Unstable (21 page)

“Yep.” He tightens his grip on my hand.

"How’d you know where to find me?" I
should
ask how he
always
knew where to find me, but we’ll start here.

“I just got through establishing my dominance as the man in this relationship.” He must feel me tense up because he chuckles lightly and adds, “Oh, it’s a relationship, Darlin’. Start wrapping your brain around that too. And seeing as how we just settled that I’m the man, I’m not answering your question."

Alright, we’ll play it his way, in the interest of time…and the fact that I know exactly what makes him tick, thoroughly enjoying it more and more each and every time I get him all riled up.

“What, not
man
enough to answer?” I taunt, staring forward with a straight face, seeing him squirm in my peripheral. Yep, hit the right nerve dead-on…bulls-eye!

“Bourbon, bark if you can make it long enough for me to pull this truck over and show your mama here just how man enough I am,” he calls over his shoulder.

But Bourbon gives only a low whimper.

“Okay buddy, I hear ya. I’m hurrying.” His brow creases. He’s sincerely worried about my beloved pet.

So am I.

I fidget, chewing on the side of my thumb when Keaton lets out a conceding huff. “At the risk of sounding like a woman, I’m gonna tell ya. But only because I don’t want you worrying yourself to death, gnawing off your thumb before we get there. Damn this drive. You can’t throw a rock without hitting some kind of animal in Ashfall, and yet, no veterinarian. Somebody with the good sense to open a clinic in town sure would make a pretty penny.”

They sure would… and they’d be helping animals, as well as their owners. I wonder how many pets haven’t made it because of the long drive when immediate care could’ve saved them?

I pull out my phone and start a list of my own—

1. See about schooling to become a vet.

2. Or look into funding to get the town to hire one.

“You making plans for the future over there?” he asks, his hopefulness evident.

“Yeah.” I tuck my phone away. “I was, actually.”

“They include Ashfall?”

“Yep.”

His hand releases mine and moves to my thigh. “I like hearing that,” he murmurs smooth and deep. “Like it a whole lot.”

“Know what
I’d
like hearing?” I force some sass, even though I’m feeling quite the opposite. Staring at his hand on my thigh, rubbing in a slow rhythm has me battling an urgent case of nervous exhilaration.

“How I found you in the tree, I know. You’re letting me touch your thigh though, so hell, I’d tell ya the combination to my safe right now.” He takes his eyes off the road for a split second to dazzle me with an ornery smile.

“I watched ya,” he mumbles out and then stops, as if that explains everything.

Three. Words.

Without a doubt, world’s
worst
storyteller ever.

“Watched me what, get stuck in the tree? Why’d you take so long to come help me then? And watched me how? From where? Use your words, Keaton. More than three, please.”

A laugh escapes him as he takes the turn into Goodman, the bordering town with the clinic. “I watched ya a lot, from wherever, with binoculars. Watched ya ride, swim, go for your walks, whatever,” he shrugs. “Lost sight of you that day in all the trees, and when you didn’t come back out, I came hunting for ya.”

“
You watched me through binoculars
?” My request for clarification is enunciated in slow shock, making absolutely sure I heard him correctly.

“That’s what I said. Found ‘em in the attic one day, they were my grandpa’s. Figured what the hell, did it once, then it became habit. And I gotta say, Hen, pretty disappointed in ya. Who doesn’t try skinny dipping
at least once
?” He shakes his head with a tsk.

“Me, that’s who. And thank God I didn’t. Freakin’ ‘I Spy’ over there.” I should feel creeped out, or angry, seeing as how my privacy was beyond invaded…but I feel neither. As many years as I spent hating him, one other constant remained—any time I was hurt, in a bind, scared—Keaton was always magically, not so mysteriously
now
, right there to take care of me.

Man, what a clueless, blind fool I was. Not about the binoculars, who would’ve guessed that? No, I was blind to
him
, and all the great things that included.

And then, for what reason I haven’t the faintest idea, I ask, “Did you, um, watch her too?”

“Watch who, Hen?”

“Hadley,” I sigh. “Did you watch Hadley too?”

“No, not really. Couple times I made sure she had control of her horse, but she didn’t ever wander far, and seldom alone. So no. She did catch me watching you once though,” he gives a subdued laugh. “Snuck right up behind me, never heard her coming. You were rocking in the hammock, reading a book. Think that was a big hint for her on how I felt about you.”

“She never told me that either,” I whisper.

I understand her wanting me to “see the light” for myself, but neighbor guy spying on me?
That
, you tell your sister.

“You must’ve been about fifteen. She was probably already in the letting you figure it out phase,” he elaborates on what I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud.

“Maybe,” I mumble, somewhat disheartened to think my sister and I might not have been as close as I thought we were.

“Hen, stop it.” His hold on my thigh firms, as does his tone. “You two were as close as could be. The few things she kept to herself were because she loved you so much and knew her silence was in your best interest in the long run. You held onto a few secrets of your own too, right?”

“Yes,” I grumpily admit, thinking again about how I used the same strategy on her when it came to Justin.

“Alright then, you should understand why she did it, because you did the same for her. Now put it out of your head, we’re here.”

I look up and sure enough, I’d missed us pulling in front of the vet’s office.

“I’ll come around, can you get the door?”

I jump out and open the back door, stepping aside as Keaton reaches in and picks up Bourbon. “We’re gonna get ya fixed up, boy. Don’t you worry,” he tells both of us.

I pray he’s right.

IT’S LATE WHEN WE
start our drive home, but Bourbon’s gonna be alright. He may be old, but my boy’s not outta the fight yet.

