Forty-one
FORTY-ONE
Tag
W hy did everything on the ranch need me the moment I got back?
The only person I wanted was Bea.
No sooner had I parked the semi than Cooper and Jesse stopped me with issues or things they had questions about. Apparently, we had a fence break. We always treated breaks like emergencies, dropping everything to fix them. I was the chosen one. I grabbed my tools and tossed them into the back of the Ranger, watching for Bea and wondering what she was up to.
I texted her.
Me
I just got back. Where are you?
Bea
Hi! I’m inside.
Me
There’s a break in the fence. Pasture eight. I’m working out there for a bit.
Bea
It just started raining. You have to fix it in the rain?
Me
It’s not too bad. When it stops, come out here. Sprinkles wants to see you.
Bea
Tell her I’m coming. Lol
Me
I got to go into Comfort later. Maybe you can come with?
Bea
I’d love to.
Rain stayed light and felt nice. The droplets cooled my skin, soaked down the back of my shirt, and trickled down my arms. My hat kept the light rain from aggravating my vision. Drops fell from the rim, conveniently redirected from my face.
Thankfully, the repairs were muscle memory, so it wouldn’t take me too long. My mind immediately tapped out, honing in on Bea and the things I needed to say to her. A smile played at my lips.
I felt lighter today.
Writing some of my thoughts was difficult, a little triggering. But it was long overdue. Sitting down with paper muted the voices in my head. For the first time in years, I was able to hear my own. I was able to tune in to what I wanted and needed. The conflict was still there, but for now, it was background noise and I could live with that.
“Tag!”
My vision snapped toward the sound.
Bea was coming down the driveway to see me.
She didn’t wait for the rain to go away, she just came. If that wasn’t exactly like her, I didn’t know what was. She lifted her hand and waved wildly. Even from here, I could see the smile stretched across her face, uninhibited and free. She tossed her head back, opened her mouth, and took a spin in the rain.
Most people would’ve seen the rain and waited for better weather. But no, here she was, dancing in it. The queen of sunshine, her presence ushered in joy. Watching her walk through the weather like it was hers to command, I wondered how I’d ever been affected by rainy days. How I’d ever let them get me down.
I heard her laugh, and something torturous happened on my insides. My heart squeezed with love, my torso clenched with desire, and my eyes stung with gratefulness.
The woman floating down the driveway loved me.
And I loved her so much it hurt. My lungs worked double time at air, already feeling dizzy with need for her in my arms. There was so much I needed to say. So much I needed to do. For her. For me. For us together.
All this time, I’d worried about hurting her with my problems, but it was clear we were better, stronger together. She was happy with me. And I was healing with her.
Cooper was wrong.
I had no plans to ruin anyone’s life.
I watched her as she walked—almost skipping—toward me. Her shirt was wet and clinging to her skin. Her hair cascaded behind her in long, damp waves. Her nose and cheeks were pink with excitement. Her eyes and smile trained on me. She had the white outfit on.
Last night, I wrote a lot about desire—how new and sometimes scary it felt. My journey into physical love would be a winding road. But I wanted to take the first steps. I didn't want my past to keep me from touching the woman I loved. I wanted to try.
Right here, right now.
Wordlessly, she flew into my arms.
We wrapped our arms around each other. Over my shoulder, she said, “You sure you weren’t gone a month? It kind of feels like it.”
I chuckled. “It does. I missed you.”
She released me and backed away. “I missed you too. How was it?”
I gave her a rundown of the rodeo happenings, my descriptions the barest of bones. I didn’t want to talk about the horses. For the first time maybe ever, I didn’t care. The breeze pushed the rain and Bea blinked rapidly as drops landed on her lashes. I picked the hat up off my head, and plopped it on hers. She adjusted it, smiling .
I ran a hand through my hair, nervous and excited.
“What the—” She grabbed my left wrist and held it in the air.
“What?”
