by Abby Brooks
"You're hopeless," I say through a smile.
"So is this like a dream come true or something?" David grins. "Going out on a date with me?"
I shake my head, smiling. "Don't flatter yourself. I didn't even remember you enough to recognize you until you mentioned your sister."
"So you say." David licks his lips. "Maybe you really are a crazy stalker and all of this is part of a twenty-year plot to get into my pants."
"Sure." I fish a fry off his plate. "That's exactly what this is."
"I knew it." David winks at me and I can't remember the last time I felt this comfortable with someone, smiling like an idiot over a table at a man I just met again for the first time. "I guess we're not strangers after all." David says.
I twirl a lock of hair around my finger. "No. I guess we aren't."
And for one glorious moment, I don't feel invisible anymore.
DAVID
How is it that this woman has been in my life before and I have no recollection of her? I dig through my childhood memories for any sign of a caramel-haired, blue-eyed beauty at the farm. I even try adding braces and glasses, but I just can't place her. If she was seven back then, I would have been thirteen and too old to pay any attention to my sister and her friends.
Michelle looks at me through her eyelashes and her lips part, one side of her mouth pulling up in an adorably crooked smile. "Remember how I said I always thought I'd love living on a farm?" Her voice is low, intimate, like she's baring her soul to me. I drink it in, desperate to take everything she wants to give me.
I nod.
"Well," she continues. "That's because of the times I used to visit your sister at Carmichael Farms." She swirls her straw in her iced tea, watching the ice rotate around the glass. "Outside of the ballet studio, I never felt as comfortable as I did there. I thought it was the most beautiful place in the world."
Every last thing I learn about this woman makes me like her more. "Me too. That's why I came back. My brother, Colton..." I trail off. "Do you remember him?" I pause while she nods. "He never left. Sarah? She never was much of a farmer. She left as soon as she could."
"I believe that," she says, laughing. "I remember having to beg her to go outside and play in the barn. All she wanted to do was stay inside and play with makeup." Her brow crinkles together. "Wait. You were one hell of a football player, weren't you? I think I remember talk of scholarships and hopes of a professional career."
"I'm surprised you remember that."
"Don't let it go to your head." She raises her eyebrows in what I'm starting to realize is a very playful face. "My dad was your coach."
"Your dad was Coach Dickhead?" I ask, so shocked I go right ahead and use the nickname we gave him in high school.
Michelle covers her mouth and laughs. "Oh my God. Coach Dickhead?" Her laughter is high-pitched and sweet, giving me hope she doesn't think I'm an asshole for bashing her dad. "Is that what you guys called him?"
"Yeah..." I grimace. "Sorry about that. It just slipped out."
"Don't you dare be sorry." She shakes her head, still laughing. "Coach Dickhead. I'm sure he lived up to the name." She dabs at her eyes with her napkin. "I'm guessing the scholarships didn't happen?"
I nod. "Oh, the scholarships happened, alright. The professional career was on the horizon. But just as I was starting to wonder if I was chasing after the wrong dream, Dad had a stroke." I take a breath, still acutely aware of the stress of that time in my life. "I knew right then and there that I belonged at home, on the farm with my family."
"Is your dad okay?" Compassion softens Michelle's eyes.
"He's fine now. He and Mom moved out of the farmhouse into a smaller house we built on the property so he didn't have to deal with stairs anymore."
Michelle shifts in her seat, crossing her legs. "I was so afraid of your dad for the longest time."
"It was the beard, wasn't it?"
Her eyes light up. "Yes! And he never smiled when he saw me. He'd just look at Sarah and say 'oh, you've got that girl over again.'"
"That's just his way. If he spoke to you at all, that meant he liked you. Dad is more of the strong silent type and his brand of humor isn't for everyone."
"Sarah used to say almost the same thing." She stares out towards the now dark sky, the hanging Christmas lights casting warm light on her skin. "It didn't help."
We sit in silence for a few moments, both of us smiling at the other, so much being said through eye contact alone. I could sit and stare at her for hours, devouring all the thoughts in her head and still end the night hungry for more.
"Do you want to get out of here?" I ask, not even remotely ready for this night to end. "Go for a drive?"
Michelle considers the question, weighing her response carefully.
"I'd love that." She licks her lips, drawing my gaze to her mouth. My God. Those lips. The things I want to do with them would make the devil blush.
MICHELLE
The sun set an hour ago and I've been enjoying the intimacy created by the darkness. Just him, me, and a million tiny sparkling lights. David stands and extends his hand. “Shall we?”
"We shall." I place my hand in his, marveling at the rough callouses on his palm.
David offers me his elbow on the way back to his car and I take it willingly, glad for an excuse to be even closer to him. I'm tempted to rest my head on his shoulder as we walk, oddly comforted by the fact that I kind of knew him a little bit, once upon a time. We almost never spoke when we were kids. Our connection is tenuous. But knowing he's my childhood friend's older brother makes him feel less like a stranger, and the familiarity reassures me. We drive for a while and I don't even try to figure out where he's taking me as we chatter about all the little things that make us who we are.
"What's your favorite kind of music?" David asks, glancing my way as we speed down a long country road.
