Striking

by Lila Felix

  I curbed a smirk, “Well, you’ve had a busy day. And if you pass out in there, you might hit your head on the wood floors.”

  She narrowed her eyes and pegged me with a glare that would stop the devil himself, “You’re scared.”

  “I’m scared?”

  “Yep. You’re scared you’re going to underwhelm me. I’ve never heard you talk about cousins that live around here so you probably haven’t had much practice. But hillbillies have gobs of children-like you should all have your own reality shows down here. So I’m thinking you have to be semi decent at it. If not, I can always give you pointers, tips, maybe some private lessons-”

  I reached out and grabbed the lapels of that horrible robe and pulled her gently to me through the opening of the window. She gasped in shock, but relented and let me lessen the distance between us. And before she could ramble on anymore, I pressed my mouth to hers, gently at first, waiting for her to respond. I ran my tongue along her top lip trying to wake her and her lips from their shock. And respond she did. Cami’s lips were like silk to my sand, and I didn’t hesitate in claiming her bottom lip between my teeth. Her hands ran along the hills of my biceps as she moved her lips with a fury against mine, searching for something out of reach. She licked along my bottom lip hungry for a deeper connection. I gave her the entrance she sought and there was only one word to describe how she tasted—honey. Her tongue searched for mine and when they met, the real fury began. Sweet and rich, her taste flowed down my throat, filling a cavern emptied and abandoned long ago. Her mouth was the beginning and the end of me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cami

  “What are you thinking about girl?” Mallory asked from the door to the barn. The early evening light spilled through the wide sliding doors and made the hay covered floor sparkle like gold.

  Stockton kissing me senseless. “Nothing,” I answered simply and went back to shoveling out poop. This was my life now-shovels, poop and callouses. “I’ll be done in ten, Aunt Mal. Then I’ll wash up and take over that package to your pastor’s wife.”

  She made a noncommittal grunting noise that I interpreted like a gold star for all my hard work. In the past couple weeks I had actually been on the top of my game. No sheep had gone missing, the chores were finished by the end of the work day-even if that was occasionally after dark-and I’d fulfilled every single, freaking task Mallory and Henry could come up with for me.

  I was rocking my A game.

  And on top of it all, I was finding out just how sweet midnight make-outs could be. Stockton. God, Stockton. He was like the sweetest, most delicious part of this place. I had no idea just kissing could be this…. hot.

  And holy hell was it hot.

  I didn’t even understand how! He only ever kissed me when there was a window sill between us, and only at the end of his nightly visits. There were no wandering hands, no missing articles of clothing, not pushing me to go faster than I wanted to or was ready for. It was just him and me, his mouth on mine and pure and utter sweetness.

  I’d never dated a man like him before. Hell, I didn’t know men like him existed! He was an enigma to me.

  All the boys I had ever gone out with had been some version of Bryce, with maybe a little less of the date-rape vibe. They were pushy and disgustingly entitled. Plus, they always expected a little something-something at the end of the night. Like payment for dinner was a free pass to third base. Boys in my circle were turning modern day women into low-caliber prostitutes. Seriously, I did not put these Minolos on so you could buy me a fifty dollar dinner and touch my boobies. Get a life.

  Stockton on the other hand was a gentleman, and considerate and…. holy shit I was practically in love with him.

  I dropped the shovel. Dropped it. Right on my f-ing big toe. The dogs-all lounging around me-scattered and yelped in surprise when I started screaming.

  “Son of a biotch!” I screeched, scaring the horse in the next stall over for good measure.

  “What is the matter with you, Cami?” Mallory hissed from a foot behind me.

  I jumped and squealed and then banged my elbow on a post. “For the love of God!” I grabbed at my elbow, gasping and hopping around like an idiot. “I have got to pay closer attention!”

  “I could not have said that better myself,” Mallory muttered but there was a trace of laughter in her tone I had never heard before. She bent over and picked up the shovel from off the ground. Luckily the handle stayed clear of the giant pile of horse poop I was working on.

