Chapter Fourteen
FLORA
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I FIND A hole inside. A six-foot-wide hole between the two bars with a rough, unfinished edge of jagged bricks protruding at odd angles. Dim light spills through the opening as I walk closer.
Thorn smiles at me from the other side.
He tips his hat. “Evenin’ sweetheart.” He raises his voice above the conversation and live band belting out country rock.
I laugh. “Evenin’ cowboy.”
His heartthrob chuckle sends a heat to my core. So do the jeans hugging his lean frame, and his canvas jacket flared open, revealing a snug T-shirt layered beneath a grey flannel. The Stetson perched on his head casts a shadow over his striking features.
“One of their petty arguments escalated to creating this space for a direct view of each other’s awkward glares.” As he says it, I catch Bucky over his shoulder glaring at our side—undoubtedly at Kiwi behind me.
“Why haven’t they patched it up? And why is it so big?”
A slight shrug lifts his muscular shoulders. “Will we ever know?”
I laugh.
“I’ll grab a couple of cold beers from Bucky. Surprise me with something we can add to our milkshakes from Kiwi’s.”
“I can do that.” I turn to the bar I had often snuck into looking for my mama when she disappeared longer than usual.
The walls are still painted bottle green, and bamboo dividers create privacy booths along one wall. As an adult, I appreciate the exposed bronze pipes twisted artistically overhead, adding an industrial touch to the earthy decor.
As I walk to the long counter, the old wooden floors creak underneath my boots. I slip onto a stool.
Kiwi moves behind the counter, preparing drinks with surprising energy and agility—considering she’s gotta be in her eighties. But she looks remarkable for her age and hasn’t changed much. She’s still a tiny little thing with her cherry-red hair tied back in a bandana, wearing leather and studded biker attire, and showing off the heart tattoo on her shoulder.
When she spins and spots me, she stops in her tracks. It takes her a second before she makes her way toward me.
“Aren’t you the spitting image of your mama?” She bows her head slightly. “God rest her soul.”
“Thank you.”
“The rumor mill has been workin’ overtime with news of your visit.”
“I can imagine.” The comment sounds sarcastic, but I’m surprised to find I’m not all that upset about the gossip of my return.
She smiles, wearing her laugh lines with pride—growl lines if you’re her enemy like Bucky. “The chatter has been as sweet as holiday pecan pie.”
I believe her.
“Can I get a single whiskey to go—”
“Don’t you dare!” Kiwi’s growl lines come out when she points at a man passing through the hole in the wall from Bucky’s side. “Pool balls that roll into my bar, stay in my bar!”
“Listen here, old woman!” Bucky walks to the hole with a noticeable limp, leaning heavily on his cane. He balances somewhere between a retired cowboy and a seventies pot smoker. “That’s my goddam ball!”
Kiwi practically bounces around the counter to stop the ball with her heeled boot. “This ball?” She picks it up, tosses it, and catches it.
“Don’t you dare?” Bucky’s warning goes unheeded.
Kiwi strolls over to a slender, clear vase matching the height of the counter. She drops the pool ball into the half-full tube of pool balls. I suspect they all belong to Bucky.
“I’ll be taking that back.”
Kiwis curls her hand, gesturing for him. “Come on over and get it.”
Bucky doesn’t dare cross the invisible line.
“Here’s your whiskey to go.” A bartender sets a bag on the counter with a fun-spirited smile. “Who knows how long those two will argue.”
“Thanks.” I dig in my pocket for my card.
She lightly knocks her fisted fingers, banded in silver rings, on the counter. “Thorn has it covered.”
“Thanks again.”
Thorn waits for me outside.
“That was interesting.”
“Just another day at the local bars.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder, holding the picnic basket in his other hand. “Wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure.”
I’m acutely aware of Thorn’s body against mine as we veer off Main Street. The December night air is crisp and clear, with a breeze that cuts through the material of my dress. But it’s worth it. Anytime with Thorn is worth it.
The excitement of my job radiates inside me while the thought of leaving Thorn presses down heavy on my heart. Heavier than I expected, considering we don’t know what is happening between us.
“You’re quiet.” His low rumble is soothing, and I lean further against him, feeling safe and warm.
“I was just thinking.”
“About your job?”
I pause before I say yes.
“Why the delay?” He guides us down another street.
“You know why. You and me, and how complicated we are.”
“When was it ever not complicated?”
I chuckle.
“Listen”—he sets down the picnic basket and grasps my shoulder—“don’t take our complicated, whatever this is, and let it ruin what you’ve worked for. You got the job.”
I smile.
“Say it.”
“I got the job.”
He shakes his head. “Say it like you mean in.”
“I got the job!”
“You got the job!”
“I got the job!” My shriek pierced the stillness of the night.
We both laugh.
“Now, tell me about this job.” He pulls me close to him, and we continue walking.
