Chapter 8
Out of the sweetness of her heart, Grandma made us all roast beef sandwiches on homemade gluten-free bread for lunch. We had been careful not to open the fridge too much since we had no power, but Grandma had reached her limit of serving her guests food from a box. Grandpa napped while the three of us sat at the kitchen table with our sandwiches and a bag of chips and a full glass of room temperature water, courtesy of the water jug dusted off from their food storage. I fully expected the bread to turn into a dense paste in my mouth, similar to the pancakes, and was surprised when the texture was light. Still more dense than regular bread, but really, a lot less brick-like than I had been anticipating. The flavor was actually quite good.
“Mmm… Is this homemade bread, Susan?” Dusty asked, innocently. I looked at him warily, but he kept his earnest gaze firmly fixed on Grandma. “I’ve only had gluten-free one other time in my life and it didn’t taste at all like this. It’s so fluffy.”
Grandma beamed, reaching out a bracelet-clad hand to clutch Dusty’s forearm. He had just become a battery powered lantern in her anti-electricity nightmare. “Thank you, sweet thing. Yes, it’s homemade. Once Bob got his diagnosis from the doctor, I told myself I would learn how to make gluten-free bread taste good, if it was the last thing I do.”
“I’d say you nailed it. Now, if somebody wanted to or needed to learn some tips on cooking gluten-free, what would be your best advice?”
I kicked him under the table, but the only sign that he felt it was the tiniest pull of his lips upward.
“For bread, I would say use buttermilk, if possible. Changed the game for me. People told me to use gelatin, but I could never get that to work.”
Grandma droned on while Dusty nodded as though he understood exactly what she was talking about. The big fat liar. Finally the talk moved on to other things, and as the afternoon wore on, Dusty began to seem like a caged lion. Stalking to the window every so often, giving the pained expression of somebody who had his wings clipped. The lazy afternoon stuck on someone else’s ranch must be torture for a man used to going and doing. Working from sun up until sundown.
“Did the weatherman from last night tell us when the snow will let up? Before we lost power?” Grandma asked from the kitchen. I had finished my sandwich and moved to lounge on the couch. Both of our eyes shot to Dusty, who stood by the window.
Dusty looked out the window again, as if we all hadn’t already been aware of the sky pouring buckets of snow. “He said it should stop around 4 pm, which means, if all goes well, the roads should be cleared enough for me to head out by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.
The thought of him leaving didn’t sit right with me. Our gazes clashed for a moment before we both turned away. I knew he would be leaving as soon as the roads let up, but the problem was, I liked this team we had created in the short time we had been together. I would probably never see him again if he left. Which made perfect sense because we lived in two different states. But…something about him leaving didn’t seem right.
“How’s Grandpa?” I asked, turning to my grandma. “How long did it take him to beat pneumonia last year?”
Grandma wiped the counter down with a washcloth. “Oh it was about a week or so, I think, but that was with antibiotics from the doctor. I doubt we’ll be able to make it into the doctor for at least a couple more days.”
Grandma’s eyes turned soft as she looked at us both. “We are so thankful you two are here. I don’t know what we would have done. I just feel terrible that both of you are stuck out in that awful weather so much.”
“Don’t worry about me, Susan. I don’t have anything bad to say about this storm,” Dusty said, moving from the window and back to the chair, but his eyes never left mine when he said the words. I swallowed the beating heart trying to escape my chest.
“Well, Lucy, are you ready for that snowmobile ride?”
I smiled, relieved for the teasing. “I think the question is…are you ready for a snowmobile ride?”
His body stilled, meeting my gaze. “First one there gets to drive.”
He bolted across the room like a rocket before my brain could compute. He grabbed his plate and cup and rushed to the sink, tossing them inside before beelining it to grab his coat and gloves warming by the fire. Not one to lose willingly, I stood, grabbing my cup and plate and rushing toward the fireplace for my own clothes.
“Now don’t drive too fast out there, you two. The snow hides lots of valleys in the fields. Be careful and stay out of trouble.”
There was a chorus of “yes, ma’am” and “okay, Grandma’ as we jostled and bumped into each other, laughing and cheating like crazy while bending and hopping on one foot trying to shove feet in coveralls and boots, arms in coats, and zipping up all the things needing zippered. Just before I could rush past him and out the front door, his arms wrapped around my waist, picking me up off the ground and moving me behind him.
