One Summer With Autumn

by Julie Reece

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Jesse says, deftly removing the drink from my grasp. “Did she eat anything?” Dex shrugs, still grinning. “Wonderful. Antihistamine and alcohol? No wonder she’s bombed. We have to get her home.”

  “I’ll handle that.”

  My head drops back. I glance straight up, gaping as two stunningly dark blue eyes meet my gaze. “Oh, me.” The words hush out in a whisper. Caden watches my lips move, seems unable to drag his attention from them, making my stomach feel funny and warm.

  “What have you all been doing to my poor little intern?” He speaks to them but keeps looking at me. His knowing smile is as mysterious as moonlight, his voice soft as air. What is he thinking right now? What will he do when he finds out that I accidently inebriated myself?

  “Oh, stumffph,” I say, with no idea what I mean.

  “Hey, I’m James. Jimmy, call me Jimmy.”

  Caden lifts his head, and I follow his gaze. His face hardens to stone as it lands on the stranger nearing our table. I recognize him as the boy I saw watching me play earlier.

  “Er, can I talk to her for a minute?”

  “Sure,” Caden says, without moving.

  “Uh, okay, yeah. See my friends and me … ” He nods toward a group standing nearby. “We noticed you playing earlier. And we ain’t never seen anything like it, nowhere.” Dex and Quinn lean forward. Their faces aren’t any friendlier than Caden’s. James Call Me Jimmy shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks a lot younger when he does. “So, um, we’d like to know if she’d be part of a foursome for a match we got going in an hour.”

  “Thanks!” I answer.

  ”No,” Caden says, at the same time. His hands grip the back of my chair on either side of my shoulders.

  “We’d split the winnings with her, fifty-fifty,” says James. Jimmy. Whatever.

  The muscles in both his arms petrify around me. “You got a hearing problem?”

  “Sixty-forty?” I have to admit our man James here has some stones. Quinn stands. Caden steps in front of me, half blocking my view of James holding up both hands. “Okay, just asking. She’s amazing,” he says, peering down at me with a nod. “You’re amazing. Ya’ll have a good night.”

  “Awww. Bye, James!” I yell, waving until I teeter in my chair.

  Caden glares across the table at his family. “Really?”

  “Going now,” I announce. My stomach feels twirly, and I don’t want to be around Caden or his family anymore. When I tell my legs to stand, they ignore me. The alcohol, smoke, and cold meds are doing a number on my brain. “I think … I’d better go home.”

  Caden bends, lowering himself to my ear. Warm breath falls across my skin, and I forget what was I saying. His fingers brush my cheek, pulling my hair away. “Hiya, gorgeous. Need a ride?”

  22

  Caden

  Autumn stands and immediately stumbles. I catch her in my arms, and steady her against my hip. She’s wasted, a fact which Dexter will dearly pay for, but later.

  “I have to pee,” she says too loudly.

  “I know, sweetheart. Come with me.”

  She grinds her head over her shoulder, shout-whispering to my family. “He called me sweetheart!”

  With my arm around her for support, I help her to the ladies’ room. She weighs nothing, so it’s no big deal to edge the door open with my boot. “Man on the floor!” Two women scurry out, cursing me as I maneuver Autumn to the first stall.

  Her head tilts and she finds my eyes. Hers are glassy and red-rimmed bringing out every protective instinct I own. “I’m not peeing in front of you,” she states.

  “Well, I’m not leaving, so if you don’t want to wet yourself in public, I suggest you get it over with.” She stares. “Look, I’ll turn around, but I can’t have you falling in here. You’ll crack your pretty, idiotic little head open, and then where will we be?” I prop her on the toilet and face the opposite direction, listening to her fumble with her clothing.

  “So humilifying,” she mumbles. A hard smack has me glancing sideways to catch the sight of her hand, fingers splayed against the stall barrier. “Behrs live to embar … embarrassing me.”

