by Tara Sheets
* * *
A lone seagull cried overhead, jerking Kat out of the erotic haze surrounding her and Jordan. Heart thumping a staccato inside her, she pulled back, staring at his beautiful face in the waning light. His expression was molten hot, burning a path all the way through her body, turning her insides into a liquid pool of desire. She wanted to jump right back in and bathe in it. Maybe drown in it. Their faces were so close, their breaths mingled, and it was all she could do not to lay her mouth on his again. Why had she ever decided he was a bad idea?
She swallowed hard, clutching at his open shirt, wondering when she’d unbuttoned it. She took in the rigid muscles on his torso and the smooth, tanned skin of his chest, her gaze sliding up to his sinfully seductive face. God, he was gorgeous. He looked like a really, really good idea. She couldn’t seem to remember why he wasn’t. The Queen of Impulsive Decisions certainly wasn’t going to remind her. Kat forced herself to focus. Breathe in. Breathe out. Ah, yes. Jordan was moving away and not planning to come back. Something sharp gripped her insides. He was leaving, and he’d made it very clear. That was it. Taking a shaky breath, Kat shut her eyes and used her last ounce of self-control to push against him.
Jordan’s arms tightened around her in reflex. He was so strong, he could’ve been carved from granite. She shivered with need, refusing to meet his eyes. If she did, there was no way she’d be able to resist him. She’d be jumping his bones like a wild animal right outside under the open sky.
“I think . . .” She cleared her throat and tried again. He’s not planning to stick around, remember? “I think we should stop.”
Jordan dropped his forehead against hers for a moment. Both of them were panting hard. She could feel his body shudder, and then he nodded and pulled away. Kat watched him rise to stand above her. His gaze never left her face as he began buttoning his shirt. In a daze, she glanced down at her dress, the skirt bunched up around her thighs, both straps hanging off her shoulders. With shaky hands, she pulled her skirt down, fixed her dress, and started to stand.
Her legs felt like warm Jell-O, and he reached out to steady her. She leaned against him as she regained her balance. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear in a gesture that felt both intimate and familiar. Then he cupped her cheek with his large, rough hand, his expression far too serious. Kat pressed her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes, as if she could commit the feeling to memory and take it out later to relive it again and again.
All too soon, he pulled his hand away, and they started heading back.
It was deep twilight when they neared the farmhouse. Shadows pooled across the uneven ground, and a cool breeze swirled through Kat’s hair. She turned her face up to the sky, breathing in the night. She couldn’t believe they’d just made out like horny teenagers. Like the sky was falling and the world was coming to an end. She should’ve been worried, but something about the moment had felt so incredibly right, even though she knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
Jordan reached out and gently pulled her to a stop. They were standing at the edge of the field behind the house. It was quiet and peaceful, with only the sound of the wind through the tall grass. His expression was still serious, and it suddenly made her nervous.
“Don’t tell me I have to kiss you again so soon,” Kat teased. If she could somehow keep things light between them, then she wouldn’t be in danger of falling head over heart into the raging river of lust that was Jordan Prescott. It was probably already too late, but she had to at least try to paddle toward the shore.
“Would it be so bad?” he murmured, drawing her closer.
She brought her hands up to rest on his chest. No, it wouldn’t be so bad. It would be so good. It was a miracle she’d been able to stop before going all the way. The spark between them had been nothing short of combustible. Kat felt as though every single sublime moment under the willow trees was branded into her memory for life. If she was very, very careful, she could stay grounded enough to get out of this with minimal damage. Keep it light.
She tilted her head as if considering his question. “No, it wouldn’t be bad. But I don’t think it would be wise.” Pulling away, she started walking toward the house again. She was afraid if he saw her face, he’d know she wasn’t feeling as nonchalant as she wanted him to believe.
“You’re probably right.” He fell into step beside her.
A sharp pang of disappointment twisted in her chest. “Of course I am,” she said brightly. “That whole thing back there.” She waved her hand. “I’m not saying it wasn’t fun, but maybe we shouldn’t repeat it, you know?”
Jordan didn’t say anything, and she was too chicken to look at him. They were nearing the farmhouse. Just a few more steps, and they could go their separate ways. He’d go up to his room and do whatever it was he did at night. And she could go back to her apartment, make a peanut butter sandwich for dinner, and promptly freak out. In private.
When they reached the overgrown backyard, Kat started to turn left to go around the house. She was just about to give him a flippant, cheerful good night when Opal’s warbly voice called from the kitchen window.
“There you two are! I was wondering when you’d show up. Come inside and tell me all about the lavender. Kat, I made your favorite casserole.”
Kat turned to Jordan. She waited for him to make excuses, but he didn’t. Instead he surprised her. “Come have dinner with us.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Look at me. My hair’s full of twigs and grass, and my dress is a wrinkled mess. She’s going to know we were up to no good.”
“Up to no good?” he teased. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
“Please. I’m twenty-six. If I’m a kid, then so are you.”
“Not true. I’m much older. And therefore, wiser. You should listen to me.” Jordan pressed his hand to her lower back and gave her a gentle nudge toward the farmhouse.