“I changed my mind!” Grandma called after us. “Get in all the trouble you want.”
Her words were lost in the wind. I jumped on his back, trying to slow him down as he barreled out the door, stopping only to close it tightly. Instead of releasing me though, he hooked his arms around my legs and shifted me higher on his back as he navigated the snowdrifts on the porch. My arms slid around his neck and shoulders and the grin on my face became a permanent fixture.
“What happens if it’s a tie?” I asked
“Not going to happen.”
He ran with me like I didn’t even slow him down. Stomping through the large snow drifts caused his breathing to come in heavier, but he kept a good pace. I was being jostled and bumped and nearly bit my tongue off, but I had no regrets.
“Scared if you put me down I’ll win?”
“I’m just keeping my enemy close.” He stopped for a second and in one quick move, flung me higher up his back and took off at a jog. ”It’s Tactical Warfare 101.”
His cowboy hat prevented me from seeing much, but the second we were in sight of the shed which housed the snowmobile, he broke into a run.
We were both laughing as he barreled forward. I tried to escape from his grip, but he held firm. I wasn’t sure exactly what we were fighting for. To me, it felt like we were both winning, but I always did love driving the snowmobile. No matter what I did to try and escape, my attempts were easily thwarted. (I mean, I was trying SUPER hard to make the hot cowboy man stop carrying me.) I was a tiny fly to him. As much as I didn’t want to, my pride demanded I find a way to escape so I could win. Without thinking much beyond the idea of winning, I tilted his hat to the side of his head and pressed my mouth to his ear.
At my angle, I could only get at the part just above the lobe, the flat, curvy part at the top. It felt like a cold, bendy popsicle. After a few seconds, it had warmed considerably. I teased it with my teeth, softly biting down on the cartilage.
Suddenly we weren’t moving anymore. He had stopped and released his hold on my legs. I slid down his backside like a fireman’s pole. He turned around and pressed in close to me, his hand firm around my wrist, staying me.
It took a long moment before I dared to look at him. Fire, heat, laughter, and intrigue shone through his eyes. “Is that how we’re gonna play?” he mumbled, his arms snaking around my waist.
I was too in the moment to allow myself to appreciate the way his arms felt around me. I had to see this through. Standing on my tiptoes, I bypassed his willing lips, and moved once again to his ear. “You’ve always been a sucker, Bennett,” I whispered.
His body stilled as I broke away from him, bolting toward the shed. He recovered quickly, but I was still able to open the shed door and launch myself inside, slamming the door in his face. Laughing like a maniac, I stumbled my way in the dark to the snowmobile. Once I found it, I jumped on and put my hands on the handlebars, staking my claim proudly.
The door stayed shut. A moment later, the shed’s garage door lifted up the tracks loudly, blinding me with light and revealing a smoldering cowboy. He stared dangerously at me—a peacock strutting his feathers proudly—and other than the quirk of his lips, he said nothing. Walking past me, he grabbed two five-gallon buckets Grandpa had sitting against the wall and tied them onto the back of the snowmobile. I started the machine, revving the engine while he did so. A moment later, his solid body settled in behind mine and pulled me back against him in a sexy mashup that was somewhere between a hug and a squeeze.
“Jokes on you, Lou. This is exactly where I wanted to be.”
I drew in a deep breath as flaming arrows of light blasted through my central nervous system. Goosebumps broke out on my entire body as his warm breath tickled my ear. The entire ride I found myself biting my lip to attempt to control the grin bursting at my seams. Grandma was right, the valleys were full of hills and bumps but all it did was force Dusty to hold on even tighter. As the adrenaline slowly dissipated from my body, I wondered for the first time just what I may have impulsively started here.
* * *
The rideto the creek was warm and cozy, despite the snow starting up again. My feelings were somewhere between cloud nine and sheer terror. Dusty kept a careful and tight hold on me because the pathway was super duper dangerous.
How did all this turn so fast? How did we go from casual acquaintances getting to know one another again to ear nibbling, flirty, touching hormonal teenagers? It happened so fast. So naturally. Like both of us had been expecting it all along.
