A Risk Worth Taking (12 page)

He
took a step forward. I took one back. If we were going to have this
conversation, I needed space to think. I couldn’t argue with him when every
time I breathed, I caught the scent of bar soap and topsoil.

“Don’t
say what?” I asked, breathless with the idea of what would happen if I stopped
backing away and let him reach me.

Another
step. There was a storage closet somewhere behind me. I hoped I still had some room
to go before I backed into it or the wall.

“All
of the reasons why you shouldn’t like me,” he said.

I
sighed. “I do like you, I just think—”

“Don’t
think.” He was close now. Inches. His chest lining up with mine. I looked up at
him. As soon as our eyes met, I knew it’d been a mistake. The blue-gray in them
had deepened to something like a storm cloud. I shivered at what I imagined lay
behind those swirling depths.

“Don’t
think?” I repeated. It came out in a whisper.

“Just
let your thoughts go. Do what you feel.” Slowly, his left hand reached out
toward something behind me. I didn’t see what it was. That would’ve meant
turning away from those storm-cloud eyes. His fingers caught on the object and
he pulled. Something hard smacked my rear—the closet door. It clicked shut, the
momentum of the door hitting my behind shoved me forward—straight into Ford.

“Oh,”
I said, trying to catch myself. My palms landed flat against his chest.

Instead
of backing away, his hands cupped my hips, holding me in place. He bent his
head, leaning in until we were no more than a breath apart. I stared back at
him, and, just as he’d suggested, my mind went completely blank.

Do
what you feel …

I
closed the distance. For a split second, his mouth remained still against mine.
I could feel his surprise; he hadn’t actually expected me to kiss him. Then,
his hands gripped me harder, pulling me tightly against him, and his lips began
to move. His kiss was soft at first, delicate and careful. Then harder. More
insistent. My mouth opened and his tongue slid against the inside of my lip. My
knees trembled. I leaned in, using Ford’s arms as support. 

He
tasted like he smelled: like sun and warmth and all things outdoors. I ran my
hands over his shoulders and down his bare arms. His skin was warm, like mine.
Heated from the inside out. I brought my arms up again, locking them behind his
head and letting my fingers run through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Ford
…” His name came out on a sigh when he lifted his mouth from mine. I wanted to
tell him to get his lips back over here, but I couldn’t form a single word
other than his name. I could barely remember my own.

He
chuckled. “Is this me cashing in my points?”

I
smiled, liking the possibilities of the system I’d unwittingly created. “Maybe.”

“Does
that mean I have to say something nice before we can repeat that? Or just wait
until you try to argue with me again?”

“Are
you asking which will happen first?”

“It
is a difficult thing to predict.” His smile faded and he kissed my cheek. “Does
this mean I won the argument? That you’ll be my friend?”

I
bit my lip. I’d come in here tonight hoping to satisfy my lust and an item on
my list all at once. But now, it felt much bigger than that. I wanted more of
the feelings that came with kissing Ford.

“I
don’t want to fall in love,” I admitted, voicing the real fear that ate at me
when I thought about being Ford’s “friend” or fling or any of the other
descriptives we’d used. Love hurt. I wasn’t looking for love.

In
answer, Ford tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “This is nothing
as serious as that. I want to show you how to have fun. No plans. No rules.
Enjoy each other for the time that we have.”

I
hesitated. “That’s a big risk for me.”

“You’re
not living unless you’re risking.”

“That
sounds like a slogan for something.”

He
grinned. “It’s my slogan for Summer.”

“As
in, the season?”

“As
in, the girl.” I smiled. “Go out with me,” he said suddenly.

“Okay,”
I said before I could change my mind.

“Okay,”
Ford echoed, his smile widening. He kissed me on the cheek and my skin tingled.
“Tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Sounds
good, but be warned, there aren’t very many places to eat that don’t require
clean elbows.” I pointed to the black stains on his arms that came from leaning
on the soil too long.

He
laughed. “Same goes for you.”

“I’m
not dirty,” I protested, holding up my arms as proof.

He
didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “Well, that’s a damn shame. It would’ve made
cashing in my points so much more fun if you were.”

Ford

“Love will never separate a man
from his personal legend.”

–Paulo Coelho,
The Alchemist

That
girl wound me up. Her mouth and the way it worked, shaping either words or
kisses, was something else.

I’d
endured an entire week of her moody silence as she ignored me with no
explanation. If that hadn’t been confounding enough, she’d come to me with
those puppy dog eyes that begged for attention and forgiveness. Had I given it
to her? Damn straight. No questions, no giving her a hard time for seven days of
silence that would make a monk proud.

It
was that mouth. Had to be it. And the way she locked her arms around me when I
kissed her hard or went limp when I pulled away too soon. She had no idea what
she did to me. But if this kept up, she would find out sooner rather than
later.

