He Found Me

by Whitney Barbetti

  “False. You smell like clementines.”

  “You’ve mentioned that. Okay, I am a homebody. I rarely leave the ranch.”

  “And why would you? You have peace there. The pond, the woods, and the cabin: they’re all parts of you. If someone thinks those are negatives, then they must not like you. So why bother with them?”

  It was terrifying how well Julian knew me already. And that he even cared to notice these things about me. I knew it was foolish, but I couldn’t help but feel even more drawn to Julian. “You’re definitely a writer,” I murmured.

  “I can read your body language, you know,” he said, tossing his now-empty paper plate into the fire.

  “What is my body language telling you?”

  “That my observations make you uncomfortable, but a in an odd way you like it.”

  “Ha!” He nailed it. That was exactly how I felt. “Well,” I drew out, standing up. I threw my empty plate into the fire and stood in front of Julian. “What is my body language telling you when I do this?” I climbed as gracefully as possible into his lap. His arm immediately wrapped around my back.

  “That you want to sit on my lap,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “And what is my body language telling you when I do this?” I slid my lips up his neck, grazing his veins. I felt his arms tighten around me and he breathed out a deep breath.

  “That you want to make out.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I purred alongside his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob against my lips. His hand grabbed the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair. He skimmed his lips along my jawline and finally found my lips.

  After making out with Julian until it grew dark, we finally separated, a mess of heavy breaths and red skin. Julian grabbed the stuff for s’mores from inside the tent while I added another log to the fire. It was getting late and colder, so I was grateful for the blanket Julian laid on me when he came out of the tent.

  “Did you think of everything?”

  Julian smiled and handed me a stick. I pulled my pocket knife out and began sharpening the end of the stick for the marshmallows. Slivers of wood landed all around my lap and I wiped them off into the fire pit.

  “Are you up for a beverage change?” he asked.

  I’d finished my second beer an hour before, so I nodded as I started sharpening the second stick. I heard the unmistakable sound of a cork being released. I whipped my head around. “Champagne?” I questioned, incredulous.

  “In solo cups, no less,” Julian returned, and handed me the bright red cup, fizzing with champagne.

  “Is this a combination of your taste meets my class?” I asked, swirling the pale liquid around the cup.

  Julian looked at me sharply. “This is more like my taste meets convenience. Glass flutes aren’t exactly practical. Fancy clothes and fancy foods don’t make you classy, Andra.”

  I felt scolded. But he was right to say as much. I often found humor at my own expense, and while it wasn’t always insulting, my latest remark was.

  “You’re right,” I said before taking a small sniff of the champagne. “But I do enjoy champagne. It accompanies s’mores much better than beer does.”

  Julian slid two marshmallows onto the tip of each sharpened stick before grabbing one stick from me. We hung them over the fire, the flames just barely licking the white confections. “Shall we toast?” he asked, holding up the cup.

  “To what?” I asked, holding up my cup next to his.

  “To you. For keeping me on my toes.”

  I shook my head. “I’d rather toast to you. This is the very best date I’ve been on.”

  “I’m afraid we’re at an impasse then.”

  I smiled. “Let’s toast to each other then,” I offered, tipping my head in his direction. He tipped his cup against mine and then we both took a sip. “Like everything else, this is delicious.”

  Julian looked into his cup. “Yes, it’s one of my favorites.”

  When the marshmallows were sufficiently brown, we assembled our s’mores and made a mess of eating them. “So,” I said, gesturing around the campfire, “is this how you usually woo women? Champagne in plastic cups with s’mores?”

  One side of his lips curved in smile. His lips had such a perfect symmetry to them. “I guess I need to know if I’m wooing you before I can answer that question.”

  “No,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. I didn’t meet his eyes until a moment later. “You don’t need to woo me. This,” I waved my cup between us, “feels natural. Not manipulated by things or words.” I took a sip, more for courage than anything. “I’m not used to this. To this type of need.” I took another sip, washing down the chocolate and the nerves. “It’s only our second date, and I’m feeling…” I searched my brain for words, failing miserably, “things. Stuff. I’m feeling stuff.” I met his eyes, embarrassed at my admission.