  More fumbling with clothes and the deed is done. When she staggers, I scoop her into my arms. Her skin is blistering hot against mine. This is more than drunk; she’s got a fever. I hold her closer, out the door, down the hall, through the front door, and we’re in the night air. I hope her sharp intake of breath helps clear her lungs. My nose grazes her cheek. “Let’s get you home. Tomorrow, when you’re feeling better, we’ll talk.”

  My boots scuff the gravel to the far end of the parking lot. I lean against the Jeep, still holding her in my arms. She’s so limp, I’m not even sure she’s awake. My thigh comes up to support her weight while I tug on the handle. When her head sags forward, her satiny hair brushes the scruff of my cheek. I breathe in her mix of smoky musk and warm cinnamon.

  Autumn’s fingers are clumsy as they pet my face. “Why’d you do it, Silas?” The words stop me like a fist. “Why?” Her head rises, eyes shining with a loneliness familiar to me.

  My forehead rests against hers. “I want to explain, Cricket, but not here.” Her tears spill onto my hand. They might be acid the way they burn, knowing I’m the source.

  “Silas,” she whispers, her lips nearly touching mine. Weeks of pent-up emotion swell, threatening to crack the dam I’ve built to hold them back. “I almost … ” Her breath is warm against my mouth.

  Almost what?

  It occurs to me how fast life changes within these quick pulses of time. A chance meeting. A misstep on a roof shingle. In this moment, there’s an invitation from her. A choice for me. Like fish diverging in a forked stream, lives are guided by split-second decisions made within thousands of fleeting pulses—just like this one. The current pulls me under, sweeps me along before I know what’s happening. Yet, I do. I want this. Her. My defenses crumble, and I’m undone.

  I let her feet slide to the ground. One hand winds around her waist, drawing her near, the other cradles her head as my mouth descends on hers. I’m nothing but raw need as I crush her beneath my punishing lips. I punish her for my confusion, for making me care. I want every inch of what she’s offering, but I’m a fool if I think her torture is greater than mine. My feelings run so deep, so hot, I could fuel a city with the energy rolling off me.

  Under the pressure of my lips, Autumn opens for me, deepening our kiss. My tongue sweeps inside, tangling with hers. We taste, explore each other. How can someone this hardened be so soft? My heart pounds in my chest, matching the rhythm she sets. When my fingers bunch the material of her thin shirt, she sighs into my mouth. Her tiny whimper ignites my blood like a match to kerosene. I worry I’m too rough until her hands move up my body, wind around my neck, pulling me in, and my mind screams for more. The intensity of my feelings, my lack of control, it all scares me. Mostly because I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her now. And I mean nothing.

  Finally, reason replaces the fire in my veins, and I set her apart from me, letting her breathe. As amazing as she feels in my arms, I can’t go any further, not with her drunk out of her damn mind. She needs a clear head to know what’s happening and decide if she wants this as much as I do. I open the car door and help her inside. Oxygen-starved breaths pump out of me as I jog around to the driver’s side. Energy zings through my body as I turn my ball cap to the back and hop in.

  Autumn curls up on the seat beside me. I might break the sound barrier getting her home. All the way there, I argue with myself over what I’ve done, what I should do now. I can’t deny my feelings for this incredible creature lying next to me anymore. She owns me, but does that make her mine?

  I just kissed an incapacitated girl into a coma, and not just any girl. Autumn. I tell my conscience she was worth it and to shut the hell up. Who knows if she’s forgiven me, let alone wants to date? I’ve gotten way ahead of myself, but can’t stop the thoughts pouring in. Say she does want me
, too—what then? She’s going back to Macon soon, so even if I win the bet, I lose.

  “Damn it!”

  My hands slam the steering wheel, and Autumn murmurs. Her voice is deep and throaty, probably from being out in the rain all night, but the tone has me gripping the wheel to keep from pulling over and doing things to her I have no business thinking about.

  After Dad died, I worried my family half to death with my idiocy. I’ve done so much wrong; I want to get something right. A relationship with Autumn isn’t possible. It would disappoint my mom, and hurt Piper. What am I saying, Autumn hates me anyway, right?

