by Cindy Miles
Conner gathered Crisco and Bentley while I waited patiently for the girls to climb into the Jeep and buckle up. I threw an arm up and waved as Conner took off, and just as I was about to climb into the driver’s side, a pair of hands at my waist stopped me. Kirby leaned against me, forcing me to press my back against the Jeep’s frame. He smelled heavily of beer, and he was drunker than all holy hell.
“Kirby, get off me,” I said, giving him a shove.
“What’s wrong, Mem, huh?” he said, and ducked his head to bury his face in my neck. His hair was sweaty, clinging to my throat. “Thought we got along.”
“What’d I tell you about thinking?” I said, and jammed my knee into his groin. One plus for me, for being so damned tall.
“Ugh, fuck, girl!” he growled, holding his nuts and falling back.
Claire, Brie and Sugar all jumped at once. Even intoxicated, they could move quickly. Claire was the first one out.
“Are you totally brainless, Kirby?” she slurred, her eyes squinting as she forced herself to focus.
Kirby, catching his breath, ignored her. His angry gaze focused on me. “You bitch,” he said, and moved forward.
Suddenly, he was snatched back, and Kirby stumbled. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, man?” Kirby growled, and turned.
Jace stood there, his face tense and furious. “You’d better just leave,” he warned Kirby.
Drunk Kirby laughed. “Yeah, okay—” He made a lunge for Jace, and damn if that wasn’t the wrong thing to do. Jace cocked back his arm and caught Kirby in the jaw, knocking him cold to the ground. One solid punch. It’d laid him out flat.
Jace didn’t even look at Kirby—he walked straight to me. “You’re okay?” he asked.
I smiled. “I really am.” I glared at Kirby. “Jerk.”
“Go on and leave, okay?” Jace said.
Claire rushed up and threw her little arms around him. “You saved us!”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my friend off Jace. “Come on, Peeshwank. Back in the Jeep. Party’s over.”
She pulled away from me, stomped over to where Kirby was still on the ground and starting to groan, reared back her foot and kicked him. Kirby grunted, and Claire stomped back, nose in the air, and climbed into the Jeep.
“See you later,” I said again to Jace. Brax now had joined him, and Jace just gave me a nod.
The whole way home, the girls were hollering and singing to the radio, cursing Kirby the Dick Head Porter, and praising Jace the Gallant Sexy Cowboy Savior. We rolled down my lane, and when I came to a stop they all fell out of the Jeep. It seemed like a switch had been thrown. They all fell out at once. Like clowns spilling out of a Volkswagon Bug at a circus. They’d gone from ninety to zero in mere seconds. They stumbled up my porch steps, Claire fumbled around for the house key under the brush and metal boot-scrape and opened the door, and they all filed into the house.
I followed behind and watched Sugar flop onto the sofa, and Brie dropped beside her. Claire headed down the hall and I grabbed my coat off the hook inside and just shook my head. Pushing my arms into the sleeves of my barn coat, I sat on the porch swing. The night was cool, clear, and stars flooded the pitch black sky. Captain Gregg sat by the door, on guard. When a pair of headlights turned down the lane, his head rose as he inspected. Jace pulled up, killed the engine, and climbed the porch steps to take a place beside me. We were quiet; he looked at me, his eyes glassy in the darkness.
“I’m sorry about all that,” I finally said, then sighed, gave a soft laugh. “I guess even when the girl changes, the reputation sticks. I dated Kirby a couple of times. Just casual. He’s a little more tolerable when sober.”
Jace leaned back, his big thighs resting close to mine. His clasped his hands together, stared at the floorboards of the porch before raising his gaze to mine. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Apologize. For anything.” He brushed a loose strand of hair from my face. “We are who we are, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said. “Because of who we’ve been.”
Whoa. Talk about profound.
If he only knew the half of it.
I pushed back feelings of guilt. Part of me felt I should tell Jace, here and now, about what was going on with me. What might happen to me. And the choice I was facing. The other part—the part that apparently was stronger—felt I didn’t know him that well. That nothing may even come of this…friendship. He might end up like the scores of others. Just someone from my past. A good time.