We pulled up alongside the creek. I turned the machine where he pointed and soon enough we were stopped in front of a frozen stream. A mixture of snow-covered pine trees and Quaking Aspens lined both sides of the river. I killed the engine.
We sat in awkward silence, neither of us wanting to break the spell. Or perhaps, whatever had come over us back at the house had been killed along with the engine. Like moving to a new place, maybe the magic was gone here. Since the start of the ride, my mind had begun replaying every overly flirtatious moment I had created. I had BITTEN HIS EAR. Nay. I had nibbled it. Much worse. I lingered. I had been more seductive about it. It was fine though, we had been hanging out for exactly twenty hours now, so ear nibbling was perfectly acceptable for the run of our relationship.
I could count on three fingers the number of dates I had had the past year and I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me. What kind of woman had possessed my body since I came in contact with him? Not even normal girls go from zero to sixty that fast. Was I that starved for human affection that I would attack any man who showed me the tiniest amount of attention? Human touch? And lest I forget, we were the only two single people around for miles. If there was any other woman here, besides my seventy-five-year-old grandmother, I could be certain it would not be me getting the attention. It was always the other woman. Humiliation burned its way down from my cheeks and spread like fire to the rest of my body. A flaming dart of embarrassment. There was no way I could face him now. How fast could I run back to the house over snow mounds up to my thigh?
Dusty’s deep voice rumbled into my ear as he pointed ahead of us. “That’s where the magic happened.”
My brows furrowed. “What?”
“Where you tried to have your way with me.”
And just like that—I was back in. An attention-starved female to the end.
“No, it was closer to the house,” I said.
“Nope. Right there. I remember you took off running and I had to go all the way across the creek to grab the four-wheeler, but you were already halfway to the house and I had cattle to finish rounding up.”
The long, embarrassing run back to Grandma’s house did come into mind. I guess I had tried to block it all out.
Arms pulled me back a fraction closer. “Confession time.”
My eyes widened. Confess? What? That nothing much had changed from when I was a sixteen-year-old girl? I still wanted to kiss Dusty Bennett. It was as if nothing had happened in my life for the past eight years. I was still a hormonal teenager back in the same place it all started.
“Come on…fess up. It was so out of the blue. I knew your sister was the one who liked me, so I was pretty confused when it was you coming out of nowhere.”
I laughed softly but still said nothing. The cold bit at my nose but the crisp breeze swirling outside of us didn”t touch me. I was heated to the core.
Puffs of air warmed my ears as he whispered, “I was confused, but not unhappy. If you catch my drift.”
I shook my head, getting off the machine. Dusty followed behind me and soon we were standing side by side, taking in the snow-capped winter wonderland before our eyes.
“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” I said, rubbing my hands together and trying to dispel the nervous energy that had overtaken me.
“A pretty girl kissed me when I was geeky and fifteen. I wasn’t disappointed. That was the most action me or any of my friends had at that age. They all had to live vicariously through me.”
“What?”
He leaned closer. “I was pudgy with braces and a girl kissed me. Well…kissed ‘at’ me.” He laughed and dodged my hands trying to push him away. “I was king for a whole year with all my friends.”
I put my head in my hands. “Great. I was a locker room punchline.”
“Locker room?” He scoffed. “As if we would sink that low. Rodeo arena.”
I laughed. “Oh, right. That’s much better.”
His arm brushed against mine as stood next to me and pointed out toward a crop of aspen trees. “It was right there.”
I squinted, raising my hand to block the glare from the glistening snow. “Are you sure? I remember being closer to the house.”
“Positive. Now fess up.”
I sighed and turned toward him, knowing he wasn’t going to stop until I just told him. “Alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I absolve myself of all guilt for making you feel bad.”
“Did you mistake me for another handsome cowboy who lived with us on the ranch? Your eyes were closed pretty tight.”
“Julia was driving me crazy so I kissed you to make her mad.” The words came out rushed and bumbling. My eyes had been closed at my confession, face scrunched, but I popped one eye open to gauge his reaction.
His mouth dropped, his eyebrows furrowed dramatically.
