Chapter 14 #2
“Orange.” I smile and pull her hand up to kiss the top. “Although, I do love it when your cheeks turn that adorable shade of pink.”
She looks down, embarrassed.
“What’s your favorite food?” I ask.
“Oh, that is easy,” she says. “Anything southern BBQ.”
“Really?” I ask surprised. A girl after my own heart. She laughs. “What is your favorite hobby?”
“I’m a southern boy, darlin’. I’ll let you guess that one. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
“I’m not sure,” she says, thinking. “Maybe hunting?”
“Good guess,” I laugh. “Throw in a little fishing, sports, my mamma’s front porch, and some good sweet tea, and you got the perfect life.”
“Well, I don’t know much about any of those things,” she says. “But I could learn.”
Her eagerness to try something that I love makes me smile.
“I’d love to teach you,” I whisper, kissing the inside of her wrist. She bites her button lip.
“Your turn,” she says.
“What made you want to be a writer?”
Smiling, she says, “That isn’t really a one-word answer.
” I shrug, she continues, “I don’t know, really.
It is just something that I have always done.
When I was little, before I could ever really write, I would make these books with scribbles for words and pathetic stick figures for people.
I would staple them together and be so proud of my little creation.
Over time, it has just morphed into more.
I love the catharsis I get reading something really well written, and I love the idea of being the one that could write that for someone else. ”
Speechless, I just look ahead at the road in front of me, not quite sure how to answer such honesty.
“Good answer,” I finally manage.
“So what about you, then? Have you always worked construction, or is it something you fell into?” she asks.
Cringing a little, thinking of my past, I say, “I worked briefly in the nine to five suit and tie world…” I glance over her way “…wasn’t my thing.”
“Gotcha,” she smiles.
We talk more, trying our best to dig into each other’s nooks and crannies without prying too much.
I find out her favorite color is blue, her favorite holiday is Christmas, she never watches scary movies, and just the smell of green beans makes her want to vomit.
I admit to having a guilty pleasure now and again in a good romantic comedy.
I divulge the truth that I love to read until I’m falling asleep in bed, my favorite holiday is St. Patrick’s Day, and I’ve never gone swimming in the ocean.
I slow my truck as I reach the top of the hill. Looking at Eva, her eyes grow wide in amazement. Backing up, I turn the truck around so we can sit on the tailgate and take in the breathtaking sight.
The night sky is mostly clear. The stars are endless as they dance above. In the distance, clouds roll over far away hilltops and lightning can be seen as a thunderstorm approaches. Below is a valley with just the slightest twinkling of lights from a few houses.
I put the truck in park and kill the engine.
“Want to sit on the tailgate?” I ask.
She nods, unable to speak as she looks out the back window of the truck.
I jump from the truck and run over to her door. Opening it, I help her down and grab a backpack and a few blankets from the backseat. Setting the items down, I lift her up onto the tailgate of my truck and wrap a blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm.
“This sure goes down as one unforgettable surprise,” she says as I hop up on the tailgate to join her.
Shrugging, I let a few moments pass before I say, “I’m trying to make it hard for anyone to follow in my footsteps, is it working?”
“Oh, so you don’t want someone else to come and sweep me off my feet, is that it?” she nervously asks, looking out in the distance.
“Not if I can help it,” I confess.
With no idea where to go from there, I open the backpack I brought with me.
“Seeing as I had no idea your favorite food was my home state’s staple, I did the best I could when I packed us dinner.”
“You packed dinner,” she asks, shocked.
“I made a promise to feed you, didn’t I?” I smile. “Now pickings are slim when it comes to what will keep and pack away easily, so I did the best I could.”
Pulling out some containers of food the lady at the store suggested, I nervously watch her open them.
“Here we have ham and cheese roll-up sandwiches,” I say, opening the first container.
After setting it aside, I open the second.
“And here is some fresh fruit, pineapple, strawberries, grapes … that kind of stuff.” Opening the third container, I add, “And here, I did my best attempt at what you might like for dessert. I hope you like fudge or English toffee?”
Grabbing some toffee and taking a bite, she smiles up at me as she says, “It's perfect.”
