by Rome, Ada
“Damn, you actually look good in that hideous thing,” she laughed. “‘Good’ being a relative term when you’re dressed like a seventies garage sale mannequin.”
I glanced down at my casing of forest green polyester. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or disturbed by that. I suppose it does have a certain Halloween costume appeal.”
“Hey, some guys are into that sort of thing” Justine said with a blue wink.
I returned to shelving pies under the counter while she jogged to the back to drop off her belongings and change. My head was bent over a fluffy coconut cream concoction when I heard the outer door open and saw the shadow of a customer cross the floor to a booth by the windows. When I looked up, the man’s face was hidden behind a menu. I still had a few minutes left in my shift, so I pulled my notepad and pencil from my pocket and stepped over to take his order.
“What can I get for you, sir?”
“Oh, I’m not really hungry.” His face was still hidden, but his voice was familiar. “I’m just here for the scenery.” He lowered the menu. Bright green eyes traveled quickly from my buttoned-up peter pan collar to my waist cinched in brown plaid ribbon to the ruffled folds of the skirt that swished high above my exposed legs. His gaze traveled more slowly down and up the full length of my legs, to the thin fabric stretched tight over my breasts, and all the way up to my face that flushed under the heat of his scrutiny. His lips curled into a rakishly crooked smirk. His dimple flashed.
“Cayne.” My own lips broke into a smile of genuine pleasure. “What are you doing here?” I felt suddenly flustered in his presence. My voice was breathless and hurried.
He leaned back into the booth and rested his wandering stare on the place where my skirt barely covered the thin pink strip of my panties. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he had x-ray vision.
“Like I said, I’m here for the scenery. You fill that uniform out nicely.”
I laughed and looked down bashfully at the yellow flower-shaped buttons that were straining to stay fastened over my chest. “Yeah, I’ve been told that I’m a natural.”
“So, how was your first day?” He refolded the menu and slapped it decisively onto the table. “I see you didn’t burn the place down or poison the customers, so that’s a good start. Seriously though, I’m glad to see you went through with it. It means you’re staying put for a while.” He winked and beamed a boyish grin.
I’d noticed that two different versions of Cayne seemed to vie for dominance at any moment. There was the leering Cayne, staring suggestively at my body, who made my cheeks blush and my panties wet. Then there was the thoughtful Cayne, a distant echo of the gangly sixteen-year-old in geeky spectacles, who made my heart melt with tenderness. I never knew which Cayne was going to appear. I also didn’t know which version was more real.
“The first day wasn’t too bad. I got hit on by some elderly gentlemen, which was definitely a boost to the old ego,” I said sarcastically.
“Uh oh. Do I need to go beat anybody up for messing with my girl?”
My heart flipped a little. Was I his girl? But then I felt instantly silly. I was regressing to the condition of a lovesick preteen when I had much bigger problems to confront.
I laughed casually to cover my burst of excitement. “No, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” I winked. Flirting could work both ways.
I looked across the room and saw Justine setting two plates of food on the counter and chatting energetically with a couple of burly truckers.
“My first day actually just came to a close.” I flopped into the other side of the booth and blew a few errant wisps of hair out of my face.
“That’s perfect,” he said. “How about coming for a ride with me?” He tilted forward and crossed his forearms on the table.
“Where are we riding to?” I rolled my pencil over the table’s bumpy surface. It ricocheted off of his arm. He picked it up and poked it point-down into the table, his muscles visibly shifting under the skin with each movement.
“You’ll find out.” His pupils glinted in the dim shadows of the booth. “Don’t you trust me?”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure,” I said honestly. He cocked his head with interest. “But I’ll go anyway.”
I slid out of the booth, planted my hands on the table, and raised myself to a standing position. “Let me just grab my things and change out of this monstrosity. Then I’m all yours.”
He grabbed my wrist. “Why don’t you leave the dress on?” he said with another blatant stare at my naked thighs.
I nodded and strolled to the back office, turning around once to see Cayne watching the light bounce of my skirt against my ass. I retrieved my purse and fished around the interior for my phone, but I was unable to locate it after three full circuits through the roomy cavity and all of the pockets. The last time I remembered seeing it was on the kitchen table at breakfast. It was probably still there. I replayed the events of that morning, remembering Aunt Lu’s drooping shoulders and tired voice and the topography of age lines that creased her skin. If Granton had sent any more threatening messages during the day, Aunt Lu might have seen them. My stomach sank with the thought.
I stuffed my jean shorts and t-shirt into my purse and trotted out to the dining room. Cayne was already waiting by the door. He placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward his truck. His touch felt sweet and protective.
As I climbed into the passenger cab, a breeze hit my butt cheeks, now bared to the world in a thin coating of translucent lace as my skirt flipped up in the wind. The dueling versions of Cayne turned the tables once again. He spanked my ass with a loud slap and slammed the door with a raucous laugh.
Chapter 6
The river that gave the town its name was now little more than a bubbling creek. In the slanting light of evening, the water sparkled with a diamond sheen where it cascaded over rocks. The willows bent low over the banks, their soft branches swaying slightly with the delicate impacts of landing songbirds.
