No Surrender (7 page)

8

I
T
HAD
BEEN
a long time since Sean had been on the road like this.

A long time since he’d felt the wind rushing around him, the connection to the pavement, the endless possibilities of everywhere the road could take him.

He felt a lot like this when he was in the air. He loved flying the Black Hawks, but there was something more intimate about being on a bike, having all of that power between his legs.

Sean especially liked being on the back of the bike, with his arms wrapped around Kentucky’s waist, feeling her powerful body holding up the bike, guiding it down the spinning ribbon of highway. Feeling her ass pressed up against him.

He liked the freedom he felt with her driving, too.

He could race with the wind and he didn’t have to be in control. He wasn’t the one whose hand was the guiding force of life and death.

Although it was a little terrifying, too. He was so used to having all of that responsibility resting on his shoulders. It was quite something to surrender it to someone else.

To put his life in her hands.

Even though she was an expert rider.

He watched the speedometer as it kept climbing, and the higher it got, the faster they flew, the less it mattered to him that he wasn’t in control.

Sean was flying, defying gravity while still cruising the ground. The sky loomed ever larger, brighter, calling him.

He couldn’t imagine ever doing this with Lynnie.

He felt guilty for the thought, but then it was gone. He had no reason to feel guilty, at least not for this. There were things she’d enjoyed and things she hadn’t. She and Kentucky were two different people.

Lynnie was gone.

He and Kentucky had been left behind.

So now they were living the life that had been given to them. What was so wrong with that? It wasn’t as if they were pretending she’d never been. Or they hadn’t both loved her.

He tightened his arm around her waist and inhaled the sweet apple scent of her hair.

It wasn’t long before they pulled into the parking lot for the tiny coffee shop out in the middle of the countryside called The Ruby Slipper.

It was an odd place to open a coffeehouse and it had been expected to fail. But the kids from Lawrence who didn’t want anything so mainstream as a coffee shop in town would come hang out and read poetry late into the night. They’d drive out to where there was no internet and barely any cell service and have poetry slams and study nights and drink their own weight in coffee.

He held the door open for her and she ordered them two coffees and two apple fritters. Sean certainly wasn’t going to complain.

The fritter was warm and flaky, the apples inside sweet with just a bit of cinnamon. It practically melted on his tongue and it was good. Not just that the fritter tasted good, but everything about this moment was good.

The burn of the coffee, the scent in the air and the woman sitting across from him with the sun shining down on her like a halo.

It was a lovely image, but he wasn’t trying to make her into a saint or a maiden in distress. He was pretty sure Kentucky Lee was the dragon in that story.

Sean wasn’t sure who he was, but he was okay with that for now.

“This is the best morning I’ve had in a long time,” she said while taking a sip of her coffee out of the fat red cappuccino mug.

“Me, too.” He took another sip of his own coffee.

For a second, just that single instant, he wondered what it would be like to wake up to her—to this—every day. He’d never wanted to stay in Winchester, but it suddenly wasn’t about the geography.

It was about the players.

It was about looking at a beautiful woman who was everything he wished he could be. It was about the taste of the coffee and the tightness in his chest when he thought about leaving.

It was about how when he was with her, he wasn’t drowning. How he could breathe.

Hell, he could even float.

Maybe even fly.

How had he missed it? There was nothing about Kentucky that was a shackle, an anchor or a weight. Not the way he’d felt with Lynnie.

Guilt surged again.

“I hate to ask that basic girl question, but what are you thinking about?”

He arched a brow.

She laughed. “It’s just, there was this look of joy on your face and then it was like a storm cloud blotted out your sun.”

“I was thinking about Lynnie.”

“What were you thinking about her? Tell me?” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

He searched her eyes. No, he didn’t want to tell her those things. He didn’t know what good they would do. “I was thinking about the last time we came here.”

“Did she read one of her poems?”

“She did. It was about beginnings. Endings. And how they don’t mean what we think they do.”

“I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Me, too.” He exhaled. “I miss her, Kentucky.”