And I’d keep telling myself that. The big liar that I was.
“Did you get that from a fortune cookie?” I asked Jace with a sly smile. “Because those are some mighty wise words, yeah.”
Jace glanced away then, looked at me, and his mouth tipped up. “I did not get them from a fortune cookie,” he admitted. “I got them from my grandfather.” He winked. “A very wise man, for sure.”
A thought came upon me, and I turned in the swing to face Jace. “Come with me Saturday,” I asked. “We’re zip-lining Cooper’s Gorge.” I wiggled my brows. “It will leave you feeling like you can conquer the world!”
Jace regarded me, then he sighed. “Well, Ms. Thibodeaux,” he began, “I’m actually obligated that day. For twenty-four hours on the tow truck.”
I exhaled. “Shoot.”
“But if you’re not doing anything on Sunday,” he continued. “I’ll—”
“Okay!” I interrupted, and laughed. “Whatever it is, I’m there.”
“Hmm,” Jace said, stroking his chin as if there were a beard there. “That explosive enthusiasm leaves many opportunities for me to explore.” He winked. “I’ll let you know what time to be ready.”
“Sounds good. Are you sleepy yet?” I inquired.
His eyes fell on mine, and they were soft, entrancing. “Hell no.”
“Good,” I continued. “Then let’s play a game. It’s called Two-Fer.”
Jace eyed me. “You just made that up.”
I laughed. “How could you tell? Well, anyway, here’s how you play. I ask two questions, and then you ask me one.”
He jerked back, his expression amused. “How in God’s name is that fair?”
“It’s not. Okay, here goes. One,” I began. “What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done?”
“Landed a plane with a failed engine in a cotton field.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re a pilot?”
Jace’s smile was crooked and cute as hell. “Since I was seventeen. I run a crop-dusting business during the summer and fall months.”
I studied him. “Wow. Pilot. Talk about sexy impressive.” I cocked my head. “Two: What’s the most daring thing you have yet to do?”
Jace stared at the boards between his feet for several seconds as he thought about the question. Then he looked up, and the porch light caught in his eyes, and they turned to glass as he answered me. “Probably fall for a girl when I had no intentions of falling for her.”
I smiled at him, and felt my cheeks grow warm. Butterflies beat the inside of my stomach like there was no tomorrow. Were we really having this conversation? After the way we met, and how resistant Jace was to my charms? My persistence? I couldn’t believe it. “Sounds extremely dangerous,” I said. “Even for a fist-throwin’ cowboy pilot knight in shining armor. Tow truck guy.”
Jace shrugged, and his eyes sought mine. “I’m a chance-taker, I guess. Your turn.”
“Shoot,” I encouraged. Deep down, though, anticipation raced through me.
“What scares you the most?” he asked, and the moonlight fell on his face, throwing half of it into shadows, the other half into abstract planes and sharp angles. He had a mouth shaped for long, slow kisses, and a strong jaw that made me ball my hands into fists to keep from touching it. And that ever-present dusting of dark scruff.
I cleared my throat and thought about it. “The obvious answer for anyone is probably dying,” I dared to say. “But that’s not it.”
I looked him in the eye, held his gaze with mine, and smiled the most sincere of smiles. “Not living.”
Jace’s expression softened, and his eyes moved to my mouth where it lingered, and the space between us snapped with a current that was different than anything I’d ever known before. It wasn’t sexual tension. It was…something else entirely. It was as though the tension was caused by our restraint. He didn’t say anything—only with his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the angle of his body, the casual way his hands rested against his thighs.
“I’ve another game,” I said. “What if.”
One of Jace’s dark brows lifted. “You made that one up, too.”
I nodded. “Yep, just now. So,” I continued. “What if…you had three months to live? What would you do?”
Jace’s gaze never left mine. “You first.”
