through the front door and across the porch, heading for a large rock in the center of the side yard.

  I didn’t have time to unpack my paints and set up the easel before the sky changed, so instead I pulled out my watercolor pencils and a large pad. I sat on the rock and allowed the beauty to wash over me. Without looking away from the sky, I let my fingers fly over the page. There was no sound but the scratch of the pencils on paper and the chirp of early morning birds.

  I was in another world, completely absorbed in the sky, the air on my skin and the teasing scent of flowers wafting on the breeze. Like magic, the colors translated into my drawing, capturing a piece of the glory I’d spied through my bedroom window moments before.

  “That’s incredible.”

  Sam spoke softly, but I jumped nonetheless, dropping the rose-colored pencil I held.

  “God, you scared me.”

  “Seems like we’re forever sneaking up on each other.” He held a steaming mug in one hand and sipped the coffee as he gazed down at my pad.

  “Maybe it’s a metaphor for our relationship.” I dared to use the ‘R’ word, and Sam didn’t contradict me. Well, friendship was a sort of relationship, too.

  “You’re up early.” He was standing so close behind me that I could smell the coffee on his breath.

  “I didn’t sleep very well.” I’d let him draw his own conclusions about why. “I happened to open my eyes at one point and saw the sky. I couldn’t do anything but come out here and try to put it onto paper.”

  He nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean, yeah, I’ve seen art. But I’ve never seen it in progress. It’s beautiful.” He sat down behind me on the rock, close but not touching me at all.

  “Thanks.” The light was changing as the sun rose fully, and I laid down my pencil. The sketch had turned out well, though not quite the same as I imagined it would look in paint.

  I dropped my head back and let it roll, working out the kinks from thirty minutes of looking up. Without breaking the movement, I reached for Sam’s mug. “That smells heavenly. Can I have a taste?”

  His brown eyes darkened as they wandered down my face to my lips and back up again. He held the mug to my mouth and tilted it until I tasted the hot sweet liquid on my tongue.

  “Mmmmm.” I closed my eyes in appreciation and ran the tip of my tongue over my top lip.

  Next to me, Sam made a noise deep in his throat. When I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him, he was closer than I’d expected. He stared down at me before his gaze dropped lower to my body. I’d run outside in the same clothes I’d worn to bed, my favorite soft white tank, with no bra underneath, and an old pair of green cotton shorts that barely covered my ass. It wasn’t appropriate outside attire, clearly, but that wasn’t bothering Sam.

  Or maybe it was. His throat worked as his eyes made their way back up to my face. I held my breath, and for the space of a few rapid heartbeats, he didn’t move. And then slowly, so slowly, he snaked the hand not holding the coffee cup around my shoulders and caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. With just the slightest pressure, he coaxed it up, leaned forward an inch and touched his lips to mine.

  I wanted to move my arms around his neck, open my mouth and deepen the kiss. But I held back, afraid of spooking him. Instead, I closed my eyes, waiting for the touch of his tongue to my bottom lip, and let him tug my chin to open my mouth.

  His lips were firm but languorous, moving as though we had all morning to do nothing but sit here, connected only at our mouths. His tongue teased, first stroking the inside of my lips, then circling around my tongue, seeking and taking. His fingers splayed over my jaw, moving my face up a little to give him even more access.

  He didn’t touch me anywhere else, but I felt the kiss in a line of fire down my body. I wanted to grip his shoulders and pull him down on top of me in the grass. I wanted the weight of him on me, to feel him against my breasts and between my legs.

  But I didn’t move. At the same time that I wanted more, this kiss was enough, because it was Sam, and because he had initiated it. With his arm still around me, I felt cherished and protected in a way I’d never known I wanted. His chest pressed against my back and along my side, cocooning me.

  I knew the minute he began to pull back. He moved away from me, and I felt the brush of his breath over my still-parted lips. When I opened my eyes, he was staring into them under brows that were drawn together. I didn’t look away, and for a few seconds, he didn’t either.

  “I need to get to the fields.” Without warning, he dropped his hand from my face and stood up. I’d been leaning on him more than I’d realized, and I had to catch myself from tumbling off the boulder in his absence.

  “Okay.” I looked up at him, waiting. I wanted to push him. God, how I wanted to rise up on my knees, even knowing how the rock would bite into my bare skin, wrap my arms around his waist and make him kiss me again. I craved the touch of his hands down my back and on my ass.

  “I need to go.” He repeated the words, but still he didn’t move. I stayed silent this time. His hand reached out toward me, and for a dizzy second I thought he might draw me close again, but he only touched his fingertip to one of my red curls. I held my breath.

  His face was shuttered again, but his chest rose and fell rapidly, making me think his heartbeat probably matched my own. I lifted my hand to cover his where it hovered near my shoulder, but he stepped back, fisting both hands at his sides.

  “I’ll see you later.” He spun and stalked off around to the back of the house. The screen door squeaked open and slammed, and I remembered his coffee cup. He must’ve opened the door to set it in the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the distinctive engine of the farm truck and the peel of tires on gravel.

