by J. B. Havens
“Holy sex on a stick Batman, you look amazing.” And there went her filter again. Her cheeks flamed hot with embarrassment.
Laughing, Nathan stepped closer to her and gathered her into a hug. “Good Lord, woman, I love it when you speak your mind like that.” Keeping one arm tight around her waist, he cupped her cheek with his other hand before leaning down and kissing her softly. “You look pretty amazing yourself, Wannabe.” He brushed his lips across hers in the gentlest of caresses. “Before I throw caution to the wind, and you into your bed, let’s go. I want to wine and dine my girl while I have the chance.”
Her heart clenched at the thought of him leaving, but she forced the uncomfortable feeling aside. Tonight was about them—being together and enjoying each other’s company. She wasn’t going to ruin it by dwelling on the fact that his visit would be over in a few days and then he’d be back in Kansas, ten hours away. She’d become so attached to him in such a short period of time. How was she going to let him go?
Nathan had her truck keys, and when she reached to take them from him, he pulled his hand away. “Nope. I can’t pick you up at your door, but I will do the driving. This is a date. Let me show you I can be a gentleman.”
“You know, have you ever heard the saying that a gentleman ruins a lady’s lipstick, not her mascara? Or the other one, a gentleman opens doors for a lady, so he can smack her ass as she walks through?” Grinning wickedly, Willow fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, blinking up at him with a look of such false innocence, he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or kiss her again. He easily settled on the latter.
“Hmm . . .” He lifted his head, licking his lips. “You don’t seem to be wearing any lipstick.”
“Not a speck. No mascara either.” Smacking a loud peck on his mouth, she swatted his ass. “Let’s go—I’m hungry. Wouldn’t want me to lose it and eat you, now would we?”
“Oh, but what a way to go . . .” Rolling his eyes at her antics, but loving every second of them, he led her outside and drove them into town. He’d picked Jeremiah’s brain earlier and taken his advice. There was only one special, date night-worthy restaurant in town—Bella Mia. It served classic Italian food and good wine, according to Jeremiah anyway.
When they arrived, Nathan missed keeping her from jumping out of the truck again. He wanted to open the door for her, like his father had taught him to do, but the damn stubborn woman kept ruining his plans. He loved her independence, but there were just some things he wanted to do for her for no other reason than it gave him pleasure to treat her the way she deserved.
Inside the charming restaurant, Willow’s eyes lit up when she noticed a young man, about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in black jeans, a white shirt, and a black bow tie behind the hostess stand. “Cody! I didn’t know you worked here too,” she exclaimed, giving him a swift hug before stepping back to Nathan.
The kid’s face turned beet red, but he quickly paled and glanced away from Willow’s enticing cleavage when he noticed Nathan glaring at him. “Um, yup, I . . . um . . . work here sometimes when I’m not at the store. Usually, I just bus tables, but the regular hostess is sick. They call me in when they’re short-staffed. I’m trying to save for college and that tattoo I told you about.” He seemed to realize he was babbling and snapped his mouth shut.
Undoubtedly oblivious to the kid’s crush on her, Willow set her hand on Nathan’s arm. “Nathan, this is Cody Moore. He was one of the first people to be nice to me after I moved here. His sister is my new hairdresser. Cody, this is . . . um . . .”
It was Willow’s turn to blush, and Nathan recalled how she’d hesitated earlier in the day when introducing him to Dale. It was clear she was worried about putting a label on their relationship, and he decided to stake his claim once and for all. Holding a hand out to Cody, he said, “Hi, I’m Willow’s boyfriend, Nathan Casey.”
He wasn’t sure who was shocked more, the kid or Willow, but Cody recovered first and shook his hand. “Um . . . hi. It’s . . . uh . . . nice to meet you. Let me . . . um . . . . where would you like to sit?”
“Do you have a table that’s a little more private than the others?” Nathan asked, resting his hand on the small of her back. He could feel the heat of her skin through her blouse, and he groaned inwardly. God, this woman fired his blood.