She pointed to a splotch of blue stain on the side of my left arm. “Is this ink?”
I looked. Sure enough, blue ink lifted from my skin with the rain, creating a watery blur of dripping color. The ink on my hand had been washed away but the arm and wrist stains remained.
“Yeah, I think so.”
She stared in amazement. “Did you write?”
“Until early this mornin’.”
I lifted my right hand to wipe the mess away and she swatted it. “Don’t you dare wipe it off!”
“Why?”
“Because—I think it’s beautiful. You always complained about your smudges. But it’s like”—she softly laughed—“it’s like you capture your words back again after you’ve put them down. Just another way they are a part of you.” She ran her fingers over my arm, leaving streaks in the liquid color.
“What did you write?”
I took a deep breath, thankful for the lead in. “Pages and pages about you.”
Her gaze snapped to mine and she released my wrist. “Me?”
“Yes, Bea, you. I only wrote about you.”
Her question was breathless. “What—what about me?”
“Well, first, I tried my best to describe you.”
She was quiet, hanging on every word.
“And you should know that’s a damned hard task, Bea Thompson. Wanna hear what I came up with?”
She bit her bottom lip, nodded.
“You know the stained glass windows on churches?”
She nodded again.
“You’re like one of those. Undeniably beautiful and unique on the outside, but it’s the light shinin’ through you that makes people stop and marvel. You cast color and life and meanin’ on anything that stands in your path, Bea. ”
Her jaw fell slightly ajar, and I felt a little self-conscious.
“That probably sounded cheesy as hell?—”
“Stop.” She laid a finger over my lips. Her own trembled and she pressed them together to still them. “That was without a doubt, the most beautiful compliment I’ve ever received.” She swallowed. “You wrote that about me?”
“Yes. That’s not all.”
Her eyes stormed with tears, her voice a whisper. “What else?”
“I tried to sort through all the voices in my head, ‘cause there’s something I want, and I’ve been tryin’ to figure out if I’m too far gone to have it.”
“Tell me.”
For a moment, the world stilled as she waited and as my heart lurched to confess.
My voice rasped, “Us, Bea. I want us.”
“Us?” She squeaked.
“Yes.”
She blinked and heavy tears streaked her cheeks. My hands gently slipped around the sides of her neck, my thumbs brushing the tears before they fell from her cheeks.
Emotions jammed up my throat, and I swallowed against them. “I told you why I stopped writin’ you, but there’s more to it.”
Her gaze bounced between my eyes, like she couldn’t see all of me fast enough.
“By the time I turned nineteen, I was hungry for you the way a man is hungry for a woman. I was gone for you. I craved your words, craved hearin’ your heart on the pages. Just writin’ was agony because I wanted more. I wanted to see you. I wanted to hold your hand and kiss you. And even though I knew in my head what we shared was real and innocent and built on something pure, it wasn’t the right time for you. So it was wrong for me to carry on as if it were.”
She nodded like she understood.
“Lettin’ go of you is still one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. I thought I’d get over it, but I never did. You have tortured me for years, Bea.”
She drew a sharp, shaky breath, her exhale collapsing her shoulders and sending a fresh torrent of tears downward. My thumbs caught them again.
“When I sprayed all the mud off you, and realized who you were that night…I was terrified. ‘Cause I knew my fortress of solitude would come crashin’ down. You alone—of all the people in the whole wide world—had the power to destroy it. I tried not to let us happen and keep my distance, but you”—I huffed a grateful laugh—“are impossible to resist.”
I looked deep into her dark brown eyes, and spoke with my soul. “What I’m tryin’ to say is…I love you.”
She closed her eyes, letting the words wash over her.
“My heart has been yours since that day in the hayloft, Strings.”
She repeated her nickname with a breathy exhale. Like she couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. “Say it again.”