  “You scared me,” I panted, forcing my over-active body to settle down. “I didn’t hear you walk over here.”

  “Because you’ve been lost in lala land over that Wright boy, I suspect,” Mallory still didn’t sound as harsh as she usually was, which was…. shocking.

  “I can’t help it,” I grumbled, taking the shovel back from her. “He’s confusing. And wonderful. And really confusing. But really wonderful, all at the same time!”

  Mallory’s lips twitched with a smile and she breathed out a resigned sigh, “I didn’t think he’d be good for you at first. I was worried you’d get your heart broken and slip further down that wayward path you were hell bent on blazing. Or that you’d spend your time chasing after him and not accomplish what you set out to do. But I see now, he’s been good for you. And in a strange turn of events, you’ve been good for him too.”

  “Um, thank you?” I had no idea how to take that. Was she being nice? Were we bonding? Was I misreading this completely and she was about to kick my ass to the curb? Was I seriously about to be a homeless person? Homeless was way worse than hillbilly!

  “Come on now, it’s a compliment. You were a mess when your daddy sent you down here. Now look at ya, you can clear out shit with the best of them.” She sounded so serious that I honestly had to stare at her face until a mischievous flash and shy smile allowed me to relax.

  Laughter bubbled up inside of me and when I finally let it out it was real and genuine. It felt foreign to actually find something funny-to not be so sickeningly fake for once in my life. And I kind of liked it.

  “It’s true,” I finally agreed after the laughter died down. “I definitely have a career in pooper scooping.”

  “That better be a joke, Camdyn. This work is fine for you while you’re down here, getting your life together. But you do know that you have a future ahead of you? You were born for different things? Now don’t get me wrong, this is fine work. Henry and I have made a good life out of this kind of work. But sometimes this fits, and sometimes it doesn’t. You don’t fit here. You got a big life you need to go hunt down. Dreams to follow and all that. When you’re ready, you’ll figure that out.”

  A little teary eyed from her sentiment and a little depressed because she didn’t think I fit in down here, I was at a loss for what to say. Thankfully, she didn’t make me struggle for long.

  “Alright, get on out of here. I’ve got a box for the Wright household too. After you’re done at Preacher’s, you can stop on over there and deliver some goods. I won’t hold dinner for you.” She turned around and left before I could even say thank you.

  She was obviously a strange woman, but apparently that whole not-opening up thing ran in my family since my dad did the same thing. But this felt like a breakthrough-like maybe she didn’t hate me now, or at the very least hated me less.

  I finished up in the barn and then packed up Mallory’s truck with the canned food she wanted delivered. I still didn’t get the whole mushy food in glass-phenomenon. I was a California girl. I was raised on hand-picked produce and fresh seafood. This was like the opposite of my food philosophy. But in these mountain people loved it, to the point of obsession. It was like their crack. Mmm… slimy peaches.

  Bleck.

  I drove over to the Pastor’s house-I had yet to catch on to the whole “preacher” vernacular and enjoyed the twisting roads of the Tennessee Mountains. Trees and shrubbery flowed from either side of the road like rolling ocean waves of landscape
. The budding trees and new grass slashed color through the woodsy scenery and the setting sun painted brushstrokes of twilight softness.

  It was pretty.

  I admitted that kind of reluctantly, but these mountains were growing on me. They weren’t golden sandy beaches or salty ocean waves, but they held their own beauty. Even I could see that.

  At the pastor’s house I dropped off the long box of jarred what-nots and talked to his wife for a few moments. She was sweet enough and always grateful for the help I offered around her house, but she made me uncomfortable. I had a life time of sins to cover up around her, and I was afraid of any of them sneaking to the light in front of such innocent purity. At first I’d played with the idea of reminiscing about my recreational cocaine days, but she, much like the countryside, had grown on me.

  She’d probably drop dead from shock.

