Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama

by Trentham, Laura

  She took a big bite and hummed, her smile one of delight. He leaned back, stretched his legs out, and crossed his ankles. Her obvious appreciation made him smile, and he wagged a finger in her direction. “Fried spam is a completely underrated food, by the way.”

  Tension leeched out of him at her laughter. He would wait on her to bring up the offer again. He closed his eyes and savored the food, letting his other senses catalogue the experience. Nature worked its healing magic on him even with an interloper. In fact, seeing her wide-eyed wonder in the meadow and hearing her exhilarated laugh on their ride had unexpectedly sweetened the day.

  “That was so good.” The sexual husky near-moan popped his eyes open. The sandwich was gone, and she sucked on a forefinger with her eyes closed. A snapshot of her on her knees performing the similar action on him shot tingles to the appendage craving her undivided attention.

  He pulled the cooler onto his lap. “I brought some cookies Darcy made. I’m not much of a baker to be honest.” He opened another baggie and offered her one of the chocolate chunk cookies. She took a bite, licking a piece of chocolate off her bottom lip. He swallowed air as her head tipped back in carnal enjoyment.

  He wanted to kiss her. Bad. Why lie to himself? He wanted to fuck her. They were surrounded by wildflowers in a remote forest. Maybe she’d consider it romantic.

  Or maybe she’d think he was an inconsiderate asshole. He didn’t have a condom, and besides the one sleeping bag, he had nothing to cushion her against pokey sticks and rocks and dirt. Anyway, a physical relationship, even a kiss, would muddle the already confusing dynamic pulsing between them. He picked up a twig and stripped away every scrap of bark, leaving it bare.

  Slipping off her heels, she stretched her legs out and wiggled red-painted toenails. An expectant silence fell over them. He tensed, ready for her to mention the offer.

  Leaving his hat on the ground, she hopped up and walked barefoot into the middle of the meadow, bending at her waist so the tops of the flowers brushed her palms. The afternoon sun glanced over the top of the trees and glowed around her, sparking her hair like a forest fire. If he hadn’t lost his phone, he would’ve have pulled it out for a picture. A chasm split open in his chest, and a melancholy longing filled the void.

  She glanced over her shoulder, a sweet smile on her face, and dropped to lay the ground, the flowers swaying around her. Her voice, now aimed at the sky, drifted to him. “I could definitely sleep here tonight. Is this where you planned to pitch your tent?”

  He joined her in the middle of the meadow and laid down next to her, close enough to touch her, but instead, he knitted his hands over his stomach. All he could see were the flowers, the tops of the trees, the sky . . . and her. Her face had softened as if the magic he’d always found in the woods had cast its spell over her too.

  “You really think you could sleep out here? No tent, I’m afraid. Dark as tar. Insects everywhere. Animals roaming, hunting, fighting. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

  “As long as you’re here, I wouldn’t be scared.”

  Was that an invitation in her eyes, or just his hopeful imagination? Before he could react, a bird cawed overhead. A crow. Another joined the first, their calls falling on top of one other like two old biddies exchanging gossip. A half dozen more filled the trees around them holding a creepily beautiful conversation.

  She sat up and leaned back on her hands, staring into the treetops. The beat of wings and the rustle of leaves as more birds landed whooshed under the cutting cries. He didn’t move, not wanting to spook the crows. He’d never experienced the unusual gathering, but had heard Ada talk about seeing one when she was a child.

  Jessica’s eyes were huge. Her mouth opened, but he held a finger against his lips and gestured her back to the ground. She lay on her side, facing him.

  Dozens of crows ringed the meadow and blacked out the treetops, the branches curving inward like the spokes of an umbrella.

  “We’re witnessing a murder of crows.” He had to raise his voice above a whisper to be heard.

  “Murder?” She mouthed the word, and then asked, “What are they saying to each other, do you think?”

  He was relieved to see wonder in her eyes, not fear. Too many people feared crows, considering them harbingers of death. “I reckon they’re talking about where to find food or shelter or the location of a predator.”