"Oh man. That is not a fair question. I don't have a favorite. I kind of like everything."
"You don't have a favorite?" David looks appalled.
"Nope. I like classical just as much as I like pop. I like rock and rap, as long as it's not the shouty, angry kind. It all depends on my mood." I shrug. "What about you?"
"Guess."
"Talk about something not being fair."
"What's not fair about it? Use what you know about me and take a guess."
"Hmmm. You're a farmer with a sports car. A pro-quality football player who turned down the spotlight to take care of his family. You're hot as sin, but act like an angel—"
David's laughter cuts me off. "Hot as sin? An angel?" He runs a hand along the back of his head. "I think you've got the wrong guy."
"Nope. Not the wrong guy." I gather my hair over my shoulder, glad that he can't see my face because I just managed to embarrass the hell out of myself. "I'm definitely talking about you. First of all, don't even pretend you don't know how good looking you are. And any man that lets a little girl name his kitten, who shows up to a date bearing not just flowers, but also a gift card to my favorite coffee shop?" I trail off, realizing that probably means he noticed I couldn't afford to buy myself a coffee.
"That's just the right way to treat people," David says, looking my way. "It sure doesn't make me an angel." He pauses. "As far as music goes, you're right. It wasn't a fair question. If I had to choose, I love me some Elton John. Tom Petty. Ed Sheeran. But I also like Deadmau5 and Knife Party. I'm pretty eclectic, too."
The more we talk, the more I learn about him, the more I like him. And that is utterly and completely terrifying. Ever since Russell moved out, the plan has been that I would raise Claire alone until she grows up and moves out, and I adopt a cat or three.
After letting myself fall for Russell's manipulations, after letting myself worry so much about what would please my directors at the ballet, after spending so much time worried about what other people want instead of what I want, I have zero intention of letting someone else have that kind of power over me ever again.
I like David so much that my internal warning bells are going off like crazy. He could be the thing that makes me break that promise, and a lifetime of experience has taught me that no matter how good things feel right now, it'll feel devastatingly different in a month or two.
David interrupts my thoughts when he pulls into a parking lot hidden out in the middle of nowhere. "Do you know where we are?" he asks as he puts the car in park and kills the engine.
"Not a clue."
"You're kidding, right?" He looks appalled. "This was the place to take a date you wanted to impress back in high school. The Narrows?" David looks at me like I might figure it out any minute now.
"Ahh." I hold up a finger. "That explains it. Remember, I pretty much didn't exist through high school? I kind of grew up in a bubble."
David sighs. "And here I thought I was taking you somewhere nostalgic." He swings open his door and hits the trunk release button. He stands and then pauses, crouching down to look at me where I still sit in the passenger seat. "Are you telling me no one ever brought you out here?"
I shake my head. "Not even once."
"I'd consider it a tragedy if I wasn't so honored to be your first." He drops me a wink and straightens.
As I climb out of the car into the clear night, David retrieves a blanket from the trunk and spreads it out on the hood of his car. "Climb on up," he says, offering me his hand. "You've never seen the stars until you've seen them from here."
I take his hand and carefully climb up and lean back on my hands as David stretches out beside me, his fingers interlaced behind his head and his ankles crossed. "It's better if you lie down, you know," he says without taking his eyes off the stars in the sky.
I ease myself down beside him, fold my hands together, and press them to my stomach, aware of the long line of contact between our bodies. I didn't intend to be close enough to touch him, but now that I am, I don't want to move.
"Look how beautiful," I say, talking about the sky. Every star ever created is on display. "I can't remember the last time I had a chance to stare up at the stars."
"It's worth doing every now and then." David takes a long breath. "It helps me remember that I'm just a tiny speck in a vast universe. It makes even my biggest problems seem small."
"Small enough to be considered almost speckish, I bet," I say, turning to him with a smile.
He turns his head and his face is just inches from mine. The darkness hides his features and I can't begin to guess what he's feeling by studying the set of his eyes or the twist of his mouth. I'm lost, untethered in the dark, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to know how his lips feel against mine. Would he consume me? His kiss born of passion and fire? Or would he seduce me? Brush his lips against mine, sweet and sultry, so gentle until I begged for more, breathless and desperate?
David props himself up on one elbow, his profile blocking out the stars. He cups my face, his thumb running along my cheek before he lowers himself down and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is sweet, tentative, and chaste for as long as it takes me to draw in one deep breath. But then my hand grips his arm and a fire lights in my belly as David parts my lips with his tongue. He takes charge without being demanding, leading me through the kiss without trapping me. He acts and I respond, partners in this dance.
I run my hand up his arm and onto his back, gripping the corded muscles that shift and bunch beneath his shirt, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I will sleep with this man tonight. That even though we're strangers, even though good girls don't fuck men after just one night, that I won't be able to stop myself with him. He's more than I bargained for, and all thoughts of good and bad have fallen out of my head because all I can think about is that the two of us together is right. Just as he slides his fingers up into my hair, turning my head to improve the angle of the kiss, as his other hand blazes a trail under my shirt, a harsh light washes over us. David sits up and we squint into the spotlight glaring at us from the top of a police car.