Cayne parked the truck on a patch of grass near the shore and looked at me in the golden glow of a partially setting sun. We sat in silence for several minutes, a shy awkwardness creeping between us like we were two young kids on a first date. Cayne shook it off and placed his hand on my bare knee.
“Come on,” he said with a jerk of his chin toward the outside. “I have a surprise for you.”
He walked to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. In the truck’s bed were a couple of fleece blankets and a battered cooler. He hopped up, spread one of the blankets over the dusty metal bed, and extended a hand. I braced one foot on the tailgate. He hoisted me up with ease. I kicked off my shoes and dug my toes into the soft fleece.
“It’s nothing fancy.” He opened the cooler and sifted through its contents. “I didn’t have time to prepare the kind of sophisticated wine and cheese banquet you may have become accustomed to in New York.” There was a noticeable edge to his words. The reference to New York stung. He handed me a bundle wrapped in foil and a beer can dripping with water and melting ice fragments. “I figured you’d soon be getting tired of diner meatloaf, so I got you a barbecue sandwich from Henry’s. Should bring back memories.”
“Are you serious? Henry’s is still open?” I eagerly unwrapped the bundle and held a crusty roll packed with shredded chicken and drenched with sauce. I brought it to my nose and sniffed, the sweet and smoky smell evoking the comfort and delight of days gone by.
Henry’s was an institution in Hallow River. In high school, we would spend long summer evenings dangling our feet from truck beds, stuffing our faces with barbecue, and popping illicit beers. I took a bite and closed my eyes in delicious pleasure. When I opened them, still chewing a mouthful, I saw that Cayne was watching me and smiling.
I swallowed and wiped the corners of my mouth with my thumb. “Thank you. This is amazing.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just thought you might have been homesick for it w
hile you were away.” He cracked open a beer can and gulped a large portion of it, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow.
“I guess I was homesick for a lot of things. I just didn’t realize it.”
I opened my beer, took one sip, and nearly spit it all over the blankets. It was extremely bitter and had a dishwater aftertaste that lingered on my tongue. “What the hell is this?”
Cayne laughed heartily. “I wanted to give you the full Hallow River experience. Cheap shitty beer is a must.”
“I appreciate that. Very thoughtful.’ I ventured another sip and recoiled. “Ugh. I don’t know how you can drink this stuff.”
“Years of practice, my dear. Like dancing. You practiced and became a great dancer. I practiced and became a great connoisseur of terrible beer.”
“Yeah, well,” I pinched a piece of chicken and placed it in my mouth, licking the tangy sauce from my fingers, “I don’t dance anymore.”
Cayne’s head swiveled with surprise. “What do you mean? Why not?”
“I just stopped at some point. That’s all. No big deal.” I bit into my sandwich to cover my discomfort.
“That’s a very big deal, Brinley. Why would you just stop doing something that you love?” He sounded genuinely upset.
I swallowed hard and shrugged. “Things change, right? People change.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear it. You were always at your most beautiful when you danced.”
His words echoed in a silence that lasted for several minutes. I was afraid to look in his direction, scared that it would lead me to confessions I wasn’t yet prepared to make.
“Speaking of change, when did all this happen?” I gestured with an up-and-down motion that encompassed his chiseled physique from the rounded muscular shoulders under his simple white t-shirt to the flat and well-cut stomach that curved inward as he lounged on the blanket. “I mean, when did Cayne Talbot become Caaaaaayne Taaaaalbot?” I deepened my voice to a throaty growl as I said his name and squinted my eyes to simulate a smoldering glare.
He chuckled softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He took a last sip of beer and tossed the empty can into a corner.
“Oh, please.” I swallowed the last bite of my sandwich, crumpled the foil, and likewise tossed it into the corner. “Did it happen naturally? Did you suddenly sprout a full casing of superhero muscles overnight? You must have made a decision at some point to transform yourself. But why? What happened to the scrawny kid from ten years ago? I liked him.”
“Be honest with yourself, Brinley” he said calmly. “You didn’t like that scrawny kid. That kid was nothing to you.”
He crossed his hands behind his head and lay back with his elbows out to the sides. His biceps flexed. I noticed a black line of tattooed writing on his left arm but couldn’t make out the words.
“Cayne, that’s not true. I---”
“You left and forgot that I ever existed.” His tone was flat and cool. “You ask why I changed. It was because of lessons that I learned from girls like you. I didn’t want to spend my life being sidelined and ignored because no one was willing to look past what they saw on the outside. So I spent a year at the gym changing what they saw on the outside. Now they see this.” He swiped one hand through the air from his chest toward his toes. “And they don’t just walk away and forget.”
I sat with my legs folded underneath me, balancing on my shins. The sky was shifting into hues of violet and indigo in the deepening dusk. The first flickering pinpricks of stars appeared in the heavens. Nighttime creatures began to chirp and buzz in the high grasses.
“I’m sorry.” My voice was faint. He looked directly at me. His eyes were luminous in the gathering twilight.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” His tone grew tender. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time or blame you for anything. I’m just trying to explain. You had no idea how much I worshipped you back then. How could you know? I was too much of a coward to ever tell you. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. It’s water under the bridge.”
