A Risk Worth Taking (13 page)

“Geez,
Leslie. I’d like to keep my hearing a little longer.”

“Right,
sorry. I’m just excited for you. He’s hot. And yummy. And you’re—”

“No
fun?” I finished.

“That
is not what I was going to say. This is a big deal. You’re doing something that
wasn’t part of the plan. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,
Les.”

“Where
is he taking you?”

“I
don’t know. Dinner. I left it up to him.”

“Oh,
Lord. That could mean anything from Dickie’s Barbeque to a burger at Sadie’s.
What are you wearing?”

“And
that’s why I’m here.”

Leslie
whooped. “Good, because that is something you can’t get from Casey.”

“I
shudder to think what he’d pick out,” I agreed.

“Although,
his choice might not be far off from mine in this case,” she added, tapping her
chin thoughtfully.

“Leslie,”
I warned.

“You
definitely need something slexy.”

“Slexy?”
I repeated.

“You
know, slutty and sexy all at once. It’s classier than just being slutty by
itself.” She eyed me top to bottom. “Too bad booty shorts won’t work because
you’ve got slexy down right now.”

“What
have I gotten myself into?”

Leslie
grinned. “No complaining. You’ve just given me purpose. Come on.” She grabbed
her bag from behind the counter and flipped the sign on the door to “Closed.”

“Where
are we going?” I asked, letting her lead me out the door by the wrist.

“Where
every girl goes before her first date with a guy hot enough to melt the
silicone out of implants. Lingerie shopping.”

Any
protests I might’ve made were swallowed up by Leslie’s villainous laugh.

I‘d
seen bigger dresses on toddlers. It’s all I could think as I sashayed this way
and that in front of my bedroom mirror that evening. But it was twirly and the
print was cute. If I’d been more daring, I might’ve picked it for myself.
Maybe. If it had six more inches of fabric. On the top
and
bottom.

The
clock on the nightstand read a quarter ’til. If I hurried, I could still throw
on jeans and boots and pretend I didn’t own this slip of a dress—or the pale
green bra and panties I advertised from underneath when the light hit just
right.

As
if my thoughts had sent a homing beacon out into the universe, the doorbell
rang. Ford was early. Leslie was trying to kill me.

Voices
sounded in the front entryway. Baritones. My dad, Ford, and if I wasn’t
mistaken, Frank. Why was he still here? Oh yeah, to witness the debacle firsthand
and feed it to the gossiping masses, no doubt. I was glad I’d opted for wedged
sandals instead of rickety heels. I lifted my almost-straightened hair off my
neck and frowned. My skin felt clammy. Why was I so nervous? It’s not like Ford
was a complete stranger or anything. And I’d had dates before. Lots of them.

Just
never with a guy that makes your knees sweat.

Yeah,
there was that.

I
grabbed my purse, closed my eyes for a moment to balance myself, and headed
downstairs. Halfway down, a stair creaked under my feet and the group looked
up. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. I knew if I met
Ford’s stare, I’d lose it. Already, I could feel the heat building as I got
closer to where he waited.

The
moment my feet touched the first floor, Frank whistled long and low. “You
letting her out like that, Dean?”

“Where’d
you get that dress?” My dad’s frown left deep creases across his forehead and
chin.

“Leslie
picked it out,” I said matter-of-factly, determined to ignore his disapproval.
I was twenty-two. If I wanted to go out dressed slexy, that was my choice. “Do
you like it?”

My
dad’s frown deepened. Frank snorted, and I shot him a look. “Very pretty,”
Frank added.

“You
look … nice,” my dad said finally. Relief settled between my shoulders.

There
was nothing left to do but look at Ford. When I did, my breath caught. He was
already staring; I’d given him plenty of time for a full-length sweep and if
he’d had a reaction similar to my dad’s or Frank’s, he didn’t show it now. His
eyes were wide, the color a lighter shade of blue than usual; it matched his
button-down shirt perfectly. He stood with hands at his sides, wiggling his
fingers before wiping them against his pants.

“You
look …” He swallowed and seemed to forget he’d spoken at all.

