Wanderlove - Rachel Blaufeld

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Following the GPS, I headed toward Emerson’s place. For shock value, I didn’t go up to the door, but rather texted her that I was here while double-parked outside.

  As Emerson came out the door, she said, “What the . . .”

  Leaving the car in park, I slipped around the front and opened the door for her. “Let’s roll.”

  “We’re not going to the Hamptons, are we? I have to work tomorrow.”

  “I wish, but no. I have too much studying to do, no can do.”

  She looked perfect in white jean cutoffs, her long legs stretched out on the floorboards, and a red tank top. Her hair was down, hiding her profile from me, but I guessed she was smiling.

  “We are going somewhere fun, though,” I told her. Angling the GPS toward me, I entered a new destination, and off we went.

  “Did you ever have a boyfriend cookie?” she asked out of nowhere.

  “Can’t say that I have. Care to tell me more? Is that some sort of proposition?”

  “Uh, no. Basically, they’re like a kitchen-sink cookie. They have everything in them—mini candies, chocolate chips, nuts. They’re made to be soft and gooey.”

  I gave her a grin. “You had me at soft and gooey.”

  “Come on.” She punched my arm.

  “Hey, don’t hit the driver.”

  “Bev’s mom is going to make them in her bakery. I was just wondering if some farm girl ever made them for you back home.”

  “Are you asking if someone loved me enough to bake me cookies?”

  “Never mind. I’m being nosy. It’s just you met Robby and were less than impressed. And I look stupid, the way I told you I was holding out for him, and fought with my dad over him.”

  She refused to turn her head, staring out the windshield.

  Reaching over, I took her hand. “I don’t think you’re stupid. And, yes, I’ve had a few dozen cookies baked for me, but you know what? None of them were boyfriend cookies from the gutsiest, ballsiest, fun-nest—I know that’s not a word, and I’m not some hick—cutest woman I know.”

  “I’m cute?”

  “How ’bout gorgeous? Sexy?”

  She shook her head. “Shush. Remember I grew up with a single dad? Compliments about my looks make me uncomfortable.”

  “How about, I bet you have a wicked arm in softball. Does that make you nervous?”

  “I do, by the way.”

  “Of course.”

  “Wait? Did we just enter New Jersey?”

  I nodded.

  For the rest of the drive, we made casual conversation, talking about our favorite cookies. Me, plain old warm chocolate chip. Emerson, snickerdoodle or peanut butter.

  “Where are we?” she finally asked.

  “West Milford, New Jersey,” I said, like it was an everyday drive for me.

  “Oh, and now what?”

  “We’re going to turn right here.” I flipped on the turn signal and drove down a gravel road.

  “Sea Manor Kennels? Oh my God, you’re getting a dog. Have you thought this through?”

  “I have.”

  When we stopped in front of the farmhouse, I rushed around to open the door for Emerson.

  The front door opened, and a middle-aged woman came out. “You must be Price. I’m Patty.”

  I gave her extended hand a small shake. “That’s me. Yep, I am pumped. Thanks for holding the pup for me until I could get out here this weekend. Things get lonely in my apartment.”

  “He’s a doll. Last one of the litter. And you are?” She looked at Emerson, her eyebrow raised, probably because I mentioned being lonely while having a hot-blooded female by my side.

  “Emerson.”

  “Do you like dogs?”

  “I do, but we don’t live together.” Emerson laughed while saying it, letting me off the hook. “He’ll be responsible for all the house-breaking.” She pointed at me.

  Patty smiled. “Well, I can’t help if you fall in love with this guy too.”

  “She means the dog,” I said, unable to stop myself.

  All I got from Emerson was an eye roll.

  “This way,” Patty said.

  “You okay in flip-flops?” I asked Emerson as we walked toward a barn.

  “I could live my whole life in flip-flops.”

  Another thing I couldn’t help . . . I let Emerson go first, enjoying the view of her walking on a farm, wearing Daisy Dukes and flip-flops.

  Yes, I let my mind wander, thinking about what she’d look like back home at my farm, with me, and I liked it. A lot.

  Thank God, Patty and the puppy stole me from my runaway happily-ever-after thoughts.

  Emerson

  Inside the wooden building in a small pen, the tiniest ball of yellow fur was jumping around. Patty opened the gate and let the little guy walk over to Price, who was crouched down and waiting.

  “Come here, little man,” he said softly.

  Clumsily, the puffball walked over to Price, already in love—because that’s what Price did to all creatures.

  “What kind of dog is he?” I asked.

  “English Labrador,” Patty said. “He’ll grow to be about seventy-five, eighty pounds.”

  I looked at Price. “Can you have that big of a dog in your place?”

  “Sure can.”

  And just like that, Price was nuzzling the puppy in one hand and pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket with the other.

  Patty said her good-byes and handed Price a list of supplies. He glanced at it and said he’d already bought most of them the day before.

  Once the pup had peed on the grass, Price clicked a small red collar around his neck, swung the car door open for me, set a blanket on my lap, and plopped the dog right on top of it. I was trying to resist falling in love with the animal, and now there was no way out of it.