“I know.”

“I think I’ll always miss her, but it’s different somehow, you know?”

She didn’t speak but instead took another drink of her coffee.

“But this isn’t about Lynnie today.”

“No? What’s it about?”

“Us.” He nodded. “Who we are. And like you said, we’re not dead.”

“I like that.” She popped a bite of fritter into her mouth. “So what else is on your agenda? The picnic? Motorcycle sex?”

“Definitely the picnic. What about a ride in a puddle jumper?”

“Seriously? Yes!”

When he was a kid, he’d seen those tiny planes called puddle jumpers, sometimes used as crop dusters, in the air. He’d never thought they seemed like a good idea. Even as a pilot, he was amazed at how the science worked to keep those things in the air.

But she was always ready for an adventure.

She’d shown him what she could do; he’d seen Betty, her garage. Now it was his turn. He didn’t know why this was suddenly so important to him, but it was. Almost as much as the next breath he took.

She crammed the rest of the fritter into her mouth and downed the coffee. “Let’s go. I’m ready.”

He laughed and finished his pastry. “Yeah, okay. Slow down.”

“Nope. Can’t do that. I might miss something important.”

“Okay, boss. Take us to the Lawrence Municipal Airport. The little jumper is waiting for us.”

Back on the bike, in no time at all she was speeding down single-lane highways through cornfields to get to the small airport.

When she slowed to a stop and took off her helmet, she asked, “So how did you get a plane on such short notice?”

“Buddy of mine. His family uses one for short trips down to Texas and Oklahoma for cattle auctions. I told him I was in town and had a pretty girl to impress.”

She blushed. “You did not.”

“I did.”

“You don’t ever have to impress me, Sean.” She looked down at her boots, seeming to be suddenly shy.

He tilted her chin up with his thumb. “Any man you let into your bed better always be trying to impress you.”

“You’re silly.”

“Hey, I’m not kidding.” The thought of any other man trying to impress her hit all his buttons. But he knew that wasn’t his place.

“So where are you taking me?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I want to see the Chalk Pyramids. Can we go that far?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure we have enough fuel. It’ll take about an hour, give or take.”

“Really?” She grinned.

“If that’s what you want. I’ve never seen them either. It sounds like fun.”

The small plane was painted red and had his friend’s ranch’s logo painted onto the side so it looked as if it had been branded into it. He did the walk-through with the attendant, made sure it had enough fuel to get them where they wanted to go and home, and registered the flight plan with the tower.

He double-checked their safety gear and made sure she had a headset so they could talk over the noise during the flight.

She squealed when they took off and he found it to be incredibly endearing.

The higher the craft climbed, the more she oohed, aahed and pointed at various things she noticed.

He liked how she saw the world. How she processed things.

The landscape began to change. As they left behind the countryside of eastern Kansas—slightly hilly due to glacial till and proximity to the Ozarks—the land started to level out, conforming to what one would expect of Kansas terrain. Flat and endless. But it had its own beauty, from the endless rolling waves of wheat and corn to the green of the Flint Hills dotted with cattle.

It wasn’t long before the Chalk Pyramids, or Monument Rocks, came into view. They looked as if they belonged in Arizona or Nevada rather than Kansas.

Some standing at seventy feet tall, they formed buttes and arches, like strange tributes to ancient peoples.

“I always wanted to see these. I don’t know why I didn’t just get in Betty and drive here,” she said through the mic, her voice tinged with what he thought was awe.

“Yeah, but this view is much better. Want to get closer?”

“Yes!”

He took the little plane down and circled around the chalk formations, gliding as slowly as he dared to let her have the best view.

“They’re so powerful. Look at them, just standing there impervious to time. To the landscape around them. They don’t fit here, but they stand there anyway.” She laughed. “Kind of like me, I guess. I mean, I don’t know how powerful I am, but I don’t fit in Winchester. Yet I stand there.”

“You fit anywhere you want to be, Tuck.”