Leslie,
you are a goddess.
I would let that girl pick out my clothes until
my funeral came and went if it got this sort of reaction.

Frank’s
shoulders shook in silent but soon-to-be-way-too-loud laughter. Without taking
my eyes off Ford, I planted my fist in Frank’s ribcage and he shut up. “You
ready?” I asked with mock sweetness, wondering when exactly I’d become the
confident one. The one able to string whole thoughts together.

“Let’s
get going,” Ford agreed. He took my hand as he led me to the door, and the
warmth from his touch spread like a blanket up my fingertips and arm. I knew
the moment it hit my neck, my skin would be visibly red. I might as well have a
blinking neon sign that read “this guy makes me hot and bothered.” I really
didn’t want to be scrutinized by the welcoming committee for that one. I
quickened my pace and scurried out.

“Have
fun,” Frank called as I pulled the door closed behind us.

I
shook my head and stopped short when I saw the vehicles parked in the drive. I
looked from the two dirt bikes down to my tiny dress and sandals.

“Hmm,”
Ford said, also looking back and forth between the two.

“Dirt
bikes?” On a date? A first date? It actually sounded like a lot of fun. And a
far cry from any other date I’d been on. “I can go change,” I began, turning
back to the house.

“No,
don’t do that,” he said quickly. Our eyes caught and his sparkled with the
small smile on his lips. “Definitely don’t do that.”

“I
can’t ride like this,” I said.

“Very
true,” he agreed. “It just means we’ll have to change our mode of
transportation, because you are most definitely not taking that dress off.
Well, not yet,” he added with a wink.

I
shivered.

“Come
on. Let’s go get my wheels.” He tugged me in the other direction and we left
the dirt bikes behind as we headed up the drive toward Ford’s house.

“You
own a car?” I tried to remember if I’d ever seen him with a vehicle. Come to
think of it, I hadn’t. It reminded me how little I knew about him. “What kind
is it?”

“A
’71 Chevy C10.” I stared blankly back at him. He shook his head. “A truck,” he
amended.

“Wait
a second. You own a Chevy?” I giggled.

“Yeah.
So?”         

“Your
name is Ford and you own a Chevy?”

“Har-har.
That’s hilarious.”

I
tilted my head at him. “Are you named after the car company or something?”

“No,
I am not named after a car company.” He poked me in the ribs and I pulled free
to dance out of reach.

“What’re
you named after, then? Melting glaciers?”

“I
told you, it was my grandma’s maiden name—You know what, I’m getting you for
that one.” He bolted forward, fingers outstretched. I shrieked and took off as
he gave chase.

By
the time I reached the turnoff for his driveway, my lungs and legs burned.
Mostly my legs. These sandals were a bitch to run in. But every time I tried to
slow down, Ford would accelerate, so I kept moving until I couldn’t go a second
longer. At his mailbox, I bent over, hands on my knees, and sucked in oxygen.
Beside me, Ford did the same, bending until we were eye to eye.

“You’re
fast,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he added, “for a girl.”

I
straightened and lunged. Ford took off for the house, both of us laughing. I
caught up to him as he reached the porch, jabbing my fingers into his ribs. He
jumped and grabbed my wrists, trapping them between his hands.

“Okay,
okay. You’re fast for anyone,” he corrected. “But I have to admit, a part of me
didn’t really want to catch up. The view from the back while you ran was
something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

I
didn’t know what to say to that. I stilled, instantly forgetting what had led
him to take my wrists in the first place. All I could think was how much I
wanted his hands in different places than where they currently rested. My
thoughts must’ve been written on my face, because his smile faded and his hold
on my wrists became a caress. In slow motion, he bent forward.

Hurry
up!
Had
I ever wanted anything more than Ford’s mouth against mine right now?

I
sighed into the kiss, my body going limp in a relief that could only be given
through physical contact. His hands released my wrists and found their way to
my hips. Instantly, my muscles tightened and I pressed in, opening my mouth and
letting my tongue run over his bottom lip.

Ford
groaned. “You gotta be careful with that move.”