"The park closes after dark." The cop's voice comes booming at us from a megaphone. "Please get in your vehicle and vacate the premises."
We slide off the hood of the car, calling out our apologies to the police officer, and David fires up the engine while we laugh until I'm breathless. Making out with a guy on the hood of a parked car? Giving myself permission to sleep with him on our first date? Getting chastised by the police? Who am I? When was the last time I’ve had this much fun?
"I'm getting a cramp," I say, gasping for air while my lips ache for his and my body tenses with desire. "I haven't laughed like this in a long time."
"That's a shame," David says, his gaze traveling from my eyes to my mouth. He pulls out onto the road and speeds through the dark, hitting the gas so hard I should be afraid. But I'm not. Not with him. In fact, sitting next to this man I just met, in a car going way too fast down dark country roads, I feel safer than I have in a long time.
DAVID
Good God almighty. What the fuck just happened? I speed down the road, my dick hard as hell and pressing painfully against my zipper as Michelle works to catch her breath beside me. If that cop hadn't come by when he did, I would have fucked her right there on the hood of my car. Nothing slow, controlled, or romantic about it. Just me taking her hard and fast because that's how much I want her. The moment her lips touched mine, the second her hand gripped my back, her moan rolling out into the air around us, I was a goner. There won't be any backing off from whatever this is between us. No turning it around or calling things off. Her skin touched mine and I fucking ignited.
The clock on the dash says it's almost two in the morning when I pull up in front of her house. I walk her to her door, one hand on her back, and it's an exercise of self-control to keep it there. Every instinct I have screams at me pull her into my arms and kiss her so deeply she forgets what life was like before we met.
"Thank you for a lovely time," she says, her back rigid and her tone so formal it makes me want to grab her by the ass and kiss away all her pristine politeness. Dirty her up, shock her, break her out of the mannered little box she lives in.
But I won't do any of that. Not tonight. A woman like Michelle deserves so much more.
"Can I see you again?" I ask, trailing my fingers down her arms and then taking her hands in mine.
"Yes, please." She looks at me through her lashes, suddenly so quiet and closed off, I'd almost wonder if I did something wrong if I hadn't felt the way her body responded to mine. She wants me in the same way I want her, no doubt about it.
"Tomorrow?" I ask, because fuck playing hard to get. If I want something, I take it. If I need something, I get it. Being direct has gotten me more of what I want than playing games ever would.
"I can't." She takes a long breath. "I have Claire."
"Then soon," I say, threading my hand into her hair and lowering my face to hers because damn it, I can't stand not touching her. I pause, my lips barely brushing hers, savoring these last few seconds I have with her tonight.
"Soon," she breathes, and I kiss her, pulling her tight against me, her breasts pressing against my chest. She runs her hands up my back and draws me even closer, parting her lips to let me in. My dick throbs between us, pressing against her stomach, and she answers by rolling her hips into me, her need echoing mine.
It takes everything, but I pull away, promise to text her tomorrow, and speed home. The minute I'm alone, I take my dick in my hand and jack off, her face in my mind, her name on my lips.
The next week passes in a series of unending text conversations between me and Michelle. The more I get to know her, the more I want to know her. On the outside, she's so perfectly polite, a perpetual smile lighting up her pretty face, an encouraging word ready at every given turn. She never disagrees. She never picks favorites. She even told me she liked all the colors for different reasons when I asked her for the one she liked best.
I've gotten glimmers of the woman underneath all that glossy perfection and she's sultry. Sexy. Inte
lligent. I want to peel away all the layers she's wrapped around her real self and see her for who she is underneath it all. Because I'm starting to think she might be amazing.
Today is another record-breaking day for heat, and now that April has become May and there still isn't any sign of things cooling off, it's safe to assume summer is here. Things are busy growing and blooming here at Carmichael Farms, which means I'm busier and busier each day, checking things off my ever-growing to-do list. Today I need to check on the state of things in the orchard and I pause in front of the fragrant trees to snap a picture of the rows of light pink blossoms. I send it to Michelle as I walk down a long row. Her response is almost instant.
Hot Stuff: Wow! So pretty! More beautiful than I remember it.
Me: It'd be even more beautiful if you were here...
I have to wait a couple minutes for her to respond and I pass the time by walking deeper into the orchard. The apples will be ready early this year. Hell, everything will be ready early this year, but that's okay. There's something to be said for a change in routine to keep things fresh. My phone buzzes in my hand and I pause to read her text.
Hot Stuff: I wish I could be there with you...
Me: Then come here. Problem solved.
Hot Stuff: I've got Claire.
Earlier this week, I invited her to come see the farm but she doesn't want to bring her daughter into things right now. I hate not seeing her, but I respect her reason. Why bring the little girl into my life and risk her getting attached to me when Michelle and I have only been on one date? What if things don't work out between us? Then I'd just be another man that came into Claire's life and left again, and that's the last thing I want to be. But between me having to work at the first hint of sunlight and Michelle teaching well into the night, our schedules don't overlap enough for me to see her as frequently as I want to.
Me: What if I come to your house after she falls asleep?