  His eyes reflected the firelight, shadows dancing on his face as the flames roared. He smiled his secretive little smile. “I’m feeling stuff too,” he whispered.

  “Can I come sit on your lap again?”

  “Please do.”

  I curled up on his lap, his arms around me and the blanket covering us both as we sipped champagne and talked until the fire died out.

  Before we went inside the tent for the night, Julian held my hand and led me over to a patch of grass. “Is this okay?”

  I looked at him in confusion before understanding what he was referring to. My nightly prayers. I nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.

  He set the lantern he’d brought over down and pointed to the tent. “I’ll go get the sleeping bags unrolled while you pray.”

  I laid in the grass and closed my eyes, breathing in and out for a minute. I took in the sounds, the crickets chirping softly, the sound of the leaves rustling slightly with the night breeze. And then I whispered my prayers.

  After extinguishing the lantern, I joined Julian in the tent. He handed me a flashlight. “Here. I’ll step out while you change into pajamas. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, I’m going to bring the cooler and our garbage to my car. I don’t want to keep food near the tent.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  I slid my pajama leggings on and then some cotton socks. I stripped off the long-sleeved tee and pulled on a tank top. I carefully packed up my backpack, leaving out jeans and my tee for the morning.

  It wasn’t until I was climbing into the sleeping bag that I remembered that tomorrow night, I would be falling asleep in Michigan. Dread sat like lead in my stomach. While I tried to focus on other things, the tent unzipped and Julian stepped inside. The tent was dark, since I’d turned off the flashlight. He handed me a bottle of water. “Here,” he said. “I don’t want you to have a headache tomorrow from the beer and champagne.”

  Even though I didn’t have a buzz at all from the alcohol, I took the water and uncapped it, drinking greedily from it. “Thanks.”

  Julian stripped off his socks and then pulled his shirt up over his head. Unfortunately, all I could make out was a dark torso. He slid in beside me, his toes playing with mine. “You wear socks to bed?” he asked.

  I finished the water bottle and tossed it by my duffel, rolling onto my side to face him. “I do when camping. I don’t like chilly toes.” I rubbed my toes over his before he trapped one of my feet between both of his. My eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that I could make out his features a little bit better.

  “Today was really fun,” I whispered, inching closer to him. The rustling of the sleeping bag gave me away, and I was able to make out Julian’s white teeth flashing in a smile.

  “It was,” he whispered back before pushing a wayward tendril from my face. “Thanks for agreeing to go on another date with me.”

  His hand moved from my hairline to cup my jaw and I pushed my face into it, briefly closing my eyes. “Best two dates I’ve had.”

  “How many dates have you been on?”

  I grinned. “Two.” />
  He laughed, and the sound of it enveloped me inside this tiny tent. His eyes were lit with warmth as he looked at me. His thumb and forefinger held the tip of my chin in place. His face moved closer to mine and I held my breath in anticipation. He moved closer still, until our lips were a breath apart. I felt his warm breath against my lips and my eyes closed. I ran my tongue over my top lip and because he was that close, it grazed Julian’s lip too. And then his lips met mine, hungrily.

  I slid the hand that wasn’t supporting my head over Julian’s chest, my fingers tracing the hard ridges of muscle as his tongue traced my tongue. Desire shot through me powerfully, causing me to dig my nails into the side of his stomach. I felt the muscles clench beneath my fingertips. Julian’s hand slid down my back before it yanked me closer. I hadn’t felt this heady with arousal before. It felt as if I’d been asleep for years, and my body was finally coming back to life, my limbs coming alive with feeling.

  I shivered from the shock of my body’s reaction. This time, I was the one to pull away first.

