A Risk Worth Taking (20 page)

Summer

"I mean,
if the relationship can't survive the long term, why on earth would it be worth
my time and energy for the short term?"

—Nicholas
Sparks
,
The Last Song

From
the open bay door of the barn, an engine cranked and turned over, sputtering
and coughing, RPMs running way too high to be healthy. I poked my head in and
spotted a pair of worn boots sticking out from underneath the machine.

“Hey,
Case,” I said.

There
was a banging that sounded like a hammer pounding on metal and then he slid
out, grease staining his hands and running the length of his cheek. 

“How’s
she doing?” I asked.

“Fucking
perfect. Runs like a top.”

I
sucked in a laugh at his sarcastic tone. Casey’s temper had always been
entertaining to me. Maybe because I knew my amusement only made him madder. The
goal of every good sibling, adopted or otherwise.  Still, I knew his limits
when he got like this. I opted for a subject change. Quit while you’re ahead.

“You
comin’ tonight?” I asked.

“Let’s
see. Bonfire. Beer. Girls. Um, let me think about it. YES. I’ll be there.”

I
didn’t doubt it. The bonfire was an annual thing. First Friday in August, rain
or shine. My dad started it years ago to keep morale up just before harvest—a
month-long process that marked the end of the season and extra-long hours for
the entire crew. I usually looked forward to the bonfire. When I was a little
younger, it was a chance to sneak beers after everyone else was too far gone to
notice it wasn’t ginger ale in my Solo. Casey was better at it than me but I’d
snuck my fair share.

This
year, all it did was remind me the season’s end was coming. October would be
here sooner than I wanted. With July fading away, it was all I could think
about anymore.

“Good.
So I’ll see you then. Frank says you and I are on setup this year.”

“Sweet.
That means we’re not on cleanup.”

“Cleanup
sucks,” I agreed. And not because of the mess. The bonfire had no official end
time. Cleanup didn’t usually start until dawn when the last guy passed out.
Last year, I’d passed out in front of the fire only to be woken again at
sunrise to begin my task of bagging all the red plastic cups on the ground. Not
a great way to start your Saturday.

“You
might want to tell Ford that,” Casey said.

“Why’s
that?”

“He’s
the new guy, isn’t he?”

“C’mon,
Case. You can’t make him do cleanup. It’s supposed to go to the youngest.”

“We
had to pay our dues. So does he.”

“That’s
because we were the youngest.”

Casey
shrugged. “He’ll manage.” His eyes widened in mock innocence. “Oh, does that
put a damper on your post-fire plans?”

“Don’t
be jealous, it’s ugly.”

“Of
course I’m jealous. You get to have sex any time you want without the
complication of calling it a relationship. Every guy in Grayson County is
jealous. Hell, the bulk of the planet—”

“It’s
more than just sex,” I snapped.

I
hated having to defend this thing. I’d been doing it for weeks now and I still
had no idea how to answer in a way that would satisfy them. Or myself. I didn’t
regret my decision for a single second. In the past couple months, Ford had
taught me more about what I needed in life, and more importantly, what I
wanted, than anyone else I’d ever met. When this ended, I told myself that
would be enough to make it worth the uncertainty—and the goodbye.

“I
know. Your boyfriend tells me the same thing.”

“He
does?” My heart did a somersault. I hadn’t gotten the nerve to ask Ford about
it again since that first night when I’d brought it up and he’d brushed it so
cleverly aside. Since then I’d learned enough about him to know he wasn’t playing
me. He just didn’t want to call it something official when he was leaving in
three months. Frankly, considering his impending departure, neither did I. It
was too scary.

“Yeah,
not that he has to say much. All you gotta do is look at him to know. Boy’s got
it bad.”

“You
think so?” That made me smile, despite the unease that always settled in my gut
when the subject of my relationship—or whatever you called it—was brought up.

“I
know so,” Casey said as he slid back under the tractor. “Now I just need to get
me a deal like yours and we can all live happily ever after.”

Happily
Ever After. That was the only thing my story lacked.

After
dinner, Casey and I spent an hour hauling wood to the bonfire site. “So glad we
have the trailer for this,” I said, jumping off the top of the pile as he
braked to a stop on the four-wheeler. I hefted a handful of logs and carried
them to the pyre, setting them in place against the teepee shape we’d built.

“No
shit. Last year, I had to carry it by hand.”

I
smirked. “I can’t feel sorry for you.”

Casey
had done setup on his own last year after racing Frank on the small
tractors—and losing. His punishment was not riding anything with a motor for a
week. His stomping and complaining afterward had been funnier than watching two
grown men race on glorified lawn mowers. The way Casey had leaned forward in an
attempt to go faster reminded me of the way he’d always jump right along with
the little man on the screen when he played video games.

We
stacked the last of the wood and sat back to survey our work. “Looks good,”
Casey said. “A little spark to the newspaper and she’ll light right up.”

“Good.
Let’s get the kegs set up. We deserve the first beer of the night for this.”

We
unloaded the kegs and the folding tables and chairs, setting them around the
fire in a loose circle. I was careful to keep the booze far away from the
stacked wood. Drunk and fire didn’t mix well. I’d seen it firsthand and Frank
still had a burn scar on his arm to prove it.