“Why
is that?”

“Much
more of it and this’ll be the most backwards date ever.” At my raised brows, he
explained, “Dessert and then dinner.” He gently set me aside and fumbled with
the door handle. “I’ll grab keys and be right back.”

“I
can’t come in?”

“Not
if you ever want to leave,” he said as he disappeared inside.

I
sat on the top step to wait, smiling to myself. No one had ever admitted to
being this distracted by me. And it was nice to know my reaction to Ford wasn’t
one-sided. Oh, this could be fun.

A
moment later, Ford appeared with a set of keys in hand. I stood up and smoothed
my dress to make sure it fell low enough to cover everything it should. Ford’s
eyes tracked my movements, lingering on the short hemline before he abruptly
descended the steps on his way to the detached garage. I waited while he pulled
the bay door open. My eyes widened when I saw the truck parked inside.

“This
is Darla,” he said, with a sweeping gesture. “What do you think?”

“I
love it,” I told him, walking slowly forward so I could admire her. I didn’t
know much about cars, but I could appreciate its perfect condition and grungy,
retro blue paint job. “She’s gorgeous.”

He
stared back at me, his gaze never once including the truck as he said, “Yes,
she is.”

Ford

“The world is
full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
―W.B. Yeats

All the
way through the restaurant parking lot, I walked a little slower than Summer.
As she passed through the front door, a burst of air from the AC ruffled the
bottom of her dress and my breath caught in my chest until I almost choked. I
owed endless favors to whichever of her friends had picked that dress—judging
by the way she kept tugging at the hemline I figured it wasn’t something she’d
chosen on her own.

Where
her thick waves of hair ended, her legs began, almost like she wasn’t wearing
anything at all. My jeans grew tighter at the thought of her naked. Shit. I had
a crowded dining room to get through.
Dying kittens. Dying kittens.

I
held her chair and then sat quickly, hoping no one noticed I was harder than a
seventh grader copping his first feel.

“Hey,
y’all.” Our waitress appeared, smacking her gum between her lips in a way that
allowed you to see the entire process. Classy place. Last time I’d listen to
Casey on a good dinner spot. “What can I get y’all to drink?”

 “I’ll
have a water, please,” Summer said.

“I’ll
have the same.”

“Sure
thing.” The waitress smiled brightly, popped her gum, and left.

I
still couldn’t look at Summer. Not enough kittens for that. So I looked
everywhere else, pretending to be interested in the décor. It was a mish-mash
of antiques and junk hanging from nails or propped on worn shelves. There was a
rooster theme along one wall that was interrupted in the middle by a boar’s
head before the theme changed to stuffed squirrels along the other half of
peeling wallpaper.

“This
place is …” I didn’t bother finishing as our waitress reappeared and set two
already-sweating water glasses in front of us. She walked off again without a
word.

Summer
caught my eye. “The food’s good,” she said.

“Good.
If not, I’d have to take you home early so I could kick Casey’s ass for
suggesting this place.”

She
laughed. “Well, don’t let me hold you back. Casey’s ass never stops needing to
be kicked.”

God,
I loved her laugh. It was real—deep enough that you knew she meant it. Not fake
and tinny like some girls. It made me wish I could repeat whatever it was I’d
done just to hear it again. “Maybe after dinner, we’ll go together,” I said,
earning a chuckle.

“I’m
in,” she said.

The
waitress returned, and Summer ordered the “country plate,” whatever that was.
“I’ll have the same,” I said as I handed my menu back.

“You
like country food?” Summer asked.

“I
like food. I don’t discriminate on which kind.”

Another
laugh. Score.

“So,
what’s the story with you two?” I asked.

“Who?”

“You
and Casey. You guys have been friends your whole life?” I’d heard the story
from him but I wanted her version. Partly to hear her talk and partly because I
felt compelled to know this girl.

She
nodded and sipped her water. I stared at her mouth. “Casey’s parents were
killed in a car accident when he was five. Frank was named in the will for
custody so he brought Casey home to Grayson. The two have been here ever
since.”