And
then she’d gone and asked me about love. I knew she was scared. Her mom leaving
had really screwed her up. I wanted to reassure her she wasn’t going to end up
like that, but she wouldn’t have heard me anyway. Too wrapped up in the hurt.
But love—that was one thing I knew to be off the table. This would be fun and
we would be friends. We’d have a great time and make some great memories before
I left in October. But love? Not happening. I wasn’t ready for all that. I had
too much life to live before I allowed that.

Thoughts
of my dad sprang to mind and I checked the clock. He’d be home from the day job
soon. After twenty years of ten hour days, he’d finally been promoted to
management, allowing him the luxury of punching out by dinner time. Now he’d
spent what daylight was left tinkering in the garage. The creations he made out
of wood were stunning. He’d have a business in a heartbeat if he wanted it. But
whenever I’d asked, he always said wood-building was a hobby, for fun… “Not
something that put food on the table when there were little mouths to feed,
son.”

I
always regretted that for him. Giving up a dream to support his family. He was
always quick to come back with, “My family is the best thing that ever happened
to me. I didn’t give up, I just got a new dream.”

Fine.
But not me. For me, the solitary adventure was the ultimate dream. And no one,
man or woman or even lover, was going to distract me from pursuing it. Or
worse—abandon it.

Cold
weather plants. That was the next project. The next adventure. And no girl—no
matter how meaningful—was going to stand in the way of the adventure. Maybe for
my dad, that had worked out, but not for me. I intended on living every
experience I could to the fullest. Then maybe, just maybe, I’d be ready to
settle somewhere. But that girl would have to be pretty amazing.

Unbidden,
an image of Summer in that bathing suit sprang to mind and I groaned aloud.
Just thinking the word “amazing” was enough to make me remember her that
way—dripping wet, legs up to her neck, and glaring at Casey with death rays for
eyes. As passion went, anger was a powerful version, and I couldn’t help but
wonder what it would’ve been like to have her that worked up at me.

Come
tomorrow night, I’d have the chance to find out. Well, the passion anyway.
Hopefully not the anger. Both possibilities made me grin.

As
I worked on closing up shop for the night, I made a mental note to find Casey
and ask him about local eateries that didn’t feature peanut shells on the floor
and fried bar food as the special of the day. Or better yet, maybe I’d ask
Mazie.

I
wondered what sort of place Summer would expect for a first date and then
immediately brushed the thought aside. I definitely didn’t want anything about
our night to be typical. In fact, I intended to go out of my way to make sure
it wasn’t. Typical or expected weren’t what Summer needed. Good thing, nothing
I had in mind was either one.

Summer

“Love has a way of making you
appreciate the silly.” –Helen Meckelberg

(aka “Helen Magellan”)

Twice I
caught myself humming as I showered and dressed for breakfast the next morning.
I took extra time with my hair, blow-drying it until my pesky half-curls
smoothed into loose waves that hung down my back. Normally, I twisted it up,
hating the way it stuck to my neck when the humidity touched it, but today, I
wanted it to hang. It felt free that way. More relaxed. Like me.

I
pulled on a pair of denim shorts I usually only wore around the house because
the pockets hung lower than the hem line, telling myself my choice of attire
had nothing to do with wanting a reaction from a certain blue-eyed farmhand. A
white tank and my favorite boots completed the look and I smiled at myself in
the full-length mirror.

As
a resident and therefore employee of Heritage Plantation, I’d learned long ago
you never knew when you’d be asked to take a shift on the tractor or push a
Ditch Witch. I’d come home more than once with burns and cuts along my bare
calves and knees. As a result, long pants were the uniform most days even with
my official title of manager and bookkeeper. But today was Saturday. No heavy
machinery being operated today. And for the first time in months, I wanted to
be noticed.

I
leaned in close to the mirror and flicked on a last layer of mascara before
calling it done and waltzing out. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was
humming again. Mazie looked up from her usual position in front of the island,
her mixing hand slowing as she caught sight of me. My dad and Frank were seated
at the table, coffee mugs in hand, the newspaper spread between them.

“Morning,”
I said cheerily, passing Mazie on the way to the coffee pot.

“Good
morning,” Mazie returned, offering her cheek up for a kiss as I walked by.

“Morning,
sunshine,” Dad called from the table. He did a double take when he saw me.

Frank
eyed me as I reached for a clean mug.  “Sunshine seems to be the perfect word,”
he agreed.

“What
does that mean?” I asked.

My
dad shook his head and Mazie winked. “You glow, paidi mou,” she said.

“I
do not glow,” I argued.

Frank
snickered. He and my dad exchanged a look before going back to their paper.
Mazie began whistling as she stirred.