Casey
poured two beers from the keg and handed a cup to me. “Cheers, sis. To another
season.”

“To
another season,” I echoed, pretending I wasn’t thinking of fall and all the
reasons I had to curse it instead of toast it.

Trying
to drown out my thoughts, I gulped half the cup before taking a breath. “Damn,”
Casey said. Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut short by a yell.

“Hey,
you two, save some for us,” Frank called from the other side of the pyre. He
and my dad rounded the circle of wood and grinned at us.

“We’re
just taste testing,” Casey said.

My
dad rolled his eyes. “And for that, we’re grateful. Now pour me a cup and light
this baby. The village people are on their way.”

As
proof, two more heads appeared over the horizon. Joe and Ford. “Are we late?”
Joe called.

“Nope.
Cleanup doesn’t start for at least another twelve hours,” Frank said.

“Wait,”
Ford said. “Cleanup isn’t code for babysitting pukers is it? Because, Casey, I
am not holding your hair.”

“You
will if I need it,” Casey said. “Especially since I did it for you last
weekend.”

“You
held something, but it wasn’t my hair,” Ford shot back.

“Can
someone please hand me a beer? I can’t listen to this conversation sober,” my
dad said.

“Done
and done,” Casey said with a grin. He patted my dad on the back before heading for
the fire pit. “Summer, man the keg. I’m lightin’ the blaze.” He produced a
lighter from his pocket and crouched down, balling paper and stuffing it
underneath the stacked wood.

I
poured my dad a beer and handed it to him. “Stay close,” he said. “I’m going to
need a lot more of these if this is how tonight’s going to be.”

“Isn’t
it always?” I asked.

“More
or less. Which is why we always have lots of this,” he said, bringing his cup
to his lips and taking a swig. I laughed.

“Casey’s
not beer bitch?” someone else called.

I
had to squint against the glare of the dying sun before I recognized who’d
spoken. “Danny Hart?” Casey called, using his hand to block the glare as he
stared at one of the three figures topping the hill.

“In
the flesh,” Danny said, spreading his arms wide.

My
stomach sank. The teasing was inevitable. Only a matter of time.

“Well,
damn, haven’t seen you in forever,” Casey said, giving Danny a firm handshake.
Around here, the firmer the grip—the more swing it had on it—the better you knew
the person.  Danny gave it right back with a big grin.

“Been
away, working on a farm out west for a while.”

The
guy beside him snickered. “He doesn’t like to say he’s been in West Virginia.”

“It’s
a side he’s always tried to fight,” Casey agreed. “But his sister’s ugly as
hell so that helps.”

Danny
punched Casey in the arm but Casey only laughed. Danny glared after him. “Let
me get you a beer. Make it up to you,” Casey said. “Summer, get this guy a
beer.”

I
scowled—at being volunteered and at the attention. Danny seemed to see me for
the first time. “Summer Stafford,” he said, making it sound like a question. He
took a step toward me. I ignored him and went to the keg. I poured slowly, glad
to have something else to focus on.

Some
girls might’ve gotten stuck on their first kiss or held some special place for
them because of the experience. Not me. Any time spent with Danny usually ended
with me wishing for a time machine so I could go back and kiss someone else
instead. Anyone else. A frog. At least frogs didn’t act like a dumbass sober
and a womanizer when drunk. Which was a lot.

“Good
to see you, Danny,” I said, my tone a direct contradiction to the words as I
handed him the drink.

Danny
took it and looked me up and down, obviously appraising me before taking a
swig. “Good to see you too,” he returned. “All of you. Big city treated you
just right.”

“Thanks.”
My voice was completely flat but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His
smile widened.

“No.
Thank you.” He held his glass up in an unspoken toast and then tipped it back,
downing half the contents in two swigs. “Boys? You want?”

“Sure.”
His two companions stepped up to the keg. I filled and handed out cups as
introductions were made. Jimmy and Mark. I’d gone to high school with both of
them but never really spoken to either one. They were Danny’s friends. Cut from
the same cloth. I tried not to run into guys like them. I didn’t even know what
they were doing here now.

“Nice
to see you boys,” my dad said, his tone full of polite.

“Glad
you could make it,” Frank said. “Danny is doing some off-season repairs for us
this winter. Going to get the greenhouses re-sealed. I thought I’d invite him
out to hang with us and see how we do it in high season.”

Ah,
Frank. You’re who I would kill later.

Over
the next hour, the rest of the crew showed up. Leslie came with a few girls I’d
gone to high school with, causing Casey to sit a little straighter. The fire
blazed. The sun set. The drinks flowed. Tree stumps cut down to make chairs
were rolled out and set around the fire. At one point, someone drove the
four-wheeler back and got the boards and bags from the garage and set up
cornhole. I watched Casey and Frank take on Danny and Mark.

“Not
a fan of cornhole?”

I
looked up as Ford sat down next to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. The
firelight danced on his skin, illuminating one side and shadowing the other.
His angular jaw and the hint of stubble in the low light had to be the sexiest
thing I’d seen all day. I’d spent the last hour trying not to get caught staring
at him as he stood and talked to Joe about brands of topsoil. Ford was hard not
to stare at.

“Not
a fan of Danny,” I admitted.

He
leaned in and in a low voice asked, “Is this the infamous
Danny-what’s-his-slobber?”