Chapter 27
Rory
Emotions swirl in my chest as I push open the door and turn left. Excitement, hope, need. Old memories lead the way without conscious thought, almost on autopilot. I don’t have a plan for where I’m going, but my feet seem to know the way.
Nostalgia hits hard as I walk along the locker-lined corridor, practically expecting a bell to ring or a teacher to scold me for being in the halls between classes.
Another left and I’m in the locker room.
The slight scent of mildew and chlorine fills my nose, and even here, I know where I’m headed.
There are only a few showers that work in the locker room, or at least that was the case when I graduated, and Nate and I snuck into one of the nonfunctional ones to make out a handful of times.
That’s where I’m headed.
I maneuver past the rows of lockers and changing areas to the back corner. A fine layer of dust covering the drain proves that nothing has changed.
I step into the shower stall and rest my back against the wall.
I press my thighs together then reach for the hem of my skirt, needing to relieve a bit of the ache.
And then I freeze.
“Rory,” he calls, his footsteps echoing in the large locker room.
I hold my breath, but Nate and I share this history. He knows exactly where I am.
Our spot.
His footsteps come closer until he’s standing in front of me.
“Hey,” he says, the side of his lips quirking up in a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back here.”
He steps into the shower, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling me into his body, tight against his chest.
His scent courses a rush of arousal through my body again. I squeeze my legs together, wishing I’d at least worn underwear.
“We probably shouldn’t do this, Nate,” I finally say, my words muffled against his shirt.
“Do what?” He pulls back just enough to look down at me, and the view of his face is my undoing.
If I had any reservations about reliving our high school moments, they’re long gone at the sight of his five-o’clock shadow, his broad shoulders, his gaze that’s fixed on me.
My face flushes, but it’s the heat that’s engulfing my entire body that makes me reach up and pull his head down toward me.
“This,” I say, and press my lips to his.
His lips are soft, letting me control the kiss for the first few seconds before he takes over. Then his lips are hard, demanding, and when I moan, he slips his tongue inside my mouth. His taste mingles with the white wine.
I push my hips against him, needing him closer. The movement has the effect of making his erection press into my stomach. He’s as turned on as I am.
And then he bends his knees so his hard length rubs against my clit through the layers of clothing.
“Oh God, Nate,” I moan, needing more.
More friction. More closeness.
More of him.
Nate steps forward, forcing me to step back until my back is up against the shower wall.
He plants one hand on the wall next to my head, the other running along my side until it comes to rest on my hip.
“Fuck, babe,” he says.
My heartbeat races, arousal thrumming through my veins.
“I-I need…” The words come out between my panting breaths.
“What do you need?” His voice deepens.
His fingers move lower, until they’re teasing the hem of the dress that’s just above my knees.
“You,” I manage, the word ending on a moan as his hand dips beneath my skirt.
When he reaches the spot where my thigh and hip come together, he draws in a sharp breath. “No underwear, Rory? Naughty girl.”
He slides his fingers along my slit, and everything other than this moment flies out of my head.
Nate undoes his belt buckle and shoves his pants down, freeing his erection in one movement, and then his fingers are back, parting me and seeking out the bundle of nerves that’s crying for his touch.
I gasp when he presses on my clit, then he drags his fingers lower to slip two inside me.
“Fuck,” he says on a groan. “You’re soaked.”
I nod, not even able to form words.
“Do you want some help with that?” He slides his fingers in and out as I practically ride his hand, needing release.
My nod is frantic this time, and I groan when he pulls his fingers out.
Nate produces a condom from his pants pocket and rolls it on, then he lifts my skirt again, along with one of my legs, and notches himself at my entrance.
“I’m falling for you, Rory. All over again.” He presses into me slowly, filling me until I think he can’t go any farther.
Then he’s lifting my other leg so my only support is the shower wall and him, and this position draws him even deeper inside me.
He starts to move, his length hitting that sensitive spot inside me. My muscles tighten as my body responds to his.
His hands grip my ass, moving me up and down on his cock, faster and faster.
As the sensations overtake me, my body spiraling toward a climax, his words echo in my mind.
I’m falling for you, Rory. All over again.
“You feel so fucking good, babe. So. Fucking. Good.” Nate punctuates his thrusts with the words, driving into me over and over again.
My head tips back against the shower wall, sensations and emotions spinning and twisting and taking over as his touch and his words take me up and over the top into an explosive climax.
As I lean back against the tile, Nate slips his hand behind my head. The small gesture speaks a wealth of caring.
Once I catch my breath, he pulls me forward and into his chest.
In the haze of the few drinks I’ve had, the contrast of the heat of his skin and the chill of the shower wall is heightened.
That must be the reason for the thought echoing in my brain as I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.
This is where I belong.
It’s painful to climb out of bed and away from Nate. Going from the warmth of his body to the chill of the early morning shocks my system, and maybe that’s why this feels so wrong.
So much has happened between us since I came up to High Lonesome. And in the two weeks since the reunion, it’s gotten even better. Most days I head to the barn while he heads to the station, and after work, we make dinner together and talk.
And at night…
Let’s just say things keep getting better and better.
I’m not sure how long the honeymoon period can last. I know it won’t last forever, but I’m enjoying it while it does.