“I
glow?” I repeated to myself, sipping my coffee and trying to decide how I felt
about that description. I was pretty sure the weather wasn’t to blame. I hadn’t
stepped out of the air-conditioning yet.

“From
the inside out,” Mazie explained.

Interesting.
No one had ever said that about me before. Then again, I’d never felt quite
this way before. Excitement, but more than that. Anticipation. When was the
last time I’d looked forward to something? Moving home had been more like duty.
A necessary step. Graduation, but that had been more like checking something
off a to-do list, as had school in general. And Aaron. I think I’d looked
forward to things with him, in the beginning at least. Dates. Calls. Spending
time together. But none of it had ever lit me like this. Like hope. And heat.
And passion.

I
looked up over the rim of my coffee mug and found all three of them watching me
with amused expressions. “What?” I demanded.

They
went back to their tasks without a word—all three wearing goofy smiles.

“Dad,
can I borrow the truck? I’m going into town,” I announced, setting my
half-empty mug in the sink and heading for the door.

“Sure.
The keys are in the bowl by the door. Where to?” my dad asked, looking up from
his paper.

“I
promised I’d stop in and see Leslie at her new store when I had time.” I
shrugged like it didn’t matter either way. “Today, I’m not busy.”

“Well,
tell her we said hello,” my dad said.

“And
tonight?” Frank asked. “You free then too, because I heard—”

“I
have plans tonight,” I said, cutting him off before he could say something to
rile me.

“A
date?” Mazie’s eyes lit up and she dropped the spoon back into her mixing bowl.

I
stopped at the door, my shoulders sagging, and turned to face them. So much for
keeping a lid on it. “Yes. I have a date. With Ford. We’re going to dinner,” I
explained, hoping to tell them enough to satisfy their curiosity without giving
away anything new for the gossip mill.

Frank
opened his mouth but I spun on my heel and pushed the door aside, making an
exit faster than he could get words out. “Leaving now,” I called over my
shoulder. “Talk later.”

From
the other side of the door, Frank said something and they all laughed.

Leslie’s
shop wasn’t hard to find, considering it was Grayson County’s only jewelry
store. Well, unless you counted the sterling silver beaded stuff at Smallmart.
Which I didn’t.

The
bell over the door dinged as I entered. Leslie looked up from the cash register
and waved before continuing to ring up the customer in front of her. Her
delicate hands punched the buttons in a flurry of stabs and then she gave her
customer, Helen, her total. I almost choked when I heard it. The figure had
enough digits to be a phone number.

Helen
didn’t bat an eyelash as she handed over a plastic credit card and waited while
Leslie completed the sale. I pretended to be very interested in the display of
onyx rings across the store. Maybe Helen wouldn’t notice me if I stayed out of
the way.

When
I’d dressed to be noticed this morning I hadn’t anticipated running into Helen
Magellan—a name she’d earned by always knowing everyone’s business right down
to their location on a given day. One thing about Helen, she got her
information the straightforward way. No gossiping necessary. She’d come right
out and ask what you were doing somewhere and why and where were you headed
next and who wished you wouldn’t. “Nosy” was not in her vocabulary. Neither was
“tact.” She liked to say she was merely “concerned.” I had no doubt she
wouldn’t think twice about asking for my opinion about my parents and what had
brought me back to Grayson after being so adamant about staying gone.

Across
the store, Helen signed off on the receipt and Leslie handed her a small black
bag. “Here you are, Miss Helen. You enjoy the sparkles,” Leslie said.

“Oh,
you know I will,” Helen said, a decidedly mischievous note in her voice as she
tucked the little baggie into her massive suitcase-purse. Out of the corner of
my eye, I watched her make for the door.

Go,
go, go.

Halfway
there, she paused, studying me. Dammit. My shoulders sagged when she turned to
face me fully, her eyes sharper than her age would suggest. “Summer Stafford,
is that you?” she asked, wandering closer. “Your mother said you were back in
town. How are you?”

I
grimaced. No telling what else she’d heard if it came from my mom. “I’m fine,
Miss Helen. How are you?” I asked, arching a brow and nodding toward the bag
I’d seen her stow away. Maybe if I redirected the attention … “Bought yourself
something nice, I see.”

She
hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder. “Yes, Leslie helped me find a diamond
necklace that’s to die for. Bobby will love it too.”

“Bobby?”
I looked from Helen to Leslie, who stood far enough back she could make
animated faces at me without Helen seeing. When I repeated the unfamiliar name,
Leslie pretended to swoon.

“Oh,
honey, you’ll meet him soon enough. He’s out of town on business right now, but
he’ll be back in time for your momma’s birthday shindig.”

Ugh.
My mom’s birthday party had been the event of the summer since as far back as I
could remember. My dad went all out one year when they were first married and
invited the whole town, and ever since, it’d only grown in size and reputation
as Grayson County’s best party of the year. I’d conveniently forgotten about it
this year—until now.