Kat let him, because secretly, she did want some of Opal’s casserole. And, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she didn’t want to say good-bye to him yet. “How old are you, then?”
“Thirty-one,” he said. “Far more mature.”
“Says the man who just celebrated his birthday with a mini donkey and campfire s’mores.”
“And beer. Don’t forget there was beer.”
At the kitchen door, Kat stopped and took a calming breath. Okay. She tried to smooth the wrinkles from her dress.
“Hold on.” Jordan backed her up against the door. He pressed close—closer than was necessary, not that Kat would complain—and he ran his hands through her hair, lifting the heavy weight of it and letting it fall softly around her face.
“Is it gone?” Kat whispered.
Jordan dipped his face into her neck and murmured, “What?”
“The leaves, or grass, or whatever.” She shivered as his lips brushed along her collarbone. “Is my hair okay now?”
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “There wasn’t anything wrong with it. You’re perfect. I just wanted a reason to touch you again.”
She tried to push him away, but it was a half-hearted attempt and they both knew it. By the time Opal came to the door, they were both grinning like fools.
Opal stood in the doorway wearing a Hawaiian print apron. There was a hot pink, plastic hibiscus flower in her hair. “I just covered the casserole and set it on the stove because I wasn’t sure when you were getting in. Oh, Kat! What a lovely dress. Purple is really your color.”
Kat felt her cheeks grow warm under the woman’s praise. She self-consciously tugged at the skirt of her dress.
Jordan headed to the sink to wash up. “What’s with the Hawaiian theme, Grandma?”
“I’m preparing for another costume party,” Opal said proudly.
Was she blushing? Kat studied the old woman. Her cheeks were pink, and she was wearing a bright shade of pink lipstick.
“What’s the party?” Kat asked.
“We’re havi
ng a luau on Saturday, and it’s going to be the biggest barbecue of the summer. Everyone’s dressing in tropical attire, and we’ll have live music and dancing.”
Jordan took the casserole and set it on the kitchen table. “Grandma, you have a better social life than anyone I know.”
“And well I should,” Opal said firmly. “Lord knows I work at it. I’m not going to be one of those old ladies who sits around in a rocker all day.” She grinned at Kat, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “You two should get out more and do something fun. Jordan, you’re always working on the house or on conference calls. You two could come to the luau.”
“Sounds nice, but I can’t,” Jordan said. “I have plans on Saturday.”
Opal made a face. “What kind of plans? What’s more fun than a luau?”
Jordan uncovered the casserole. “I have a date.”
Kat felt a sharp, twisting sensation in her chest. Of course he’d have a date. Why wouldn’t he? Besides, they weren’t together. They weren’t even really anything. Sure, they’d just had a rock star make-out session under the willow trees, but that’s all. She bit the insides of her cheeks and went into the kitchen. She’d chosen it. She’d wanted it. And she’d gotten it. Don’t make this more than it is, Kat. She clenched her teeth and turned on the faucet, scrubbing her hands with soap. This is how the Queen of Impulsive Decisions got into trouble.
“Oh, psh!” Opal said, taking off her apron. “What date? Is it that woman with the spiky shoes? Never trust a woman with painful-looking shoes, I always say. She’ll walk all over you.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Jordan said.
Kat thought about making an excuse to leave. Suddenly, all she really wanted to do was go back to her apartment and curl up with Hank. But if she did, it would seem too obvious. She didn’t want to give Jordan any clue that his going on a date bothered her. It shouldn’t bother her. They weren’t a thing. Instead she dried her hands and sat at the table like everything was totally normal.
“I wish I could come, Opal, but I have plans, too,” Kat said. “Pet Adoption Day is this Saturday.”
“Oh!” Her face lit up. “Well, it’s always nice to see animals get proper homes.”
Kat decided now was as good a time as any. “Speaking of animals getting homes, Sam Norton came in to see me recently. He has a buddy who needs to find a home for a goat.”
Opal’s hands fluttered with excitement. Was she blushing again? Kat stared in fascination as the older woman giggled. “Yes, Sam told me all about it. You bring it here. We have plenty of room.”
Kat refused to look at Jordan. “I think Waffles would love to have a friend.”
“Wonderful!” Opal said, patting her hair. “Sam will be so pleased.”
Jordan opened his mouth to say something, but Kat didn’t give him a chance. “And I already told Jordan about it earlier this evening,” she said. “He was totally on board.”
He raised a brow. “Was I?”
“Oh, yes,” Kat said sweetly. “Remember when I told you outside? Near the willow trees? You were all over the idea.”
Amusement flashed across his face.
“Very enthusiastic,” Kat added. To Opal, she said, “Thanks for cooking dinner. This might just be my favorite meal anyone has ever made me.”
“You’re welcome anytime, dear. And now I am off to bed. You two enjoy.” She turned to go.
“You’re not going to eat with us?” Jordan asked.
“I’m all tuckered out,” Opal said over her shoulder. “Besides, I ate dinner at the community center.” She started down the hall, then called, “And Jordan, do reconsider your Saturday plans. We could really use your help at the limbo pole.”
