Текст книги "The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire"
Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
Tyler
The radio plays one of my favorite songs and by favorite I mean one that I’ll dance to at Red’s. I think my back is permanently slouched from leaning over and looking out the window for Savannah. The clock on the dashboard tells me that I’ve sat in my truck ten minutes longer than I said I would. One quick look at the front door and I know she’s not coming. If I were a betting man I’d say she went inside and asked her Aunt Sue about shopping. Sue would’ve likely played along for a few minutes, but Savannah’s smart and she’d catch on. Her aunt didn’t suggest shopping. I just wanted to get her away from the ranch so I could see if the girl I once knew was still inside. I just want to see her smile. She hasn’t done that since she arrived, granted she’s been here barely twenty-four hours, but still. A girl’s gotta smile and from what I remember, Savannah has a killer one.
I drive away without looking back. The dust cloud behind me makes it impossible to stare at the house in my rear view mirror. I should be thankful that I can’t see it. I’d probably throw the truck in reverse and go drag her out of the house kicking and screaming. Of course that means I’d have to put her over my shoulder and hold her legs down with my arm, which would undoubtedly come in contact with her ass and that would likely be my undoing. Yes, it’s a very good thing I can’t see the McGuire house right now.
Everything in my head is telling me to ignore her. To let her do her thing and not even bother making small talk. Uncle Bobby told me that she’s off to Paris as soon as the summer’s over, so getting attached only means heartache. Not that my heart beats for her or anything. But the thought of what Savannah was like when we were kids still lingers in the back of my mind. I know that Savannah is in there somewhere; she just needs to be let out. The girl I remember would’ve mounted any one of our mares for an early morning ride and would have told her uncle exactly what he can do with that chore list. Although, watching Savannah in those outlawed shorts and her aunt’s muck boots was comical, I’d rather see her dress appropriately for working on the ranch. The last thing we need is for her to hurt herself or get some pesky bugs biting up her legs. Hell, maybe she needs to be taught how to live on a ranch. I suppose living in the concrete city, you forget what it’s like to stop and smell the roses, or saddle up a horse and take a day trip out yonder. Maybe I’m just the guy to reacquaint her with life in the country, or maybe I just need to stay away from the enigma that is Savannah McGuire.
Coming to Red’s was a bad idea. Inviting Savannah to come with me was even worse. At this rate, I’m destined to screw up something major and cause an epic catastrophe or go home with someone I shouldn’t. That someone just walked into Red’s and will surely be my breaking point tonight. Red’s is packed and there ain’t a place to park that won’t make me walk a hundred yards to get in the door. When I spot Jeremiah’s truck, I park in front of him, blocking him in. I figure I’ll end up leaving before him anyway so it won’t matter. I take one look in the mirror and give myself a pep talk. I can go in, have a beer, be cordial and go home alone. Or I can go in and let Annamae walk all over me, tell me how much she misses me and let her show me a good time in my truck. Either way, I’m screwed. I slide my hat on, adjust the rim and practice my best Tyler King ‘resident cowboy’ smile. Oh yeah, that’s going to knock ‘em dead.
The music is blaring and bodies are moving on the dance floor. The constant thunk of boots hitting the wood at the same time makes the floor vibrate. There are a few girls standing on the edge waiting for a two-step and some fella to come ask them to dance. They’re all dressed similarly with their shorty shorts and cowboy boots on. I’m not usually a fan of this hoochie cowgirl style, except this is how I see Savannah dressing once she realizes she’s meant to be on the ranch. These are the city girls that come down for the weekend, slumming it. They want themselves a real cowboy, but only on the weekends when their corporate daddies are off playing golf and not watching their darling debutantes. This is where Jeremiah thrives. Me? Not so much. Unless, of course, you’re my ex and you’re blocking my way into Red’s.
I tip my hat to Annamae who has her hands firmly on her hips. “Evenin’ Annamae. Haven’t seen you at the honkytonk in some time, Rufus out of town?” I should be bitter, but I’m not. He saved me from a life of being a socialite’s husband. Annamae would’ve never moved to the ranch and I definitely don’t want to live where there’s traffic.
“I’ve been tryin’ to get up with you for days.”
“Really? What for?” She hasn’t left a message at my house so I know she’s up to no good. It’s just a matter of me figuring it out before it’s too late.
