Chapter 5
Baylor
My size overwhelms her body. There’s not one part of me that can’t wrap around her in some form in length or width.
As I hold her from behind, she fits nicely under my arm, curled against me in peaceful sleep.
Her waist is small, but she’s full in the hips.
Her legs are lean, but I left a little hickey on the inside of her thigh when they softly gripped the side of my head as she came.
The depth of her eyes still draws me in each time her gaze lands on mine.
Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls that I can tell drives her nuts.
I love it. It’s chaotic and less perfect.
Different from what I’m used to in New York.
It fits the varied landscape of Peachtree Pass and the way she totters between what she wants, speaking her mind, and what she seems to hold back sometimes when she goes quiet.
Taking a few deep breaths, I exhale slowly. It took me years to find a rhythm to help me fall asleep with the noise of the city. Here, the quiet keeps me awake, and maybe the woman in my arms, though I’ve been content listening to the melody of her soft breaths.
I clear my mind and focus on her and her breathing, feeling the pull to go to sleep harder to fight. Finally, my thoughts fade . . .
Opening my eyes to the dim sunlight of early morning, I roll onto my back, squeezing them shut again, and scrub my hand over my face. A groan comes from exhaustion, but the scent of baked goods softens the blow.
The unfamiliar smells and the way the light threatens to intrude from the other side of the blinds can’t be marked in my mind.
I sit up and look around. Time is absent.
My surroundings can’t be placed. A turquoise vase with pink flowers on top of a walnut dresser.
A framed photo of a blue sky with a cloud escaping in the corner. Where am I?
My eyes dart to the empty bed beside me, and the memories of last night come rushing back. “Lauralee?”
Not a sound is detected, so I swing the covers off and walk into the living room.
The apartment looks completely different in daylight.
Bright. Yellow throw pillows on a blue couch.
A green bowl has fake peaches filling the inside.
Free of most clutter, but a few touches that make it feel like a home.
A framed poster from the Peach Festival, dated from when I was in college, hangs over the couch. It feels like Lauralee in here.
I think it’s safe to assume the delicious scent is coming from Peaches downstairs. She’s already started baking for the day. I find myself smiling as I work my way to the suitcase I left open on the floor. Grabbing clean clothes and my Dopp kit, I move into the bathroom to shower .
Judging by the sunlight not flooding the place, I can probably get out to the ranch before everyone gets going for the day.
I clean up and wash my hair and get ready afterward.
Slipping my watch on, I grab my phone that she plugged in for me.
Another grin slips into place. I’m starting to think I was too bullheaded to look twice at my sister’s friend to notice the woman she’d become.
And since I’d threatened my best friend when we were younger not to look at my sister, it makes sense that I wasn’t eyeing up her friend.
I make the bed for her, then pack up my suitcase. I lost some time in the past few minutes, and the sun has risen higher. I’m not looking to make an entrance, unlike my usual style. Questions will come, but it’s probably best if Lauralee and I keep quiet about our night.
After packing the suitcase in the rental, I check the door to the shop. It’s locked. Good girl. I knock and step back, tucking my hands in my pockets. She probably would have been fine if I’d gone on about my day and taken off for the ranch, but a knot in my chest told me to stop by before leaving.
When the door opens, she’s already smiling as if she’s been waiting for me.
“Well, hello there, stranger.” Her hair is pulled into a ponytail high on the back of her head, and flour dusts across the bridge of her nose.
Her natural pale pink lips beckon me to her, and the prettiest light blue dress with tiny white flowers covers the body I was lucky enough to hold last night. She’s morning sunshine in human form.
God, she’s gorgeous. “Good morning.” I cup her face and kiss her like we’ve turned time back to last night.
Deep. Sensual. More than our tongues connecting, which suddenly feels dangerous in new ways.
But I needed one more to get me by because if this is all we ever have, I want to give us a hell of an ending.
Her hands slide over my arms until she’s holding my shoulders. When our lips part, she lowers to her heels, and her eyes slowly open. A sweet smile upturns the corners of her mouth, and she asks, “What brings you by?”
“I wanted to see you again. And I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed last night.”
After stepping back to the doorframe, she shifts her weight onto her hip. One arm falls to hang at her side, but the other hand slides into mine, keeping us joined together. “Me too.”
I’m not sure why I feel the need to explain. This wasn’t that serious, but I do anyway. “I’m only here for the weekend.”
“I figured. You heading to Rollingwood Ranch?”
“Yeah, I was supposed to be there last night. The weather,” I say as if she can fill in the rest.
“It was bad, but we have a beauty of a day today.” Her eyes look past me and into the morning sunrise sky. When her eyes return to mine, she smiles. “We weathered the storm and came out the other side.”
“We sure did.” I take a step back, not wanting to but knowing I should. What am I going to do? Stand around here all day bugging her? Our hands release each other’s, and I nod toward the car. “I’m going to head out. Thanks for last night. I’m happy to pay you.”
Her head juts back on her neck, her smile wiped clear from her face. With her brows tipped together, she asks, “What are you talking about?” When her hands fly to her hips, I know I’m in trouble. “Is that what you do in New York?” Her head falls back. “Ew. I knew I couldn’t trust you. ”
I stare at her, watch the dramatics, hear the disgust in her voice, and try not to laugh. I fail.
She says, “What? Why is this so funny to you?” Her hands anchor to my chest and push me back off the little concrete pad under the patio to the apartment.