I explain how I’ll travel to exotic locations and capture each place’s essence through my images. I describe the unique challenges, the long hours, and the time away from home—which I don’t admit is my most significant setback. He listens like he always has, invested in me the way I was always invested in him.
Before I know it, we’ve arrived at our destination, and I can’t help but feel the laughter pouring out of me. He makes me feel so alive again.
The old Victorian Underwood Schoolhouse was built in the early 20th century. Its once red brick is now faded to a ghostly hue. The arched windows are boarded up, and ivy snakes up the walls.
I wonder if kids still sneak in to catch a glimpse of the little girl who roams the halls.
I tilt my head at Thorn. “Are you sneaking me in the Underwood Schoolhouse to get lucky?”
He holds up his hands. “What happens in the Underwood Schoolhouse stays in the Underwood Schoolhouse.”
A small laugh escapes my lips as I stroll past him. “You would’ve gotten lucky in the truck if you’d made the right moves.”
His groan chases me to the back of the school. Everyone knows they lock the front door, but no amount of locks or boards can keep the back door sealed.
“Let me go first.” He grabs the back door, and I pry it open enough to squeeze through. “It could be dangerous.”
“How dangerous?” I slip into the darkness.
The air inside is stale. My boots crunch over dirt, and god only knows what else.
“Shit. Flora. Open your flashlight.” I hear the door protest with a series of sharp cracks under the pressure of him parting it.
My flashlight casts eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Dust particles float in the e beam of light.
“Grab this.” He thrusts the picnic basket through the opening.
I stuff the bag with our vodka under my arm and take the picnic basket.
“And this.” His stetson follows.
I direct the light at him and watch with amusement as he grunts and turns sideways, trying to wedge his broad shoulders through. His muscles flex beneath the front of his shirt. The sight makes my heart race.
He finally slips through and can’t hide his frustration. “That’s smaller than I recall.” He stuffs his hat back on his head with an aggravated force.
I shake my head. “You’re bigger. Much bigger.”
A grin splits his mouth. “Much bigger?”
“Much, much bigger.”
His arm scoops my waist and pulls my body flush to his. I almost drop the picnic basket. Heck, I want to drop to the picnic basket.
“Woman, keep that talk up, and we won’t make it to the attic,” he growls.
I’m not opposed, but he lets me go, leaving me hot and bothered and ready to do the hanky panky. He grabs the picnic basket, my hand, and takes the lead.
The wooden stairs creak ominously beneath our feet, slicing through the silence. His light illuminates broken furniture and cobwebs in the corner. I hear a noise as we approach the closet where the secret attic door awaits.
I grab the sleeve of his canvas jacket to stop him. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
I listen and hear a haunting sound from upstairs. “That.” I slap his arm. “That sound. What is it!”
“Let’s go check it out.”
“No, no, no. I don’t want to meet the girl who roams the halls!” I hiss.
He chuckles again, and the sound sends tingles pulsing down my legs. “Where’s the fearless Flora that dragged me up here?”
“Running from the Sherri’s is a fear all on its own.”
Thorn opens the door. It creaks a horror melody. So does each step we take up the spiral staircase.
My heart races. “I’m too old for this.”
We reach the attic and uncover soft music filling the space.
Thorn steps aside, and the scene unfolds before me like a dream. Strings of twinkling lights hang low from beams on the ceiling. A thick red and black checkered blanket lay in the center of the worn floorboards and directly under the few glass panels along the ceiling. Space heaters buzz quietly and fill the room with warmth the rest of the chilly house lacks.
“You did this?” I can’t help but regret all the time we’ve lost together, but I push it away to embrace this moment. “How?”
“I know a guy.”
“You seem to know a few guys.”
He kisses my hand before guiding me to the center of the room. We settle on the blanket and unpack the picnic basket. The turkey sandwiches from Alma are delicious and we wash them down with whiskey milkshakes.
We reminisce about the time we spent in this attic and laugh about how we ended up here in the first place. When we finish our dessert, we lie on our backs stuffed to the max. The star-filled sky is still pretty through the dirty windows overhead.
I can’t help stealing glances at him stretched out beside me. His Stetson sits beside him on the blanket, and his head rests in the crook of his arm. The fabric of his shirt clings to his chest, accenting strong muscles honed from years of hard work on his ranch. My eyes trace down to his toned abdomen, where the subtle rise and fall of his breathing reveal sculpted lines that make my heart race.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Enjoying the view?”
“I am actually.”
His deep-throated chuckle causes his Adam’s apple to rise slightly.
“You remember those summer days?” Nostalgia threads through his voice.
My heart swells at the thought. “How could I forget? You were always there, following me like a little shadow.”
“I was not little.” He tilts his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Besides, I couldn’t help it. You were a breathtaking vision, and I was hooked.”
“Breathtaking vision?” I laugh. “Now I know you’re lying. I didn’t put a single thought into my appearance. Jeans, T-shirts, and ponytails. I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“Quit bringing your dark cloud into my sunshine.” He thickens his accent. “You’re grumbling like the mayor at a town meetin’.”
