Chaste (McCullough Mountain) (15 page)

She
frowned. His attraction didn’t make sense. She wasn’t sexy. She was…frumpy and
always smelled like soil, sweat, and sunbaked cotton. Her hair was a mess of
cropped spikes that never looked the way it was supposed to. Admitting all of
the above only puzzled her more. What exactly were his motives?

Ashlynn
would never forgive herself if she turned down the opportunity to kiss Kelly
and perhaps experiment with a bit more. It had been everything she’d always
wanted. Kelly was the first boy to catch her notice and he held that notice for
ten long, lonely years. So why was she hesitating?

This
was why chastity worked for her. It was a thoughtful promise, a commitment to
herself that obligated her to sift through all the drama and screen for a man
who truly wanted…her, wanted her enough to want her forever. It put her heart
and soul before her body or his.

Kelly
certainly wasn’t that man. It was inevitable that he’d eventually abandon her.
If she did this she couldn’t allow herself to look at him as a long-term thing.
She’d have to constantly keep her wits about her in order to protect her heart.
Maybe his proposition was a bad idea.

Her
eyes shut as she prepared to tell him no, but her mouth said something
altogether different. “Will you kiss me again?”

The
soft leather creaked quietly and she tensed. Warmth spread over her as he
leaned in and cupped her cheek. “I’ve been dying to,” he whispered, his breath
tickling her lips as his soft mouth closed over hers.

Like
before, a thousand sparks went off inside of her. Her toes curled and she
sighed. This time, a bit more confident, she shifted her body and reached
blindly for his shoulders.

His
skin was hot under the cotton of his shirt. Her hands gently touched his strong
chest and his fingers closed over hers, pressing her palms until she could feel
how tense his muscles were there. It was surreal.

“Don’t
be shy, love,” he whispered, tilting his head to take more of her mouth.

Her
legs tingled as her thighs pressed together and strange sensations prickled her
tummy. Her breath came fast. The leather upholstery cushioned her back as he
leaned into her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she couldn’t get it to
slow down.

Strong
fingers forked through her hair and pulled. Unprepared for the gentle
aggression, her excitement doubled. She gasped and he deepened the kiss. Her
pulse throbbed so fast she feared she might pass out.

“You
have the softest lips,” he whispered, nibbling at the lower one and pulling it
back with a snap. What was he doing to her? Everything turned soft, yet alert,
lulled, yet eager. Her body shivered even as her skin seemed to catch fire.

Her
mind liquefied as he drove her mad with his mouth for several long minutes. His
tongue probed, licked, pulled, pushed, and she trembled in his hold, never
knowing anything quite so intoxicating. It went on and on, her body reacting,
tightening, melting. She really—
really
—liked kissing.

Her
panties grew damp and she panicked, pushing back at his shoulders, ripping
their mouths apart. As she opened her eyes, not only were the windows of the
truck fogged, but also were the lenses of her glasses. She removed them and
quickly buffed each lens with the cloth she kept in the console.

Kelly
chuckled. “That’s the first time I steamed up a girl’s glasses.”

Her
trembling fingers traced her swollen lips as she replaced her frames. Never had
she imagined kissing being so…intense. “That was…”

“Delicious.”

Her
head twisted. He leaned back against the door, a smirk on his beautiful face.
His arrogance teased her in a way she couldn’t unravel. Such smugness was
offensive, yet it filled her with a warm, buttery sensation she’d never
experienced before. It was everything her spiritual advisors had warned her of
and she was falling for it. She didn’t want to stop falling for it.

The
sudden vision of her bug zapper on her back porch filled her head. She was one
of those big stupid moths that fluttered right into the blue light until it was
destroyed, happily fluttering until the end.

Cupping
her face in her hands she moaned. She could smell traces of his cologne on her skin
and clothes. Her lungs still weren’t breathing properly.

“What
are you thinking about?” His voice was gravelly. Everything about his mouth,
his voice, his lips, his tongue, his smile, put her heart in overdrive.

“Bug
zappers.”

He
laughed. “What?”

“Nothing.”
She was a moron.

She
pulled herself together or at least pretended to and he finally asked, “Will
you come to the bar tomorrow?”

Don’t
do it! Don’t go into the light!
“I…I guess I can.”

“I’d
like to see you.”

Hopeless.
She was utterly hopeless. Just another casualty. There was probably a trail of moth
carcasses in his wake.
For the love of Pete, stop with the moth metaphor! Be
a normal girl for once!

This
was Kelly McCullough. He probably had this effect on every girl. She was
nothing special. But holy crap, Kelly McCullough wanted to see
her
.

Stop
using his full name! You sound like a star-struck stalker.
“I suppose I could come by.
When?”

“I
get off around two.”

Her
eyes widened. “I’m in bed by nine most nights.”

So
much for that plan.

“Oh.
Well, maybe I’ll come visit you before work.”

Her
mouth gaped. She wasn’t prepared for him to make that sort of effort. “Do…do
you know where I live?”

“Yeah.
The old colonial off Seymour Street.”

He
chuckled and tapped her under the chin. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked
away so as not to gawk. “How do you know that?”

“I
know a lot of things, Ashlynn. Don’t look so surprised.”

“Sorry.
I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I don’t really know anyone, let alone
where they live, and I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“But
your farm’s removed from town and I hear and meet a lot of people running
O’Malley’s.” He tapped his head with a long finger. “Lots of secrets in this
melon.”

“O-okay.”

His
smile was slow and devastating. Easing forward, he brushed his mouth against
hers. It was nothing like his other kisses. This one was a soft tease of lips
that had her leaning in for more and him smiling against her mouth with a
chuckle. When he pulled back she was dizzy and confused.