“Is
he a friend of yours then?” I asked, glossing over any mention of the party or
my mother.

“Bobby
is Helen’s fiancé,” Leslie spoke up.

“You’re
engaged?” I asked, trying not to let my mouth hang open as I scrolled through
the list of eligible bachelors in town over the age of sixty. Not many. And
none named Bobby that I knew of.

“They
met on a cruise to the Bahamas,” Leslie went on, sounding as if she were
quoting it. “It was love at first sight in the buffet line.”

Instead
of protesting her teasing, Helen giggled. I could only stare. Helen’s husband
had died when I was in middle school. Cancer of some kind, though I couldn’t
remember exactly. In the time since, I’d never seen Helen talk about or spend
time with a man in any other setting but a church potluck or getting her
groceries carried to her car. And I’d never, ever, seen her giggle.

“He
must be pretty special,” I said finally.

“And
loaded,” Leslie added.

Helen
glared at her for that one but it lacked any real fire. “He’s one-of-a-kind,”
Helen agreed. “I told him I’ve always wanted a diamond necklace. Something big
and gaudy like that woman in Titanic.”

“Rose,”
I supplied for her.

“Yes,
that’s the one. Anyway,” she went on, patting her purse, “he bought me one as
an engagement present. I’m going to wear it on our wedding night. On the ship.”
She paused and looked around as if there might be an eavesdropper lurking in
the otherwise empty shop. “And I ain’t wearing nothing else,” she whispered.

Leslie
snorted.

“Wow.
That sounds …” I began.

“Sinful,
I know,” she finished, flashing all her teeth in a mischievous smile.  I
couldn’t help it—I laughed. “I know you think I’m crazy,” she went on, “but I
don’t give two hens’ eggs. Love has a way of making you appreciate the silly.”

My
laughter faded as I pictured Ford at a fancy dinner with dirt up to his elbows.
“It’s not silly, Miss Helen. It’s sexy. I love it.”

“Thank
you, dear.” Helen shot Leslie a look that said, “See?” and gave a “Hmph.”

“You
have a good day,” Leslie said cheerily as she walked the older woman to the
door and held it open. “We’ll see you soon. Enjoy your purchase.”

“Oh,
I plan to,” Helen said on her way out. I stood in the shop’s doorway with
Leslie, watching Helen make her way down the sidewalk. When she was out of
earshot, Leslie let loose with a belly laugh.

“What’s
so funny?” My question only made her laugh harder until she stumbled back
inside and had to hang on to the glass counter to keep from falling over. “It’s
just sad, is all,” Leslie said, wiping her eye.

“What?”

“Miss
Helen has more sex than we do.”

I
put a hand on my hip, intending to snap some retort back at her, but all my
mouth ended up doing was falling open and then curving up. Before I knew it, I
was laughing with her. “You’re right, it’s pathetic.” Then her words dawned on
me. “Wait, what do you mean ‘we?’ What about you and Joe?”

Her
laughter died off and like a switch had been flipped, her expression turned
instantly sad. “Let’s just say life has a way of coming between your plans. And
by life I mean toddlers.”

“Are
you guys having problems?”

“No,”
she said, waving me away. “Not like you mean. But hey, a girl gets frustrated.”

“I’m
sorry, Les,” I said.

“Yeah,
me too.” Her expression turned forcibly cheery. “We’ll figure it out, though.
We always do. Anyway, enough about my drama. What brought you all the way up
here today?”

“Can’t
I just come see my friend at her new job?”

She
cocked her head and raised her brows. “A friend can, yes. Not Summer Stafford,
who is terminally all work and no play.”

“I
am not all work and no play.”

“Sweetie,
you haven’t gone out for fun since before the SATs.”

“You’re
ridiculous. I went out all the time in high school.”

“On
parent-approved dates. With seniors who’d already gotten into top-tier schools.
That’s not fun. That’s strategic.” I opened my mouth but she cut me off, a
manicured hand on her hip. “Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged.

“You’re—”
My shoulders slumped as I thought back over the last few years. Even Aaron fit
into the category she’d described. “Whatever. I can get this from Casey. I
don’t need it from you.” I turned to go but Leslie grabbed my hand and held me
in place.

“No!
Stay. I promise I won’t heckle you anymore. Besides, you’re here now, so maybe
this means a new Summer? A fun Summer?”

“Maybe.”
I sighed, willing the anger away. Leslie had only been messing around. It was
my own stuff that ignited my temper. “I do have a date tonight.”

“Holy
Mother Theresa! With that guy, Ford?”

“Yeah.”

“Ahhhh!”
Her scream drowned out the rest of my words. I covered my ears. “Sorry, sorry,”
she said, lowering her voice by a few decibels.