I laugh. “He still grumbles, huh?”
“Don’t change the subject. I didn’t care about any of that stuff—I still don’t.”
“Okay.” My word drips in sarcasm. “I’m pretty sure your jaw hit the floor when you saw me in that short-knitted mini dress last night?”
He murmurs something I can’t make out.
“What was that?” I tease.
“Hell, yes, I noticed you in that dress. I’ll always notice you. You can wear that dress or this morning’s pajamas, and I’ll notice you.”
“You really know the way to a girl’s heart because those are my favorite pajamas.”
“You know what one of my favorite things is?”
“What?”
“Watching you take photos.”
I turn to him, teasing. “Not when you’re the subject.”
“No, ma’am.” He turns his head back to the sky. The moonlight traces the lines of his jaw. “This weekend has been a struggle. I had to pull up my big boy boots.”
“I guess you’re glad the photoshoot is over.”
“I’m thankful tomorrow is just lunch so we can spend the afternoon together.”
“You want to spend the afternoon with me?”
“The afternoon. The evening. The night.” He pauses and tilts his head to look at me. “When do you leave?”
“I originally planned to leave tomorrow after lunch.”
“And now?”
I don’t ever want to leave. But I also want to get on the next flight for my job.
“I could arrange to stay another night.”
His lips curl into a smirk. “I’d like that.”
I look at the stars and take a deep breath. “You know, you took this shy girl and gave her the adventure of a lifetime that summer. It all started with skinny dipping at the principal’s house.”
“I’ve always been curious how you ended up there. Breaking the law wasn’t your scene.”
“I was there before y’all arrived.” I tilt my head to find his waiting eyes.
His arm cradles his head like a makeshift pillow. He looks so cozy and comfortable that I want to curl beside him.
I roll on my side to face him and tuck my arms under my head. “It was dusk, and I was waiting, hoping to spot a hummingbird feeding on the coral honeysuckle growing around the principal’s fence.”
It takes a second for Thorn to register my alibi before thundering laughter rolls out of him.
“You were taking pictures?” he chokes out. “How did you end up in the pool?”
“Y’all came over the fence like a herd of bulls and knocked me in.”
“No?”
“Yes.”
His laughter doubles, as does mine.
I swat him. “It wasn’t funny.”
He catches my hand. “But was it worth it?” He kisses my palm, soft and delicately. Anticipation bubbles inside me.
“Yes. Every day I spent with you was nothing like I’d ever experienced.”
“I was pretty good at sex—even back then. And the places we had sex.” He whistles. “That gazebo has nothing on young us.”
My sides hurt when I finish laughing. “I wasn’t talking about the sex.”
“That’s a shame.”
“I was talking about you. You were this confident and brave person, which was the opposite of me. Remember when we snuck into the abandoned barn or climbed the water tower.”
“I sound like a bad influence. I wouldn’t want my daughter hanging out with a boy like me.”
“You wanna have kids?”
He rolls on his side and props his head on one arm while his other hand traces delicate circles on my palm. “Yes, and I plan to be the father Theo and I deserve.”
“What if we turn out just like our folks?” My fear is real, constantly nagging me.
“If we’re not them by now, I don’t see us suddenly heading in that direction.”
“In that case, you’re not allowed to chase away the boys who remind you of yourself. Because, besides the multiple jail visits, you faced things head-on, and I spent my nights thinking—craving—to see what you’d do next. The thrill was intoxicating.”
“You are not convincing me.”
I laugh. “You made me a better person; if our daughter is anything like me, she’ll know who is worth her time.”
He laces his fingers in mine and squeezes. “First off, our daughter might very well turn out like her old man.”
My smile is so natural. “I would love that.”
He smirks and his fingers move to my chin. “You may very well still be a bit naive and foolish if you think a mini-me is a good idea.”
“As long as you’re not planning on a baby tomorrow, being I’m taking the job, a mini-you is exactly what I want.”
“Flora Rowe, I will wait for you until the end of my life.” He’s a big romantic.
And as much as that one sentence fills my heart with joy, I don’t think he understands the traveling involved in my job. I’m not sure I know where we stand.
“They want me to start in the new year, so I’ll travel often. It’s everything I’ve worked for, but—”
“But?” he prompts gently.
“But I don’t know what this means for us.” My voice wavers slightly. “What if my leaving changes everything between us? We haven’t even had time to get to know each other again.”
His thumb runs lightly along my lower lip. “We will work it out. Maybe we put us on hold for a year. This is your dream. I can wait.”
“You would wait a year?”
“I’d wait five years if that’s the time you need.” His tone is light. “I’m not holding you back from something this amazing. I’ll be here, cheering you on from the sidelines.”
“Really?”
“And if you need to talk or vent, I’m just a phone call away.” He scooches closer. “Let’s not ruin this beautiful night worrying about the future.” He dips down and kisses me.