“He could do it now,” I said. “You guys are all grown up and gone.”
“My sister has one more year of high school, so yeah, after that. Still, it’s not the same.”
“You can’t carry his regret for him,” I said.
Ford gave me a look. “Oh, you mean how you carry your dad’s anger and betrayal for him?”
I scowled. “No, I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” he shot back. “Instead, I channel it as sort of a ‘what not to do with my life.’ I’m going to make sure and have all my grand adventures before I commit myself to someone.”
“I get it.” I leaned over and bumped his shoulder with mine. “You’re a good listener. And thanks for telling me your stuff. I didn’t expect all that.”
“What did you expect?”
Something about the way he said it struck me as much more serious than the usual banter between us suggested. I chose my answer carefully. “Fun. Spontaneous. Light.” I shrugged. “Meaningless.”
His expression darkened. His blue eyes filled with something—not anger. Heat. Intensity. He leaned close. “Summer Stafford, you could never be meaningless.”
Any other moment with any other conversation and I would’ve melted into a puddle from that look. But right now, I couldn’t get past the emphasis he’d put behind those words. And the contradiction it made when put to our situation. I leaned back, putting distance between us as my brows creased in confusion. “You say that, but how can it not be meaningless if you’re leaving in a few months?”
“My leaving in the future doesn’t take away from the fact that we’re both here right now. In this moment. With these feelings. That has all kinds of meaning.”
His words, although bittersweet, made sense even as I told myself they shouldn’t. It was those blue eyes of his, darkening with meaning when he spoke to me that way. Looking back at him, I knew whatever he wanted from me right now I wouldn’t refuse. And it would cost me. I stood up and backed away. “Ford—”
He shot to his feet, cutting me off. “Don’t say it.”
He took a step forward. I took one back. If we were going to have this conversation, I needed space to think. I couldn’t argue with him when every time I breathed, I caught the scent of bar soap and topsoil.
“Don’t say what?” I asked, breathless with the idea of what would happen if I stopped backing away and let him reach me.
Another step. There was a storage closet somewhere behind me. I hoped I still had some room to go before I backed into it or the wall.
“All of the reasons why you shouldn’t like me,” he said.
I sighed. “I do like you, I just think—”
“Don’t think.” He was close now. Inches. His chest lining up with mine. I looked up at him. As soon as our eyes met, I knew it’d been a mistake. The blue-gray in them had deepened to something like a storm cloud. I shivered at what I imagined lay behind those swirling depths.
“Don’t think?” I repeated. It came out in a whisper.
“Just let your thoughts go. Do what you feel.” Slowly, his left hand reached out toward something behind me. I didn’t see what it was. That would’ve meant turning away from those storm-cloud eyes. His fingers caught on the object and he pulled. Something hard smacked my rear—the closet door. It clicked shut, the momentum of the door hitting my behind shoved me forward—straight into Ford.
“Oh,” I said, trying to catch myself. My palms landed flat against his chest.
Instead of backing away, his hands cupped my hips, holding me in place. He bent his head, leaning in until we were no more than a breath apart. I stared back at him, and, just as he’d suggested, my mind went completely blank.
Do what you feel ...
I closed the distance. For a split second, his mouth remained still against mine. I could feel his surprise; he hadn’t actually expected me to kiss him. Then, his hands gripped me harder, pulling me tightly against him, and his lips began to move. His kiss was soft at first, delicate and careful. Then harder. More insistent. My mouth opened and his tongue slid against the inside of my lip. My knees trembled. I leaned in, using Ford’s arms as support.
He tasted like he smelled: like sun and warmth and all things outdoors. I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his bare arms. His skin was warm, like mine. Heated from the inside out. I brought my arms up again, locking them behind his head and letting my fingers run through the hair at the base of his neck.
“Ford ...” His name came out on a sigh when he lifted his mouth from mine. I wanted to tell him to get his lips back over here, but I couldn’t form a single word other than his name. I could barely remember my own.
He chuckled. “Is this me cashing in my points?”
I smiled, liking the possibilities of the system I’d unwittingly created. “Maybe.”
“Does that mean I have to say something nice before we can repeat that? Or just wait until you try to argue with me again?”
“Are you asking which will happen first?”
“It is a difficult thing to predict.” His smile faded and he kissed my cheek. “Does this mean I won the argument? That you’ll be my friend?”
I bit my lip. I’d come in here tonight hoping to satisfy my lust and an item on my list all at once. But now, it felt much bigger than that. I wanted more of the feelings that came with kissing Ford.
“I don’t want to fall in love,” I admitted, voicing the real fear that ate at me when I thought about being Ford’s “friend” or fling or any of the other descriptives we’d used. Love hurt. I wasn’t looking for love.
In answer, Ford tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “This is nothing as serious as that. I want to show you how to have fun. No plans. No rules. Enjoy each other for the time that we have.”
I hesitated. “That’s a big risk for me.”
“You’re not living unless you’re risking.”
“That sounds like a slogan for something.”
He grinned. “It’s my slogan for Summer.”