Pulling a bottle of wine and a cup from the backpack, I say, “I did my best to pick you out a nice red. That was what you were drinking the other night, right?”
“Very good. I’m impressed,” she says, taking the cup. “None for you?” she asks as I don’t pour myself a drink.
I pull out a flask. “Kentucky bourbon.” I wink at her. “Sure to warm you right up.”
“Got enough to share,” she asks.
Surprised, I hand her the flask. She stares at it for a moment before tilting it back and taking a swig. Her face tightens momentarily before she opens her eyes and looks back at me.
“That’s good,” she coughs, then licks her lips as the burn subsides.
I smile, “I’m glad you like it.”
She tilts it back again before handing it back.
“I could get hooked on that stuff,” she chokes out. The second swig is clearly a little bigger and stronger than the first.
“Ninety-five percent of the world’s bourbon comes out of Kentucky,” I say. “If you ever come out my way, trust me you will be in no short supply.”
Smiling, she makes my heart race as she says, “Maybe I will just have to come out that way then.”
God, I would love to take her home and show her my world.
Although I doubt she would ever want to leave California, maybe I could convince her to take a trip back with me if whatever is happening between us goes any further.
But, then I’d be risking more heartache when she eventually leaves, so why even go there?
As the night wears on, something about Eva makes me want to gamble, though, just one more time in life on this crazy and stupid thing they call love. Maybe she will be different. Maybe whatever this is between us, given the right chance, could work. Maybe it’s worth a shot.
After we’ve talked and had our share of food and drink, I watch as she gets down from the tailgate and wraps the blanket around herself tightly.
She turns and faces me, smiling mischievously, the bourbon is obviously giving her a newfound confidence.
Taking slow steps towards me, she comes to a stop in between the middle of my legs.
My heart races, wondering what she’s up to.
She says nothing, just looks into my eyes, smiling, and waiting. For what, I have no clue. Is it an invitation of sorts? Hell, she needs no invitation. I always want to hold her, touch her, feel her, fuck, be anywhere near her.
She leans in, teasing me, and then backs away before I can close the distance.
I reach up and brush a few strands of hair out of her face. She leans her head into my hand, extending the time I take to touch her. I need to make a decision, but taking a brief second, I wait.
I’m not someone to inch into the swimming pool. I always dive in headfirst. Right now, I need to decide if my heart is strong enough to take the plunge again.
Lord knows, if I ever do, I want it to be with her.
Somewhere between kissing her in that bar the first night we met and tonight, I lost any will to guard myself. As much as I know my heart might not be strong enough to drown in love, as long as it’s her love killing me softly, it won’t matter.
The only future I see now has her in it. To hell with my past and swearing off love. Being with her gives me life. I just hope that she feels the same way, or could grow to in time.
“I don’t want to be without you, Eva,” I confess in a whisper. “I’m not sure how or when that happened, but something about you captivates me. Once you walked into my life, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You consume me.”
I close the distance between us and kiss her before she has a chance to respond. I have to have her. I have to taste her. I have to feel her against me to ease my nerves and calm the madness and doubt raging in my head.
She pulls back. Kissing her harder, I pull her back into my arms. Giggling, she finally breaks free.
“What? You think you can just say something like that, then kiss me senseless and I am not supposed to say anything,” she asks.
“I think we were just talking better than words,” I say, pulling her in and going for her neck.
Kissing her softly a few times, her skin prickles with goosebumps.
I smile against her skin and continue my assault, pulling her shirt off her shoulder, I lick, suck, and nibble my way across her collarbone.
She purrs, “You’re making me lose what I was about to say.”
“Good.”
I pull at the hem of her shirt, lifting it slightly under the blanket when she stops me and pulls away completely.
“Noah, whatever your middle name is, Stewart,” she sasses.
“Ryan,” I grin, pulling her closer. Flustered and playfully upset works for her and does nothing to stop the need building inside me.
She gives up and falls into the pull we have on each other. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say,” she asks, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout.
Grabbing her ass, I lift her into my arms. She wraps both legs around my middle. Her blanket falls to her waist. “No,” I growl. “I want you to show me.”