  I didn’t need that drama added to my guilty conscious. And so the past I used to flaunt with rebellious pride, was quickly becoming a shaming cauldron of secrets I wanted to bury along with my reckless behavior that was now a thing of the past.

  My parents were never going to win awards for their participation in my life, but maybe they did this whole rehabilitation thing right. I mean, the urgency to screw up every part of my world was gone, but then again put me back in sunny LA and maybe that would all come back full force.

  I felt sick at the thought, though. I didn’t want to be that girl anymore. I didn’t want to be lost. I didn’t want to be irresponsible. I wanted to follow those dreams Mallory was talking about.

  And I did have dreams. Secret dreams that I was afraid to follow. But they were there nonetheless. Writing…. Putting my pen to paper and creating something out of nothing. I wanted to share myself with somebody, everybody and be honest for once in my life-for the rest of my life.

  I pulled up to Stockton’s house and let out a deep sigh. I had him to thank for this whole existential revelation. He was this constant force that demanded I was honest with the world, with myself. He pushed me into facing the ugliness of who I was, but still, in that place of bad decisions and a lifetime of mistakes, he somehow saw beauty.

  And because he saw beauty in me, I could believe I was beautiful.

  I didn’t know if he felt this deep connection the same way I did, and I didn’t know if we would part ways in the next few months and never see each other again. Our future was unclear and headed in completely opposite directions. But even while I was dealing with the heartbreak of leaving him, I would forever be grateful for what he did for me and how he walked along side me so I could change for the better.

  I thought back to the letter I found in his kitchen drawer while I was snooping all those weeks ago and to Mallory’s demand that I follow my dreams. I’d given mine up out of fear and insecurity, but Stockton had given his up out of necessity. He was called away from finding his path because his parents died and he was the best kind of man-the kind of man that gave up everything for the people he loved.

  I had all this gratitude and I had been wondering what to do with it. Now that I thought back to the letter asking for some of his handcrafted pieces and designs, asking to change his life, I knew exactly what I would do.

  Before Stockton or Will noticed I was here, I slipped into his workshop and searched out some of his nice pieces—I found some in a box under his workbench. Ok, I didn’t really know what would be considered the best of the best in here. I clearly wasn’t an expert in all things…. smithing? Is that what it’s called?

  Being in Stockton’s workshop kind of made me feel like I belonged in the middle ages. But I was so impressed with his work that it was more of a middle ages kind of fantasy in which I was the lusty princess and he was the bad-boy blacksmith that threatened to steel my virtue.

  I shivered at those wicked thoughts, even while the workshop was extremely hot from the working fire that had been heating the small space all day.

  I slipped a couple knives into my purse and then looked around for something else that he wouldn’t miss but would showcase his skill. I wanted to give him the dreams he lost. I wanted to help him achieve the future he attempted but put aside for the sake of all his younger siblings. I wanted to repay him for giving me the kind of unconditional acceptance that had been missing my entire life.

  “What are you doing in here?” I jumped, startled by his rumbling voice from behind me.

  I spun around on my heel and set my purse to the side of his work bench, hoping to remain inconspicuous. “Looking for you,” I improvised. He stared at me from the doorway; his muscular frame leaned against it and his arms-one bigger than the other thanks to his trade-were crossed against his chest. His eyes were a dark green in this dim lighting, almost black from where he stood. And they were as hot as the fire flaring behind me. “I brought over some canned goods from Mallory.” My voice barely carried over the space between us. For some reason I was dramatically out of breath and struggling in that confusing place between chills and sweating.

  “Canned goods?” he repeated.

  “From Mallory.”

  “But you were looking for me in here?” his expression darkened with his emotions. His intensity was strung tightly with ferocity and he looked hungry. No, not hungry, he looked greedy.

  He hadn’t showered yet from his long day. He was shirtless and wearing dirty jeans that were streaked in black from the fire. I closed my mouth to keep the drool from escaping when I took in his toned, muscled upper body that shone with golden perfection. Sweat slid from his neck, down to the hollow of his throat and then further yet, over each ridge and contour of muscle. He was male perfection-like a blacksmith god.