“As in, the season?”
“As in, the girl.” I smiled. “Go out with me,” he said suddenly.
“Okay,” I said before I could change my mind.
“Okay,” Ford echoed, his smile widening. He kissed me on the cheek and my skin tingled. “Tomorrow night? Dinner?”
“Sounds good, but be warned, there aren’t very many places to eat that don’t require clean elbows.” I pointed to the black stains on his arms that came from leaning on the soil too long.
He laughed. “Same goes for you.”
“I’m not dirty,” I protested, holding up my arms as proof.
He didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “Well, that’s a damn shame. It would’ve made cashing in my points so much more fun if you were.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ford
“Love will never separate a man from his personal legend.”
–Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
That girl wound me up. Her mouth and the way it worked, shaping either words or kisses, was something else.
I’d endured an entire week of her moody silence as she ignored me with no explanation. If that hadn’t been confounding enough, she’d come to me with those puppy dog eyes that begged for attention and forgiveness. Had I given it to her? Damn straight. No questions, no giving her a hard time for seven days of silence that would make a monk proud.
It was that mouth. Had to be it. And the way she locked her arms around me when I kissed her hard or went limp when I pulled away too soon. She had no idea what she did to me. But if this kept up, she would find out sooner rather than later.
And then she’d gone and asked me about love. I knew she was scared. Her mom leaving had really screwed her up. I wanted to reassure her she wasn’t going to end up like that, but she wouldn’t have heard me anyway. Too wrapped up in the hurt. But love—that was one thing I knew to be off the table. This would be fun and we would be friends. We’d have a great time and make some great m
emories before I left in October. But love? Not happening. I wasn’t ready for all that. I had too much life to live before I allowed that.
Thoughts of my dad sprang to mind and I checked the clock. He’d be home from the day job soon. After twenty years of ten hour days, he’d finally been promoted to management, allowing him the luxury of punching out by dinner time. Now he’d spent what daylight was left tinkering in the garage. The creations he made out of wood were stunning. He’d have a business in a heartbeat if he wanted it. But whenever I’d asked, he always said wood-building was a hobby, for fun... “Not something that put food on the table when there were little mouths to feed, son.”
I always regretted that for him. Giving up a dream to support his family. He was always quick to come back with, “My family is the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t give up, I just got a new dream.”
Fine. But not me. For me, the solitary adventure was the ultimate dream. And no one, man or woman or even lover, was going to distract me from pursuing it. Or worse—abandon it.
Cold weather plants. That was the next project. The next adventure. And no girl—no matter how meaningful—was going to stand in the way of the adventure. Maybe for my dad, that had worked out, but not for me. I intended on living every experience I could to the fullest. Then maybe, just maybe, I’d be ready to settle somewhere. But that girl would have to be pretty amazing.
Unbidden, an image of Summer in that bathing suit sprang to mind and I groaned aloud. Just thinking the word “amazing” was enough to make me remember her that way—dripping wet, legs up to her neck, and glaring at Casey with death rays for eyes. As passion went, anger was a powerful version, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to have her that worked up at me.
Come tomorrow night, I’d have the chance to find out. Well, the passion anyway. Hopefully not the anger. Both possibilities made me grin.
As I worked on closing up shop for the night, I made a mental note to find Casey and ask him about local eateries that didn’t feature peanut shells on the floor and fried bar food as the special of the day. Or better yet, maybe I’d ask Mazie.
I wondered what sort of place Summer would expect for a first date and then immediately brushed the thought aside. I definitely didn’t want anything about our night to be typical. In fact, I intended to go out of my way to make sure it wasn’t. Typical or expected weren’t what Summer needed. Good thing, nothing I had in mind was either one.
Chapter Fourteen
Summer
“Love has a way of making you appreciate the silly.” –Helen Meckelberg
(aka “Helen Magellan”)
Twice I caught myself humming as I showered and dressed for breakfast the next morning. I took extra time with my hair, blow-drying it until my pesky half-curls smoothed into loose waves that hung down my back. Normally, I twisted it up, hating the way it stuck to my neck when the humidity touched it, but today, I wanted it to hang. It felt free that way. More relaxed. Like me.
I pulled on a pair of denim shorts I usually only wore around the house because the pockets hung lower than the hem line, telling myself my choice of attire had nothing to do with wanting a reaction from a certain blue-eyed farmhand. A white tank and my favorite boots completed the look and I smiled at myself in the full-length mirror.
As a resident and therefore employee of Heritage Plantation, I’d learned long ago you never knew when you’d be asked to take a shift on the tractor or push a Ditch Witch. I’d come home more than once with burns and cuts along my bare calves and knees. As a result, long pants were the uniform most days even with my official title of manager and bookkeeper. But today was Saturday. No heavy machinery being operated today. And for the first time in months, I wanted to be noticed.
I leaned in close to the mirror and flicked on a last layer of mascara before calling it done and waltzing out. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was humming again. Mazie looked up from her usual position in front of the island, her mixing hand slowing as she caught sight of me. My dad and Frank were seated at the table, coffee mugs in hand, the newspaper spread between them.