“Um, yeah, we do.” Avoiding eye contact with both of them, Cody grabbed two menus and led the way past several tables—some of which were occupied, while others sat empty. He stopped by a cozy booth in the back that was a good distance away from the other diners. The round candlelit table was covered with a starched, black cloth and set with elegant white china, silverware, and glasses. Burgundy napkins rested atop the plates and matched the trim around the soft beige walls. Black-and-white prints of Italian landmarks, music playing softly in the background, and low-lit sconces all added to the appealing atmosphere. While the décor wasn’t original, it was romantic.
Putting the menus on the table, the teen stepped back. “Your server will be with you in a few minutes to take your drink orders. Please enjoy your date, um, I mean, meal.” Blushing again, he swiftly retreated back towards the front door.
“The kid has got it bad for you,” Nathan observed, as they sat at opposite ends of the booth’s curved, black, leather-covered bench, then scooched in until they were sitting beside each other.
“What? No way! He’s just a sweet kid who likes to talk to me about tattoos when I run into him at the store.” Opening her menu, she scanned the selections while also hiding her pink cheeks with the leather-bound folder. A teenage busboy set a basket with fresh bread and dish of herbed olive oil on the table, then quickly filled their water glasses before disappearing again.
Nathan grinned at her sudden bashfulness but waited until they were alone again before explaining his earlier observation. “Nope. He might like your tattoos, but he’s definitely got a crush on you. Not that I can blame him at all—you’re a ten. Scratch that—you’re an eleven. If it was anyone other than a teenage kid still in high school, I might have to have words with him in the parking lot for looking down your shirt, but it’s pretty cute.”
“Cute? You think having your thirty-three-old girlfriend crushed on by someone practically half her age is cute?” She glared at him over the top of her menu, making him chuckle.
“Yes. And so are you when you’re trying to be all . . .” he waved his hand at her, “ . . . what you’re doing right now.” Which is making my dick hard. But he didn’t say that. Even acknowledging it to himself was bad enough. He shifted in his seat, trying to get some relief from the throbbing bulge in his pants. Fat chance of that—the woman made him crazy without even trying. God help him if she ever put her mind to it, he’d be toast. Burnt toast with a raging erection.
“You realize you’re not making any sense, right?” Smiling, she took a sip of her water.
“You scramble my brains, Wannabe. Give a man a break, here.”
Leaning across the table, she pecked a kiss onto his lips, retreating before he had a chance to deepen it into something more.
“Anyway, Cody’s a good kid. Like I said, his sister, Ginger, is my new hairdresser. We met at the drunken Jenga night. We’re taking Cody and his friend, Bubba—yes, that’s his real nickname—to get tattoos next week. Bubba got a really bad tribal one a few months ago that he wants to get covered up with an eagle. Cody had to wait until he turned eighteen a few weeks ago to get one. His mother wouldn’t let him do it before then. He wants this really cool one he saw on the shop’s website—it’ll look like his skin of his upper arm is splitting open, and instead of seeing blood, muscle, and bone, there’ll be an American flag behind the opening. I’ll show you a picture of it when we go home. Cody’s been asking me for my input ever since he saw mine and wanted me to go with them to make sure the artist is talented and has sterile conditions. He’s heard too many horror stories, including Bubba’s.”
He was about to ask her if she would be adding to her own ink, b
ut then he realized they were no longer alone again. A female server had stepped up to their table.
“Hello, and welcome to Bella Mia. I’m Chasity––one of the owners. I apologize in advance, but we’re a little short-staffed, so I’ll be helping out tonight. Can I get you started with some drinks? Maybe a glass of wine? The house Chianti is wonderful.”
Nathan’s gaze met the eyes of a short, older woman. Her face framed by bouncing curls that looked bleached blonde. Her hands rested on the small of her back, and she was dressed professionally in the same attire as Cody. However, her face was heavily made up, and instead of making her look younger, it aged her further—he guessed she was around sixty, and that was being generous.
