greedily soaking him in. It was her
first kiss. It was The Kiss, an event that surely deserved reverence and
excitement … And then he’d turned away. Confusion and hurt had replaced her
joy, and going to bed to sleep, to forget it had happened, had seemed the only
thing to do.
But there was no escaping him. Her
body ached, longing for things she’d never known and she fumbled with herself,
unsure how to ease the aching. She thought of the girls she’d seen downstairs,
casually sexual and comfortable revealing their bodies, their desires. That was
the kind of woman Tanner was used to, not virgins without the first clue of
what to do with a man. She’d twisted in frustration, the slip and slide of the
cotton sheets over her skin adding to her torment. She wanted hands, his hands.
She wanted him and now he’d turned away, she had no idea how to get him. Women
didn’t chase men. It was unseemly, even whorish. Women waited. Women accepted.
By the time the sun rose, Beth was
more angry than frustrated. Waiting? Accepting? Well, she hadn’t accepted Abram
and she hadn't waited around to be forced by a man she didn’t want. If she
could make that stand, surely she could make another stand with Tanner?
Dressed and determined, Beth went
to find Tanner. If nothing else, she decided she was entitled to a better
explanation for his behavior. And then … then she’d have to think about moving
on. The idea hurt, but the thought of Abram and Nathaniel catching up to her
was far worse.
In stark contrast to the hive of
activity it had been last night, the mill was beautifully silent this morning.
The storm clouds had cleared, and gentle sunlight bathed the bar in gold. Empty
beer bottles and the faint smell of cigarette smoke paid tribute to the night’s
chaos, but for all it was the polar opposite of her life, Beth liked it. The
mess, the noise, the easy laughter … It had been warm and welcoming, if
somewhat overwhelming. There was a sense of family here that she’d been taught
the Church provided, and it was now clear that the Church and the real world
had very different ideas about “family.”
Finding nobody inside, she ventured
out the front just in time to see a few men pulling away on their bikes. She
didn’t see Tanner among them, although she recognized Rattler’s menacing form,
and heaved a sigh of relief to see him go. When the dust from their roaring
bikes settled, there was just one man left, sat astride his own machine and
messing with the brakes.
He was taller than Tanner, and
built along lean lines rather than broad. But his tattooed arms were roped with
muscle, making it clear he had the strength to go with his height. His long
hair was ashy blonde, and fell past his shoulders, hiding his face as he
worked. He put Beth in mind of a lion, and for a second she was scared to
approach.
Then he glanced up at her and,
after giving her a speculative once-over, beckoned her forward. “You must be
Beth.”
“ Yessir .” She stared at the mud, unable to meet his gaze. There was no doubt that he was
a sir. He gave off the same air of
command that Abram did, albeit a quieter, more controlled one. Still, perhaps
that made him more dangerous. You never knew.
“Raise your eyes, girl,” he said,
not unkindly. “Let me have a look at you and see what Tanner’s tying himself in
knots for.”
Her heart jerked and she obeyed,
forcing herself to meet his eyes. His expression was unreadable. He sat back on
the bike, hands resting on his knees. As much as she tried to focus on his
face, she found herself staring at his arms. His left arm was tattooed with
torn skin revealing gears and pistons, robotic images that made her feel
faintly uneasy. Down his right arm, she saw dragons and battle axes. He
followed her gaze and cracked a smile.
“Left arm,” he
tapped it, “the future. Right arm, the past. Like ‘ em ?”
“I don’t know,” she answered
honestly. She preferred Tanner’s, but maybe that was just
first kiss. It was The Kiss, an event that surely deserved reverence and
excitement … And then he’d turned away. Confusion and hurt had replaced her
joy, and going to bed to sleep, to forget it had happened, had seemed the only
thing to do.
But there was no escaping him. Her
body ached, longing for things she’d never known and she fumbled with herself,
unsure how to ease the aching. She thought of the girls she’d seen downstairs,
casually sexual and comfortable revealing their bodies, their desires. That was
the kind of woman Tanner was used to, not virgins without the first clue of
what to do with a man. She’d twisted in frustration, the slip and slide of the
cotton sheets over her skin adding to her torment. She wanted hands, his hands.
She wanted him and now he’d turned away, she had no idea how to get him. Women
didn’t chase men. It was unseemly, even whorish. Women waited. Women accepted.
By the time the sun rose, Beth was
more angry than frustrated. Waiting? Accepting? Well, she hadn’t accepted Abram
and she hadn't waited around to be forced by a man she didn’t want. If she
could make that stand, surely she could make another stand with Tanner?
Dressed and determined, Beth went
to find Tanner. If nothing else, she decided she was entitled to a better
explanation for his behavior. And then … then she’d have to think about moving
on. The idea hurt, but the thought of Abram and Nathaniel catching up to her
was far worse.
In stark contrast to the hive of
activity it had been last night, the mill was beautifully silent this morning.
The storm clouds had cleared, and gentle sunlight bathed the bar in gold. Empty
beer bottles and the faint smell of cigarette smoke paid tribute to the night’s
chaos, but for all it was the polar opposite of her life, Beth liked it. The
mess, the noise, the easy laughter … It had been warm and welcoming, if
somewhat overwhelming. There was a sense of family here that she’d been taught
the Church provided, and it was now clear that the Church and the real world
had very different ideas about “family.”
Finding nobody inside, she ventured
out the front just in time to see a few men pulling away on their bikes. She
didn’t see Tanner among them, although she recognized Rattler’s menacing form,
and heaved a sigh of relief to see him go. When the dust from their roaring
bikes settled, there was just one man left, sat astride his own machine and
messing with the brakes.
He was taller than Tanner, and
built along lean lines rather than broad. But his tattooed arms were roped with
muscle, making it clear he had the strength to go with his height. His long
hair was ashy blonde, and fell past his shoulders, hiding his face as he
worked. He put Beth in mind of a lion, and for a second she was scared to
approach.
Then he glanced up at her and,
after giving her a speculative once-over, beckoned her forward. “You must be
Beth.”
“ Yessir .” She stared at the mud, unable to meet his gaze. There was no doubt that he was
a sir. He gave off the same air of
command that Abram did, albeit a quieter, more controlled one. Still, perhaps
that made him more dangerous. You never knew.
“Raise your eyes, girl,” he said,
not unkindly. “Let me have a look at you and see what Tanner’s tying himself in
knots for.”
Her heart jerked and she obeyed,
forcing herself to meet his eyes. His expression was unreadable. He sat back on
the bike, hands resting on his knees. As much as she tried to focus on his
face, she found herself staring at his arms. His left arm was tattooed with
torn skin revealing gears and pistons, robotic images that made her feel
faintly uneasy. Down his right arm, she saw dragons and battle axes. He
followed her gaze and cracked a smile.
“Left arm,” he
tapped it, “the future. Right arm, the past. Like ‘ em ?”
“I don’t know,” she answered
honestly. She preferred Tanner’s, but maybe that was just
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