Chapter 7
SEVEN
NANCY
“Welcome to my home away from home,” Karl proclaims, flinging the door of his trailer open. “Oh, you know what? Wait a sec.” He holds a hand out while he ducks inside. “Okay, come on in,” he says, poking his head out a moment later.
“Is the coast clear?” I whisper.
“Clearer than usual,” he jokes, closing the door behind me.
There’s no seating area aside from a bed. It has been a while since I was in a trailer like this, but I’m pretty sure the bed is currently on top of the dining area.
“I’ll just…” Karl gestures at the bed and then begins rearranging things.
Once the sheets are tossed to the side, he is able to fold things back into place, and within a couple of minutes, we’re sitting across from one another dipping our spoons into the still piping hot dumpling, steam billowing up in the space between us.
We don’t talk, just chew and watch one another. He smiles while he eats, and I’m not sure if it’s the dessert or the company that has him looking so pleased. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I hope it’s the latter.
“Tell me about your first time,” Karl says when we’re almost done.
I choke, covering my mouth, trying and failing to look demure as I cough and hack up the pastry I’ve just inhaled. He’s proven to be quite forward, but this seems almost too forward.
Karl is at my side immediately, thumping my back. “Eating a dumpling,” he adds once I’m able to breathe and he’s back on his side of the table.
“Oh,” I falter, “yeah, of course.”
Karl glances down at my lips and smirks. “What did you think I meant, Nancy?”
He knows exactly what I was thinking. And I’m positive that if I’d given him the sordid details of my first time with Steven Shelly, he wouldn’t have stopped me.
“I was twelve the first time my father bought us a dumpling. I burned my lip. I still have a tiny scar.” I point to the spot right on the edge of my upper lip with one hand while I scoop up a glob of caramel and melted ice cream.
Leaning forward, he squints at where I’m pointing. Chills. Actual chills spread across my body the longer he studies me. “I can’t see anything. Are you sure?”
“Positive!” I laugh, remembering how my father had been so worried about how my mother would react that he didn’t seem to care that I had hurt myself. Not only had he taken us for the forbidden meal of dessert, but he’d marred his daughter’s perfect face. All his attention was on my mother’s wrath.
Karl puts his spoon down, stands, and walks around the table to sit next to me again. “May I?” he asks, his hand raised near my chin.
When I nod, he takes my face gently in his hand and turns my head to the left, leaning closer. More chills or sparks? No, this time it’s lava that flows through my veins. It’s annoyingly pleasant.
His thumb brushes my lip, and my breath catches.
“I didn’t bring you here to do anything other than to share a dumpling,” he says softly.
“I know,” I croak.
“Nancy?” he whispers.
“Yeah?” I whisper back.
“I really want to kiss you.” His eyes leave my lips to meet mine. He’s so close I can see the dark flecks of gray in his blue eyes as they merge with the dark ring around his pupil. I’d like to look into them for a long time. Maybe discover some more colors hiding in the blue.
“Okay.”
He leans in slowly, his lips meeting mine with a kiss so soft it feels like a secret, and when he begins to pull back, I panic. I drop my spoon, and my hands fly out, fisting his t-shirt, distorting the karate pig on the front, and dragging him against me.
Karl’s hands tangle in my hair, and this kiss is the opposite of a secret. It’s shouting from the rooftops with a megaphone.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open them immediately, failing to contain a moan as his grip tightens in my hair and he pulls harder against him.
Then his hands are on the move, traveling down my back, cupping my ass, and hauling me onto his lap.
He’s manhandling me, and I like it. Hell, I want more of it.
I rock my hips and smile as a hiss hits my lips.
“Easy, dearest,” he groans, breaking the kiss, his head connecting with the windowsill as he tips it back, trying to catch his breath.
His grip loosens, and I start to rise only to feel his hands tighten again and hold me in place. I smile down at him, waiting for him to look back at me.
“I should go,” I say, but make no attempt to move. I don’t want to move, I realize. I never want to move, and I feel oddly comforted by the desire to stay just like this.
He looks up at me, eyebrows drawn together. “You should,” he agrees, but his hands stay put, fingers kneading gently.
“Do you want me to go?” I ask breathlessly, afraid that he’ll say yes, maybe a bit terrified that he’ll say no.
“I’ve proposed twelve times tonight. What do you think?” He smirks.
I bend and kiss him again, unable to resist. “Ask me again,” I tease.
“Marry me?” he pleads, as his beautiful, hopeful eyes search mine. “Marry me, Nancy.”
“I’ll think about it.” I won’t think about it.
I’m not thinking about it. I can’t think about it.
But I can enjoy this for what it is. An act of rebellion: kissing the boy from the cow barn.
Grinding into the guy who has no idea what the difference is between a snaffle bit and a hackamore.
Losing myself in the arms of someone who doesn’t care that I’m a washed-up has-been at the ripe age of twenty-three.
“Daisy has the runs.” The door bangs open, and I nearly slide straight off of Karl’s lap. Thankfully, he’s still got my hips in his vise-like grip. Saving me from further embarrassment. “Oh, shit.” Karl’s chest moves as he laughs. “Poor choice of words. Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”
Peeking back, I see a blond version of Karl standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking anywhere but at me. I guess I should be happy he’s not ogling me. I’m fully clothed, so there’s nothing to really ogle, but I’d be tempted to stare if I walked in on something like this.
When Karl’s hands loosen, I swing my leg over his lap and sit back beside him, focusing on smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my jeans.
“I thought you were hanging out with the Shepherds tonight,” Karl muses calmly, as if I wasn’t just in his lap.
This probably happens all the time, a tiny voice taunts. You’re one in a string of agricultural fair hookups. He probably gets off proposing to random women. Collects acceptances like trophies.
I stand and edge by Karl, heading toward the door. “I’m going to go.”
Karl jumps up. “You don’t have to. Matt isn’t staying.” He looks at his brother with both a question and a command in his expression.
“Uh, yeah, I’m grabbing my, ugh”—he looks around frantically—“oven mitt.” He walks to the stove and picks up the old, ripped mitt hanging on the wall.
“Well, that makes sense,” I mutter.
“Tony set his on fire tonight,” Matt explains, looking over at Karl for help. “And we, uh, need it to take a chicken out of the oven.”
“Well, I guess it’s good you have one then.” I turn back to Karl, who looks like he’s trying to decide whether to drop to his knees to beg me to stay or jump in front of me to block my escape. “I’ll see you around, Karl. Thanks for the dumpling.”
I hear my name as I walk out of the trailer and hurry back toward the barn, beelining to the Horse Palace entrance.
Tonight was fun, a lovely little escape from the rigidity of my normal life, but that’s all it was, an escape. Back to reality.