Aspen couldn’t help but smile as she studied Rake. She figured her smile hadn’t faded for a moment—not from the first instant she saw Rake that morning. He wore a worn-out pair of Levi’s, a really banged-up pair of black ropers, a blue-and-white flannel shirt, and a tattered blue Nike baseball cap. He was perfect—absolutely perfect—from the way he wore his shirt untucked to the small holes at each top corner of his back pockets, visible whenever he lifted his arms over his head, causing his shirttail to raise enough to see them. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him—as her attention fell to the holes at his pockets as he lifted his arms to test the saddle. She bit her lip with delight. It was obvious his underwear were white.
“Here you go,” he said, taking hold of the reins and saddle horn with one hand, steadying the stirrup with the other.
Aspen was a little nervous. It had been years since she’d been on a horse. She wasn’t sure she could mount with any sort of grace or coordination. Still, reaching up and taking hold of the saddle horn, she shoved her foot in the stirrup, smiling when she realized she’d made a pretty smooth mount. Rake handed her the reins and then went to the tree to retrieve his own horse—a big black horse that Aspen was glad she didn’t have to ride. Rake’s horse looked younger—wilder than Jerry—and Aspen patted Jerry’s neck, silently thanking him for being old and gentle.
“You ready?” Rake asked, flashing a dazzling, fangless smile.
“Yep,” Aspen answered. She wondered what he’d used to glue those fake fangs to his teeth the weekend before—if they were easily removed or took some effort.
“Then let’s go,” he said. He clicked his tongue, and both his horse and Jerry lurched forward. “We’ve got plenty of time to take it slow,” he began. “It’s not very far.”
“Okay,” Aspen said.
“Did you have fun with your friend yesterday?” he asked as they rode side by side through the cool darkness. “I saw that new UPS balloon and thought of you guys.”
Aspen started to feel disappointed—upset that it would take Gina’s UPS man fixation to make Rake think of her. Still, perhaps he was just making conversation. Perhaps there wasn’t an underlying interest other than he truly wanted to know if they had fun.
“We did,” she answered. “And Gina loved the UPS balloon. There was some guy in it that she’s seen around town. I swear, she almost dropped dead when she saw him get into the balloon.”
“How funny,” he chuckled. “Yeah, I saw it yesterday. It was drifting pretty low, trying to hit the sandbar.” He was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, “Did you see the ship?”
“I did!” Aspen exclaimed. “I love it! I saw it a few years ago when it was here and have always wished it would come back.”
“Yeah, I think it’s from Spain or somewhere. It probably costs a lot to bring it over here just for this.”
“Well…wherever it’s from, I’m glad they made the trip. It was beautiful!”
They rode in silence for a moment, nothing but the sound of the river and the coo of a mourning dove somewhere near.
Aspen slowly inhaled, relishing the scents of nature all around her—the water, the cottonwood trees, the sandy soil of the riverbank. She was a little chilled and wondered if maybe she should’ve worn a light coat instead of just a sweatshirt. Still, she didn’t care. Cold or not, it was a glorious morning.
“The leaves changed really fast this year,” he said. “When the sun’s up, you’ll see what I mean. It seems there was a lot more green even just last week.”
“I know,” Aspen said. “It’s always kind of…you know…like you’re so happy it’s autumn because the hot heat of summer is over and everything seems to settle down. But then…then you know winter is just around the corner, and everything is dead and brown…colder. I don’t like winter. I always feel sort of…sort of insecure or something.”
“Probably another reason you like that poem so much…the one your mom named you after,” he offered.
“Probably,” she said, smiling.
“Tell it to me again,” he said. “What’s that part about winter coming?”
“There are a couple of parts about winter,” she said. Aspen felt her cheeks heat with a blush. She didn’t like reciting the poem; it always made her so nervous. Sure, she’d recited it to him before, but she was shy. Still, if he wanted her to—Aspen’s heart swelled as she realized she’d do just about anything Rake Locker asked of her.
“Just recite the whole thing,” he said.
“Right now?” she asked.
He chuckled. “You sound bashful about it,” he said.
“I am,” she admitted. “It’s…it makes me nervous.”
“Then I’ll give you a break…for the moment. As long as you promise to recite it for me later.”
“Okay, I promise,” she said. Odds were he’d forget about it. She was off the hook.
In a short time, Rake had led them to a clearing on the riverbank and dismounted. Dropping the reins to his own horse, Aspen was thrilled with he reached up and put his hands at her waist, lifting her down from hers.
“Let’s get the fire going,” he began, “get you some hot chocolate made, and warm you up.”
“Okay,” Aspen said. He paused, smiling down at her. Even in the dark, his eyes seemed to smolder, and she felt goose bumps ripple over her arms—simply from looking at him.
She followed him over to an undersized fire pit. He pulled a small box of matches from his pocket and hunkered down. Taking a match out of the box and striking it on the seam of his well-worn Levi’s, he touched it to the kindling in several places. Aspen smiled as flames nearly instantly began to lick up around the logs. He retrieved a small grate that had been leaning up against a nearby rock, placing it over the fire.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and she watched him saunter away from the bank to a small thicket of bushes. He reached in to the brush, drawing out an old metal teapot and a plastic thermos.