  “Tuck” slept on my lap all the way home, his puppy breath invading the car, and I was practically a proud mom.

  “Who will take care of him when you’re out at class?” I asked Price, stroking Tuck’s fur.

  “Rudy set me up with a dog walker. And you can visit anytime you want. Not because you have to do anything, just to see him.”

  My heart beat like a marching band in my chest. I’d never experienced anything like this with someone. It felt a lot like sharing a very special moment reserved for couples in love.

  “Don’t let your brain go into overdrive,” Price said. “I see you overthinking it. Tuck’s a damn cute pup, and you can feel free to visit him.”

  “Okay,” was all I said.

  “Good.”

  We drove back, both of us sneaking admiring glances at each other and Tuck.

  Later, with Tuck asleep in his crate, a bottle of wine and empty cartons of Chinese food on the coffee table in front of us, a shiver ran through my body, despite me doing my best not to expose my anxiety.

  I wasn’t scared of Price. He’d never hurt me or push me to do something. My own insecurities and general lack of experience when it came to the prospect of having sex put the fear of God in me. Usually, I covered up my nerves with a hard candy-coated shell. But my shell was failing me tonight.

  “Em, look at me.” Price lightly tipped my face toward him. “Where’d you go?”

  We were lying on the couch, me settled on top of him, between his legs. My head rested on his chest, my hair fanning out behind me, his hardness making itself known.

  I didn’t know what to do with all of these feelings, both physical and emotional. The whole scenario was daunting. It was like preparing to jump off a cliff without a parachute. My emotions, the blistering heat in my belly, and the pounding in my chest were enough to send me into cardiac arrest. I could hear my heartbeat whooshing in my ears.

  “Em? Earth to Em, come back to me.”

  “Sorry, I spaced out.” My words croaked out. I didn’t—couldn’t—look Price in the eyes.

  We had kissed a lot over the last few weeks, but he hadn’t touched me otherwise. We hadn’t given ourselve
s a chance.

  He shifted slightly, and as his knee bumped mine, he covered my knee with his palm and steadied it. “Don’t be sorry. What’s wrong? Talk to me, Em.”

  “It’s just . . . usually, I think I’m such a badass. Thought I had everything figured out, but I don’t know shit. And I guess I’m scared,” I murmured into his chest, still refusing to make eye contact. Another chill ran through me, and Price pulled me closer. “I know I put on this act, and sometimes, I don’t think you’re falling for it. I know you’re not, so why do you let me get away with it?”

  His hand ran down my back and up again, working its way around my shoulder until his knuckles met my cheek. They grazed over my face as his warm gaze beat down on the top of my head, challenging me to look at him. His breathing was even—one breath in and another out—unlike mine. While his chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, my breath whipsawed in and out, and my heart pounded like a wild beast. I tried to mimic him, syncing my breath to his.

  “You don’t have to be scared or know anything at all or have everything figured out. That’s called being young, living life, figuring it out as you go, Em. You need to gain life experiences. Preferably with me by your side. That makes you a badass. When you decide to make mistakes alongside someone else. Showing your inexperience to the world and not being afraid to raise your hand and ask for help.”

  My frantic pulse slowed a little at his words. “Well, it’s a bit different. You’re older and have more experience. You know what you’re doing.”

  “So? I’m still going to make mistakes in life.”

  “No, what I mean is . . . I’ve never been with anyone, and now I want to be with you, and I worry about it, now that it matters,” I said softly. Then I whispered even softer, “What if I mess everything up?”

  When an earthquake came from below me and a loud rumble erupted from Price’s chest, I looked up to take in his huge smile. Price continued to laugh, his eyes squinting, his mouth wide.

  “Is that what this is all about? Do you think I’m worried? I’m not. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting, and it’ll be magnificent. Until then, my fingers, my hand, my mouth, I want them everywhere . . . on you, in you. And when you’re ready—and only when you’re ready—all of me will be inside you. There’s no pressure, Em.”

  “Is that why you always cut the evening short? You’re giving me space? I don’t want that.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I leaned my forehead into his shoulder in shame, his dirty words from before making me high. Not in a romantic or sweet way, but more raw and real. I wasn’t sure if they should be doing what they were doing to me . . . making me hot and bothered, making me feel sensual and wanted.

  “I don’t want gentle, or for you to go easy on me.” I pressed my face further into his chest, my words and breath painting his skin.

  “Don’t you dare hide from me.” He gripped my hair and gently tugged my head back. “No shame here with me and you. Hear me? It’s why I never bring it up. I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to, or I’d find out when it happened naturally. Until then, I’m fine. I’m a patient man, and I was waiting for the timing to be right for you. Got it?”

  I stared at him, this strong man, hardened already at twenty-three from real manual labor, determined to make something of himself despite the shitstorm surrounding him. His words were so special in their own way, with his feelings evident in each one.

  “Huh? I didn’t hear you, Emmy? You hear me?”

  “But I don’t really know what I’m doing when it comes to all that. I was supposed to do the deed, and I didn’t . . . and now I’m in so deep with you, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “And thank fucking God for all of that.”