The
passenger door clicked open and the interior light came on. “Tomorrow,” he
whispered, as he stepped back, slowly shutting the door. His calm whistle faded
and he headed off in the direction of the bar.

She
was a dead moth.

Chapter Five

The
spade cut into the earth, kicking up the comforting scent of time and sun.
Ashlynn couldn’t sleep. She’d been restless the moment she returned to her bed
last night and tossed and turned until dawn. Whatever Kelly had done to her
left her in a strange hyper state she wasn’t sure how to get out of. When the
birds awoke just before dawn, she’d been thrilled for the excuse to start her
day.

There
were some beds near her house that needed turning and some old windows she
picked up when they remodeled the old library on Main Street. She wanted to
make a small greenhouse for her herbs. The cilantro had been moved inside for
the warmer months to prevent the shoots from flowering too much, but the rest
of her herbs were hardy and happy outside among the other gardens.

Once
the ground was softened and tilled, she pulled the wheelbarrow over and began
combining various soils to get the perfect mix. Some gardeners used tools, but
Ashlynn preferred the texture of soil turning through her gloved hands, running
through her fingers.

Her
lily-white skin, lathered in sunscreen, took on a dusty, coppery hue and the
grit covered her like a second skin. She loved gardening, loved the challenge
of harvesting a healthy crop each season. There weren’t many things she did
well in this world, but she could grow almost anything if the climate remained
predictable.

When
she was a child she’d learned the basics of agriculture. The Farmer’s Almanac
was her second bible and every year she made notes and predicted the droughts
like a pro. The past spring rolled in on the legs of a fleeting and gentle
winter, perfect for sowing seeds.

Once
she had the bed cleared and her soil ready, she hoisted her old wooden toolbox
over to her worktable, which was nothing more than two saw horses and a strip
of plywood. Her mind slipped away as the sanding block filled her hand and she
set to her task.

Using
a good old hammer and some nails, she constructed a simple herb box. There was
something satisfying about building with her hands. There were plenty of power
tools in her father’s barn, but she preferred manual tools. The required mental
focus served as a great distraction.

She
sculpted three herb boxes and set them on risers, each one graduating behind
the last. The wood had been treated and drilled for proper drainage. Last, she
piped perforated hoses through holes that would be covered with soil so her
herbs would get proper irrigation.

Her
entire acreage was fitted with a handmade irrigation system she’d developed
when she was in high school. It wasn’t powerful enough to handle her father’s
crop, but for her little plot it was perfect. There wasn’t anything
sophisticated about the contraption, but she liked knowing exactly how things
worked and inspected every plant daily. Her farm was small in comparison, but
manageable and it brought her great pride.

Tossing
the premixed soil into the beds, she paced back and forth until she gathered
all of her herb pots. Tenderly, she uprooted the sprouts and cozied them into
the dirt.

“You’ll
be happy there,” she whispered to her plants as she tapped down the soil at the
mint root.

“Do
you always talk to your plants?”

She
jumped and turned. Kelly stood ten feet away in a pair of jeans and a plain
white T-shirt. His booted feet planted to the right of her beefsteak tomatoes.
So many questions ran through her head though she remained silent, unable to
pick which one to speak.

You
really came?

Are
you going to kiss me?

How
bad do I look?

Do
you know how sexy you are standing in my garden?

What
time is it?

Her
hand lifted to her brow as she gazed at the sky. The sun was high, telling her
it was around noon.

“I
didn’t realize it was so late,” she said, brushing her dirty gloves down her
overalls. Her brow tightened as she took in her grungy, soil smeared
appearance.

“Is
this a bad time?”

“No,
I’m just…a mess.” She shrugged. “Life of a farmer.” There was a reality check.
He’d probably leave now.

He
stepped closer. “What are you making?”

Flustered
with his proximity, she turned toward her beds. “A mini greenhouse for my
herbs. I got the windows a while back.”

His
hand coasted over the treated wood of the beds and his gaze took in all the
various tools scattered nearby. “You’re a handy little woman.”

How
did he do that, make ordinary words like “woman” set her nerves on end? Warm
tugs of anticipation tormented her insides. Her shoulder lifted and dropped as
she attempted to disguise the effect he had on her. “I like building things. My
dad’s busy with his own farm. I can’t wait around for someone else to fix what
needs fixin’. My house, my land, my job.”

“I
know how that goes. When my aunt got to a certain age she was fed up with all
the additional work around the bar. I’d been busing tables there since I had my
working papers and the minute I turned eighteen I moved behind the bar. Within
a year she offered me the business.”

“You
own it?” Kelly had worked at O’Malley’s since high school, but she thought it
was just a job. She supposed she held that as a strike against him, never
suspected the bar actually belonged to him. Guilt for not giving him the credit
of owning his own business made her shrink a little. People shouldn’t be
judgmental and she didn’t like that she’d unconsciously been judging his work
ethic as a sort of lack of ambition—judging him wrongly, at that.

He
didn’t seem to notice her surprise. “I have a split mortgage, but for the most
part it’s mine. I’ve been doing modifications to the apartment upstairs.
Eventually I’ll live there.”

“I
didn’t realize there was an upstairs.”

Kelly
shrugged and reached in her toolbox for a spare set of leather gloves. He
pulled them onto his big hands and smirked when they barely reached his wrist.
“So what are we planting?”

Her
heart fluttered wildly. Every time she was granted a little more of the man’s
presence it was a surprise. It also scared her, but it was like a roller
coaster and she was addicted to the thrill of him. She smiled and stepped
aside. “I just transplanted the sweet mint. Want a taste?”