But if I want to keep this job, keep this life a reality, I need to take it seriously.
I pull my hair into a messy bun and slip into a pair of jeans. I know there’s a sweatshirt around here somewhere, but I can’t seem to find it in the dark, and I don’t want to wake Nate.
He’s a heavy sleeper, and I’ve gotten out of the house to head to the barn without waking him plenty of times, but there’s no reason for me to fumble in the dark when there are perfectly good sweatshirts downstairs.
I tiptoe down the stairs and across the living room, making eye contact with Ollie, who’s wide awake in his crate and looking right at me, his ears perked up.
I put one finger to my lips. “Shh, Ollie,” I whisper. “Don’t wake Nate. Let him sleep.”
Ollie tilts his head, like he wants to ask what I’m doing, but he stays silent. Maybe he’s finally gotten used to me leaving early on some days to head to the barn.
“Good boy,” I say.
Spam only yelps a couple of times before I let him out of his crate. He makes a beeline for the door, tail wagging furiously.
I grab one of Nate’s sweatshirts from the closet by the door, pull on my sneakers, then open the door.
The chilly morning air makes me shiver as I head for my truck. Spam pees on the grass while I close the tailgate, then he hops over to stand by me as I take a look back at Nate’s house.
It seems surreal that I call this place home.
“Come on, Spam,” I say as the dog starts sniffing the driveway, probably looking for another spot to tinkle.
I pull open the driver’s side door and help him in, waiting for him to settle on the passenger seat before I slide behind the wheel.
I back the truck down the short driveway and pull onto the silent street. We’re the only car on the road as I make the turn onto High Street.
Even on the busiest road in HiLo, it’s a ghost town this early. Dark windows, closed doors, the usual signs that stand outside businesses tucked away until morning. Most people are still sleeping at this hour.
Mandy is awake, and I’m sure Marge is, too, getting things ready in her shop, even though the window is still dark.
High Street turns into a state highway just outside of town as I head toward Lonesome Acres.
I wonder, yet again, if this is really my life. If things can truly be this good forever. My tossing and turning gave way to lying awake and thinking around 1:00 a.m., and I wrestled with what to do through the wee hours of the morning.
Nate makes it sound so easy—stay in High Lonesome, start a real relationship with him, settle down, and put down roots.
Maybe it is that easy.
Nate and I have great conversations. Being together is comfortable, natural.
And then there’s the sex.
God, the sex is amazing. Mind-blowing, like something out of a movie. All sizzling chemistry and heat and needing one another so desperately. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I can’t imagine ever finding something like that with anyone else.
I slow and flick my turn signal as I near the one intersection with a stoplight. The light is green, and there’s not another car in sight, but I look both directions before I push my foot to the gas.
A giggle bubbles up in my chest as I make the turn.
The one stoplight HiLo has isn’t even in town.
We’re beyond the official town borders, although the few people who live out here, like Mandy, would still say they live in High Lonesome.
But if you want to get technical, High Lonesome isn’t a one-stoplight town. It’s a no-stoplight town.
“It really is the middle of nowhere, isn’t it, Spam?” I ask, reaching out to pet the little guy.
He’s curled on the passenger seat, but when I pet him, he lifts his head.
The little dog expresses his agreement by climbing across the bench seat and into my lap.
It’s cute and all, but the last thing I need is a dog sitting on me while I’m barely awake myself.
I should have made some coffee before I left instead of waiting to get some at the barn.
“Sit on your own seat,” I tell the little guy.
I lift Spam and set him back where he belongs. He lets out a whine.
“Hush.”
Something lights up on my dash as I press down on the accelerator, bringing the truck up to highway speed. I squint down at it, trying to keep one eye on the road. It’s the same stupid light that came on before I left Denver, the one I forgot to look into.
I curse under my breath. I said I’d get it checked out, and I didn’t, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the ass. Serves me right.
But it hasn’t been on since I came up to High Lonesome, which I thought meant it was fine, that it was a transient problem that had just…
solved itself somehow. I don’t know how car engines work.
Maybe that happens sometimes, that problems just go away.
Maybe sometimes the car gods take pity on people whose lives are going to hell.
But whatever this little light means, it’s back, and I can only assume a warning light is a harbinger of something wrong. I lean closer, trying to figure it out.
Why can’t they just make these little warnings into pictures that look like what the problem is?
Or better yet, words so you could just read it and know that the oil is low or the temperature is high or the engine is about to explode.
I don’t have time to decode hieroglyphics. I’m trying to drive here.
I let out a sigh, peeking back at the road. If the light is still on when I get to the barn, I’ll get out the user manual and check it out. I’m pretty sure it’s in the glove compartment, although God knows the last time I checked to make sure.
Maybe it is just the oil or something. I lean closer again, trying to see what it could be telling me. I know I said I’d check it out later, but I don’t want the truck to…I don’t know, explode or something when I’m stuck on a road outside of town while most of the world is still asleep.
To be fair, I don’t want the truck to explode anywhere. I suppose my exact location wouldn’t really matter to me if things exploded. It wouldn’t exactly be my problem to clean up at that point.
Spam lets out a yip, and I shush him as I peer at the dash, but he barks again.
I look over at him then back at the road.
Just in time to see a pair of headlights coming straight toward me.