The Vet and staff were wonderful, staying open after-hours until he was fit to come home. They gave him IV fluids chocked full of vitamins, sent me home with pills to help with the pains of his aging bones and joints, and recommended a new brand of food made especially for elderly dogs.

Keaton was equally as amazing, right there firing off questions as if Bourbon was his own dog, soothing him as he laid for hours hooked up to the IV. Carrying him back to the truck. Just as relieved as me that he was gonna be okay.

“Well, Bourbon,” I say once we’re loaded up and on the road, “You just earned yourself lifetime sleeping in the house privileges. No cold winter outside for you.” I turn around in my seat to look at him. “I thought you’d be happy about that. Why are you growling?”

“He’s not, that’s my stomach,” Keaton answers humorously. “Surely you’re hungry too. Wanna pull through somewhere?”

“Sounds good.” I reach down for my purse, but a determined, calloused hand stops me before I can grab it.

“What are you doing?” His question as stern as his grip on my arm.

“Getting money for food.” I know my face must be contorted in confusion.

“Woman, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’re secretly a kinky lil’ kitten just
trying
to get me to swat your ass. Let’s go over the
whole
list of how things are gonna work, right now, so there’s no pissing me off in the future. Okay? Okay.” He’s all worked up, white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, tight lines around his mouth
and
he’s answering his own questions.

“As your man,” he holds up a finger, “don’t argue. As your man, I drive. I pay for our meals. I carry heavy shit. I do any and all mechanical stuff including, but not limited to, oil changes, flat tires, gas fill-ups, and fixing or having fixed anything you break. If you cook, I clean. If there’s a knock on the door late at night, I answer it. If someone makes you cry, I pay them a visit. Jars, I open them. You want a fire, I build it. And babies, I get up every other time and bring them to you in bed if they’re hungry. I very well may add to this list too, so be ready. I can write it down if you want me to.”

I hold my jaw firm, carefully considering my response. My heart is beating with romantic, whimsical longing—
finally
, to be utterly, wholly cherished by a man whose deepest desire is the chance to love and protect me, make me forget what was, and help me make wonderful, new memories.

But my head and my history are saying no. Too much, too soon, too fast.

I grasp for a way to explain what somewhere in the middle of all that means.

“Keaton,” I speak in a small voice, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, from childhood to today. And surprisingly, your 1950’s outlook on relationships doesn’t bother me. It actually sounds nice, to be so coveted. You
are
growing on me, more and faster than is wise for me to let you, but,” I turn toward him. He has to watch the road, but he deserves for me to face him, not hide behind staring out the window when I say this.

“So much has, is, happening so fast. I have a farm now, bills, responsibilities. I’m only just able to look in the mirror and try to forgive myself a little more every day. I can finally say
her
name, sometimes, and deal with the guilt from both losses. Hell, I can't even sleep upstairs yet, and I avoid going to town like I might catch the plague while I’m there. Just a month ago, I still thought I hated
you
. Please understand, it’s too much all at once. You’re moving way too fast for me.”

“Too fast?” he repeats in a deceptive calmness.

“Yes.”

“
Too fast?”
he says it again, only this time, any effort for that feigned calmness is gone. Instead, it’s snarky, with a facetious laugh. “Henley, it’s been damn near fifteen years I’ve been waiting for you! I go any fucking slower, and I’ll be going backwards.”

I scoot away from him, pressing myself up against the door.

“I’m sorry for yelling, Darlin’. Don’t act scared of me, that’ll kill me. I’m just, God, Hen, I’m
ready
. I’m so ready to have something with you.”

“And we’re getting there. We talk, we spend time together. But all this ‘your man’ and ‘relationship,’ and
who’s gonna get up with the babies
stuff you keep saying
?
Little much.” I try to explain nicely, inching away from the door now. “We haven’t even gone on a date, or kissed.” Unfortunately, I hear my last thoughts escape aloud.

With no hesitation, he swerves the truck to the side of the road. “‘Bout to fucking fix that. Come ‘ere,” he snarls.

“W…what?” I stammer just as I’m grabbed, seatbelt somehow having disappeared, being hauled across the cab and flush up against him.

“Last first kiss, baby,” he murmurs, sinister and spine-tinglingly deep before both his hands cup my cheeks and his mouth covers mine.

The impact is so powerful, my senses explode all at once. I hear the low growl in his chest collide with my breathy moan. I feel his want, his need, in the way he angles my head, diving deeper into my mouth with his wicked tongue, pressing harder against my lips with his own demanding pair. I taste him, Keaton, his mouth hot and fresh.

It’s feral, ravenous…and beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined.

“Oh, Darlin’. Fuck,” he tugs at my bottom lip and groans, “you’re the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever tasted. Gimme some more.” He doesn’t ask, sliding his tongue back inside to glide against my own, twining them together in a synchronized dance of pent-up desire.

And I completely let go.

If only for this idyllic blip of time, I set myself free to fly. Unencumbered by doubt, insecurity or reservation. I take all he gives for the girl who didn’t see. The woman who hid away, never loved by a man. And the Henley I so badly want to be.

My hands move up his arms, relishing in the mass of every muscle, then find his neck and the throbbing, corded vein there. I explore hungrily until my fingers knock off his hat and nestle in his thick, soft hair.

I pull him closer to me, wanting more, and he hears my silent plea, hoisting me onto his lap. I
really
feel him now, impossibly hard between my legs, thrusting himself up against me. I push down and rock along the rigid, pulsing bulge in his jeans, letting my head fall back in pure bliss.