  “Why is it called a murder?”

  “According to an old wives’ tale, they’re passing judgment on one of their own. That crow will be put to death if found guilty.”

  “How macabre.”

  She rolled to her back, scooting so her shoulder nudged against his. He dropped his hand to lay between them, palm up. His breathing rate picked up, wondering, hoping, the nerves and excitement of the moment tumbling his stomach. Her fingertips brushed down his wrist, and he froze. Only when their palms connected and their fingers entwined did he breathe again.

  For another ten minutes, the bizarre ritual continued until the crows flew off in all different directions as if the judgment had been carried out. Silence wrapped around the meadow like a fairy’s spell. He didn’t want to speak and shatter the illusion.

  He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. Songbirds returned and the wind rustling the leaves filled the void.

  “That was amazing,” she whispered. “I suppose you see that sort of thing all the time.”

  “Never have. It was incredible. I’m glad you were here, otherwise no one would believe me. You can go back and tell your city kin you witnessed a rare country murder.”

  She chuckled and flung her free arm over her head in a pose of total relaxation. The sun covered them like a blanket, hot but not oppressive. A few minutes passed before she said, “If I wasn’t with you, what would you be doing?”

  “I don’t do much of anything out here except commune with Mother Nature. Falcon can be . . . claustrophobic. I don’t want to sound like a sack of new-age junk, but time out here keeps my life in balance.” He tensed, wondering if he’d supplied her with an unintentional weapon against him.

  She yawned, cover her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes had closed, her breathing growing deep and even. With a patience and stillness learned through hunting, he didn’t move.

  Her face softened, her mouth slightly parted. A soft snuffle made him smile. After a half-hour, he extricated his hand from hers and propped himself up on an elbow, his cheek in his palm. She sighed and arched toward him, her shirt straining against the buttons across her breasts, her throat an offering to his lips.? Dare he hope he had a starring role in her dreams? Or did she have a boyfriend in Richmond waiting for her to return?

  In reality, he knew very little about her. She was ambitious, yet held an obvious antipathy for her father. She was determined enough to hop on the back of his ATV, yet hadn’t mentioned the offer once. She had a tough, no-nonsense demeanor, yet in sleep, projected a sweet innocence. One thing was certain, she would hate the fact he studied her unawares.

  He closed his eyes and gusted in a shuddery breath. Best to get them moving. The sun had tinged her face a healthy pink, but too much longer would see her nose peeling tomorrow. Her skin was too perfect for that.

  Instead of simply shaking her awake or calling her name, he picked a purple wildflower and brushed the delicate petals up her neck and across her mouth, a poor surrogate for his lips. Her tongue darted out with a husky moan.

  She’d turned from innocent to seductress. An explosion of lust fired deep in his belly. He could only allow himself to enjoy her company. Anything more would be pleasurable but dangerous and complicated.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Sleepy confusion played over her face, her eyes unfocused and disoriented. After a few blinks, she startled to her elbows. “I was dreaming . . .”

  A shot of longing arrowed straight between his legs. “What about?”

  She rubbed the heels of her hands her eyes like a child. “Nothing important.”

  She sat up an
d combed her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the waves. The openness in her face was gone, her protective mask back in place.

  “You’ve got a little drool . . .” He touched the side of his mouth.

  With a quick intake of breath, she wiped her mouth. Her eyes narrowed. “I do not.”

  “No? Trick of the light I guess.”

  She adjusted her skirt and shirt, her gaze somewhere around her knees. “Did you have a nap too?”

  His lips twitched. It was too easy. “Nope. Couldn’t sleep ’cause you were snoring so loud.”

  Her gaze shot to his. “I don’t snore.”

  “Is that what your boyfriend back home tells you? If so, he’s a liar.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t what? Have a boyfriend?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Every muscle in his body relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d become. “How about a bed partner?”

  “That is absolutely none of your business.” She stood up, turned her back, and brushed grass and dirt off her bottom, which happened to be at eye level. She was right. It wasn’t his business, but the throbbing place between his legs wanted to make it his business.