She was quiet and kept her own counsel on the flight back to Lawrence.

When they were on the ground and he’d helped her out of the plane, she launched herself into his arms.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He enjoyed having her in his arms. It was a simple thing to have done for her, really. He couldn’t help but think Lynnie wouldn’t have wanted to do this with him either. He could never get her to go up with him.

Yeah, he was a different man than the boy who’d been quarterback for the Winchester Eagles. A million miles away from that kid.

“I’m starved. That fritter didn’t go very far.”

“Good. Picnic time.”

“Oh, is the food going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s in a cooler in your top box.” He pointed to the rear of the bike.

“Trust the flyboy to be prepared for any emergency.”

“Of course. I know better than to take risks with not feeding you. Your hangry self is terrifying.”

She shoved his shoulder lightly. “So where are we going for our picnic?”

“Do you remember that road...?”

“Oh God, yes!”

He loved that she knew what he was thinking. It was as if they were always on the same wavelength.

“I’ll let you drive,” she said, handing him the keys to the Harley.

“Hell yeah!” He swung his leg over the bike and she climbed on behind him, palms flat on his stomach. It felt good to have her hands on him—hell, everything about this day was good.

The road he was taking her to was one where they’d gotten lost heading into Lawrence for a party on a Saturday night. They’d finally given up and had their own party. It had been their junior year, and Sean and Lynnie had been broken up.

It took him a while to find the right turnoff. It was a tiny road, gravel and unkempt, but there was a hunting platform in the trees and they’d climbed up there and partied until dawn.

He carried the cooler and hoisted himself onto the platform, checking its durability before allowing Kentucky to come up.

He had a bottle of sparkling grape juice since they were driving, cheese and apples, cold roasted chicken breast, and a Godiva chocolate bar for her for dessert.

Sean handed her a paper plate and she piled it high. He liked that about her, too. She was never shy with her food, and she never pretended she didn’t want to eat if she was hungry.

“That night has to be on my list of wildest times ever,” she said. “It was all of us, right? And some new people? Lynnie’s boyfriend at the time and some of his friends?”

He remembered that night so clearly. He’d been tempted to get drunk, like some of the other people in their group. But he’d felt as if he had to be responsible. Someone should be able to drive if they needed it, but it had been hard. He’d just wanted to drown his feelings in a bottle of that cheap shine Kentucky had made in her aunt’s bathtub.

“Yeah, everyone was there.”

“I remember vaguely that you were shooting the new BF dagger glares all night.”

“Do you? What else do you remember?”

She gave him a crooked grin. “I remember eating way too many of those moonshine cherries. I still love those things. God, but my head felt like there was a whole marching band in there the next morning. It was ridiculous.”

“How much trouble were you in?”

“None. My aunt said my hangover was my punishment. That and making me watch VHS recordings of old black-and-white big band shows with her.”

“I guess you learned your lesson.”

“I did.” She laughed. “I still love those damn cherries, but I know my limit. I can’t remember a lot of what happened.”

“Really? Would you like me to tell you?” His eyes focused on her lips, those soft, lovely lips that had been wrapped around his cock earlier that morning.

“I don’t know. What did I do?” She looked horrified. “No one said anything to me. How bad is it?”

“No one saw but me.”

“Oh Jesus.” She put her hand over her face. “You might as well tell me. My not knowing doesn’t change what happened.”

“You saw how pissed I was and when Lynnie and that guy climbed down to go ‘for a walk,’ you cornered me. Wouldn’t let me follow them.”

“And?” She bit her lip.

“And you told me there were more girls in the world than Lynnie James.”

“Oh, I did not.” Her eyes widened. “Did I?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed. “You said that Lynnie was amazing and beautiful, but there were other amazing and beautiful girls. Then you laid one on me.”

“Laid one? You mean I
kissed
you?” She laughed. “No way. You’re just playing with me now.”

“I am most certainly not. It happened. Right there.” He pointed to the corner of the platform. “You backed me up against that branch right there.”