Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (19 page)

Glancing back at her, he said, “Ride hard. You’re fast and strong. We can outrun it. I’ll be right behind you.”

Fast and strong.
The last two things she felt like right now.

Her eyes were so full of unshed tears, she couldn’t see him clearly, but she nodded, then kicked Heath into a gallop. Tears slipped from her eyes as the wind whipped into her face, and she closed them, grateful that Heath knew the way home.

***

The next morning was Sunday, and more gray skies made the world feel cold and uncertain, and Ginger awoke feeling unsettled and confused after her talk with Cain yesterday. Her dreams had been wild and restless, leaving her tired. Instead of leaping out of bed and dressing for church, she burrowed under the covers seeking a peace that she couldn’t find.

On one hand, he seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length. On the other, she couldn’t have misunderstood his meaning about missing her. Unlike that time in her kitchen, he hadn’t tried to cover up his words with some song and dance about missing his dad and Woodman. When he said he’d miss her, he’d been speaking to
her
. And she’d heard him, loud and clear.

But at twenty-one, Cain really didn’t seem to have a plan for his life. He seemed much younger than her and Woodman in many ways, talking about touring Europe on his motorcycle, without any idea if he’d reenlist or do something else with his life. Before leaving for boot camp, Woodman had had such a clear plan for his life: five years in the service, three years in active Reserves, then working on her father’s farm and volunteering at the fire department until he saved up enough to buy a house in Apple Valley. And yes, his plan would have to be rearranged a little bit in light of his injury, but at least she’d known his plan, and she liked the comfort and security of it. The predictability of it appealed to her and felt safe. But Cain? Cain was footloose and fancy-free—no solid plan for his life. Just a young man with a twinkle in his eye who saw the world as a playground just waiting to be explored.

For all her parents’ wealth, which could have easily funded a wanderlust of her own, Ginger had no real interest in travel. She was a small-town girl who liked her small-town life. She was content to live in the cottage on her parents’ property until she got married and settled down, content to take nursing classes at a community college and intern at the retirement home where her gran lived. Ginger didn’t have big dreams about leaving Apple Valley and traveling the world. Her dreams were small and local. Which meant that here and now—at eighteen and twenty-one—she and Cain were all but incompatible when it came down to their visions for the future. They wanted different things from life. They wanted very different things.

And yet.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself free rein, fantasizing about what she
really
wanted.

In her wildest dreams—in her perfect world—she would give her virginity to Cain over the next few days, and he would take it tenderly, declaring his eternal and undying love for her. When he left, he’d promise to write, and they would exchange passionate letters sharing their deep and growing love and counting down the days when they could be together again. She’d meet him in Virginia, and they’d spend a long weekend in a hotel together. He’d surprise her by coming home for a weekend in the spring, unable to stay away, and they’d hole up in her cottage until it was time for him to go. And then, well, when his year was up, he’d race home to her, all wild fantasies of biking through Europe thrust to the side because being with her was all the adventure he really wanted. He’d decide not to reenlist and go into the active Reserves instead, because choosing to be away from her was unthinkable. Over time he’d come to truly love Apple Valley for the first time in his life—she’d
help
him love it, help make a home for him, help him be happy. He’d work at the fire department, and one day she’d come home from work and he’d pop the question—
Will you marry me, princess?
And she’d say
Yes, yes, yes!
And they’d live happily ever after.

“Happily ever after,” she whispered. “Ginger and Cain Wolfram.”

But saying the names aloud sounded so unlikely that the beautiful, impossible dream in her head blurred as her eyes filled with tears that pooled in the corners until they slipped into her hair. The problem with this plan?

It wasn’t Cain’s plan.

It was Woodman’s.

And the great dilemma of her life—loving two different parts of two different men—came into stark focus as she realized, yet again, that while one man could offer her the sweetness and stability she craved, it was the other who challenged her and set her heart on fire. She could have security with Woodman or electricity with Cain, but she couldn’t have both with one. Neither cousin could offer her both.

Flipping onto her side, she nestled her cheek into her pillow, staring out the window at the meadows and fields of the farm. She was frustrated and sad, and time wasn’t on her side where Cain was concerned.

“Stop thinking about forever,” she pleaded with herself. “What do you want
now
?”

The answer came swiftly:
I want Cain. For however long I can have him.

The thoughts were perfectly formed, and if she hadn’t yet seen them in her head or heard them in her ears, it didn’t matter, because she recognized their absolute truth now. Cain had been her first kiss. She wanted him to be her first lover too.

Her inexperienced body came alive when Cain was near—secret, hidden places clenching and releasing in want and readiness, her nipples beading, and shivers of pleasure sluicing down her back. She didn’t feel this sort of desire for anyone else—she never had. And at eighteen, she was long past ready to experience lovemaking, but she’d saved herself . . . for Cain.

And yes, she knew that dozens had come before her, but she also knew he hadn’t loved any of them.

And yes, she knew that he would leave her to go back to the service, but part of her hoped that if they slept together, he’d have something to come home to.

And yes, she knew that he had a yearning to wander, but another part of her hoped that if they loved each other—if they shared their bodies and said the words and knew they were true—that he’d consider a future in Apple Valley because
she
was in Apple Valley, and his longing to be with her, to choose her, would be so great, he’d have no choice but to obey it.

And in the end, yes, it was possible she’d give Cain her virginity and she’d never see him again, but . . . but . . .

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the shadows on her ceiling. Could she handle that? Could she bear having Cain for a handful of days and then losing him forever?

The answer came swiftly yet again.

Yes, I could bear it.