  Julian held my face in his hands, touching our foreheads together. My eyes remained closed as I breathed in and out, in time with Julian, whose exhalations mingled with mine. My heart was beating hard against my ribcage, my lips trembling with each breath. I felt Julian’s lips press against my forehead. “Good night, Andra,” he whispered, pulling away slightly to settle on his pillow.

  I wavered a moment before pushing my own pillow away and laying my head on his bicep. I felt his arm wrap around my back as he pulled me closer. I felt safe. I felt warm.

  I was asleep in minutes.

  The following morning, Julian woke me up in the dark. “Andra. Wake up. We need to pack up the tent and get on the road.”

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up, stretching my limbs in the dark. “Brr!” I exclaimed, rubbing my hands down my bare arms. “It’s freezing!”

  Julian was sliding socks on. “See what I meant about body heat?”

  Just as I realized I didn’t pack anything heavier than a long sleeve tee, Julian tossed a sweatshirt at me and I quickly slid it over my head. It smelled like him: sandalwood and cinnamon. “Thank you,” I murmured, sliding out of the sleeping bag and sliding jeans on over my pajama leggings. I shivered again, sliding a second pair of socks over the pair I wore to bed. Julian handed me my hiking boots before he started unzipping the sleep bags from each other. I grabbed one of them and rolled it up, securing it to my backpack before grabbing my backpack and following Julian out of the tent.

  We took the tent down in silence and in relative darkness. Julian had lit his oil lantern and it provided enough light to see what we were doing. When he secured the tent to his backpack, we hiked back to the car.

  After an hour of driving, Julian pulled into a small coffee shop off of the highway and we drank tea with bagels before heading back towards the ranch.

  Without thinking, my hand found his on the gear shift and he weaved our fingers together. “This was the best date I’ve ever had,” I said, looking at him.

  Julian looked at me for a moment before shifting his eyes to the road again. “It was the best date I’ve had too. And the longest date. You’re breaking records, Miss Walker.”

  I smiled, caught up in this feeling of contentment. As much as I loved working on the ranch, it had been so nice, luxurious even, to get away from the day-to-day, to be in the wild. It was a soothing balm on my soul, a much-needed reprieve from the worries that warred in my head. As the miles to the ranch grew shorter, I knew I needed to tuck this feeling away as the reality of what lay ahead tonight loomed.

  Julian dropped me off at my door and said goodbye, kissing me softly. I washed my face in my bathroom and drank another cup of tea before heading up to the big house to start my day, putting away clean dishes and moving laundry along. Then, I stripped all the beds in the vacant cabins and stocked the bathrooms with fresh towels. I dusted all the surfaces and wiped down the bathrooms. I would stock each cabin with a welcome basket the morning they were due to arrive.

  I spent the rest of the day helping Rosa with miscellaneous chores inside the big house, trying to avoid looking at the clock. I failed, miserably.

  When five-o-clock rolled around, I heard the front door to the main office close, the wooden screen door slamming on its frame.

  I closed the lid to the washer and washed my hands, scrubbing them hard enough to make my hands red. I was excited to see Six, but I knew that seeing him would be bittersweet, since the reason for his visit was not a pleasant one. I felt his presence in the laundry room before he said anything.

  “Hey kiddo.”

  I dried my hands on the towel and turned to face him. He was leaning against the doorway, hands in his pockets. I took in his appearance. It had been a while since I last saw him. He was clean shaven, and not just his beard. He was completely bald. He looked tan, fit. I wouldn’t have known it was him if it wasn’t for his eyes. His eyes were the color of bright green moss.

  He wore jeans and a black leather coat, looking like he’d just stepped off an advertisement for menswear instead of off a plane. He looked nearly half his forty years without his usual beard and scruffy mane of hair.

  I walked into his arms. Despite the change in his appearance, he still smelled the same. Like leather and spice. I breathed in his scent while he rubbed my back. Six was normally very taciturn; he was not driven by emotions or compelled to share what he was thinking. But with me, he would occasionally drop his guard and allow me the smallest of peeks into his thoughts. “How are you doing?”