My mind scrambled, but it didn’t have to scramble far. I’d already run this scenario in my head a million times before. I was interested in what Jace had to say, but since he’d called me out first, I had to answer. I inhaled. “I’d do every crazy thing I’d ever thought of doing,” I said. “Front row seats to some random outdoor concert. Hot air balloon ride—oh! And a ride in one of those old-timey airplanes. You know,” I looked at Jace, “the ones where the seats are out in the open? From the thirties?” I nodded. “Definitely that.” I thought some more, and I smiled. “Build a tree house with my dad. And ride along the coastline in Oregon in a convertible.” I heaved a sigh. “Your turn.”
Jace stared at the floorboards for a moment, then looked up at me. “Anything. Everything. But whatever it was, I’d want to be surrounded by my loved ones for every second of every day. Until.”
Jace’s words stuck to the inside of my skull all throughout the next day. Even after my friends all met up at my house, bound for Cooper’s Gorge for an exhilarating day of zip-lining and picnicking, the words remained. I’d want to be surrounded by my loved ones for every second of every day. Until.
Who was Jace Beaumont, anyway? Mr. Miagi? Buddha? An angel? Why was he filled with so much…profoundness? Why did he say things that struck my heart in such a way that I couldn’t stop thinking about them? About him?
And why in the absolute hell had he not kissed me yet? Last night on the porch? The air was on fire around us. I guess there was something to be said about a guy who had that much control, yeah?
I’d made my mind up to ask him. Tomorrow. About the kiss.
“Mem, you’re up!” Crisco hollered. “Get your head outta your ass, girl, and come on!”
“Quit, now,” Claire chided. She stood next to Sugar, helmet in place and looking way too big for her head, ready to zip. “She can’t help it,” she grinned. “She’s got Jace-itis!”
“Don’t hate, Peeshwank!” I yelled as I walked up to the platform. The guide was pretty damn cute, I must say. In a lanky, nerdy kind of way. He had long hair that flipped over his ears like he’d fallen straight out of the seventies. I looked at him and shook my head. “They are so jealous!”
He grinned. “Let’s get your harness on, darlin’,” he said, and proceeded to secure me in slightly intimate ways.
“I bet you say that to all the gals, yeah?” I teased.
Everyone laughed.
He eyed me. “Nice shirt.”
“Hey,” I went on as I gave my beloved T-shirt a quick glance. “Jaws was the first and greatest summer blockbuster. Of all time.”
He finished securing my harness and held his hands up in mock defense. He grinned. “Nothin’ but respect. Ready?”
I lifted my cell phone from my pocket. “Yep.”
“Ten bucks says you drop it,” the guy said.
“You’re on, skipper,” I answered, just before he laughed and gave me a push.
With friends on either side of the gorge yelling and cheering me on, I shot out on the line, legs clad in a pair of comfy holy jeans, stretched in front of me, my fave pair of worn Converses leading the way and my weight in the harness. It felt like I was flying! My stomach dropped, my lips tingled, and I yelled one of my favorite exhilarating movie quotes at the top of my lungs: “I’m the king of the world!” Then I quickly took a selfie—no idea what it looked like—and hung on for the ride.
“Woo-hoo! Yeah!” I yelled, and my lungs burned and the cold air stung my cheeks and I laughed all the way until Bentley grabbed my harness on the other side.
“You are one crazy fool,” he said, grinning and steadying me.
“Takes one to know one,” I said back, shucking out of my harness.
We watched the rest of our friends fly the gorge, and I took pics of each one just as they grew close to the platform. Claire came after me and her face was priceless. Mouth wide open, eyes even wider, screaming the most high-pitched scream I’d ever heard. I’d planned on making a giant collage for each one in our group, compiled of our zany adventures, and after four years I had quite a collection.
Bentley helped me out of my harness and as soon as I was free I pulled up the selfie I took—eyes crossed, huge grin with all of my teeth showing—and sent it to Jace. Wish you were here, I texted. He texted me right back. So do I. Your eyes are gonna stick like that one day, btw :-)
“I’m gonna be sick,” Bentley said, leaning over my shoulder and reading my text. His shadow fell over me, his ears casting a silhouette on my phone. He elbowed me. “Something’s different.” He cocked his head. “You really like this guy?”