“I hear you have a Yankee livin’ with y’all.”
Good news travels fast around these parts, except it’s not news and Savannah’s only been here for a day. “Yeah, where’d you hear that?”
Annamae shrugs. “Around.”
“Uncle Bobby’s kin, that’s all.”
“I don’t know why you call him your uncle. He ain’t.”
“Blood isn’t the only thing to make someone your kin, Annamae. Hell, we would’ve gotten hitched and you would’ve been my kinfolk.” I shake my head at her. Her family is high cotton and all about status. No one is good enough for her family. “I gotta find Jeremiah.”
Annamae looks over her shoulder and angles her head. I look around and spot him on the dance floor being sandwiched by two redheads. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s definitely smooth.
“Have a good night, Annamae.” I leave her standing there to contemplate the meaning of life or whatever else she needs to think about.
“How do?” Della asks as she sets a beer on the bar for me. I nod in her direction, pick up my beer and spin to watch the line dancin’. Girls love it when a guy can dance, but I’m not into the synchronized dancing. Give me a two-step where I can hold my girl and let the music guide us and I’m happy. I can see Savannah and myself out there dancing. Hell, we used to dance on the porch all the time. She taught me how to two-step. I’m so much better at it now though, and I want to show her. I want to take her out there, place my hand on her neck and guide her around. I want to pull her close and let our bodies move in the same distinct motion. I want to feel her pressed against me and have my hat cover our faces when we kiss. These are all thoughts that I shouldn’t be having about Savannah.
“Ah, well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
“What’s wrong, sugah?” I turn at Della’s voice and hang my head. “Don’t go fallin’ for the Yankee.”
I look at her questioningly. “How’d you know about her?”
“Small town. Big bar. Everyone’s talkin’ about the hottie down at the ranch.”
I look around the bar and shake my head. “Jeremiah gossips like a girl.” Della starts laughing.
“Too right.” She walks away, only to return with a full glass for me. “From what I hear, y’all knew each other when you were young’uns?”
“Yeah, she and her momma moved to New York City a few years back. Uncle Bobby says she got into some trouble and her momma shipped her back here to finish out school and for the summer. I don’t know what she did and we ain’t really talking yet, mostly on the count that I made a fool out of myself when I picked her up.”
Della throws her towel over her shoulder and shakes her head. “Sweetie, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
I spin around on the stool and cross my arms, resting them on the lip of the bar. “It was bad. I went and made this big ole scene, picked her up and swung her around, you know like you’re always talkin’ about in them books you read? Anyway, it wasn’t her, just some random girl that got off the bus with her and ever since then, her demeanor is cold.”
Della tries not to laugh, but can’t hold back. I rest my head on my arm and sigh.
“Listen here, sugah, you have to remind her why y’all were friends to begin with.”
“How?”
“Well I don’t know Tyler, you have to find somethin’ that was special and just go with it.”
“You mean ask her out?”
Della shakes her head. “Not all girls want to go out. Just remind her of what a sweet, charming boy you are. She’ll be putty in your hands.” Della walks away to tend to the rest of the patrons, leaving me with thoughts of taking Savannah out on the horses or even four-wheeling. Thing is, I don’t know if she likes those types of things anymore. If she were from here, it’d be a no-brainer and even though she is from here, she’s changed.
Savannah
Every time Tyler walks by or his voice echoes over the ranch, images of him driving away with me standing on the porch continue to replay in my mind. They serve as a constant reminder that he and I are no longer friends. Being stood up is not high on my qualifying list of being friends. He is, according to Aunt Sue, my boss and I’m to do whatever he asks of me. I also have to complete his requests in a timely manner without any sass.
However, it’s very hard to be near him right now. He promised me shopping and a stop at his hangout, only to leave me standing on the porch being swallowed by a giant dust cloud. The tears I fought quickly turned to frustration. Doesn’t he understand that a woman needs more than fifteen minutes to get ready? I was standing knee-deep in manure for heaven sakes. I had to shower! He may be used to hanging out with women that smell like crap all day, but that’s not me and it never will be.
To make matters worse, when he does walk by, he ignores me. Not that I want him to talk to me, because I don’t. I have nothing to say… except I do, and it’s not about taking me to town so I can submit my homework. I want to ask him why he stood me up. Why he made such a big deal about me going if he had no intentions of taking me. I had hoped after our brief conversation that maybe we were turning a corner and he and I would be friends, but it’s clear that he thinks I’m nothing more than an employee to him.
