Complicated Matters (25 page)

   “At least give her a chance.” He kissed her hand. “I promise. Nothing will happen.”

   She straddled the bike and leaned forward to grasp the handlebars. The springs groaned under her weight.

   He pressed his hand against her back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

   Everything felt too good. Her heart raced causing her breasts to rise and fall. She felt certain he was watching. “I’m still not sure about this.”

   “Perhaps I can help sway your opinion.” He mounted the bike behind her.

   Panic hit her light a lightening bolt. “What are you doing, Heath?” Her voice raised at least two octaves.

   “My sales pitch.” He covered her hands with his forcing her grip on the handlebars to tighten. “Think about it. All that raw power just yielding to your every desire.”

   He was so much like his bike. Beautiful. Dangerous. Hard. Exciting. It all added up to incredibly sexy. She felt heat rising from her chest to her face.

   He nuzzled the back of her head. “I
am
talking about the motorcycle.”

   Farrah felt even more embarrassed. “Are you sure this is safe?” 

   “You ride horses and can handle a rifle as good as any man I’ve ever seen. Are you sure safe is what you’re really after?”

   Her insides tightened.

   He relinquished his hold and turned around.

   She flinched when he leaned forward as he made the turn.

   “Relax. I’m just getting your helmet off the back. Come with me. It’ll be fun. That is, unless you’d rather stay here with your family. We can hold hands in front of the television under the scrutiny of your brothers and father. I don’t mind.”

   A night with her family watching every move they made wasn’t what she wanted. She took the helmet.  “Slow down a bit. You’re having way, too much fun selling me on this.” 

   He got off the bike. “There’s no such thing as too much fun.”

   “I imagine you’ve pushed the limit’s a few times.”

   “More than a few.” The right corner of his mouth turned up into a half grin revealing a dimple. “We could do the hamburger and movie thing. I thought you’d want to try something a little more adventurous.”

   “You did go to a lot of trouble.” She put on her helmet. “It would be a shame to waste it all.”

   He patted the seat behind her. “We need to change positions.”

  
Something else I know nothing about.
She thought about how his guitars strings bent to his will and touch. Did she not want him to manipulate her like that? His body language and word choice made it clear how he wanted this evening to end. Was she ready for this? Was he ready for him? She slid to the back of the bike and he got back on. 

   He revved up the motor and headed for the open road.

   She wrapped her arms around his waist enjoying the feel of their bodies pressing together. 

   They sped along the winding back roads, passing trailer parks, small farms, and commercial dairies, all of which made up the countryside landscape.

   Little kids, playing in their front yard, stared as they drove past them.

   Taylor pulled up in front of a cattle gate and punched in his code. The gate opened. They eased down a mud puddle infested trail which came to a small clearing.

   Farrah gazed at her surroundings with unbelieving eyes.

   The place looked like it was built for a romantic get away. A gazebo stood off to their right complete with a wrought iron picnic table. To their left, stood a small cabin. And in the middle of the clearing was a whitewashed wooded swing suspended from a freestanding frame by two chains.
               

   “Talk about well kept secrets.” Farrah studied at both structures. “What is this place?”

   He lowered the kickstand on his bike. “A friend and his wife built it.”

   She got off and stretched her legs.

   Brightly colored leaves of oranges, reds, yellows, browns, and greens clung to the branches if wild maple and various other trees. 

   Camellia bushes, planted around the perimeter of the clearing, caught her eye. She traced one of the shiny, green leaves with the tip of her finger. “When the colder weather comes these are going to be gorgeous.”

   “Perhaps we can come back when they’re in full bloom” He got off his bike. “Are you hungry, or would you like to sit and talk?”

   She continued to admire the scenery. “We can eat if you’re hungry.”

   A blue cooler sat next to the picnic table. 

   “Enjoy exploring. We’re not on a schedule.”

   She braced herself against a tree trunk. Everything was so perfect. A regular Garden of Eden. She wondered if they were supposed to be Adam and Eve.

   When she turned around he had a picnic of sandwiches, cake, and sparkling cider spread out on the table.

   Farrah sat next to him and nibbled on a sandwich. “I can’t believe you went to so much trouble.” 

   “I haven’t had a decent Cuban sandwich since I left Miami,” Taylor explained.

   “You miss it, don’t you?” She stared into his eyes. “Miami, I mean.” 

   “I miss parts of it. Just like I’m going to miss some things around here when it’s time to leave.”

   “I don’t see how anyone could miss Morgansville.” She stared up at the sky and watched a bird fly overhead. “Most of us just want to serve our time and get out.”   

   “I never thought I’d miss Miami until I was sent to Immokalee for the first time when I was a kid.” He forked up some of the cake. “You want to give it a try?”

   She tried a bite. “That’s pretty good.”

   He kissed the whipped cream off the corner of her mouth. “I’d say better than pretty good.”

   She’d been out with boys before. Their agendas were all the same. See how far she’d let them go. But Heath Taylor was the only one who ever made her feel this conflicted. Her feelings were a hodgepodge of right and wrong. “Will you miss me when you leave?” She held his gaze, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer.

   He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I’m missing you already.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

   She opened her mouth to receive him.

   He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His tongue caressed her lips as he intensified the kiss. He brushed her hair back and nibbled the curvatures of her neck. 