  “I need to take care of something. Privately.” The formality in her voice made him chuckle. Squatting in the woods wasn’t a formal event.

  “You go right ahead. I won’t look.”

  On bare feet, she tiptoed across the meadow. Before she disappeared into the shadows of the trees, she cast one last, inscrutable look over her shoulder. He lay back down and watched a ladybug climb toward a flower, the stem bending the closer it got.

  Twigs cracked over the sound of shushing grass. He hopped up and tread toward her on hunting feet. She stuffed something white under the ATV’s cargo net.

  “What’s that?”

  She jerked as if he’d caught her shoplifting, and her sun-pinkened cheeks turned a shade darker, the color bleeding down her throat. “It’s . . . it’s . . . my panties.”

  He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. She threw her hands up in a what-the-hell gesture. “Guys pee and they jiggle it, right? Women don’t have that luxury.”

  For once, he was speechless. She would be pressed into him on the ATV. In a skirt that would be riding up her legs. Goddamn pantyless. Damn, he loved the saucy tilt to her head and half-smile she wore as if she recognized the depraved path his thoughts had taken.

  They’d better get moving before he scooped her up, laid her down in the wildflowers, and embarrassed himself. Yet, he didn’t want the day to end. There was plenty of daylight left. “Interested in a tour?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Back on the ATV, he rode her through gullies, over rises, and by abandoned farmsteads. In the woods, the gloaming came early. The sun had dropped below the trees, diffusing light around them. He pulled to a stop under a deer stand. “Let’s get up high, away from the mosquitoes. There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Up there?” She pointed at the makeshift ladder, incredulity lilting her question high.

  He raised his eyebrows and tutted. “Can’t do it?”

  “Please.” She grabbed at a board nailed to the tree and tugged, testing its sturdiness. Before she raised a foot, she looked over her shoulder at him. “If I’m going to do this, you have to turn around, perv.”

  He chuckled and faced the woods. He hadn’t actually been thinking about her pantyless state until she mentioned it. Of course, now that she had, it was all he could focus on. What would it feel like to push her skirt up and have those legs wrapped around him? What would she look like naked except for those fuck-me heels? Blowing out a long, steadying breath, he looked to the treetops, a shadowy greenish gray in the dusk.

  “I’m up,” she said.

  So was he, in a very embarrassing way. He scrambled up and settled opposite her, stretching his legs out so his boots were at her hip. Thank goodness, the shadows were even deeper in the blind.

  “Did I interrupt your plans to hunt today?” A hint of upper-class distastefulness hid poorly in the question.

  He trailed his gaze from her mussed hair, over her wrinkled blue blouse, and down her legs to her scuffed red-bottomed shoes. She had never had to worry about money or food. “I carry a gun out here more for protection these days, but I used to hunt regularly. And before you get on a soapbox, I eat what I kill. Mostly deer. Honestly, I’m not sure how we would have made it growing up if it hadn’t been for what I brought out of the woods and what Ada grew in her garden.”

  “I’ve never had deer meat.” It was a conciliatory offering on her part.

  “It’s delicious. So is squirrel, rabbit, and wild turkey, if you know how to prepare the meat.”

  “Squirrel?” The horror was like he’d offered her poop on a stick as an appetizer. “They’re basically rodents.”

  “Yep. But tasty fried up with a bit of gravy.” He paused. “You interested in dinner one night?”

  “Not if squirrel is on the menu.”

  He didn’t bother to suppress his laughter. “Come on now, you obviously have a wicked sense of adventure.”

  She pressed both palms flat on the wooden floor by her hips. “Why would you think that? I can assure you I’m the dullest person you’ll ever meet.”

  She wasn’t smiling, in fact, her shoulders inched toward her ears, and she looked toward the trees to avoid his gaze. He cocked his head. “I don’t know. Being a guinea pig for Lilliana. Hopping on my ATV to spend the night out in the boonies. Pretty spontaneous and adventurous, if you ask me.”