I know I deserve this. I haven’t exactly been approachable or worthy of any friendship. I don’t want to be here mucking horse stalls or shoveling manure. This. Is. Not. Me. Life’s unfair, I know that, but never in a million years did I expect my mother to decide she can no longer care for me because of my out of control ways. I get good grades and do what I’m told. Just because she found me in one compromising position doesn’t make me a bad person. It makes me human. I know she’s made mistakes in her life. Half the time she makes me feel like one.
When I boarded the bus to come here… a bus, not a plane… I told myself that a wall is going up and nothing will bring it down until I’m on a plane heading to Paris. My aunt and uncle may be the only family I have, but they don’t know me and they definitely don’t know my mother anymore. She’s not the same person she was when we left here. Sometimes I wonder if moving to New York City was her downfall as well as mine. Frankly, I’m getting irritated hearing “remember when”… because no, I don’t want to remember when I was young, carefree and had no worries in life.
Except I’m starting to and I’m afraid to ask any questions for fear they’ll be happy and think I’m enjoying my time here. I’m not. If it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity and the smell. It’s the looks I get when I come downstairs dressed in shorts or a dress. My aunt and uncle can’t honestly say they’ve never seen a girl in a sundress before. I have eyes, I see the girls that show up to feed Jeremiah lunch. Their clothes are no skimpier than mine and lord knows what goes on in the barn when they get here. As soon as I hear the catcalls, I hightail it back to the house and hide in my room. It’s the only safe place where I can escape. Tyler can’t bother me there and watching him eat lunch in my aunt’s kitchen really bugs me.
I fill the horses’ water trough and replace the hose where Tyler likes it. I’m done for the day and now have to find the courage to ask Tyler if he can drive me into town. I know it’s something my uncle discussed with him before I got here, but I have to make the arrangements. Uncle Bobby says that Tyler’s in charge on the ranch, I do what he says and Tyler will be accommodating. We both know the latter is not true.
I kick off my unfashionable pink boots and leave them by the back door. My toes wiggle from the freedom they’re feeling at the moment. I know I’m missing the essential clothing necessary to survive on a ranch. I was hoping to take care of that minor issue last week when Tyler offered to take me shopping. Little did I know he was just kidding with that invitation.
He’s leaning up against the counter when I enter the kitchen. The non-benefit of having a big ole country house is that when the screen door slams, it alerts everyone in the house that someone’s coming. Maybe that was my intention, because I definitely could’ve snuck up on him and if I had done that, he wouldn’t be facing me right now, eyeing me up and down like he has done every day since I arrived. I’m not sure if he’s expecting something with me to change or not, but if he is, he’ll be waiting an awfully long time. I’m me. He can take it or leave it. Part of me wants him to take it, but I’m not willing to admit that out loud. I’ve done enough pining over high society boys, and the rejection that they dish out is enough to last someone a lifetime. To them, it doesn’t matter what your mother does now, it’s whose blood runs through your veins. Regardless of her checkbook balance and club memberships, I’m still an outsider to them.
It took me a year of speech therapy to drop my Texan accent. Being teased one too many times about saying “fixin’” or “y’all” had me visiting five days a week until I could speak without a southern drawl. I was still an outsider, but they were my friends. Tyler used to be my friend and so did Jeremiah. The memories of the three of us running in the fields, climbing hay bales and swimming in the pond are slowly starting to come back. I can try to fight them, pretend they don’t exist and just live my life as this outsider on a ranch not really fitting in anywhere, or I can start exploring on my own.
I walk right up next to Tyler, my hip brushing him out of the way. My elbow bumps into his back as I maneuver to make my lunch. I don’t need to be in here, but it’s where I want to be. I feel his gaze on me, but refuse to acknowledge him. He’s breathing loudly... either that, or we’re just close enough that I can hear him clearly. Everything in me is screaming for me to turn and glare at him, but I don’t. I just continue to make my lunch and allow my arm to touch the back of his shirt every chance I get. If he wants to be a jerk, fine. I’m going to be a tease.