  His breath feathered over my neck as he pressed a line of kisses to my jaw and back to my clavicle. We lay cuddled on his couch, leftovers from our dinner growing cold on the coffee table. “We’re in no rush. I’m not going anywhere. Christ, I’m stuck here another three years for school. You better not be leaving this city if I have to stay here.”

  His words tickled my skin. His lips weren’t smooth like Robby’s, who had been my only real kiss, but they felt better. Like something true and honest, and alive.

  With my heart thumping, I said, “I’m not ready.”

  “That’s good. Neither am I.”

  My lungs constricted. “Why? Is it me?”

  “Did you not hear me?” His mouth took mine in a kiss.

  A soft moan escaped my mouth. At least my lungs were working again.

  “I said I’ll wait however long you need.” He broke away from my mouth and ran his fingers through my tangled hair. “There’s a lot to keep us occupied in the meantime.”

  Which was what we did.

  Price

  With my classes over and fall semester not starting for a while yet, I found myself bored for the first time in forever. Emerson worked a godawful schedule, but I didn’t begrudge her that. I had nothing but respect for hard work.

  The plans for my father to come to the city and have dinner with me tonight were canceled. He texted me late last night, apologizing, and told me he’d be in touch to reschedule.

  I’d just decided to take Tuck home for a few days and see my mom and Bruce when my phone rang. When I saw the caller ID, I didn’t want to pick up, but did anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Congratulations, Price. I see you finished with all As this summer. You’re doing me proud. Are you enjoying some time off?”

  “Actually, I was going to see my mom for a few days.”

  “Oh.” My father sounded disappointed on the other end. Deflated.

  “Do I need to ask your permission?”

  “No need to be a hard-ass, son. I was simply going to see if you wanted to meet me in Philadelphia for a night. I wanted to make it up to you for not being able to come to the city today.”

  “Um, I could. Are you working?”

  “No, I have a sick friend who’s in the hospital here. I’m visiting.”

  “Well, are you sure?”

  “Yes, I can only visit for a few minutes every day.”

  Seeing my dad wasn’t at the top of my wish list, but if I told my mom, she’d say to go.

  “I could drive there and then home,” I said. “Were you thinking this week?”

  “How’s Thursday?”

  “I’ll make it work.”

  I’d have to run a lot of miles between now and then to work off my anxiety. No way I could show up to see my dad with all the tension our relationship gave me bottled up.

  “Oh, I have a dog now. So I’ll find a place to stay that allows him.”

  “How about a lady? You have a girlfriend, or are you still pining for the girl back home?”

  “It’s complicated. Yes and no.” Honestly, what did he care?

  “Bring your girlfriend too. Call me when you’re here. I’ll make a reservation. I want to see who my son likes.”

  He disconnected the call before I could debate it.

  “I can’t go to Philadelphia this week,” Emerson told me. “I work a double on Thursday, and Friday night is my best night for tips at the bar. I need the money.”

  “Okay. I’d rather spend the weekend with you, though.”

  She was curled into my side on my couch Tuesday night. She’d come over to see Tuck, bringing him a bone and squeaky toy. I’d poured her a glass of wine, and we joked about how I shouldn’t be serving her.

  “I could get arrested, you know? Giving alcohol to a minor.” My finger poked her side, a small ticklish spot right below her ribs.

  “Stop!” She giggled and held her wine tighter.

  “Who cares if you spill? Not my place, really.”

  “Don’t be crass,” she said. “That’s not you.”

  “You mean the criminal in me, getting my girl tipsy on expensive vino instead of downing cheap alcohol out in the fields?”

  “Is that what you used to d
o when you were a teenager?”

  Her hair spread all over me, I ran the tips of my fingers through the ends of it. I’d thought Moira was it for me, but we’d never had an ease like this. Just chilling, chatting, doing nothing.

  “We did. We’d steal liquor from our folks and haul it out to the middle of nowhere, which is basically all around us, and get wasted. We’d lie around the fields, looking at stars and waxing poetic. We were nothing but a bunch of nobodies—and still are.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t start with that. You are somebody.”

  “To you, I guess.”

  “To a lot of people, I’m sure.”

  That right there—the way she kept pumping me up—was doing a number on me.

  Of course, Moira and I did that, but in the rearview, it didn’t feel real. Like we were pretending.

  “Hey, I’m off school a little while longer. Want to go to the beach next weekend?” I changed the subject, turning us toward something less about me and my insecurities. “You can show me where you grew up. I’ll drive, and we can take Tuck.”

  “Oh, sure, my dad would love that. Fallen for another guy, let me just drag him home and throw it in his face.”

  “Well, I’m a better man. I can win him over. We’ll do it G-rated and all that.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  We didn’t talk much more. My mouth found hers, and we spent a long while kissing, my hand roaming down her back and up again. She tasted like peaches and sauvignon blanc. I wanted to drown in the flavor. She didn’t ask if I’d be seeing any girls back home, and truthfully, I didn’t want to see any but my mom.

  “I should go home,” Emerson finally said, breaking the moment.

  I nodded. “Let me call Johnny to take us.”

  She stood. “No, let him be. Walk me outside, put me in a cab.”

  “I’m giving you the money.”