The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2) (16 page)

Aftershocks

"SO MY LITTLE NOAH got her animals safely on the ark last night," a male voice murmured in my ear, full lips brushing against my skin, a finger trailing up my side, under my shirt, to where I was tattooed.

That was an electrifying way to wake up.

We had felt aftershocks last night, and while I’d slept lightly, I’d nevertheless rested. Now at dawn, my body creaked, stiff and sore from sleeping on the ground. The tarps and blankets felt damp from morning dew. Even though the sun had started to come up, Will was still holding me.

Still holding me.

I didn't understand why Will was being so affectionate, but I didn't want him to stop. Sleepily, I turned over and snuggled into him even more, burrowing into the silky skin of his hard chest.

"We gotta get up and check the damage," he said quietly.

"Okay," I whispered back, and darted my eyes around to see if anyone was looking, but no, they seemed asleep. So I gave him a good morning kiss, in which he fully participated, and at length. It was hot. Then he hugged me, extricated himself, and stood up and stretched.

My eyes popped out at the sight of his tan torso flexing in the morning, and his flat waist leading to his waistband where his track pants hung low, showing a bulge.

Right. We need to check the damage. No distractions.

I headed to the bunkhouse.

A disheveled interior greeted me and I went to my room to dress.

The triangle rang.

Seriously, Cookie? After last night? A triangle?

Once clothed, I went back out to the makeshift camp. Will, now dressed, walked around inspecting all of the buildings.

We roused the bleary-eyed kids and went to breakfast. I noticed a sense of camaraderie that was missing yesterday—kids helped each other out, talked with each other more, and were friendlier and more outgoing. They’d just shared a scary experience and it had brought them closer.

And they helped clean up. Before they got started, Will gave them a lecture that consisted of one sentence: "Part of livin' on a ranch is workin'." And then he strolled back over to his house to set it to rights while I supervised the bunkhouse cleanup.

Will didn't show up at lunch so I had Cookie make him a sandwich and I took it over to the ranch house. I knocked and walked in and found him sweeping up glass in his kitchen, listening to some God-awful country music.

"Sorry about the breakage," I said, leaning against the doorway.

"Not your fault. Just old stuff anyway," he said matter-of-factly, tipping the dustpan into the trash.

I wandered through his house while he took a break to eat his lunch, and I noticed how sparsely furnished it was. All of the furniture was antique, except for a back room that had a big television and a comfortable couch that screamed straight man. It gave the appearance that he’d inherited it with all of its contents and hadn't changed a thing.

Going back into the kitchen, I heard the song change to yet another sappy country song. I had no idea how he could listen to this shit.

"Who sings this?" I demanded.

"George Strait."

I snorted. "Do you only listen to George Strait?"

"Internet radio," he answered. "George Strait channel."

That explained it.

"Listen to it," he ordered.

I leaned up against the kitchen counter and listened to the song. It was horribly schmaltzy, but it swayed me once I paid attention to the lyrics. George sang about a boy and his father and how the best day of the boy's life was when the father spent time with him camping as a kid, and then when he brought a classic car home that they could work on when he was a teenager, and how he wanted to be like his dad when he grew up.

It was super cheesy.

I had no idea why I had tears in my eyes at the end of it.

He looked at me and gave me a half smile. "You can figure out why I like this song. My dad was like that. Spent a lot of time with me. These kids don't have it like that. But we can give them our time, at least for a week."

I nodded.

Will had a generous heart, no question about it. We continued working and cleaned the house up.

Later on that afternoon, I set up a tie-dye station for the kids.

The first group of kids came over, which included kids who were enthusiastic, and James, the sweary one, who most certainly was not.

"Would you like to do tie-dye?" I asked him.

James stared at me, scandalized. "No."

I smiled, enthusiastic. "Oh, try it. It's fun!" I said.

He scowled and looked up at the sky. "Only fun for hippies like you. It's not cool where I'm from."

Just then Will came by on his way from the corrals. He gave me a chin lift and walked over to the picnic tables where the kids were gathered. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"Making a shirt," said one of the girls. "I'm going to give it to my sister."

Will looked over at James. "You're not gonna make one?"

"No." James wasn't as sullen with Will as he was with me.

"Why not?" Will seemed genuinely perplexed.

"Won't wear it."

"Neither would I, not my thing, but it looks like it might be good to make one for my girl here. Do you have someone you can give it to?" Without waiting for an answer, Will continued, "Here, I'll make one with you." Now he gave James a chin lift. And without any fuss, he went over to the pile of white t-shirts, pulled out two, handed one to James and called over to me, "Marie, how the hell do you do this?" Once I was next to him, he lowered his mouth to my ear and continued, under his breath, "You're making me into a fucking hippie."

"Never," I whispered back.

I showed Will and James how to bunch up the t-shirt and add the rubber bands and how to dye it. When they pulled off the rubber bands after dying the shirts to expose the design, James actually looked pleased with what he’d made. It looked professional. The bright red, green, and yellow dye made it look like it could be sold in a groovy shop and I told him so, getting a small smile in return.

Progress.

Will's shirt was cool, too, black and dark blue. "I dare you to wear that shirt, cowboy," I whispered in Will's ear.

"Rather see you wear it, with nothing underneath," he whispered back, then he hung up the shirt on the makeshift clothes line I’d set up, and took off.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep, I walked over to Will's. I knocked on the door and he let me in, saying, "You can just walk in, Marie."