I leaned toward her, bumping the hat. Pulling it from her head, I blindly chucked it like a frisbee toward the bed of the truck. My hands slipped up her jaw and into the hair behind her ears. Directing her chin upward, my mouth hovered over hers. “Strings.”
She wet her lips, her gaze riveted to my mouth. Her breath bathed my face in uneven puffs, her hands clumsily raising to fist the front of my t-shirt for stability.
I whispered my confession again, my lips grazing hers. “I love you.”
With feather light softness, I came in easy, sweeping my lips over hers. Instantly, she moved, eager and ready.
Our exhales mingled together.
I groaned with relief.
Her palms flattened on my chest, feeling me. Heat exploded through my body as she touched, her hands traveling over my front and around the back of my neck. I let go of her face, letting my hands feel her in return. I slipped my right arm around her waist as my left trailed forward, dragging down to her chin, then her neck and shoulder, blazing a trail down to her hand.
When both of my hands were on her spine, I pulled her in, pressing us together.
She broke out in song .
In an overflow of her heart’s music, she hummed against my lips. My guess was she had no idea she was doing it. Her soft humming stirred hunger in me, fierce and greedy. I angled my face to hers, parting my lips in invitation. An invitation she accepted.
When we got our first real tastes of each other, I groaned and reflexively squeezed her closer. The fire within us stoked, licking up our pretenses of proper. What was gentle turned desperate. In minutes, our kiss was consuming, a frantic competition for more, closer, deeper.
I devoured her like the starving man I was, channeling the hunger I’d suffered into each movement of my lips, hands, and body.
Dumbfounded, I wondered how relief and unsated longing could inhabit my chest simultaneously. The blend of the two had me hauling her closer, pulling her curves into my forward tilt. Her footing faltered as she whimpered and clutched for me. I directed her backwards a few steps until she was leaning against the door of the Ranger. Pressing my knee to the slick metal between her legs, I held her steady there.
Her tiny, quiet song was undoing me, draining any resolve I’d brought to the table. It made me want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her.
I hadn’t meant to kiss her quite like this.
For long minutes, we left the world behind.
Years ago, I used to run along the deer trails in the hay. I could follow them straight into another field, another ranch, another state, another time. As a young boy, waist deep in harvest-ready hay, they seemed to stretch into infinity, never fully explored. I remember wanting to stay lost there, wanting to tread every path and find every treasure.
I would’ve stayed lost in Bea forever if not for reality dragging us back.
A vehicle rumbled up the drive.
Penny’s Ram.
She slowed to a stop when she saw the Ranger, but gassed again when she got closer. Must’ve caught sight of the woman crushed between me and the truck. I didn’t bother acknowledging her arrival. When she had roared out of sight, I looked down at Bea. Her hair was now wet, her lips beautifully red and swollen, her face shocked—like she was still trying to grapple with all that had just transpired. Hell, me too.
“Tag, that was…” Her whisper was hoarse, a raw scrape.
“I know.”
We took a few moments to breathe.
The rain picked up a bit. Bea blinked against the drops hitting her face, and water trickled over her lips. Slowly, I leaned forward and kissed that trickle then kissed the dark freckle beneath her bottom lip—the one I’d been staring at for three weeks now. Then the one on the ridge of her shoulder. Then the one on her wrist.
Her body quaked under my gentle kisses.
Then I saw it. The ink smudged everywhere.
“Ah, crap. Bea, I got ink all over you.”
She looked down at the faint smears across her shirt and arms. It was on our faces, necks, and hands. There was watery blue evidence of me in every place I had touched her.
She laid her head against the Ranger and laughed with abandon, the rain hitting her face. “Samuel Taggart, I can’t think of a better way to seal this moment than to have your words all over me.”
The thing that joined us— words.
I laughed, too.
When I realized what our letters had weaved, the bond they’d welded, the abiding friendship they’d forged…I believed in words again. I couldn’t stop laughing. I was the happiest I’d ever been in my life.
Nothing could ruin this moment.
Nothing .