Chapter 56
Chapter Fifty-Six
Ryan
Knox
I hate nuts in baked goods.
Ryan
Mushrooms are disgusting.
“ T ake a left at the fork.”
“You’re driving me out to the middle of nowhere to murder me, aren’t you?” Knox kids, taking the turn as instructed.
“Trust me, it will be worth it.”
We got to Goose Hollow around midnight last night, sleeping in until close to eleven this morning.
Knox was understandably physically and emotionally drained from the last two weeks.
We had a late breakfast at Gracie’s Crooked River Cafe and then went to his family’s store.
McKinnon’s Hardware is a lot more than tools and lumber, and they had everything we needed for the afternoon I have planned for us.
We bought two lawn chairs, a cooler, ice, snacks, and sodas at the store. The blanket, towels, and Bluetooth speaker in the backseat I brought from his place.
Knox keeps referring to his secluded two-bedroom dream home by the lake as ours, but I’m having a hard time adjusting to that. Yes, I said I would move here with him, and I do want a life with him.
But the cabin is his.
He built it, paid for it, and decorated it.
Well, he hasn’t done much in the way of decorating.
The walls are pretty bare, except for the family portrait hanging on the entry wall.
It’s a huge black-and-white picture taken before Knox’s dad, Aiden, passed away.
There’s snow on the ground as the family poses in front of the barn emblazoned with the McKinnon Ranch logo.
Of course, Bernadette, the highland cow, is in the shot.
It’s a beautiful portrait, but other than that there are no gold records, awards, or photos with celebrities to be found.
I didn’t miss the way Knox kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the folks in town. Something tells me he feels uncomfortable in Goose Hollow for a different reason than his fame. He’s uncomfortable in his own skin walking around his hometown, and it breaks my heart.
He says he wants to put roots down here, but when he’s home, he goes to the lake, the ranch, his brother’s bar, or the family store. Today I’m expanding his horizons. Introducing him to the spot I loved to spend summer days as a teen and maybe a new hideaway for him.
Our bodies sway back and forth as the truck treks over the old logging road that leads to my happy place. The county keeps the road up, but it’s still a rough ride.
“Oh! Right there!” I point toward the even smaller dirt road that leads to a handful of campsites that butt up to a stream. “You can pull in right there and then back into that spot in the middle.”
Before the truck is in park, my feet hit the ground. Wasting no time, I walk toward the stream, inhaling the scent of pine trees and wet earth. The sound of water trickling over slick, algae-covered rocks plays like a soundtrack over memories of happy days here with my friends.
Knox comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “So, this is your spot, huh?”
“Yep. My happiest summer memories happened right here.” He kisses the top of my head. “Once me and my friends could drive, we stumbled upon our own little piece of paradise. It hid us from everything and everyone. We felt free.”
“I know what you mean. In a small town where everyone knows each other, you need to find your own secret hideaway, otherwise you’ll suffocate.”
I’m surprised to hear he felt this way. He was beloved in this town. As was his family. I was hiding from my parents, but what was Knox hiding from? What was suffocating him? There’s always been something that has kept him away. I hope he’ll tell me why when he’s ready.
“Exactly.”
“So, show me your spot. ”
“With pleasure,” I say, slipping from his embrace to open the tailgate of the truck. “You grab the cooler and I’ll get the chairs and speaker.”
He follows me to the water where we both slip off our flip-flops, leaving them next to the towels.
Seeing the usually leather and denim clad rocker in shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops is new, but I like it.
The stream is only two or three inches deep and maybe ten feet wide.
I find a level spot to set the cooler and then place a chair on either side of it.
I plop down in one of the chairs, pull two sodas out of the cooler, and place one in the cupholder of each chair.
Knox stands in front of me like I’m a crazy person.
“Sit.”
He sits, stretches his legs out in front of him and takes a sip of his drink.
Neither of us speak for the longest time. We let the water tickle our toes, as the trees shade us from the blistering summer sun, while the sounds of the forest wash away all the stress and tension of being on tour.
Knox is the first to break the silence. “This is fucking perfect.”
“Right?” I agree.
“It’s like being at a damn spa. Only strangers aren’t touching you, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper and more enjoyable.”
“As a person in my thirties, I have to agree. But as a teenager, it was a lot louder. We infiltrated the tranquil space with loud music and idiot behavior.”
“I like it better like this.” His head rests on the back of his chair, his eyes closed as he relishes in the fresh air and freedom .
“I’m glad I’ve gotten to experience it both ways.”
“I get that.”
We fall into another comfortable silence. He reaches for my hand kissing the back of it before releasing it to gaze into the forest ahead of us.
“I remember as a kid, sitting at the dinner table dreaming about going to fancy restaurants instead of eating the same thing every week and doing the dishes after,” I say after a while.
“Well, I’ve been to restaurants all around the world.
Now, I dream about home-cooked meals and doing my own dishes. ”
“You don’t eat at home back in the city?”
“I mean, I do. But cooking for one isn’t much fun and I’m not good at it. I’m tired of eating on my couch in front of the TV.”
“Then we’ll eat at the table every night,” he states matter-of-factly.
“And we’ll cook at home,” I add.
He tilts his head to the side, a look of confusion on his face. “You got a mouse in your pocket?”
Now it’s my turn to look confused. “What?”
“You said we’ll cook. So, you must have a mouse in your pocket because you can’t be referring to me.”
I giggle and pat my pockets. “No mouse.”
“Honey, I can’t cook for shit.”
“Neither can I,” I admit.
“Well, your dream of home-cooked meals may not come to fruition then.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” I assure him.
Standing, he moves until he blocks my view, providing an even more spectacular one. He holds his hand out, inviting me to join him. “We will.”
Then, with the water bubbling at our feet, his hands cradle my face as he kisses me as though he’s making me a promise. He’s found me and he’s never letting go.
If I ever doubted his feelings for me, this kiss erases my insecurities. I can only hope he feels the same love and reverence I feel for him.
“I love you, Knox McKinnon,” I whisper against his lips.
His kiss intensifies, but it’s my wandering hands exploring his body that turn our precious moment into a needy one as I grip his hardening cock through his shorts.
“Hey, little lady. You better not start something you can’t finish.”
Hoping his threat is a promise, I slip my hand beneath his waistband. The moment my fingertips caress the tip of his erection, it bounces beneath my touch. When he growls, I know I’m about to get my way. “Who says I can’t finish what I start?”
“Scandalous, Miss Jameson. What about the birds and the bees?”
“I say we show `em how it’s done.” Tugging on his hand, I coax him to follow me out of the creek, but he doesn’t budge. “Don’t be shy, old man. Come on.”
“What about our stuff?”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
I step out of the water, drying my feet on the towel as I do.
Slipping my flip-flops on, I head toward the truck.
On my way, I pull my tank over my head, letting it drop to the forest floor.
The splashing of water tells me my plan is working.
Before I’ve made it to the truck, his arms are around me, his bare chest against my back.
“Is this your way of telling me you’re an exhibitionist?” he whispers against my ear, the heat of his breath and the warmth of his body melting me in the best possible way.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Who’s gonna see us?”
Turning in his arms, he steals my breath away.
Sometimes, I take his beauty for granted.
Today, with his hair pulled back, all his handsome features are on display.
Mischief dances in his golden eyes, the heat of the day adding color to his cheeks.
He nearly does me in when he wets his perfect full bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.
“What about the bears?” he jokes.
I open the back door of the truck, climb in and make a show of shimmying out of my shorts. I use my forefinger to motion for him to join me.
“Don’t worry, big boy. I’ll protect you.”