I pushed past the gust of laughter threatening to burst from my lungs. “I told you. I’m sorry. I did not wake up that morning with a pre-meditated make-out planned.”
“Make out? If you think that’s what that was, I need to teach you a few things.”
His eyes flashed as he moved closer to me, but I pushed him away, laughing. “Julia had been so bratty that whole summer because she had gotten kissed after school one day. She was only fourteen and had been kissed before me. See how mature this makes us sound? Anyway, she was teasing me about it again and so I planned to kiss you on our last day of the summer because she had always had a crush on you.”
He fairly beamed. “Two sisters, fighting desperately for my love, and I had no idea.”
“Keep dreaming.” I attempted to push his body away, but he was just as determined to stay close and refused to budge.
He took a step closer, his arms wrapping around my waist, bringing his face close to mine and giving the vibe of barely restrained laughter. “I always do.”
I stopped my struggle and swallowed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just giving you an opening if you want to make good on your bet right now.” He leaned forward, eyes directly in mine.
I leaned back, heart pounding, which put me at a perfect view of his lips. Full and probably warm. Juicy. UGH. Stop.
“I’m happy to teach you the difference between a kiss and a make-out. If you’re interested,” he murmured, while I debated his offer.
“And then what?”
He tilted his head, curiously. “What?”
“What happens after all that? You’ll go back to Cody and me to Montana. I don’t know if you’re worth the effort.” I was pretty sure he was worth the effort. I was pretty sure I would marry him now if he asked me. But only psychopaths would admit that less than a day into reconnecting with an old friend.
His eyebrows raised. “It’s gonna be that good, huh?” he mumbled, focused on my mouth. “You’re not that far away from Cody. I think we could figure something out.”
There was determination in his last statement. It sounded promising. It almost made me do it. I wanted it so badly my body physically ached for it. For his touch. But my over-active brain had already processed a thousand different scenarios where this went bad. We kiss and then it’s awkward. We didn’t know how much time we had left in the house together. With the power out, we had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. Twice I let a man kiss me and I never heard from him again. Of course, that was after I called and left several breezy, not at all psychopathic messages, to check-in and ask if he wanted to meet my parents now that we’d kissed? Maybe go to my family reunion? The neurotic, anxious part of my brain, the part that knows I can ruin a good thing faster than Dusty could make me blush, sent smoke signals to my heart, warning me to proceed with caution. I liked the idea of him too much to barrel forward in the same way I always did. No, I wasn’t going to kiss him yet, but I had to play this right.
Leaning slowly forward, the invitation in his eyes guiding me closer, I raised on my tiptoes, grabbed his face in my hands, lingered near his lips before whispering seductively, “I’ll grab the buckets and meet you at the river.”
Dusty groaned, good-naturedly, but let me go, muttering something about chickens.
That’s exactly what it was. I was a chicken. A big one. He didn’t touch me again, but between his teasing and sweetness, he had me laughing soon after as we filled the two buckets with water, erasing any awkwardness with his naturally friendly nature. I thought about kissing him a dozen times afterward, but the moment was over. The perfect, most delicious moment in a setting to rival anything National Geographic could ever produce, was over.
Dusty drove us home on the snowmobile, driving carefully to avoid the divots and hills on the ride. I sat backward on the machine, so I could hold tight to the buckets of water and keep them from falling. Dusty’s back felt warm against mine, especially compared to the ice-crusted water that kept splashing out of the bucket onto my frozen hands any time we hit a bump.
My mind kept playing back our moment by the river. I had been so worried about what could go wrong, and honestly, with my track record, I had good reason to be nervous. But when Dusty reached behind him with his left hand, clasping my leg to hold me steady on the bumps, I began to wonder if I had jumped the gun. Had I, once again, listened to my anxious mind instead of my heart? There were so many ways it could have gone bad. What if things had become unbearably awkward, both of us stuck on the ranch for who knows how many more days? What if he had wanted to kiss me only because I was available and no other reason? What if I let myself be interested and he never was? What if my heart got broken? I was more invested in Dusty Bennett after one day with him than I had ever been with any other guy I had dated for weeks. But there was one question that kept playing around in my disappointed mind the entire ride back home. The question that had been tormenting me since I rejected what he was clearly offering.
What if it had been great?