  My body sagged as though Sam had been holding it up. I brought my fingers to touch my lips, still buzzing from the kiss. It had been so unexpected and so simple ... maybe the most uncomplicated kiss I’d had since I was fifteen years old. He hadn’t touched me except on my face. Yet it shook me more than if he’d had his hands down my shirt.

  I retrieved my pad and returned the pencils to their case with hands that weren’t quite steady yet. Once I had everything packed up, I went back inside. The house had come to life in the near-hour I’d been drawing; Bridget lay on the floor in front of the television, watching morning cartoons. Ali was pouring a cup of coffee as I walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey, early bird.” She unhooked another mug from the cabinet and poured me some coffee. “Getting a little, uh, art time in this morning?” Her voice was teasing, and I glanced over to see one eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah. The sky was beautiful.” I took my coffee and added milk. “Thanks, this smells wonderful.”

  “Oh, yeah, you were definitely checking out the sky. Mmmhmmm.” She nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

  “What’s that look for?” I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest and blowing on my coffee mug.

  “Nooothing.” She stretched out the word. “Only you know, I happened to look out my window this morning right after I got out of bed. Just checking on the day. And I saw you
holding your sketch pad, and I saw my brother ... holding you.”

  “Oh, God, Ali.” I covered my face with both hands. “Don’t tell him you saw that. He’ll freak out. Well, more than he already probably is.” I peeked at her through my fingers. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Lord, no. Why would I be?” She mirrored my position across the kitchen, sipping on her coffee.

  “Because he’s your brother. And ... and. . I don’t know. I was mad when my friend Suzanne kissed my brother when we were in high school. There could be an ick factor.”

  “Maybe that’s because you were young, and he’s your little brother. I don’t have any illusions about Sam’s virtue.” She leaned forward to glance into the living room, making sure her daughter was still paying attention to the television. “He’s always been very discreet. He never brings girls around here, ever, but I know when he’s seeing someone in town.”

  I frowned. “Is he seeing someone now?”

  Ali shook her head, smirking. “Not since Jaycee Mathers hightailed it to Nashville back in March. And believe me, she wasn’t anything special.” She took another drink of coffee. “So you want to tell me what’s going on with you two, and how long it’s been going on?”

  “I have no idea, and just since this morning.” I traced the seam at the edge of the counter. “We talked last night on the front porch after you fell asleep and abandoned me down here.”

  “You talked? Without yelling at each other? Wow.”

  I grinned. “I know, right? He seemed ... mellow.”

  “Yeah, because he’d been in town hanging out with Boomer and other males. He got his testosterone fix. So what’d he say?”

  I hugged my arms around my middle. “We talked about losing parents. And living in small towns. He thanked me for helping with the onions. Oh, and we decided we were going to be friends.”

  Ali’s eyes widened. “That’s a big step for my brother. So did the talk on the porch lead to anything else I should know about?”

  My mind flashed to standing in front of him, bending over to stretch out my stiff back. The expression on his face when I’d caught him staring down my shirt—and then checking out my ass—had nearly dissolved me into a puddle right then and there.

  “No. We said good night and went to bed. Alone. In our own beds, I mean.”

  “And made plans to meet this morning?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No. That was accidental. I woke up, and the sky was just so gorgeous. I grabbed my stuff and went outside to sketch it before I lost the color and the light, and Sam came out with his coffee just as I finished. Maybe he saw me from the window, too.”

  “Could be. And then what?”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I liked Ali. We’d become fast friends in the few weeks I’d lived here, and it was wonderful to have another girl around, particularly since Laura was preoccupied with Brian up in North Carolina. I’d never hesitated to rehash my romantic interludes with my friends; we all talked about dates and boys and our sex lives. But what had happened between Sam and me this morning was not something I wanted to share, especially with his sister. My reluctance must have shown on my face because Ali smiled and shook her head.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. Nosy sister. I’ll mind my own, unless and until you want to share. But I’m here, if you need someone to talk to. And I promise, I’m completely impartial.”

  I pushed off the counter. “Thanks, Ali. I’ll keep that in mind. It’s just that—maybe this is nothing. Sam kissed me this morning. But I don’t think he wanted to.”

  “Sweetie pie, I’ve known my big brother for a very long time. He never does anything he doesn’t want to do. Not like that, at least. He may not have thought he wanted to kiss you, but if he did, on some level, he wanted to do it. Trust me.”

  “I do. But don’t say anything to him, okay? If he thinks I’m making a big deal about it, I’ll be back to square one with him.” I finished my coffee, rinsed off the cup and set it in the sink. “Right now, I need to get ready to introduce the young minds of Burton to the wonders of charcoal sketching.”

  TEACHING ART WAS NOT something I’d thought seriously about doing until this past year. When I’d started college, it had been with the same grand illusions of other art students: I would live in an attic in Paris, surviving on crusty bread and cheap bottles of wine, until I was discovered and became a Famous Artist. Happily, SCAD did a good job of introducing us to the realities of life. Most of us would end up using our talents and degrees in art-related fields, like design, advertising or illustrating. A few might nab jobs at museums.