“Sure, wine sounds lovely,” Willow said, smiling pleasantly at the server. “The Chianti would be great.”
“Excellent. And for you, sir?”
“Whatever IPA you have on draft is fine.” He reached over and entwined Willow’s fingers with his, wishing the server would disappear, so he could get back to his date.
“I’m sorry,” the woman continued, her bright white teeth flashing from behind her painted red lips. “I know this might be a little forward, but I know just about everybody who lives here. Did you just move to the Rock or are you just visiting?”
“I moved here, yes,” Willow responded. “A few months ago, but this is the first time I’ve been here. My father passed away and left me his ranch.”
The server’s mouth dropped open as her complexion went fish-belly white under her foundation. “That—that wouldn’t happen to be Skyview Ranch, now would it?” Her tone had become frigid, and all pretense of politeness had disappeared. “You’re Willow Crawford aren’t you, Jason Hillcrest’s illegitimate daughter?” The way she’d said the last two words was as if they disgusted her.
Beside him, Willow stiffened. “Yes, I am. Is that a problem for you?” It was her turn to spit icicles. Her hands clenched into fists, and the blood drained from her knuckles.
Oh shit, she’s pissed, he thought before he decided to put a stop to this before it ruined their evening.
“Look, Chasity, was it?” Nathan interrupted, not wanting the conversation to go any further south than it already had. “I understand people around here didn’t have the best feelings about Mr. Hillcrest, but we’re here on our first official date. Could this maybe wait until another time? We’d really just like to order and enjoy our evening.” He kept a tight leash on his temper, not willing to let small-town gossip about a dead man mar their evening. He didn’t know what the woman’s beef was with Willow’s father, and honestly, he didn’t much care.
“Sure.” Chasity bit the word out with venom, spun on her heel, and marched off like someone had stuck a hot poker up her ass.
“That was so ridiculous. What the hell is her problem?” Willow asked. “I’m so sick of this. It’s not the first time someone has held my father’s less than favorable reputation against me. The man is dead—let him rest in peace. For Christ’s sake, I never even met him, so why bitch to me? Why do people have to be so . . . so . . . damn rude?”
“I don’t know baby, but let’s not allow her to ruin our date.” Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles, happy to see their normal color had returned. “We still have a movie to get to.”
With a somber expression, she studied their joined hands. It killed him to see her feeling even a moment of sadness. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but you’re right. I’m not going to let anyone spoil our night. But would you mind if we just kept it to dinner this time? We can go to a movie later in the week. Let’s eat and then hang out at home. I think I’ve had just about enough of the Rock for one night.”
Home. He liked the sound of that. “Anything you want, Wannabe.”
A few minutes later, a different server arrived with their drinks and took their dinner orders. Willow didn’t mention the rude woman again, and Nathan followed her lead, putting everything out of his mind but getting to know this amazing woman even more. With the candlelight reflecting off the natural highlights in her hair, her lyrical laugh, and sharp wit while verbally sparring with him, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. If he wasn’t in love with her yet, he was well on his way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
June 18
My Beloved Cherry,
I can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I last saw you and held you in my arms. I miss you more with every minute, hour, and day that passes. I remember a phrase from when I had to read Romeo and Juliet in high school. Star-crossed lovers. That’s what we are—wrong side of the tracks, different upbringing, even our religions don’t match up, with me being Catholic and you being Protestant. I just pray we don’t meet the same fate. Even if your parents never change their mind about me, I’ll find a way for us to be together again. Unfortunately, that might take longer than I’d hoped.
