Chapter Two
Gunner
“Zoe?” I’m not a man who's caught off guard easily, but there she is, thick and gorgeous, her light brown eyes staring back at me. I stand in place, boots firmly planted on the front porch like a stubborn oak, trying not to shake, but my heart is hammering.
“Gunner?” Her full lips part and I’m done for. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you two know each other?” my mother asks as she rocks back and forth on the porch swing with a tray of red flowers in her weathered hands. I haven’t told anyone about Zoe. I was saving that for when we made things official, but there’s no room for waiting now, so I answer the best I can without putting anything permanent into the mix. “We met online a few months ago.”
“Oh!” Mom stands, settling the flowers beside her before turning to Zoe for a hug. “Honey, is this the first time you’re meeting?”
Zoe nods. I didn’t even know my mother knew her. What the hell is happening and why does this make me so damn happy?
“Well, you have some catching up to do, then. Why don’t you two take the back garden? I have some rose bushes that need to go in near the fishing docks. It’ll be quiet back there so you two can catch up.” She glances toward the girl Zoe pulled up with. “You don’t mind helping me with the veggies here near the house, do you, Nora?” Turns out, Mom is the best wingman ever.
“No,” the blonde-haired girl smiles toward Zoe, “that sounds perfect. I’m an expert when it comes to tomatoes. We should plant in a spot with southern facing sun. I find they do best in this zone with six to eight hours of light.” She lifts two white buckets and continues chattering to my mother as they make their way down the front porch toward the little garden on the corner of the property, leaving Zoe and I alone.
It’s hard to believe she’s real. There’s no pixilation between us, no blurry cut of the frame. It’s her, the sweet doe eyed woman that I met online months ago. The only woman that I’ve shared my war stories with. The woman I’ve fantasized about too many times to count.
The morning sun catches her hair perfectly, and her chest rises and falls gently before her sweet smile tugs at my chest.
She’s gorgeous. Gorgeous and really young. Really, really young.
I’ve known this since we met, and it’s been something I’ve been apprehensive about since the start. It’s part of the reason I’ve held back on getting together in person. She told me she was twenty-three when we met, which I was a little standoffish about, but we had a high match score on the site, and we both figured a few conversations wouldn’t hurt. That turned into video chats every day and an addiction to her I couldn’t quit. Maybe that makes me sick. It probably does.
“Damn, I can’t believe you’re really standing right there.”
“I know. It’s kinda wild.” Her shoulders are stiff, and though I’m not sure if it’s right or not, I reach out to her for a hug.
Thankfully, she reciprocates, reaching back for me with a smile.
Given our age gap, I’m almost hoping she doesn’t fit right in my arms, that there’ll be something off about our energy when we touch, that the universe will push her out of my orbit before I do something stupid.
Instead, the hesitation in her shoulders melts when she’s against my chest and her head fits perfectly beneath my chin. I tighten the hold without meaning to, breathing in the floral scent in her hair.
Damn it. I don’t want to let go, but I have to before this whole thing turns weird.
My arms hesitate, holding her a moment longer before she pulls away and cold air rushes in between us. I stare down at her, searching for something, reassurance maybe, a reason to grab hold of her again, but I only see resolve and I’m not sure what to take of it.
“You okay?” She glances down at the ground, her dark hair spilling in front of her vision as she moves. “We don’t have to do the roses thing together. I can make myself busy cleaning up the side yard. I know Mrs. Robinson wants another garden over there. I mean… we weren’t planning to meet, so maybe this is weird for you. I don’t want to—”
“It’s not weird. You’re just…” I scrub my hand over my chin, contemplating the reality of the situation. I don’t want to lose her, but twenty-three is really young. As much as I want her, I see that now. “Look, I really like you, I just—”
“Oh my God, stop. Please.” Her gaze darts toward me wide and strong, and I gather I’ve said something wrong. “You’re good. I’ll go work the side yard.”
“Wait,” I jog after her, following the sweet scent of citrus on her skin, “you’re taking this all wrong. I really like you. I could talk to you forever. I hope you know that. It just can’t be… sexual.”
Stopping in her tracks, she snaps a gaze back up at me. “I get it. I was thinking the same thing.”
For some reason, her comment hurts, though I don’t know why, considering I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. Our age gap is too large for a relationship. Short term, from a long distance, we’re fine, but if we were to live together, we’d realize the generational gap in our lifestyle. Lord knows I’d run out of energy. I couldn’t keep her satisfied.
“You were?” I clear my throat and stare at her, trying not to notice the way her round ass jiggles as she shifts in place, or the way her breasts press together as she folds her arms over her chest. “Okay… well, that’s good then.”
“Yeah. It is.”
“Well, we can still work on the roses together. I still want to know you. I need updates on your photography book. Did you get the shots you wanted developed last night?”