  “Stockton,” I whispered.

  He sauntered toward me with slow, purposeful steps. “All week I’ve been kissing you with a house in between us. An entire damn house.”

  I nodded because all rational thoughts of words and sentences and clear spoken paragraphs had fled my mind. I stood there, waiting for him.

  And it was not easy for me.

  For whatever reason I felt vulnerable and exposed as he stalked toward me. His eyes were dark and demanding. He was going to kiss me, but he wanted more than my kiss in return. He wanted something so much deeper, something so fundamental to my survival I didn’t know if I was ready to let it go.

  Sure, my feelings for Stockton were deeper than any I had ever felt before, but were they deep enough? Did I know myself well enough by now to let them go?

  Or was Stockton going to break whatever pieced together version of me remained.

  He stood over me now. His hands reached for mine but didn’t hold them. Slowly, so painfully slow I thought I would burst with anticipation he trailed his hands over my fingers, across my palms, up my wrists, forearms, biceps until they came to rest around my neck. His hands swallowed my thin throat whole and held me firmly in his grasp-possessively. His thumbs slid across the bottom of my jaw until they could tilt my chin up so that my eyes stared into his.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the endless depth of emotion that stared back at me.

  His head dropped so our mouths were just a breath away from each other and he promised with not just his words, but with his thrumming-with-life body. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all week, Cami. It’s damn near killed me not to.”

  I shivered as his words blanketed every exposed and unexposed part of me. I felt wrapped up completely in his promises and whatever he had left unsaid that hung around us in a heady cloud of enlightenment.

  “Me too,” I said in a shaky voice when his hands left my neck and slid down to grip my hips and pull me closer to him.

  “Are you staying for dinner?” he asked in a more casual voice.

  I was beyond being polite. My body was practically vibrating with the need to feel his lips on mine and I was seconds away from threading my hands around his neck and yanking his face down to meet mine. I think I managed to nod an affirmative, before I tipped up on my toes and kissed the underside of Stock
ton’s jaw.

  He shuddered just a tiny bit and leaned into my kiss. His jaw was rough with a full day’s growth of beard and I could still taste the faint after effects of his long day in the shop-dirt, sweat and the tangy taste of metal mixed with smoke.

  “Mmmhmmm,” I finally agreed. “If I’m invited.”

  “If I let you out of here,” he countered. He pushed me back, using the firm hold he had on each of my hips and my ass bumped up against his work bench. “I like you in my space, Cami.”

  His voice was almost a growl and his long, calloused fingers slid under my tank top and dug into my waist. My heart beat frantically in my chest, I could feel it in my throat and my ears. I was falling for Stockton, hard and fast. I should be more careful with my freshly recovering heart, but I couldn’t be.

  I couldn’t stop myself from trusting Stockton-trusting him with even my heart. And I’d been protecting that vital organ since I was old enough to realize how much danger it was in.

  And with parents like mine that was early.

  Stockton’s nose skimmed my cheek and then over my partially parted lips, “I’ve missed you, Cami.”

  “You just saw me last night,” I reminded him in a breathy whisper.

  “And I still missed you.”

  Melting into a mushy pile of goo, I admitted, “I missed you too. I thought about you all day.”

  He groaned in a purely masculine, king of the jungle way and then leaned in so that our foreheads were resting against each other. “What do you think that says about us?” His lips hovered over mine, waiting for me to answer.

  And I could have. I could have answered a hundred different things that all started and ended with me declaring feelings I couldn’t even admit to myself yet.

  I was saved when he closed the gap between us and captured my mouth with his. He swept me up in him, and it was that easy. One kiss and I was lost. Our lips and tongues tangled together while our bodies pushed against each other hungrily. This kiss was needy and desperate but also sensual and claiming. I was giving him everything with his lips pressed against mine. All the emotions I didn’t want to acknowledge yet, all the words I refused to say molded into this one kiss and I gave myself entirely to him here.