“Morning,” I said cheerily, passing Mazie on the way to the coffee pot.
“Good morning,” Mazie returned, offering her cheek up for a kiss as I walked by.
“Morning, sunshine,” Dad called from the table. He did a double take when he saw me.
Frank eyed me as I reached for a clean mug. “Sunshine seems to be the perfect word,” he agreed.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
My dad shook his head and Mazie winked. “You glow, paidi mou,” she said.
“I do not glow,” I argued.
Frank snickered. He and my dad exchanged a look before going back to their paper. Mazie began whistling as she stirred.
“I glow?” I repeated to myself, sipping my coffee and trying to decide how I felt about that description. I was pretty sure the weather wasn’t to blame. I hadn’t stepped out of the air-conditioning yet.
“From the inside out,” Mazie explained.
Interesting. No one had ever said that about me before. Then again, I’d never felt quite this way before. Excitement, but more than that. Anticipation. When was the last time I’d looked forward to something? Moving home had been more like duty. A necessary step. Graduation, but that had been more like checking something off a to-do list, as had school in general. And Aaron. I think I’d looked forward to things with him, in the beginning at least. Dates. Calls. Spending time together. But none of it had ever lit me like this. Like hope. And heat. And passion.
I looked up over the rim of my coffee mug and found all three of them watching me with amused expressions. “What?” I demanded.
They went back to their tasks without a word—all three wearing goofy smiles.
“Dad, can I borrow the truck? I’m going into town,” I announced, setting my half-empty mug in the sink and heading for the door.
“Sure. The keys are in the bowl by the door. Where to?” my dad asked, looking up from his paper.
“I promised I’d stop in and see Leslie at her new store when I had time.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter either way. “Today, I’m not busy.”
“Well, tell her we said hello,” my dad said.
“And tonight?” Frank asked. “You free then too, because I heard—”
“I have plans tonight,” I said, cutting him off before he could say something to rile me.
“A date?” Mazie’s eyes lit up and she dropped the spoon back into her mixing bowl.
I stopped at the door, my shoulders sagging, and turned to face them. So much for keeping a lid on it. “Yes. I have a date. With Ford. We’re going to dinner,” I explained, hoping to tell them enough to satisfy their curiosity without giving away anything new for the gossip mill.
Frank opened his mouth but I spun on my heel and pushed the door aside, making an exit faster than he could get words out. “Leaving now,” I called over my shoulder. “Talk later.”
From the other side of the door, Frank said something and they all laughed.
Leslie’s shop wasn’t hard to find, considering it was Grayson County’s only jewelry store. Well, unless you counted the sterling silver beaded stuff at Smallmart. Which I didn’t.
The bell over the door dinged as I entered. Leslie looked up from the cash register and waved before continuing to ring up the customer in front of her. Her delicate hands punched the buttons in a flurry of stabs and then she gave her customer, Helen, her total. I almost choked when I heard it. The figure had enough digits to be a phone number.
Helen didn’t bat an eyelash as she handed over a plastic credit card and waited while Leslie completed the sale. I pretended to be very interested in the display of onyx rings across the store. Maybe Helen wouldn’t notice me if I stayed out of the way.
When I’d dressed to be noticed this morning I hadn’t anticipated running into Helen Magellan—a name she’d earned by always knowing everyone’s busin
ess right down to their location on a given day. One thing about Helen, she got her information the straightforward way. No gossiping necessary. She’d come right out and ask what you were doing somewhere and why and where were you headed next and who wished you wouldn’t. “Nosy” was not in her vocabulary. Neither was “tact.” She liked to say she was merely “concerned.” I had no doubt she wouldn’t think twice about asking for my opinion about my parents and what had brought me back to Grayson after being so adamant about staying gone.
Across the store, Helen signed off on the receipt and Leslie handed her a small black bag. “Here you are, Miss Helen. You enjoy the sparkles,” Leslie said.
“Oh, you know I will,” Helen said, a decidedly mischievous note in her voice as she tucked the little baggie into her massive suitcase-purse. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her make for the door.
Go, go, go.
Halfway there, she paused, studying me. Dammit. My shoulders sagged when she turned to face me fully, her eyes sharper than her age would suggest. “Summer Stafford, is that you?” she asked, wandering closer. “Your mother said you were back in town. How are you?”
I grimaced. No telling what else she’d heard if it came from my mom. “I’m fine, Miss Helen. How are you?” I asked, arching a brow and nodding toward the bag I’d seen her stow away. Maybe if I redirected the attention ... “Bought yourself something nice, I see.”
She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Yes, Leslie helped me find a diamond necklace that’s to die for. Bobby will love it too.”
“Bobby?” I looked from Helen to Leslie, who stood far enough back she could make animated faces at me without Helen seeing. When I repeated the unfamiliar name, Leslie pretended to swoon.
“Oh, honey, you’ll meet him soon enough. He’s out of town on business right now, but he’ll be back in time for your momma’s birthday shindig.”
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