He sat up and moved toward me, lifting the sleeve of his t-shirt and exposing the tattoo of black script that ran in a straight line on the inner portion of his arm below the ridge of his bicep.
“See this tattoo? I got it when I was eighteen. It’s one of my favorite quotes. ‘Each of us is all the sums he has not counted.’ It’s from an old book called Look Homeward, Angel. To me, it means that we are all products of everything that came before. We can’t escape the past. We may try to bury it and hide it, but it never disappears. It makes us who we are. I may try to bury that scrawny kid, but he is still here inside me.”
He took my hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the tips of my fingers. I felt hot tears welling at the corners of my eyes. “The same is true for you, Brinley. Whatever you are hiding from, whatever you are running from, you can’t just bury it. No matter how painful, it’s still a part of who you are.”
“What if I don’t want it to be a part of who I am? What if I just want to forget and start over?” A tear sliced down my cheek.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He placed his palm against my face. Another tear dropped and coursed over the back of his hand. He kissed my damp temples. “I hate to see you cry.” His warm breath played against my ear. “I want to make you happy.” His lips moved down my neck. “What can I do that would make you happy?”
He kissed my chest just above my collar and then around the other side of my neck. He put his hand under the folds of my short skirt and inched slowly up my inner thigh until I felt his fingers reach the edge of my panties and dive below the thin lace. I gasped as he gently worked his fingers in further under the fabric and rubbed me in a soft circular motion. I was wet and ready.
“I want you, Cayne. That’s what would make me happy. I want you.”
He paused and looked into my eyes with one hand still cradling my cheek and the other gently probing and stroking. I trembled each time his fingertip circled and caressed the sensitive swell.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” He kissed me lightly on the mouth. He pulled me up so that we were both on our knees facing each other. He kept his eyes locked on mine and pushed his fingers deep inside me. I closed my eyes and gripped his arms tightly. “Tell me this is what you want.”
He kissed me again, harder this time, sucking and biting my lower lip. I tilted my head back as he kissed me with added force, pressing his lips firmly onto mine and snaking his thick tongue into my mouth. His fingers stroked me from the inside, plunging in deeply and pulling out slowly. I rocked in time with his movements, groaning as the hot tingling pressure and release of his touch took me ever closer to the brink of orgasm.
“I’m sure, Cayne. I want this. Right now.” The words came out in a series of breathy gasps. My heart was pounding. I had never been more certain of anything in my life.
He paused, lost in thought, his hand resting on my hip. The sky had grown dark. I couldn’t read his expression in the pale white glow of the moonlight. I placed my palm lightly against his chest and felt his racing heart and the rapid rise and fall of his breath. His eyes met mine with a searching force. He nodded slightly, as if he had reached a decision.
“I want you too, Brinley. I’ve wanted you forever.”
He delicately traced the outline of my chin and the front of my neck with one finger, stopping just above my collar. He pinched open the flower-shaped buttons of my dress one by one from my neck to the bottom of my skirt. I felt the ribbon around my waist loosen and drop as he untied the bow. He brought his hands up to my shoulders, dipping them beneath either side of my dress and slowly sliding the fabric back and down over my arms until it dropped onto the blanket, his fingers giving me chills where they brushed against my naked flesh.
I reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it up and over his chest and his raised arms. His bare silhouette was outlined against the black sky in the shifting starlight. I ran my hands along t
he hard bulge of his pecs, pressing the pads of my fingers into the immovable muscle, and down the sculpted ridges of his abdomen.
The anticipation was delicious and tantalizing. We were savoring every movement and every touch.
He kissed the tops of my breasts where they rose round and full above the seams of my bra. My nipples were hard under the lavender lace. He reached behind my back to unhook the clasp. The delicate straps slid loosely down my arms, and the flimsy strip of material fell into the space between us.
He cupped my exposed breasts with the palms of his hands and rubbed his thumbs teasingly over my nipples. He took each of my breasts in his mouth, sucking gently at first and then more forcefully, circling each nipple with his tongue, his moist lips opening and closing in a steady rhythm.
The play of his nimble tongue over my sensitive flesh sent me into panting throes of desire. I gripped the back of his neck, digging my fingers into his hair, and pressed my hips hard against him, feeling the solid bulge of his massive erection. He wrapped his strong arms around my back, lifting and lowering me onto the bed of blankets. All other thoughts evaporated in the hunger of his embrace.
He plucked the thin waistband of my panties with both hands, slid them down my legs and over my feet, and tossed them aside where they fluttered on the breeze. His eyes eagerly traveled the entire length of my naked body. I felt the heat of his ravenous gaze on every inch of my bare skin. He swept his fingertips in a slow curving path from my shoulders, over the smooth contours of my breasts, and across my trembling stomach.
I swallowed hard. His rough hands gripped my knees and spread my legs wide apart. His fingers danced all the way up the soft skin of my inner thighs. I was fully open and glistening wet. He provokingly caressed my throbbing clit with his thumb. I squirmed in agonized delight and groaned quietly.
“This has to be for real, Brinley. I can’t lose you again.” He leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of my head. His eyes searched out mine in the darkness. “You can’t run away.”