  But none of those fields interested me in the least. Neither had teaching, but when I looked at all my options, it seemed like the lesser of several evils. At least I’d still be creating, and I’d get summers off. A good part of my motivation for signing up with ArtCorps had been to see if I could handle working in a school setting.

  As it turned out, though, I loved it. The kids were so excited every day when I announced our project, and they worked hard. I had a few volunteer parent helpers in the classroom, and I’d found them enthusiastic as well.

  “Art wasn’t like this when I was in school,” one of them confided to me as she helped me clean up. “It was just crayons and construction paper. Scissors and glue. This is cool.”

  I laughed. “I figured this summer should be an overview for the kids, introducing them to as many different mediums as possible.” So far we’d done watercolor, pencils sketches and collage, in addition to today’s charcoal drawing. I was excited to see what they would do with pottery and 3-D sculpture next.

  “Such a shame that we can’t do this all year around. Some of the kids are really talented.” The mother sighed as she dropped chunks of charcoal into a bucket. “I’m happy to see so many of the older children get involved, too. You do a good job teaching so many different grade levels.”

  “It’s fun.” I slid a stack of paper into a drawer. “Kind of like what it must have been like on the frontier, you know? In the one room schoolhouses.”

  “Exactly.” A loud crash sounded out in the hallway, and she rolled her eyes. “That’s got to be my two hellions. Two hours of sitting still translates into an afternoon of frenetic activity to make up for it. Thanks, Meghan. See you next week.”

  “Thanks for your help.” I began packing up my bag to leave, making sure everything was neat and tidy. Having a classroom of my own was fun, I decided. Although if I were teaching here for real, during the school year, I’d set up my bulletin boards differently. And I’d have tables instead of desks ...

  A knock on the open door broke my reverie. I looked up to see Sam standing just outside in the hallway, his worn blue baseball cap twisted in his hands. He shifted from foot to foot and glanced around as though he expected the principal to appear and ask him for a pass.

  “Hey.” I came around to the front of my desk and leaned against it, although what I wanted to do was sprint over to him, take his face in my hands and kiss him senseless. He looked taller than ever in this setting, with the miniature chairs all around us. His brown T-shirt had smudges on it, but the way it clung to his chest more than made up for that. And his jeans ... soft old blue jeans ... fitted him perfectly in places that I didn’t want to think about.

  “Hey.” He gazed around the room. “Class is over? Everyone’s gone?”

  “Yup.” I smiled. “Were you planning on doing some charcoal drawing today? Sorry, too late.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “Charcoal?”

  I pointed to the bulletin board on the far side of the room, where today’s projects were displayed. “The masterpieces.”

  “Oh. Cool.” He spared them a glance before he came inside the room, being careful to stay at least five feet from me, with desks between us. “I wanted to talk to you here, away from the house. About this morning.”

  I frowned and tilted my head, as though every second of that kiss weren’t burned into my memory. “This morning?”


  “Yeah. Outside.” He swallowed. “When I kissed you.”

  “Kiss? Hmmm. Not sure I know what you mean. Maybe you need to refresh my memory.”

  He exhaled, smacking the hat against his thigh. “Meghan ... what I mean is, it was a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  I’d figured this was coming. “Okay.”

  “What?” His eyes widened, and he took a half-step back, nearly losing his balance and falling into a desk.

  I spread out my hands in front of me. “Okay. You shouldn’t have done it, you’re sorry. No big deal.” I hoped he couldn’t hear the pounding of my heart that contradicted my words.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “It isn’t a big deal?”

  I laughed. “No, it isn’t. You were pretty clear last night about what you want—or rather, what you don’t want from me. I’m a big girl, Sam. I’m not going to cry and carry on like a lovesick teenager, just because you got a little carried away this morning.” I pushed off the desk and stepped forward until I was standing nearly on top of him. I could smell sweat and soap and maybe even a hint of rich soil. I touched him in the center of his chest with just my finger.

  “After all, it was only a kiss.”

  I bit back a smile at his quick hiss of breath. His hands clenched on the hat, and his lips parted. For a second, I thought he might grab me, but when he didn’t, I moved around him to the windows, where I pulled down the window shades.

  “What are you doing in town, anyway?” I snapped the last one shut and returned to the desk to get my bag. “You didn’t come all the way in here just to tell me you didn’t mean to kiss me, right?”

  Sam shook his head a little, as though clearing it. “No. No, I had to, uh, drop off a soil sample at the Farm Bureau.”

  “Oh, good. Well, I’m done here.” I held up the ring of keys and let them jingle. “I need to lock up the classroom. After you?”

  He stared at me a minute more before he nodded and walked back out to the hall. I followed, clicking off the lights and shutting the door behind us. I turned the key in the lock and dropped the ring into my handbag.