“You know what? I don’t care.” Her arm flies into the air, and she points to the middle of nowhere.
“Go. Baylor. Just go.” I catch her hand and bring it to me despite her trying to wriggle it free. “Let go.”
“Listen to me, Shortcake.” I kiss her balled-up fist. “You’re getting all hot and bothered over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You’re treating me like I’m a wanton?—”
“Landlord.” I try, unsuccessfully, to loosen her fingers.
I mean, I could if I wanted, but she clearly needs to hang onto the anger a little bit longer.
“Chris told me you’re going to rent out the place.
I used it, so I offered to offset some costs.
I wasn’t offering you money to let me go down on you. ”
“Oh my God.” Her cheeks flame, burning red. “Don’t say that.”
“Don’t say landlord?” I’m whacked in the chest, making me chuckle.
But I catch her other hand. “Don’t be so feisty.
The money was offered with good intentions.
I don’t think you’re a wanton anything. Quite the opposite, in fact.
” The stiffness in her arms loosens, and her head tilts just enough for me to know she’s open to hearing more.
Before I can say anything, she says, “I can be wanton, but I wasn’t being that with you . . . I mean, I was, kind of, but?—”
I kiss her, pulling her into my arms. She sinks against me, and our breaths become moans as our tongues tangle together. When I feel the tension leave her body, I kiss her long and slow, savoring the sweetness of her lips and the way she makes me wish we were still in bed.
She pulls back with her eyes still closed and licks her lips under a contented hum. When I’m given the pleasure of her beautiful browns again, she smiles. But reality sneaks into her expression, pulling most of the joy from it. “Do you want me to pack up a cinnamon roll or something for the road?”
“No. I got all I need right here.” That helps with her smile, but she looks down, seemingly unsure of what to say. Lifting her chin until her eyes rise to mine again, I ask, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Hesitating, she takes a breath, and says, “It was good seeing you again, Baylor.”
This isn’t supposed to be anything other than a strange turn of events that brought us together for a few hours. I can understand her need to protect herself, but I still feel the urge to say something. “I don’t live here or?—”
“I know. No explanation needed.” Taking a deep breath, she steps into the kitchen, this time more than a foot separating us. It feels like a mile, but I think my mind is playing tricks on me. Or maybe it’s my heart. Either way, I need to ignore it.
I dip my head and give her a smile that doesn’t feel quite right. “See you around, Shortcake.”
“See you around, Greene.” She closes the door, but one of us had to do it, so there’s no need to place blame.
Not sure why I’m still standing here like there could be a different outcome, but this is it. I need to look at this time with her as another experience and place it where it belongs in the one-time thing drawer.
I get in the car, wondering why this feels different. It shouldn’t. I start the car and let it go because there’s no use dwelling on happenstance.
Every time I drive over the cattle guard of the ranch, I’m instantly reminded I’m home. Though I can’t say it feels much like home these days. Even my old room feels more foreign than familiar, the more I live in the Northeast. My feelings on the subject are complicated.
The ranch is my sister’s, my dad’s, even more my best friend’s than mine these days in title and principle. Doesn’t matter. I’ve built a life elsewhere. Not better, just different. And sometimes different will have to do until something better comes along.
I park the car in front of the main house and head toward the door to check in with my dad. The front door opens, and the screen door squeals as he steps onto the porch. He works a smile into place, though I can tell he’s in pain. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back for a visit.
“Welcome back to the ranch, son.”
I step up onto the porch and shake his hand. “Good to be back.” He pulls me in for a hug with a solid pat on the back.
He turns to return inside, and says, “I need my coffee to get the engine runnin’ in the morning. Care for a cup?”
“I’ll take one.” I follow him inside, letting the screen door swing shut. That sound brings back memories of running in and out of the house during the summertime. Really, it was year-round, and my mom always reminded me not to let it slam closed. I can still hear her voice in my head, and I smile.
I miss her so damn much it hurts if I let myself think about it. So I don’t let my mind go there often.
Sitting, I watch as he starts the coffee pot and then joins me across the table. He looks at me, and asks, “How long are you staying?”
“I leave Monday morning.”
“You lost a night to the storm. ”
I wouldn’t say I lost anything, considering the storm brought me to Lauralee’s. “It was bad.”
“It’ll dry up quick out here. We’ve needed rain.”
The sound of a UTV reaches us before the motor is cut outside, and the squawk of the kids comes closer. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”
My dad gets up to check the coffee. “They keep me young.”
“That’s a good thing.” I get up and rush onto the porch to greet them. As soon as my niece and nephew see me, I bend down and open my arms wide. “Get over here, you rascals.”
Beckett runs into my arms with little Daisy teeter-totting up the porch steps. My sister is right behind her, glowing in the sunlight, and pregnant again. I give Daisy a big hug when she makes it up the steps. Standing with her in my arms, I whisper, “I missed you, Daisy girl.”
Christine says, “She missed you. She wanted me to show her Bay Bay photos again.”
I open an arm and bring my little sister in for a hug with us. “Did you miss me, sis?”
“I did. I’m glad you’re here.” She not-so-subtly checks her watch with a grin when stepping away. “Though you’re a little late. These kids are going to keep you busy today. Hope you got some sleep.”
I chuckle as I scrub a hand over my face. “Not much,” I admit, “but I’ll survive.” I don’t bother telling her that what I did get was even better and worth the lost sleep.