there.”
“Well, I think Samjeeza was planning on it with me,” I tell her. “He didn’t exactly try to charm me.”
“He was behaving strangely that day,” she says. “The way he talked, all melodrama and clichés, like he was playing a part. It wasn’t like him. It was as if he was trying to prove something.”
“But nobody was watching him but us.”
“Somebody was,” she says cryptically. “Somebody always is.” Oh. I guess she means God. Always watching. Gulp.
Her mouth twists into a pained line. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Me too.”
“Anyway,” she says like she’s relieved to be changing the subject, “I thought we could go into town for some ice cream, maybe do some shopping.”
“Can’t,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to go fishing with Tucker this afternoon.” She tries to hide her disappointment. “Oh.”
“I’ve hardly had a chance to see him lately, because he got a job at Flat Creek Saddle Shop and he’s been working all these hours. . . .”
“No, I understand,” she says. “You should go be with him.” I wonder if she cares about Tucker at all now. If she still disapproves.
“Maybe we can do something this weekend?”
“Sure,” she agrees. “I would love that.”
“Okay.”
Then there’s nothing to do but turn the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, and drive home.
There’s something magical about the way my head fits into the crook of Tucker’s neck. I lie there, breathe in his scent, which is a delightful mix of earth and hay and his own brand of man smell and aftershave, a touch of bug spray thrown in there, and for a minute all my worries evaporate. It’s just him and me, the lull of the water gently rocking the boat, particles of dust floating around in the warm air. I don’t know what heaven’s like, aside from the sense of brightness that Mom described for me once, but if I got to choose my heaven, this would be it.
On the lake with Tucker. I’ll take the mosquitoes and everything.
“I so needed this,” I say, which comes out almost as a yawn.
I feel him smile against my hair. “Me too. Your hair smells like wind, did you know that?”
Yep, me and Tucker, smelling each other.
I tip my head up to kiss him. It starts out as something sweet, slow and lazy as the afternoon sun, but it heats up fast. We pull apart for a second and our breath mingles, and I twist around so I am practically lying on top of him, our legs tangling. He reaches up to take my head in his hand and kisses me again, then does this half groan, half laugh that drives me crazy and drops his hand down to my hip and tugs me closer. I slide my fingers under the collar of his shirt, along the solid breadth of his chest, where I can feel the hammering of his heart. I love him, I think. In that moment I know, if I tried, I would be capable of glory.
He breaks away.
“Okay,” he gasps.
“You still think you’ll get struck by lightning if we . . . you know?” I tease, arching an eyebrow at him and pinning him with my most seductive (I think) look.
He gives me a kind of tortured, bemused smile. “When I was a kid my mom used to tell me that if I had sex before I was married, my . . . junk would turn black and fall off.” That gets a startled laugh out of me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, and I believed her, too.”
“So you’re not going to have sex before you’re married? What if you don’t get married until you’re thirty?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. I just love you. I don’t want to mess anything up.” This doesn’t make sense to me, but I nod. “So we’ll be good.”
“Right.”
“Because you’re scared.”
“Hey!”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Even though that’s not much fun.” He startles me by flipping me over, pressing me gently back into the blanket at the bottom of the boat. “You don’t think this is fun?” he challenges, and then he kisses me until my insides turn to mush and my head goes all
“Well, I think Samjeeza was planning on it with me,” I tell her. “He didn’t exactly try to charm me.”
“He was behaving strangely that day,” she says. “The way he talked, all melodrama and clichés, like he was playing a part. It wasn’t like him. It was as if he was trying to prove something.”
“But nobody was watching him but us.”
“Somebody was,” she says cryptically. “Somebody always is.” Oh. I guess she means God. Always watching. Gulp.
Her mouth twists into a pained line. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Me too.”
“Anyway,” she says like she’s relieved to be changing the subject, “I thought we could go into town for some ice cream, maybe do some shopping.”
“Can’t,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to go fishing with Tucker this afternoon.” She tries to hide her disappointment. “Oh.”
“I’ve hardly had a chance to see him lately, because he got a job at Flat Creek Saddle Shop and he’s been working all these hours. . . .”
“No, I understand,” she says. “You should go be with him.” I wonder if she cares about Tucker at all now. If she still disapproves.
“Maybe we can do something this weekend?”
“Sure,” she agrees. “I would love that.”
“Okay.”
Then there’s nothing to do but turn the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, and drive home.
There’s something magical about the way my head fits into the crook of Tucker’s neck. I lie there, breathe in his scent, which is a delightful mix of earth and hay and his own brand of man smell and aftershave, a touch of bug spray thrown in there, and for a minute all my worries evaporate. It’s just him and me, the lull of the water gently rocking the boat, particles of dust floating around in the warm air. I don’t know what heaven’s like, aside from the sense of brightness that Mom described for me once, but if I got to choose my heaven, this would be it.
On the lake with Tucker. I’ll take the mosquitoes and everything.
“I so needed this,” I say, which comes out almost as a yawn.
I feel him smile against my hair. “Me too. Your hair smells like wind, did you know that?”
Yep, me and Tucker, smelling each other.
I tip my head up to kiss him. It starts out as something sweet, slow and lazy as the afternoon sun, but it heats up fast. We pull apart for a second and our breath mingles, and I twist around so I am practically lying on top of him, our legs tangling. He reaches up to take my head in his hand and kisses me again, then does this half groan, half laugh that drives me crazy and drops his hand down to my hip and tugs me closer. I slide my fingers under the collar of his shirt, along the solid breadth of his chest, where I can feel the hammering of his heart. I love him, I think. In that moment I know, if I tried, I would be capable of glory.
He breaks away.
“Okay,” he gasps.
“You still think you’ll get struck by lightning if we . . . you know?” I tease, arching an eyebrow at him and pinning him with my most seductive (I think) look.
He gives me a kind of tortured, bemused smile. “When I was a kid my mom used to tell me that if I had sex before I was married, my . . . junk would turn black and fall off.” That gets a startled laugh out of me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, and I believed her, too.”
“So you’re not going to have sex before you’re married? What if you don’t get married until you’re thirty?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. I just love you. I don’t want to mess anything up.” This doesn’t make sense to me, but I nod. “So we’ll be good.”
“Right.”
“Because you’re scared.”
“Hey!”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Even though that’s not much fun.” He startles me by flipping me over, pressing me gently back into the blanket at the bottom of the boat. “You don’t think this is fun?” he challenges, and then he kisses me until my insides turn to mush and my head goes all
Similar Books