Tyler clears his throat and adjusts his legs, crossing one over the other. I’d like to think that I’m getting to him, but the reality of the situation is that I’m probably getting on his nerves. One final elbow to his back, followed by a shallow groan and I’m moving away.
“Did ya have to elbow me?”
I turn and set down my sandwich. I mimic his stance with my ankles crossed and my hands resting on the countertop behind me. I tilt my head slightly, open my mouth just barely and say, “Huh.”
“Huh? Is that how they taught you to articulate yourself in that fancy private school in New York?” His words bite.
“What do you know about my school?” I bite back.
He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “Nothin’,” he replies, walking out of the kitchen.
I shake my head at his retreating backside and turn away. “Oh my god, he’s so frustrating,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m frustratin’?” he roars. I turn in time for him to step right into my personal space, his face inches away from mine. His finger is pointing at me and his lips are moving but nothing is coming out of his mouth. He bites down on his lip and says, “I’m not frustratin’, Savannah. You are.”
Okay so now we’re in first grade and we’re going to do the – ‘you are, not me’ game. No thanks. That game I do remember and hated it.
“How am I frustrating? I didn’t invite you out and then stand you up,” I challenge as I step toward him, forcing him to take a step back. “I didn’t promise shopping and a little bit of freedom only to drive away leaving a dust bowl in my wake.”
“I waited for you. You never came out. I told you fifteen minutes.”
I scoff. “Seriously, Tyler, I’m a girl, I need more than fifteen minutes to get ready. I don’t know what type of girls you like, but I, for one, would like to not smell like crap when I’m going out. It’s hot outside, I was sweating and you had me shoveling poop all day.”
He covers his mouth and steps away from me laughing. I punch him in shoulder and turn away, only for him to grab me by my waist, holding me in place. My skin warms where his palm is resting on my hip. An unknown sensation courses through my body making me feel nervous. I didn’t feel like this when… I shake my head, trying not to think about what happened in New York. Chalk it up to a bad experience with the wrong guy and what not.
“You’re laughing at me. I don’t need or want to be here right now,” I say to break the tension in the air.
“I’m sorry, Savannah. I’m only laughin’ because you said poop and I think it’s cute. In fact, I thought for sure you’d start cussin’ up a storm by now, but I haven’t heard a single one come out of your mouth. I’m sorry about the other day. I waited, I did, but when you didn’t come out I figured you weren’t comin’ and I bailed. I got pissed and took off, lettin’ my temper get the best of me.”
I turn slowly, noticing that his hand hasn’t moved yet and is still firmly holding onto my hip. “I stood on the porch and watched you drive away.” I know I sound whiney, but when we were kids, that’s all it took for Tyler to make sure I had my way.
His fingers dig into my hip as if he’s trying to hold on. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers as he steps closer. His fingers relax and I feel them move over my skin ever so lightly. I look at him for some type of sign that he wants to be my friend and am taken by the small smile that forms. It’s not the same one he gives to my aunt Sue when he sees her. This one is different. It’s mine. His hand disappears the moment the screen door slams, but it’s too late. Jeremiah is snickering in the doorway and pointing. I step away, putting space between Tyler and me.
“We headin’ to Red’s or what?”
I look at the clock and wonder why he’s going to the bar now.
“Yeah,” Tyler replies as I feel myself sag with disappointment. “First, I have to take Savannah shoppin’. I promised her last week. I’ll meet you there.” I smile, but still feel let down. I’m not good enough for this Red’s place, clearly.
“Don’t forget the condom.”
I blanch at Jeremiah’s retreating backside. Tyler is looking at the doorway he occupied not seconds earlier. I see his face turn blazing red. He turns back to face me, but keeps his eyes focused on the ground.
“Ignore him. I’ll wait while you shower.”
Tyler doesn’t give me an opportunity to respond. He’s walking away muttering something under his breath that I can’t understand. I jump when the screen door slams and he yells for Jeremiah. I step over to the window just in time to see Tyler tackle him and they get lost behind the fence and tall grass. It’s funny to see two grown men play fighting. For the first time since arriving, I’m smiling because I’m happy; even if I have a feeling it will be short-lived.
