Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Goldie
The kiss is supposed to come first.
Before the heavy petting, and definitely before the other stuff.
But I’ve never done anything the way people expect me to.
Barrett’s kiss is magic.
I may be exhausted, wrung out, and hollowed out. I ache in places I never thought I could ache. Muscles are sore that I didn’t know I had.
But Barrett breathes new life into me with his kiss.
I expected to wince at another round of fireworks.
Instead, his lips are tender. His big, strong hand cups my face gently, and he presses his mouth to mine like I’m fragile and could break into a million pieces. Which I am, and I could.
My feelings are all over the place, and he knows this.
“How are you feeling?” Barrett asks.
“Different,” I say, my eyes welling up. “Like I’ll never be the same.”
He looks me over thoroughly, then replies, “Same.”
I can’t ever be with anyone else after this. I’ve decided. It’s just not possible.
The thought of what he’s done to me suddenly dries up the tears as a bubble of laughter surfaces. Oh god, I’m hysterical from triple, maybe quadruple, orgasms.
“Did I tickle you?”
I smooth down his crazy beard. “No. I’m laughing because you set the bar way, way too high.”
Barrett looks proud of himself. “Good.”
We stay up all night talking on the porch, watching the sun rise over the mountains as we sip strong coffee and listen to the birds. At some point, Barrett goes inside to grab a blanket to wrap me up in it because I refuse to miss the sunrise from this elevation.
He listens as I tell him more stories about my childhood. He tells me about his time in the military. About his split with his family, his time in the military, and everything that has happened to him since he left the Army. And about how his fiancée abandoned him with his best friend, which prompted Barrett to hole up on Windgrave Mountain.
His whole story makes my heart break.
“In many ways, I think you’ve had it way worse than I have,” I tell him.
“What do you mean?”
“My whole life was planned out and ordered. I always knew what was expected of me. I knew who I could trust. You trusted people, and they betrayed you. I’m sorry for that.”
Barrett’s throat bobs.
“They forced you to get married to a man with six other wives, Goldie. Remember that part?”
I shrug. “They did a lot worse. They shunned our brothers and friends. My brother Theo was shunned a while back, and I hope to find him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. I sort of turned inward after that happened. I buried myself deep into my hobbies and ignored everybody else except for my best friends, Olivia and Louisa. A certain faction of the sister wives spread rumors that I was a witch. I was told that if I skipped church again to work in the greenhouse, I would be shunned. But I knew it would never happen. The younger sister wives always come to me for help with their little ones. Obviously, I’m not a doctor, but I knew enough to offer relief for the endless ear and sinus infections among the little ones. And the sick and the elderly valued me for helping them with pain management in small ways. I did what I could.”
“I’m happy you left. But they’re going to suffer without you.”
I laugh. “One of my siblings by another mother, Georgie, has been helping me in the greenhouse. She came to me a while ago and said she wanted to learn from me. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s got all my notes. She’s more organized than me, so she’s probably got everything alphabetized and cross-referenced by now. Plus, they won’t miss me. Georgie’s a better person than me, so she won’t get up to any mischief by poisoning anybody.”
“You did what you had to do,” Barrett reminds me.
“Not always. Sometimes I just liked to cause chaos,” I say sheepishly, sipping my coffee.
“What do you mean?”
Goodness, I’ve never met a man half this interested in listening to me when I speak.
I admit, “The elders would come to me on the down low to ask if I had anything to help them get it up.”
Barrett snorts. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Not kidding. I gave ’em all chamomile, told ’em it would make it last all night.”
Barrett laughs so hard it feels like the whole house shakes. “Instead, you put them to sleep.”
“Night night, creeps,” I say, sipping my coffee.
“You’re crazy.”
The sun lights up his eyes, glinting off his honey-colored lashes—lashes that are too, too perfect for a man. The way he’s looking at me, I can tell there’s much more he wants to say. I feel the need to stop him before he makes us both uncomfortable.
“Barrett, I?—”
Suddenly, his face changes ferociously.
“Get in the house.”
“Um, what?”
“Goldie, get in the fucking house.” He doesn’t yell, but his tone is so lethal that I know I’d better listen and not try to ask any more questions.
As I run inside, I turn to glimpse what it is that has Barrett spooked.
The cops are here.
Shit.
This is my fault.
I slam the door behind me, my heart racing. I pace around the great room and try to think.
Of course, this is my fault. Why else would Barrett bark at me to stay in the house unless he believed he was harboring a fugitive?
I head to the bedroom, grab my backpack, and shove my boots on, then pound down the back stairs and head out the door.
If I get lost, Barrett won’t get in trouble. Even if I’m innocent, he’s not the only one who thinks I might have shot Trace.
As if I could hurt the father of one of my best friends. Even if he is a deadbeat dad. Was a deadbeat dad, I correct myself.
I get about three feet into the tree line when I’m jumped from behind.
A thin but strong arm, immovable as iron, has me in a headlock. Whoever it is has terrible breath and hisses in my ear.
“Scream, and I’ll slit your throat, witch.”