I keep remembering our first date. The only thing I should’ve done differently would’ve been to pick you up at your house like a gentleman, bring you flowers, and shake your father’s hand. As it is, seeing you waiting for me outside the movie theater, the lights reflecting off your gorgeous hair, is still burned into my brain. You looked so beautiful that I couldn’t believe that a woman like you would be interested in a man like me. Never in my life would I have thought to go see The Great Gatsby, but that was the film you’d wanted to see, and that was all that’d mattered to me—I still have our ticket stubs. You let me put my arm around you, and I don’t think I watched any of the movie because I was way too busy staring at you. My heart just about exploded when you let me hold your hand afterward as we walked to the restaurant. I still remember the red and white checkered table clothes and little candles. I realized then that you were even more stunning by candlelight. You’d said it was so romantic. I fell in love with you on that date, my sweet Cherry.
I never found our age difference to be an issue, and I know you didn’t either, but our parents and others saw things differently than you and me. If I’d only waited a few more weeks, none of this would’ve been an issue. But a love like ours couldn’t be contained. While I don’t regret making love to you, I’m so, so sorry your folks found out, and it ultimately resulted in us being torn apart instead of bringing us closer together like we’d dreamed.
I did some research, and the statute of limitations on the statutory rape charge your father threatened me with is twelve years in PA. Even without your cooperation, he can still persuade the law to pursue charges against me. That’s why I can’t send these letters to you—he would use any attempt to contact you as an excuse to have me arrested. You begged me to take you with me, but if you came here to live with me—or anywhere else—I could still be arrested and extradited to PA. I want you to finish school and go to college to be a teacher like you always wanted to. I don’t want to be the cause of your dreams not coming true. I could never be so selfish to take that from you.
So the only way we can be safe, and for you to get the education you deserve, is to wait the twelve long years. I know that sounds like forever—it would feel like it too—but I’d wait a lifetime if I had to. You mean the world to me, and someday, I’ll make my way back to you. I just pray that when I get there, some other man hasn’t stolen your heart.
I’ve been working my ass off here on my uncle’s ranch, and I’m so tired by the end of the day, I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow. That’s actually a good thing, because then I get to see you again in my dreams.
My great-uncle Simon is a grumpy bastard, but as long as I keep doing a good job, he doesn’t bother me. I’ve learned a lot about ranching over the past few weeks, and despite the hard work, I have to say I’m starting to enjoy it. I’m even learning how to ride a horse.
Living in a small town sure is different than living in Philly. The movie theater is really small and only shows one movie at a time. And everything is slower here. No one is in a hurry, and if you try to rush them, they tell you to
stop and smell the roses or some shit like that. The air is so much cleaner—no smog or industrial smells. It does take some getting used to the stench of manure though.
You’d love it here, Cherry. The sunsets are amazing, like a painting, only a hundred times better. Then when the stars come out, there are so many of them that you could spend a lifetime counting them and still not come close to getting them all. I saw a shooting star last night, and I don’t have to tell you what my wish was—I’m sure you can guess. I’ll just keep making the same wish every time I see one until it comes true. I just have to keep having faith that, one day, I’ll get to hold you in my arms again and tell you how much I love you.
Well, it’s late, and I have to be up at the crack of dawn, so I’ll end this letter. Even though I can’t send it, I’ll add it to the other one I wrote, and when we’re together again, you can read about how my thoughts were always with you.
Love,
J
Folding the letter, Willow tucked it back into its envelope, then rested her head on Nathan’s shoulder. After dinner, they’d gotten their dessert to go and returned home. With the weird way the owner had reacted to Willow’s presence, they hadn’t lingered over their meal, opting instead to share a serving of molten-lava cake on the porch swing. As they sat there, she’d let him see the first letter from her father’s secret stash before reading the second one aloud to him.
As he used his foot to gently rock the swing back and forth, Nathan placed his arm around her shoulders, gave her a squeeze. “So, they were like Romeo and Juliet—like he said. Her parents, and probably his, weren’t happy about the relationship. A few years older and their age difference wouldn’t have been an issue. The religious differences I can’t comment on, since I’ve never understood that.”