  I pulled away from him and shrugged. “Where did your hair go?” I rubbed my hand over his shaved head.

  He ran his hand over his smooth scalp. “I thought it best that I look…different.”

  Understanding passed through me.

  “I have a disguise for you, too. But we need to wait until we get through airport security.”

  “I am NOT shaving my head, Six.”

  He granted me a brief smile. “I’ll admit, it crossed my mind. But don’t worry, I’ve something else for you.”

  As usual, Six was secretive. “Are you hungry? Oscar made spaghetti and meatballs.” Six smiled again. While I had been in hiding at his house, the only thing I could make somewhat decently was spaghetti and meatballs. We ate it twice a week. After I left, in one of his momentary lapses into chatter, he admitted he missed it. I made sure to make it every time he visited.

  Six and I were the first to dinner. We sat near the door to the kitchen and ate in silence. I tried to eat as quickly as possible, mostly to avoid running into Julian. I hadn’t told him I’d be leaving because I didn’t want to lie about the reason for my absence. Lies were becoming harder to tell for me, which meant they were probably harder to believe.

  Six raised an eyebrow at me. “We don’t have to leave for thirty minutes. You don’t have to inhale it.”

  “I know. I just want to get this over with.” That was part of it, at least.

  He looked at me suspiciously but finished eating before having a quick word with Rosa while I filled up the dishwasher with our dishes.

  “I just need to grab my bag, I’ll meet you at the car,” I called over my shoulder as I ran out the door. I speed walked to my cabin, grabbing my purse, phone, and the packed duffel bag. I was in such a rush to get out the door that I didn’t see Julian in the doorway until my body collided with his. It was the scent that gave him away when all I saw was shoulders.

  His hands came up to hold me steady. “Whoa. Slow down, Shorty.”

  I let out a breath and looked up him. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” His eyes took in my full hands. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  Before I could open my mouth to reply, I heard Six call my name. Julian’s brow furrowed and he turned around to look at Six, standing on my porch just behind Julian.

  Both men sized the other up, Six’s expression more concerned than Julian’s.

  “Are you Andra’s b
rother?” Julian asked.

  Six looked to me for a minute before letting his features smooth out. He had a lot of control over his facial expressions; it was a skill I’d always envied.

  “Yes, I am. I’m Six.” He put his hand out for Julian’s to shake. I wasn’t surprised that Six didn’t give him a false name. Six was no more his real name than Andra was mine, but they were both names that no one would connect to our true identities.

  “Julian.” After shaking hands, both men looked at me to explain the relationship. This was awkward.

  “Julian is…” I started, not sure how to continue. Julian looked at me before he interjected.

  “A friend.”

  I watched Six’s lips move, and knew that he was running his tongue over his teeth. It was a cue to me that he was thinking. I knew there were more questions in my future once we were alone. He nodded to Julian, his eyes moving briefly to mine.

  “Are you leaving?” Julian asked me. I felt both of their eyes on me and fidgeted with the handles of my bags.

  “Just for a couple days. I’ll be back on Friday,” I answered. I hoped he wouldn’t ask more information. Thankfully, Julian just stepped back.

  “See you Friday, then.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. Six watched our exchange with great interest. I felt my palms grow sweaty.

  “Okay,” I said as I closed the door to my cabin behind me. When I turned around, Julian was walking back to his cabin. I felt unsettled and handed my bags to Six. “Give me a minute,” I said before running after Julian.

  “Julian.”

  He turned around, his expression showing surprise. “Hey.”

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say. I’d run to him on a whim. So, I put my hands on his shoulders and stood on my tiptoes, planting my lips firmly on his. Julian’s arms wrapped around my torso, keeping me glued to him, as he kissed me back.

  When we finally pulled away from each other, I whispered against his lips, “goodbye.”

  I felt his lips curve against mine before he kissed me quickly once more and then released me. “Bye, Andra.”