“Frank’s
his uncle?”

“Yeah,
his dad’s brother, but Frank officially adopted Casey a year after the
accident, so he’s been like a parent.”

“Wow,
that’s pretty great on Frank’s part. A single guy taking a kid on like that
with no experience.”

“Frank’s
rough around the edges but he’s a sweetheart,” she said. “And he loves Casey
like a son.”

“And
you guys aren’t related? I heard you call him ‘Uncle Frank’ the other day.”

“Frank
and my dad have been best friends their whole life. Grew up here together. He’s
like family.”

“And
Casey’s always been like your brother?” I pressed. I was fairly certain there
weren’t any feelings between them, but I had to be sure I wasn’t walking into
the middle of something I had no business getting between. So far, every
comment and expression I’d seen from Casey had been nothing more than
sibling-like affection, but I needed to be one hundred percent sure Summer felt
the same.

She
scowled at that. “Being an only child, I can’t say for sure. If you mean he
drives me crazy and plotting ways to torture him is one of my favorite hobbies,
then yes, he’s like my brother.”

I
laughed, relieved that my assessment of them had been correct, and sat back,
allowing the waitress to set a steaming plate of food in front of me. The aroma
hit my senses and I inhaled appreciatively. “If this tastes as good as it
smells, I’ll take back my original assessment of the place,” I said.

“Mmm.”
Summer took a bite and closed her eyes and I had to think about seven different
ways to kill a cat. I desperately wanted to be that food. Or capable of some
skill that would make her look that way about me. I scooped up a forkful of
sweet potatoes and shoveled it in before I could say something to that effect.

The
rest of the meal passed with small talk and me eating my words—literally—about
the quality of food being served in a place that had hub caps hanging above
their restroom doors. “I stand corrected. Sadie’s is pretty good,” I told
Summer as we left. She beamed at me, waved to the waitress, and led the way to
the truck. 

“There’s
something refreshing about a guy who can admit he’s wrong,” she said as we got
on the road.

I
glanced over, mouth open, ready to throw a smart-ass retort back, but the words
died. She’d rolled her window down and leaned over so that her right arm hung
in the open air, palm open and flat as her hand surfed the wind. Tendrils of
chestnut hair flew as they danced around her face. The breeze caught the edges
of her dress, teasing it a few more centimeters up her tanned thighs. How was
it possible her legs extended so far up her body?

And
her smell—even with the window down it got to me. Something musky and flowery,
though I couldn’t place it. Sad for a guy with a degree in plant life. Every
time it hit me, I stopped and tried to place it, but before I could, it was always
followed by something foreign and exotic. I’d never smelled anything—or
anyone—like it.

“Are
you trying to figure a way to backtrack?” she prompted.

She
looked over. I’d been quiet too long.

“What?”
she prompted.

Shit.
And now she’d caught me staring. I forced my eyes back to the road. This girl
was like black magic. And I was already under her spell.

I
concentrated on the words spoken—not the picture of the girl who’d said them.
There. My brain was working again. “I’m just trying to memorize this moment so
that when you forget it later, accusing me of perfection, I can point out I am,
in fact, not.”

She
snorted. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Could
a snort be cute? Had I ever thought so before? Pretty sure this was a first.

When
I made the turn onto a side road, Summer’s brows rose, though she didn’t look
particularly upset at not being driven straight home. “Are you lost?”

“I
haven’t found Jesus if that’s what you mean.”

“I
didn’t know you were looking for him.”

I
laughed. “Touche.”

Thick
woods closed in around us and the road narrowed. Summer cocked her head at me,
the filtered light throwing shadows over her features. “Is this the part where
you tell me phase two of our date is to join the secret group of devil
worshippers in the woods behind your house?”

“Only
if it means you’ll dance naked in front of a fire.”

“That’s
witches. Not Satanists.”

“True.
And I believe in magic way more than I believe in Hell.”

“You
believe in magic?” she asked, her tone turning serious as Darla bounced over a
pothole.

I
gave her a sideways look. “You know, most girls would’ve asked me why I don’t
believe in Hell.”