  “I can assure you, I’m driven by logical facts and decisions.”

  “What was logical about deciding to spend two nights out here with no preparation? Were you a girl scout? Have you even camped before? That was the first time you’ve ever peed outside, wasn’t it?”

  “I’ll survive.” Her voice hardened with determination, and he had no doubts she would do more than survive; she’d thrive. “I’ve seen that show where they dump two people naked out in the woods to survive for like a month. This is only two nights.”

  “If you’re suggesting we strip naked for this little adventure, I’m all in. You first.”

  Her husky laugh washed the tension away. It was dark but he was pretty sure her gaze lingered somewhere around the zipper of his pants. Was she checking him out? His semi-hard dick reared to attention, the zipper growing taut. He had always attracted trouble, and Jessica Montgomery was the best kind of trouble there was.

  7

  The mosquito feasting on her calf drew her attention away from his body. Once again, her gaze had drifted straight to his pants. She slapped her calf and flicked off the flattened bug. “I’m not stripping naked. These mosquitos are eating me up as it is.”

  “Can’t say as I blame them.” Naughtiness sugared his drawl.

  Heat whooshed through her body. The powerful physical attraction was one aspect she could, if not squash, at least control. The real problem lay with the fact she genuinely liked him. He was funny and smart and seemed to stare straight into her heart and not find her wanting.

  Her hand fell to her left hip in an old, protective gesture. She hadn’t resorted to cutting herself in years. Therapy had helped her find other ways to cope, but the need lurked dormant and she was always afraid she would lose her iron grip over the urges. If she gave in to this wild attraction and he noticed the scars, would he understand or turn away?

  After two short days in his company, she’d revealed more of herself than she had with any man. Yet, the Montgomery Industries offer sat like an ugly poisoned toad between them. The enclosed deer stand felt at once too small, yet the distance between them great and unnavigable.

  A blink of light from the corner of her eye had her scrambling up and scanning the field and woods. She curled her hands over the edge, splinters biting into her palm. More blinks followed, floating like fairy lanterns a few inches above the ground.

  He joined her at the rail
of the stand. “Darcy and I used to spend hours catching lightning bugs.”

  “Me too. I could count on Ma-maw to have a Mason jar, holes in the lid, at the ready.” Her breathing hitched, memories rubbing her insides raw, her vulnerabilities welling too close to the surface. Time passed without either of them moving or speaking. Eventually, the lightning bugs drifted higher into the trees until the leaves blotted out their lights.

  “What could Montgomery Industries possibly offer that could tempt you to leave this behind?” She’d posed the question almost rhetorically, but when he jerked back and shifted away, she realized she’d opened a door she wasn’t ready to pass through.

  He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I’m not sure what sort of negotiation games you’ve been playing at out here, but I’m a straight talker. Are you ready to discuss the offer?”

  She stepped as far away from him as possible, rough-cut wood digging into her shoulder blades. “You think I’ve been playing games today?”

  “Why else would you spend the day out here with me?” The darkness hid his expression, but she felt like he was testing her in some way.

  She was a Montgomery Industries executive tasked with a mission. Family loyalty and her own ambition dictated that she should press him, but magic from the woods buzzed through her. Discussing the offer would be a desecration to memories she would always hold close. “Can we discuss the offer later?”

  He was silent for a long while. “Fair enough. Are you ready to head out?”

  “As I’ll ever be. Are we sleeping in the meadow?” She descended the ladder first, scraping the pointy toes of her shoes against the bark. They would never be the same after this adventure.

  He hopped straight down, landing with soft knees like a prowling cat, and headed toward the ATV. “You’ll be sleeping in a bug-free bed at Lilliana’s.”

  She grabbed his arm, and he swung to face her. “But . . . I thought . . .”

  “I never planned on making you spend the night out here. Believe or not, I’m not a raging asshole.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear as a slow smile softened his eyes. “Anyway, you don’t need to prove anything to anybody. Especially me.”