Tyler
“You’re such an idiot, Jer. I swear you were dropped on your head as a kid!” I kick him in the ass as I move away from him. He’s such a little punk sometimes, saying that crap in the kitchen. The last thing I need is for Savannah to think I’m into her, or that I’m looking for a quickie. I’m going to deny any feelings I have for her until I’m blue in the face, especially to Jeremiah. That boy is the town gossip. I want Savannah to feel comfortable around me and if that means I have to hide how I’m feeling and pretend that I’m just trying to get my friend back, or get to know the person my friend has become, then so be it. I don’t need Jeremiah making a fool out of me in the love department. I can do that just fine on my own.
“Man, you’re ornery.” Jeremiah stands and brushes off the imaginary dirt and grass from his shirt and pants. “I reckon you have an itch that you’re about to scratch.”
I lunge at him, only for him to sidestep and laugh. I’m breathing heavily out of frustration, my chest puffing in and out. I’m going to kick his ass. He pulls off his hat, twists it a few times and takes a bow before walking away from me.
“You need to learn to keep your yapper shut,” I yell at his backside. He doesn’t stop, but raises his arm and flips me off. Stupid asshole. “She’s our friend,” I say, for both my benefit and his.
I take off my ball cap and run my hand over my face. I’m afraid to look at the house because I have a feeling she’s watching this whole thing go down. If she is, maybe I’ll be lucky and she’ll just think that we’re two stupid morons who like to wrestle in the grass. I glance at the window, and sure enough, she’s standing there. I can’t see her face clearly, but she notices me staring and moves away quickly. Hopefully she’s going to go shower or do whatever she needs to do so we can head into town.
I’m mentally taking a note of the kind of clothing she needs to survive out here. She may not want to “Countrify” her wardrobe, but I’d feel better if she was adequately protecting herself when she’s out here working. Her uncle put me in charge of her chores and the day-to-day lack of proper apparel puts limitations on what I can have her do. Not to mention her aunt’s boots are too big for her and she looks like she’s wearing clodhoppers, which she is too dainty for.
“Ugh,” I chastise myself for even thinking of Savannah as dainty. Since when do I have thoughts like that? I shake my head in an attempt to clear them. Except, I’m failing miserably. It’s not because I don’t want to, but she’s making it impossible with the barely-there sundress she now has on. She stands not far from me, one long, perfect leg drawing all my attention as she taps it impatiently. Oversized sunglasses, the same ones she was wearing when she got off the bus, shield her eyes, making it impossible for me to see her expression. Her lips are pursed and painted. A large red bag hangs from her shoulder, the same type Annamae carries and I can’t help but wonder if Savannah has her “life” in there. I know I should look away but I can’t. My eyes follow the path of her long, tanned leg until it reaches the hem of her dress. Without much control I swallow hard and adjust myself discreetly. I close my eyes and berate myself for allowing Savannah to turn me on.
I move toward her and her posture immediately changes. For the love of all things holy, I want to rip those sunglasses off her face so I can see her expression, so I can read her. I hate not being able to see what her eyes are trying to tell me.
“Are you going to change?” her tone is snotty and just like that she’s back to being the bitch she’s been since her arrival. I want to know what happened to the girl that was in the kitchen with me not so many minutes ago and why the ice queen is back.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, at my house,” I answer as I walk away from her. Just like day one, she can follow or not, but either way I’m done with her hot-and-cold attitude. I don’t really give a flying shit if she wants to come to town with me. I can’t continue to put myself out there if she’s going to act like a Class A bitch all the time.
Surprisingly, she follows in line behind me. I pause briefly when we get to my truck and contemplate whether or not I should open her door. After some debating, I decide against it. It’s not that I’m not a gentleman, but she has no respect for me. Here I’m willing to take her to town, and she has attitude. Girl seriously needs to be put on a bull and have that shit bucked out of her.
She seems to have no qualms about opening her own door and we both hop in at the same time. As chivalry dictates, I could shut the sliding window behind us, but I think I’ll wait until the princess asks nicely. Besides, maybe the wind will blow sweet nothings into her ear and she’ll come out of the funk she’s in.
We drive approximately three hundred yards before I park. Savannah raises her sunglasses, resting them on top of her head. She looks out the window and then at me, her face full of confusion.
“I thought we were going to your house?”