I smiled. “I don’t know just yet,” I answered, and looked out over the gorge as Sugar came flying across. “But I think I do, yeah.” I grabbed Bentley around the neck, we bent our helmeted heads close, and took another pic.
We spent the rest of the day hanging out, picnicking with turkey and cheese sandwiches, Cheetos and Little Debbie oatmeal pies. The sun bit through the chilly air, just enough to keep our long sleeved shirts on but our fleece jackets off. Crisco had a bandana tied around his head, and I enjoyed watching him and Sugar pretend they were just friends. I could see it, though—that look in Crisco’s eyes as he spoke to Sugar. There was gentleness there. A spark. It cracked me up and broke my heart at the same time, and I glanced at each of my friends. Once more, that empty feeling of dread filled me. This was it for us. The end of our carefree college days, of hanging out. Of…us. And anything else beyond that? I dared not even imagine. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening at all.
By the time we’d made it back to my house, the sun had long since dropped, and we were all beat. I had two papers to write—something I’d put off for almost two weeks—and everyone else had either projects or papers or a test to study for.
“Damn, we must be getting old,” Conner commented as he pulled away. “Saturday night and we’re all half fuckin’ dead at nine o’clock!”
“Wabuduh, wabuduh, wuh, wuh, wuh!” we all chanted.
I watched the taillights of my friends disappear down the lane, leaving me alone. My head had started to hurt a little, and with two papers to write and a big day tomorrow with Jace, I didn’t want to risk an ache leaving me incapacitated. So I threw back some pills, made myself a cup of hot green tea with strawberry and honey, and settled at the kitchen table to start on paper numero uno, The Wise and Fair Use of Resources. I was about three-quarters of the way finished when my phone rang.
My heart leapt when I saw Jace’s face appear on the screen. I answered it.
“Tony’s Pizza, do you wish to place an order, yeah?”
Jace’s timbered laugh sounded through the phone. “Very funny. You’ll never trick me, Ms. Thibodeaux. Not with that accent.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” I answered, and I was smiling so hard my teeth almost clashed against the phone. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be towing stranded people or something?”
“I am.”
“So, whatcha doin’ callin’ me?” I teased.
“Pulling into your drive,” he replied. “Hope that’s all r
ight?”
“Really?” I answered. I leapt from the kitchen table and dashed over to the front door. I threw open the aged wood and stared through the screen. “I see you. Bye.” Quickly, I hung up and assessed myself; breath, check. I’d brushed my teeth after my shower, although it probably tasted a little like strawberry honey. I had on a Winston sweatshirt and a pair of baggy plaid boxers. Thinking that was probably decent enough, I pulled on my rubber boots and hurried outside. I was on the bottom step, leaning against the porch post when Jace pulled up. My hair was wadded up in a messy ball on top of my head, still damp from my shower. There were those dratted butterflies again, stirring up in my belly. When he swung out of the truck, they kicked up even fiercer.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” I called out.
Jace said nothing; just walked toward me with long, purposeful strides. A dark skully covered his head; he wore his usual faded Carhartt, and jeans that hugged his hips. I watched that bow-legged stride as it carried him straight toward me. Eyes focused, clear, and on mine. A muscle flinched in his jaw as he grew closer. Walked right up to me.
“Did you hear what—”
My words were cut short by Jace’s mouth as it covered mine. His hands—rough, warm, grasped either side of my face and he tilted my head just so until I was where he wanted, an exact fit, and his mouth moved over mine, slow, resolute, and his tongue felt…perfect. Erotic. I inhaled, breathing him in, and he deepened the kiss.
When Jace pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, braced his weight against the post, and we were both somewhat winded, and the chilled air turned our warm breath into small puffs of white.
“What,” he said quietly, “were you thinking about, Ms. Thibodeaux?”
So close we shared the same air, I smiled as we stared at each other. “I haven’t the foggiest, Mr. Beaumont. I’m busy trying to steady my weak knees.” I smiled wider. “Your eyes are crossed, by the way.”
His hands slipped down my arms and laced through my fingers. “So,” he said, and I liked the way his eyes shined glassy in the porch light. “What are we going to do about this?”