She
shrugged. “I’m not most girls. Hell seems easy.”

“And
magic doesn’t?”

She
held her bottom lip between her teeth, something I’d seen her do when she was
unsure of herself. “Magic seems like something you’d have to experience to
believe.”

“No
way. You’ve got it backwards. Credendo Vides.”

“What
is that?”

“Latin.
It means believing is seeing. It was my senior quote.”

“Believing
is seeing,” she repeated. There went the lip between the teeth again. I waited,
knowing she needed time to let it all process. I could picture the wheels
turning in her mind, like cogs in a clock. This girl was all logic, all black
and white. What I’d just said was probably so far out of left field—

“I
like it. It means anything is possible as long as you believe it first.”

I
smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

“Like
magic,” she added.

“Like
magic,” I agreed, making the next turn.

I
slowed, remembering how the pavement ran out and the road turned to dirt up
ahead. I’d only been back here a few times when I’d first moved to town. Back
then, the road had been dry. It must’ve rained a few times since. Just ahead
where the pavement ran out, the road was riddled with potholes, same as before.
Only this time, they were filled with water. Deep grooves left behind by the
tires of the last visitor were also filled with water.  Or, more specifically,
mud. In fact, there wasn’t much road that wasn’t mud.

We
hit the first large pothole and the truck bounced hard before I managed to pull
Darla to a stop. “Hang tight,” I said, throwing an arm around the back of the
seat and twisting around for a better view as I hit reverse.

“What
are you doing?” Summer asked.

“Change
of plans.”

“What
was the original plan?”

“This
road comes out near the edge of the mountain. It’s a killer view of the
sunset.”

“Well,
why are you turning around?” she pressed.

I
glanced at her, questioningly. “Did you miss the fact that the road is full of
yesterday’s rain?”

“So?”
she shrugged.

“So
… it’s a mess.”

“And
you don’t want to get Darla dirty?”

“Not
exactly. It would be really bumpy.”

Her
brows shot up. “You’re worried about me?” I didn’t answer and she crossed her
tanned arms over her chest. “Stop the truck,” she ordered.

“What?
Why?” I braked to a hard stop, concerned at the sharpness in her tone. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing’s
wrong. I want to go see the sunset.”

“It’s
too muddy.”

“Would
you do it if I wasn’t here?”

“Probably,”
I admitted.

“So,
you’re turning back because, what? Because I’m a girl? Because I might … get
dirty?”

“Maybe.”

Her
expression darkened and she smiled devilishly. “I thought you said you wanted
me to be dirty.”

Holy
Mother …
I tried to swallow but it stuck in my throat. My tongue
grated like sandpaper. There was something about a proper girl talking dirty …
What was I supposed to say to that? I cleared my throat. “Sunset it is.”

I
put the truck back into “drive” and we sped forward.

“So,
we’re not going to hang out with devil worshipers?” she asked as we bumped and
jostled our way through the puddles.

“Sorry
to disappoint.”

She
lowered her lashes and her smile turned shy. “You haven’t disappointed me at
all,” she said.

The
truck bounced and I had to jerk the steering wheel hard to avoid an oak that’d
grown too close the road. It saved me from having to respond. A good thing
because we’d just gone from innocent to dirty and back fast enough to give me
whiplash. I had no idea which one to respond to first. If at all.

Conversation
was impossible with the way the truck jolted and splashed over the road as I
took us up the wooded hillside. I wasn’t sorry for it either as I stole glances
of Summer’s chest bouncing up and down in that gauzy little dress. I was just
able to recognize a green bra through the fabric.

I
shifted in my seat and forced my eyes back on the road. Any more of that and I
wouldn’t be able to walk once we reached our destination.

Up
ahead, the road wound hard to the left. I slowed to a stop, knowing it dead
ended just beyond the turn. Sure enough, as we rounded the bend, the trees
abruptly gave way to reveal the prettiest overlook I’d found since my arrival.

“I
didn’t even know this was here,” Summer said, staring out at the rolling hills
below the cliff’s edge.