The only thing she couldn’t bear was never having him at all.

She had five days left with Cain, and regardless of when and if she ever saw him again, she wanted all of him now. She wanted to know, even for a few short days, what it felt like to love and be loved by him. If she had to, she’d live on that bliss, that certain heaven, those passionate memories, for the rest of her life.

And, yes, she’d make a good life for herself in Apple Valley with a good man. She’d have a home and children—a decent, respectable, stable life that she would guard and treasure. But, like Cain’s lust for wandering, Ginger lusted for Cain, and she wanted the memory of fleeting hours spent in his arms, of his body moving against hers, of her heart in his hands, of her soul tangled up inexorably with his before he left her indefinitely again.

***

“
Servus, Klaus
,” she said, swinging by the barn on a search for Cain after church and finding his father mucking out one of the many stables.

She’d put her increasingly impure thoughts out of her mind for an hour of services, but all her lusty feelings had returned in a rush when she’d gone home to change into her white lace underwear, tight jeans, and a form-fitting scoop-neck black sweater. Her hair was down, curlier than usual because rain was imminent again, and she’d darkened her eyes and lips with makeup. She didn’t want Cain to hesitate. She wanted this to happen.

“Ginger!
Guten Tag
.” He leaned on a shovel handle and grinned at her. “I sent him over to the old barn to pile wood.”

Ginger nodded, turning to leave. “Thanks. I’ll go find him there.”

Klaus dropped the shovel and rushed ahead of her, grabbing a yellow raincoat from a peg outside the tack room and holding it out for her. “Rain comin’.”

“
Danke,
Klaus,” she said, grinning at the old man she’d known her whole life.

His ice-blue eyes, replicas of Cain’s, searched hers before he nodded, swallowing whatever words he was about to say.

She waved good-bye and headed out to find Cain.

The old barn was a structure that had originally housed the McHuid horses a hundred years ago, when Ginger’s great-grandfather had first bought the land of McHuid Farm and settled in Apple Valley. When Ginger’s grandfather had taken over the farm, in the 1950s, he’d built the present manor house and in-law cottage on a bluff about a mile south of the original farmhouse and barn. The small farmhouse had been razed to discourage squatters and unsanctioned teen parties, but the old barn had been kept in working condition for visiting stock. Ginger’s father, however, had renovated the modern barn at the foot of the hill and hadn’t had any use for the old barn in a decade or more. The last time she’d visited the place, a year or two ago, it had been dilapidated, the roof caving in and boards missing from the walls. Klaus was determined to dismantle the barn piece by piece and sell the wood, much of which was still in excellent condition. And Ginger’s father had told him he could keep whatever profits were to be made if he handled the work and sales on his own.

As Ginger hiked through one empty paddock and then another, a light rain started to fall, and she was grateful for Klaus’s foresight, regardless of the fact that the buttoned slicker ruined her sexy outfit. No matter. She was a woman on a mission, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach and the condom in her pocket. If she overthought her plan to seduce Cain, she might lose her nerve, and she couldn’t miss out on this chance. She had to act quickly if she wanted to be with him before he left again.

After fifteen minutes of trudging, she arrived at the ridge that looked down into one of the many McHuid valleys to see the old barn down below. And there, working in the rain, carrying boards to a neat pile a few yards from the barn, was Cain.

Standing unobserved on the hill, she watched him for several long moments, her heart throbbing and bursting with love for him. He was bare chested again, his jeans low on his hips, haphazardly tucked into beat-up, tan work boots. His chest was shiny—either from sweat or the rain, she didn’t know—but she was mesmerized by the toned, sculpted beauty of him.

“Cain!” she called, raising her hand in greeting.

He turned around, and as always, his smile was quick and wide, taking over his face the moment he laid eyes on her. It gave her confidence and hope. It propelled her forward, down the hill, and hopefully into his arms.

“Hi,” she panted, offering him a smile of her own as she drew closer. She took a deep breath to quell the butterflies in her stomach. The old barn looked ethereal with the dark clouds overhead, and she ducked inside, hoping he’d follow.

“What’re you doin’ here, princess?” he asked, leaning down to pick up a water bottle he’d left on one of the abandoned stall doors to take a long sip.

Ginger stared at his lips, watching the way they puckered and drank, the way his tongue slipped between them to lick the excess droplets, the way he backhanded his mouth and grinned at her with curiosity.

“Cat got your tongue?”

She searched his face. Now that she was here, her courage was failing, and she couldn’t seem to find the words she needed.

“I wanted . . . I wanted to see you. I have somethin’ I need to say.” Her voice sounded thready and high, and she cleared her throat, gesturing to the bottle in his hands. “Can I have some?”

He reached out slowly, handing her the bottle, and she took it, her fingers brushing his and sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. She held his eyes as she raised the bottle and placed her lips around the spout where his had just sucked.

Cain stared at her with interest, in growing realization, his eyes increasingly hot, his half-naked body primed and sleek before her.

When she lowered the bottle, she licked her lips slowly, deliberately, her breath hitching as his eyes lowered to her mouth and lingered there.

“What do you want, Gin?” he asked, still staring at her mouth, his voice low and gravelly.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her raincoat pressed against his chest, her breasts straining through two layers of clothes. “Cain, there isn’t much time until you go, and I want . . . I mean, I feel like . . .”

He didn’t move away from her, and when he took a deep breath, his chest pushed into hers insistently, making her tender breasts ache for his touch. She gasped softly, and he cut his eyes to hers, reaching out to put his hands on her upper arms and kneading them gently. “You feel like what, princess?”