Aspen held her hands out over the fire as Rake filled the teapot with water and set it on the grate. He went to his horse and opened a saddlebag, rummaging around and finally withdrawing two tin cups and several packages of hot chocolate mix. She giggled when she saw him pull out a spoon and shove it in his back pocket.
The fire crackled, flaming the mellow scent of dry wood. Aspen watched as Rake stuck his finger in the water inside the kettle. She giggled at his ease, surprised at her own lack of concern that he was sticking his finger into water she would be drinking soon. Somehow, it didn’t bother her—the idea of drinking water he’d tested that way. Had anybody else done it, it would’ve ruined her appetite.
“Still too cold,” he said. He stood and took off his cap. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed as he gazed up at the sky. The sun was just breaking over the mountains. He smiled and plopped the cap onto its rightful place on his handsome head.
“Do you come out here often?” she asked. His actions seemed almost routine.
“Yeah, I do,” he admitted. “Especially during the fiesta.” He was facing east, and Aspen turned to gaze in the same direction. Brilliant pinks of every hue reached across the sky. “The sun’s almost up,” he said. “The balloons should be launching any minute.” He smiled, biting his lip and rubbing his hands together with excited anticipation. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone will try for the sandbar.”
“When the old Alameda bridge was still up, I used to love to drive down under it and park…watch them try to splash and dash,” Aspen told him. “I saw one guy way underestimate it once. I bet the basket was three feet down in the water.”
“Happens all the time,” he said. “I’d say only about ten percent of the ones that try for the sandbars actually hit them. Most of those bounce once or twice and end up in the water anyway.”
He hunkered down and stuck his finger in the water again. “Ouch!” He breathed the exclamation and shook his hand to cool the burn. “You want some?” he asked, smiling at her.
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��Of course!” she giggled.
She watched as he unfastened the first few snaps at the bottom of his shirt, using the fabric of his shirt to protect his hand as he lifted the teakettle off the grate and set it in the sand next to the fire. He plopped the two metal cups down in the sand and poured steaming water into each one. Aspen bit her lip, delighted as she watched him rather fumble around with the hot chocolate packets. It amazed her that a man whose very profession required precision and dexterity—a man who worked with the tiny gears and parts involved in clock- and watchmaking—should struggle so with hot chocolate packets. He emptied one packet into each cup, pulling the spoon from his back pocket and alternately stirring each mixture.
At last he grinned up at her. “Ready?”
“For hot chocolate? Always!” Aspen giggled. She gasped when Rake tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt, two or three inches wide and about a foot long. “What are you doing?” she asked. She watched as he wrapped the strip of fabric around the handle of the tin cup.
“I forgot to bring something to hold it with. It’ll burn your hand,” he explained, standing and handing the cup to her.
“But you just ruined your shirt,” she said, accepting the cup.
He shrugged. “It’s an old shirt. And anyway…your hand is more important.” She shook her head as he tore another length of fabric from his shirt, using it to hold his own cup.
It seemed an awful lot of work and garment destruction to go to for a couple of cups of hot chocolate. Aspen smiled, delighted with his willingness to go to such lengths.
“You’re really cute in your little University of New Mexico sweatshirt,” he said, smiling at her. He sipped some hot chocolate from his cup, never taking his eyes off her.
Aspen felt herself blush. She wasn’t very good at accepting compliments—even from people who weren’t insanely good looking!
“Thanks,” she managed. “But I’m sure nothing beats that big pink dog costume.” A quick thanks followed by a humorous remark to distract, that was her way—the only way she could usually manage it.
He chuckled. “That dog costume was pretty sexy.”
Aspen giggled and took a sip of her hot chocolate—the hot chocolate Rake Locker had made for her with his little packets of mix and the spoon from his back pocket. He was so fabulous! A rough-around-the-edges, wholly masculine real man—equipped with the extra and magnificent bonus of having a fabulous personality! In truth, Rake Locker was everything Aspen had ever dreamed of in a man. Everything! At least so it seemed—so far.
Her heart pinched a moment—ached with sudden fear and anxiety. Yet somehow fear and anxiety mingled with attraction, hope, and pleasure.
“Hold on,” he said, striding back to the horse. He opened the opposing saddlebag and pulled out an old serape. It was well-worn, yet the variegated colors of the traditional Mexican blanket still rang rich and bright. Rake chugged the rest of his hot chocolate, setting the empty cup in the sand by the fire. He spread the serape on the ground near the fire. “We’ll be more comfortable sitting down.”
Rake stretched out on the blanket, crossing his feet at his ankles and propping himself on one elbow. Aspen sat down beside him, making a pretzel with her own legs and taking another sip of her own hot chocolate.
“The sun’s up,” she said. “It shouldn’t be long now.”
Rake grinned. “You really don’t mind this?”
“Mind what?” she asked. What could she possibly mind? Being with the most attractive man in the universe? Sitting on the banks of the Rio Grande in autumn, drinking hot chocolate, and waiting for the beautiful hot air balloons to drift over? What was there to mind?