I countered, "When I did that the first time, I interrupted you in the shower and you were scary pissed."

He gave me a full smile. "Wouldn't mind if you did it again," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Who was this guy and what had he done with Will? I took a step back, feeling uncertain and confused. "Why have you been so nice to me all day? It's like you changed personalities, Will."

He looked down at me. "Figure I don't need to be an asshole to you, even if I am one."

Okay. That sounded good. But I still wasn't sure.

"And I want those knockout legs wrapped around me again. Tonight."

More

AS I STOOD THERE in Will's front room, I realized where I was and how I felt and the thought hit me that this was going way too fast. Will wanted me for sex, plus more. In other words, a real, modern relationship. Not a summer fling.

And at some point, he'd decided that we were together. I had sort of agreed, burying my opinion about our differences. But after a day—just a day—of letting him in and of being out in the open with our relationship, I had qualms.

The sex, at least for me, was the easy part. We were extremely sexually compatible. It was the "more" that I was hung up on. Could I fall for Will Thrash? Someone who, down at his core, believed things that were the opposite of me?

Conservatives believed in national defense and—in my opinion—were driven by fear and caution. I was an idealistic tree hugger and wanted the world to hold hands and get rid of weapons. Conservatives chose the economy over the environment. I chose the opposite. The conservative leaders I saw in the news were focused on white America—Christian, xenophobic, traditional values. This clashed with my core belief of focusing on the plurality. I wanted tolerance, progressiveness, and welcoming of all people.

I shook my head. I didn't think this could go anywhere. We were too different.

And even if we could figure out our politics, could I be with him, even if it would go nowhere? Absolutely nowhere? He lived up here and I lived down in Santa Barbara and that would not work, long term. I was used to moving on. I could not get attached, could not do so for longer than the time I was here.

But even for the summer, he wanted a relationship and a relationship meant that we could talk about things. So, for starters, I pinpointed one thing that was wrong with him being sweet.

"I don't trust you being nice to me. I only trust you when you're an asshole. When you're nice, I think that something’s wrong, that you're kidding, that you're going to turn around and hurt me. It's a lot easier for this just to be about sex."

He stared at me and shook his handsome head.

"Gotta fix that," he said, and he thought for a moment and continued slowly. "How can I say this? You made me realize that I don't have to be a dick to you, like I am to others. I can be, well, decent." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "You're the first woman I’ve ever met who doesn't back down on my shit and you're so beautiful, the hottest I've ever seen. Your smoking body, your beautiful face. Fuck. But it's not just that. We’re mirror images of each other. We have the same values. Can't you see it? I know what you believe in. You don’t hide it. I like that. You've got a heart, Marie, and you give it to everyone—to kids, to animals. I want you to give it to me. I'll take care of it. But I see I've gotta make you trust me. That's where we are isn't it?"

My eyes widened and I nodded.

And he kept going, spilling out the honesty, stepping forward. "I don't know what I'm doing, all I know is that I can't stay away from you. I haven't been in many relationships. And when I have, they haven't lasted long."

I stepped back. "Me neither. That's why I'm scared of what you're asking." He went to take a step forward and stopped, looking at me, his dark eyes big.

"But you feel it too, don't you?" he asked, suddenly looking tentative. I had never seen Will look this open. Vulnerable.

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. "Will, if I let whatever this is go forward, then I feel like I'm setting myself up for hurt. I have to leave at the end of the summer. You're never going to leave the ranch."

"Don't be so sure about that," he muttered.

I paused. "What?"

"I told the developers no." He looked up at the ceiling.

"No?" I didn't understand what he was talking about.

"To millions. Again."

My stomach plummeted. "Shit." How long would he be able to resist that kind of pressure?

Reading my mind, he continued, a look of disgust washing over his face. "Yeah. They're gonna buy up the neighbors, though. I'm gonna get squeezed out."

This pissed me off. "What the fuck? We need farms. We don't need ranchettes! Shit." While I was talking, he headed toward me so that I had backed against the wall. He placed one hand on the wall next to my head and I felt his warmth. He leaned in toward me.

"I don't know how long I'm gonna be able to hold out. The money could buy my mom better treatment. I'm told that there are experimental things that could help her. Having some cash around . . ." He trailed off. "Not easy to say no. If I sell, I could go anywhere. And if I don't." He sighed. "Since I've already gone too fast, I might as well keep at it. I want you to stay here, with me, after the summer. You could live here and finish your degree. It's not that far to UCSB. Lots of professors live up here. You could set up whatever counseling practice you want, up here. Do whatever you want. I just want to be with you."

I took a deep breath.

I couldn't do it.

I liked him. I was attracted to him. But I couldn't do it.

"Will, this is just sex. We're dating for the summer. Don't make it something more."

The pained look on his face tore me apart.

"Fuck," he said, pulling his arm back and taking a step away from me. "Serves me right." Then he continued, louder, and getting angry, "So let me get this straight. I treat you like shit, you want to stay. I'm nice to you, you want to go. What the fuck do I have to do, Marie? I like you and I think you like me. I want you. I want you in my life and I want you in my bed. You, the hot woman who saves animals and kids. You, the one who fights for what you believe in. You, the one that I know what I see is what I get. You deserve to be treated right. I'm trying to do that and you say you have to go?"

I tried to melt into the wall. "That's crazy, isn't it?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back, angry and biting and in my face. "I don't want to go back to treating you like shit. I want to take care of you. I want to fucking worship the ground you walk on."