I chuckle. “This is my house.” I hop out of the truck and walk to my front door. The soft smell of pine greets me. I breathe in deeply and admire my freshly installed floors. When Jeremiah told me about the lumberyard getting their hands on some wide-planks, I couldn’t resist. It took me three weeks to get the floor down and polished, but it was worth it. My house is small, but it’s mine for as long as I want it. The two bedrooms are large and accommodating, but with only one bathroom it can be a little cramped when my mom comes to visit. Last summer I installed a bay window, but haven’t done much else. This winter I plan to replace the mantle and maybe update the kitchen. Aunt Sue did a lot of work before I moved in, but it looks more like a cabin than a home. I turn back to see her sitting there, looking straight ahead. Leaving the front door open, I give her a choice of whether or not she wants to come in, but I’m really not counting on her doing so. I head right to the shower so I don’t keep her waiting. The sooner we’re out of here, the better. After tonight I won’t have to take her shopping again.
Letting the hot water beat down on my back relieves some of the stress I’m feeling. I can’t let her get to me. She’s changed so much since she’s been gone that it’s unfair of me to expect her to be the same, or to adapt to our laid back way of living. The country and city just don’t mix that well. Thoughts of her sitting in my truck, with beads of sweat forming on her forehead because of the sun plague my mind. I slam the water off and get out. I don’t want her bitching about me taking too long in the shower and the fact that I even care what she thinks pisses me right the hell off.
Opening the bathroom door, I step into the living room, cinching my towel tightly around my waist. My dumb ass didn’t think about bringing clothes into the bathroom with me when I left the front door wide open, and it should have because Savannah is standing in front of me, her crystal blue eyes roaming up and down my body. If I weren’t happy with the way I look, I’d wonder if she was impressed. I’ve worked hard on my physique, keeping myself in shape. I could wink as I walk by, but she’s standing in my way. I can either return to the bathroom or stand here like a wanton piece of art and let her gawk. I encourage her to get her fill of me. I want to be ingrained into her memory so that when she’s far from here and she looks at another guy, she only has flashes of me. I want her to see that I’ve also grown up and that neither of us are those two kids that everyone remembers.
Maybe that’s what I want. Maybe in the back of my perverse mind this is what I need – for her to see me, like this, in my home. What purpose that serves, I have no idea, other than getting us both flustered. The thought of touching her skin, like I did only an hour ago in the kitchen, forces me to step back. I’m not crossing the boundaries she’s put up. She quickly licks her lips, her wet, pink, tongue showing briefly before she pulls it back into her mouth. The urge to kiss her is there, but if I do, I’ll lose my towel and neither of us is ready for that to happen.
Savannah sways ever so lightly from foot to foot. Her demeanor has changed from when we were in the yard. This is the Savannah that I want to know, not the icy cold bitch from earlier. If I can have this girl, I’d start spending every free minute with her.
“What happened to your house?”
I clear my throat and rub my free hand on my towel. “It burnt down about a year after you left. Mom and I moved closer to town, but I didn’t like it. I missed the ranch too much. When I turned eighteen, Aunt Sue showed me this place. She had been restoring it for a while and was going to rent it out, but figured that I didn’t much like staying in your pink bedroom. I moved in and started working for your uncle. As soon as I graduated, I went full-time and started taking some classes online, which sucked because I had to do it at the library, but it all worked out. After I finished my degree, Bobby handed over a lot of responsibilities. I can afford to move now, but I like this house. It has everything I need.” I look around, afraid to make eye contact with her. She asked me a simple question and for some reason my mouth went on a verbal tangent.
“You lost everything?”
“I did,” my answer is barely a whisper. I don’t know if she realizes it, but there’s so much meaning behind her choice of words and the fact that she said “everything”. I felt lost when she left. I know it wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t help but be mad at her. She left me. She was my best friend, and she moved away. Losing my personal belongings was just the icing on the cake during an already depressing year.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t set my house on fire.”
She shakes her head and steps closer... too close. “No, I didn’t, but I can still feel bad that you lost everything.”
I should step back and put some distance between us, but I can’t. I don’t want to. “I lost my most important possession earlier than that. It wasn’t harmed in the fire.”
Her eyes meet mine and I can see the realization in her blue orbs. “Me,” she whispers. I nod, unable to deny her this answer. She steps forward, the fabric of her dress brushing against my towel. Her fingers dance along my skin, causing goosebumps that I haven’t felt in a very long time to pebble my skin. The trail she leaves ignites something in me. Many images flash before my eyes, all of them ending up with me sans my towel and between her legs.