A few moments later, her door shut firmly down the hall.
Kat started mechanically spooning casserole onto her plate, focusing on the idea of Opal and her friends doing the limbo. It wasn’t a pretty picture. It actually seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, but it was much easier than thinking about Jordan’s Saturday date.
The kitchen was quiet and the silence stretched out between them.
Jordan was watching her. She could feel it, but she refused to look at him. Because everything was totally normal and fine, and she just needed to get the last bit of casserole onto the spoon. The toasted, cheesy parts in the corner. Those were the best parts.
“Kat,” he said.
“Mm-hmm?”
“It’s not a big deal, the date. It’s a business thing.”
She glanced up, all systems in order. She totally knew how to play this off. How many times in her life had she pretended things didn’t faze her? About a jillion. This was nothing. “Oh, I don’t care. That’s totally your business.”
“It is,” he said, “about my business.”
“Okay.” Fine. Even if it was a business date, it was probably best to clear the air between them. “But look, you’re free and I’m free. Let’s keep it that way, okay? Let’s not make that”—she waved in the direction of the field—“a thing.”
His expression was unreadable.
“What I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to make excuses to me. We’re both adults,” she said with a laugh. It was a good laugh. It sounded completely genuine. Extra points for her! She busied herself eating casserole. If she was eating a little faster than necessary, well, it’s because she was hungry. Not because she was trying to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. “Mmm, this is good. Did you have this a lot when you were a kid?”
Something in his expression shifted. “No.”
“Then what? Frozen waffles?” She spooned in another mouthful of cheesy potatoey goodness.
He rubbed at a spot on the Formica tabletop. “I ate a lot of cereal when I was a kid.”
“Your parents didn’t like to cook?”
“They were very . . .” He paused as though searching for the right word. “Busy. I was more of a ‘free-range’ kid. They weren’t very interested in mundane, household stuff.”
That explained a lot. No wonder the house was in such disrepair. “What did they do?”
Jordan shrugged. “Whatever they were into at the time. They weren’t big on conforming to societal norms.”
Kat tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
He took a bite of casserole. Chewed. Swallowed. His expression was shuttered, and difficult to read. She recognized it because she slammed those same shutters on her own emotions all the time. “They liked to call themselves free spirits.”
“Okay,” Kat said slowly. “Free spirits as in . . . ?”
“As in, they couldn’t be bothered with trivial things like caring for a child. Whenever I complained about the lack of food in the house, or the electricity getting turned off, or the holes in my shoes, they spouted off about societal expectations and the importance of being free spirits. But really it just meant free to get high and free to embrace bad parenting.”
Whoa. This was Jordan Prescott’s childhood. He’d been a free-range hippie kid? It was hard to imagine. He just seemed so grounded and set in his ways. She had so many questions, she didn’t even know where to begin. “That’s so fascinating,” she said, meaning it.
“Fascinating?” Jordan let out a huff of laughter. “That’s putting a spin on it.”
Kat bit her bottom lip. “I just mean . . . People’s relationships with their parents, family dynamics, and all that? I’ve always found it interesting.”
“What about you?” he asked.
She gripped her fork tightly and moved food around on her plate. Usually she just gave people the old song and dance—a made-up story about parents in L.A., no siblings, a boring suburban life. But for some reason, she didn’t want to lie to Jordan. She took another bite of casserole to buy some time.
“Let’s see.” Maybe she could just steer the conversation back into easy territory. “I think my favorite dish growing up was grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. The cheaper, the better.” Not a lie.
&nbs
p; “Really?” The sheer amusement on Jordan’s face made her feel like a soap bubble floating on the breeze on a warm summer day.
“Yup.” She grinned, relaxing back in her chair. “Cheap American cheese, soft white bread, and Campbell’s soup from a can. Sublime.”
“Fancy,” he teased. “Were your parents chefs?”
She lifted her glass and shrugged. “I have no idea. My mom died when I was a baby, and I never knew my dad.” Kat casually took a sip of water, then almost choked when she realized what she’d said. She had to force herself to swallow. Breathe normally. Because people breathed. That was a normal thing to do. What had made her tell him that? She never blurted out stuff about her past.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said quietly. His expression was filled with compassion, and it settled over her shoulders, heavy and uncomfortable, like a blanket of scratchy wool. She’d seen that look on other people before, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t need pity. She was totally fine. He seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate but she wasn’t going to.
Suddenly very tired, Kat scraped her chair back. “It’s getting late. I should go.”
Jordan stood, too.
She brushed past him and walked to the sink to rinse off her plate. Even just that subtle touch made her body thrum with delicious energy.
Jordan came up behind her as she was washing dishes. Their eyes met in the reflection of the kitchen window above the sink.
“I’m not going to pretend nothing happened,” he said quietly. “Because even right now, I want to drag you up to my room and finish what we started.”
Kat’s knees grew weak at the low timbre of his voice and the intensity of his gaze. She had absolutely zero doubt in her mind that if she stood there for another minute, she’d be the one dragging him up those stairs.