My chest tightens as I wait for her response. There’s a big part of me that thinks she might just cut and run, and I don’t blame her.
“Why do you want to hang out? You were on that dating site to find companionship, not to babysit.” She drags in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m… I know you’re too old for me. I just… you’re the first guy I’ve talked to in a long while that’s actually listened to me. I’m going to miss that.”
“And you’re the first woman I’ve met in twenty years that listened to me talk and didn’t try to shut me down. I’m going to miss that too, but you don’t have to stop talking to me. I like our conversations. Hell, I meant it when I said they make my day.”
Staring down, she bites back a grin. “I don’t want to get attached to someone I can’t have.”
“Yeah.” I say, kicking the dirt against my boot. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should’ve tried an in-person date before pulling the plug. What’s age, anyway? It’s just a number… says every pervert ever.
“That makes sense. Just, ugh, don’t go messing with that ex again. He sounds like a real asshole.” We met a month after her last breakup, and though she didn’t want to talk about it, I convinced her to let go of some of the pain.
She scratches a perfectly manicured nail across her eyebrow as she smiles. “I think I can make that deal, as long as you promise to keep leaving your property at least once a week.” Her head tilts to the side. “Where do you live, anyway? People talk about Mrs. Robinson’s sons… how they left her here all alone. What’s up with that?”
I drag in a deep breath and scrub my hand over my beard. “I’m sure they do.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means small towns are fun like that. Everyone’s got somethin’ to say. I can’t speak for my brothers, but after my military time, I struggled to make sense of myself and life. I didn’t want to come back here and pretend everything was the same. I needed space.” I kick my boot against the dirt again, watching as the dust kicks up around it. “I know I should’ve been here for her, especially after my father died.” I feel a soft sigh leave my lips as I say, “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” she looks up at me with the same caring eyes I’ve relished every day for the past few months, “I’d love that.”
“I struggle to talk to my mom these days. Every ounce of me wants to give her everything and be there for her constantly, but I know that’s unreasonable from Wyoming. The fact I can’t be perfect at making her feel loved keeps me in this state of calling her twice a week and being sad that I’m not doing more. I think she can feel it on our calls.”
Her tone is soft as she says, “She doesn’t blame you. She knows you struggle. She actually talks about you all a lot. You’d think I’d have known it was you, given how rare the name Gunner is, but it never crossed my mind. It’s crazy that we met online, but I was right here in your hometown, having tea with your mom regularly.” She twists a strand of dark brown hair around her finger. “Where are you in Wyoming?”
“After leaving the desert, I needed as much American wilderness as I could handle, so I built a cabin to the east of Yellowstone. I had to find that sweet spot where you’re close enough to enjoy the park but also far enough away from the tourists that you can feel settled.” I clear my throat. “I’m assuming you’re born and raised in Rugged Mountain, given that you have the town gossip down?” A soft breeze carries a helicopter seed between us.
“Yeah, my whole life. Rugged Mountain is in my blood. I don’t think I could ever leave. Hell, I don’t think my mom would let me. That short photography trip I took just about killed her.”
“How’d they turn out?”
She drags in a deep breath. “Some of them are great. I got this one shot of a barn up in Canada that was sort of crumbling down, but there was this cross on the front of it that stayed up and sort of shined in the sunlight. I think it’s going to be my favorite image in the book.” Her eyebrows raise and for a moment there’s more warmth in my body than there ever has been before. I love listening to her talk about photography. There’s a different light about her. A different cadence in her speech. A passion that I lose myself in. “What about you? You get any fishing in while you’re in town?”
“Not yet. It’s been crazy busy since I got here. Mom has a lot going on here at the house with the new playground project, and Officer Brooks, who I guess is also the town planner, is supposed to come by at some point to give us a list of things that need updating. I should be here for that. I hear he’s a pain in the ass. I don’t want him giving Mom a hard time. Hopefully after that, I’ll get a pole in the water.”
I want to ask her to come along. I want to make time to spend with her. I want to memorize every detail of her face, her movements, her scent, so I have something to bring home with me, something to think about when the nights are lonely.
Jesus. I need to get a grip.
“Well,” she sighs and drags her hands down over her jeans before holding out her hand for a shake, “I should get this garden weeded out. It was great meeting you, finally. Good luck with everything. I really hope you settle down with someone nice. You deserve it.”
In all the years I’ve walked this Earth, my heart has never felt a crushing like this. My hand sinks into hers. She’s so soft and small. I don’t want to wish her onto anyone else. I want her. I need her, but what am I going to do? She’s too young, too innocent, too sweet for me. She should live her life, experience the world, not tie herself to an old broken man whose excitement consists of a fishing hole and a cooler of beer.
“You deserve good things too, Zoe.” My lips ache to press against hers, and though we’re saying goodbye, my cock is so desperate to say hello that I have to turn away before I’m ready.