“All this,” he said, shrugging. “Getting up at the crack of dawn, riding through the cold and dark, just to sit in the dirt and watch balloons go over?”
Aspen giggled. “Of course not! I can’t imagine anything more wonderful…more peaceful and relaxing. You don’t mind, do you?” She wondered suddenly if the entire thing were too boring for him. Maybe he’d done all this purely for her sake. Of course, she couldn’t think of a nicer sacrifice, but she wanted him to enjoy it all the same.
“No way! I love this,” he assured her. “It gets me out of the shop…and I love it out here.”
Aspen smiled. She finished her hot chocolate and set the cup aside, next to Rake’s.
“Do I have you all day?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” Aspen giggled.
“Do I have you all day…or did you plan something else after this?”
Aspen shrugged. “I-I didn’t plan anything. I wasn’t sure how long this would take or anything.”
“Then do you want to drive up north of Santa Fe and pick piñons after the balloons are down?”
Aspen felt her stomach fill with butterflies. He wanted to spend the entire day with her? She couldn’t believe it! As she sat staring at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen—as she tried to convince herself she was truly worthy of having his attention—she sighed.
“I would love it!” she told him.
“Good! Then after…hold on.” He paused, listening. “I hear them!”
Aspen was on her feet even more quickly than Rake rose to his. The familiar sound of a balloon burner was barely discernable. She followed his gaze, east toward the mountain. She could hear it—the familiar whoosh of a burner heating the air in a balloon envelope. She smiled as the noise grew louder, and then, just above the tree line, she saw it—a rainbow-colored hot air balloon lazily drifting toward them. The balloon’s base color was a beautiful royal blue. Hot pink, lavender, and bright, sunshiny yellow squares rippled diagonally over the blue. It was a lovely balloon!
“He’s low,” Rake said. “He’s gonna go for a splash.”
Aspen watched and waved a friendly greeting as the balloon carried the basket directly overhead.
“Good morning!” a friendly woman called from the basket.
“Good morning!” Rake and Aspen responded.
“Let’s see how they do,” Rake said, smiling.
Aspen was so dazzled by Rake’s handsome smile she almost forgot to watch the balloon.
“You’re up early,” another woman in the basket called, drawing Aspen’s attention back to the balloon.
“You can’t enjoy this any other way,” Rake said.
Aspen watched as the balloon ever so slowly approached the river. Drifting, drifting—slowly lower and lower until the bottom of the basket slid along the surface of the water for a moment before the pilot laid on the burner to send the rainbow globe gaining altitude once again. It was a slow process but wonderfully exciting.
Rake clapped and shouted, “Nice one!”
“Have a great day!” the pilot called as the colorful balloon drifted over the opposing tree line.
Rake chuckled. He looked at Aspen, his dark eyes bright with pleasure.
“Fun, huh?” he asked. “Usually ten or twelve of them try it…almost every morning I’ve been out here.”
“It’s great!” Aspen said. A moment later, two more colorful balloons lazily drifted overhead. It was obvious they weren’t going to try for the sandbar or the water, and Aspen simply enjoyed the sight of them wandering across the canvas of blue overhead.
Rake sighed and stretched out on the blanket once more.
“Ahhh!” he exhaled. “Now this is living. Don’t you think?”
Aspen giggled. “Definitely!”
She sat down beside him, placed her hands behind her, and leaned back, gazing up at the balloons slowly drifting over them.
“Okay…so I’m ready,” he said. He stretched out on his back, tucking his hands under his head and looking up at the sky—at the balloons beginning to speckle it in the higher altitudes.
“For what?” Aspen asked. It was hard—resisting the urge to lean over and kiss him right on the mouth.
“For the recitation,” he said. “I want to hear that poem again.”
“You do not,” she laughed.
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“I do! I really do,” he told her. His eyes narrowed, and he asked, “Do you think I’m a weenie because I want to hear it again? Maybe you don’t like guys who want to hear a poem recited. But keep in mind, it’s the only poem I’ve ever listened to…other than in high school when they make you listen to all that crap in English.”
Aspen felt her eyes narrow. “Why do you want to hear it again?” she asked. She couldn’t fathom why a guy like Rake Locker would want to hear her recite “The Time of Aspen Falls.” Hadn’t he already had to suffer through it once?
He shrugged where he lay on the blanket. “I don’t know. It intrigues me for some reason. I guess because it inspired your name.”
“You know I hate reciting it,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “Come on, Willamina Dog. If you can run around in a pink dog costume all day, in front of hundreds of customers, then you can surely find the guts to recite that poem to me one more time.”
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“Come on, Aspen. Don’t make me beg.”
“Hmm. What an interesting idea,” she said. “You mean there’s the possibility you’d beg me to recite it?”
“How about if you don’t recite it, I’ll pick you up and drop you on your seat in the river…help you out with a little splash and dash of your own,” he chuckled.
“You wouldn’t,” she challenged. But when he started to sit up, she said, “Okay! Okay!” She was sure he wouldn’t have dropped her in the river, but the idea of being picked up by him again was tempting. “I’ll do it,” she agreed. “But you can’t laugh.”
The Time of Aspen Falls Page 18