   Her knees went weak. In a last-ditch effort to hold on to her sanity she pushed him away. “Tell me about Immokalee.” 

   He turned away from her and sat down on the bench in front of the picnic table. “What would you like to know?”

   She reached out for his hand. “I don’t know.” She turned his hand over and traced the lines etched in his palm. “Is it a nice place to live?” 

   He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I guess that depends upon your social status. When you’re in the fields before six in the morning it isn’t so beautiful.”

   “I take it your status wasn’t good.”

   Chapter 29

   Taylor stared at an oak tree. A scene thirteen years in the past came to mind. A slight breeze began to blow causing the Spanish moss take on a ghostly motion. Memories of tired, sweaty workers bent over picking tomatoes in a field so big you couldn’t stand on one end and see the other flooded his mind. The heat was unbearable. The atmosphere heavy with humidity. He remembered the pain carrying the heavy buckets caused his hands.

   A worn out basketball and a rusty hoop with no net was his saving grace. They gave him hope. “I was sent there to help my grandparents with the farm work after my brother died. So no, I wasn’t high up on the social scale.”

   “I’ve never considered farming to be anything to be ashamed of.”

   He didn’t mean to insult her or her family. Farming wasn’t a business to some people. It was a way of life. He felt the pain when he saw it in her eyes. He guessed she’d taken her fair share of ridicule from wearing dirty sneakers to school or having calluses on her hands. He had to make this right. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t considered an upstanding part of the community. I was just a dirty half Mexican boy working in the fields.”

   He remembered how envious he was of the kids who got play while he worked. His thoughts drifted to one little boy in particular. The boy screamed at his mother for not getting him a particular brand of bicycle. Taylor would given anything to ride that bike.

   “There’s nothing about your summers in Immokalee that you enjoyed?” Her soft voice brought him back to the present. 

   Taylor almost smiled as he considered his answer. “Every Saturday night, people would gather in my Grandfather’s front yard. They would bring food and drinks. That dusty front yard became party central. 

   “The older kids would scatter to who knows where, while the little kids would chase fire-flies in the front yard. 

   “The men sat on the front porch and reminisced, while the ladies gossiped in the kitchen while
mi abuelo
baked pecan cookies. Then, when the cookies were ready, she would call everyone to the porch.

   “When the timing was just right,
mi abuelo
would take out his guitar and play the most beautiful music. The old ones would talk of days long past. They told their stories with such passion. You didn’t listen to the stories, you relived them.”

   Farrah sat on the picnic table and put her feet next to Taylor. “I love how you use the Spanish words for grandmother and grandfather when you refer to your grandparents.” 

   “Those are the only names I’ve ever called them.”

   “Do you think they would approve of me?”

   “I think they would love you.”

   She lowered her head. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you. Please continue.”

   He would rather hold her. He continued the story. “I would sit in a corner and listen, scarcely breathing. Their stories were so vivid, so full of action.
Abuelo’s
music held a passion I can’t even begin to imitate. After everyone left, I would go off to bed and dream of the great adventures told that night.”

   She touched the side of his face. “I heard you play, Heath Taylor. I felt your soul in your music.” 

   Her hands were rough and callused, but at the same time, soft and gentle. He imagined her caressing his body while they made love. He kissed the top of her hand trying to slow his feelings. “I’m just an imitator.”

   “You play from your heart. I watched you create passion with wood and steel. Do you know how rare that is?”

   What started out as just a fun night suddenly turned serious. Farrah Mathews was no longer just a beautiful woman, or his assignment, she was inside his heart. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an
iPod
. “I believe you mentioned this particular artist once before.” A slow Gloria Estefan song flowed from the machine as he stood up. “Would you care to dance, Miss Mathews?”

   She stood up. “Is that who I think it is?”

   “Downloaded just for you.” He slipped his hands around her waist, and pulled her to him until their hips were touching. His body reacted. He wondered if she felt it too.

   Farrah studied his face. “Heath, what are we--”

   “The next step is up to you.” He slid his hand higher up her back and relaxed his embrace.

   Farrah put her arms around his neck. 

   “This place is ours for the weekend.”

   Her released her embraced and looked into his eyes. “What will my family say when they wake up and discover I didn’t come home?”

   He stepped back and handed her his phone. “Call ‘em up and tell them you’re spending the weekend with me.”

   Her eyes shifted from him to the phone and back again. “You really want me to tell them that?” 

   He didn’t care what she told her family. For months he’d been denying his feelings for her. Now that he was no longer undercover, and she and her family were no longer in danger, he saw no reason to deny anything. 

   She looked into his eyes as if not believing him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

   “You’re parents aren’t stupid people. John’s already told me you had feelings for me. He said if I couldn’t reciprocate to let you know. I’m letting you know I’m crazy about you.”

   “We’re both going to leave next year. You’re going to leave in January. How can we make this work?”

   “Distance ain’t nothing but a number. But if you don’t think spending the night with me is a good, idea I’m not going to pressure you.” He pulled her closer to him and started swaying to the music. “Much.” 

   He pressed his palms against the small of her back.

   She dropped the phone on the picnic table. “Heath, what are you doing?” 

   He traced her ear with his tongue. “Not pressuring you.” 

   “Then what would you call this?” 

   Her nipples felt hard against his chest. “You pressuring me.”