  I know as soon as the thought emerges, it isn’t true. Not anymore. Drunk or not, the toe-curling kiss she gave me in the parking lot proves that.

  I glance over at her sleeping form. Smooth legs carry a blue sheen from the glow of the dashboard. Her hair is everywhere, spilling over her crossed arms. This girl has known nothing but pain and rejection. If I’m not one hundred percent sure I can make it work between us, I have to let her go.

  Make up your mind, Caden.

  I will. I have to. Tonight, I just want to take care of her.

  Once I pull around to the shack, I shut the engine off. Gus barks all the way down the side of the house to meet us. The wind gusts, shaking leaves down over us, but Autumn lies perfectly still. With growing concern, I slip out the door and hurry to her side of the Jeep. As I gather her into my arms, she buries her nose in my neck. Two seconds later, we’re up the stairs and through the door. Thankfully, she left the light on over the kitchen sink before she went out. The glow leaves enough light to navigate without tripping over the crap she’s left everywhere.

  When I lay her on the bed, she’s slow to release her hands from where they cling to my shirt. The act makes me smile, while feeling ferociously protective. What’s happening to me?

  I kneel beside the bed. She’s humming some familiar tune, but I don’t think she’s aware of that. Placing one heel at a time in my lap, I slowly unthread her laces before slipping off her shoes and thick slouch socks. Her soles are soft and toasty under my thick callouses. She gently places her foot on my chest, letting it slide to my thigh. Bright pink toenails gleam against tanned skin. Who knew removing footwear could be this sexy?

  Since she’s sick, I shove anything having to do with skin and sensuality to a remote mental closet. Pulling all the throws and blankets from around the room, I get her bed situated. I fill a pitcher with water, grab a glass from the counter top, and bring both to the bedside table, where I pour her a drink.

  As I put the cup to her lips, I scan the cluttered floor. “You’re a slob, you know that?” She mumbles, but only manages to blow bubbles in her water glass. “Easy, you almost drowned once, I can’t have that again.” I palm her forehead. Burning up.

  “Silas?”

  “Here, Cricket.” I sit on the bed adjusting her back against my chest. “Try and drink something. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

  She turns her head. “You don’t have to help me.”

  “I want to.”

  “Do you?” When her chin rises, her exotic eyes lock on, testing my restraint. “Because I’m okay.”

  I smile, brushing her hair from her over-warm cheek. “I know you are, but will you let me be a nice guy? I need the practice.”

  She shrugs, or tries to. “You might regret me. I’m not very good at this.”

  I’m no longer sure what we’re talking about, or what she means by this. My fingers stroke her skin once. “I will never regret you, girl.” I lean over, placing a soft kiss on her head.

  “You’re good at nice,” she murmurs.

  “Shh, sleep now.”

  And she does.

  In between running to the house and back for a thermometer, medicine, and Jesse’s advice, I watch over Autumn from the chair, or climb into bed next to her and doze on and off with her sleeping peacefully in my arms. Throughout the night, I pace, take her temperature, and worry.

  A letter from her ex sits on the kitchen counter. Yeah, I read it. Sue me. There’s a braided leather bracelet next to an envelope postmarked New York. A sour feeling grows the pit of my stomach. Considering the lies I told, I really don’t have room to talk, but what if this Alex character hurts her again, or worms his way back into her life with his lame apology? My only comfort is if she were truly considering him, his gift would be among the others on her arms.

  I find her sketchpad and invade her privacy further, flipping through the pages for insight into who she is. I’m not sure what that says about me, but I can’t look away. She’s good. Really talented, and inside I find drawings of the lake, ducks, and the shack. My family is here, too. Autumn has captured Jesse with her warm doe-brown eyes, Dexter’s sly smile, Quinn’s open, albeit muddled, boyish charm. I wonder if she means to remember us once she leaves. The sketches are done with such care and attention to detail, I think she does.

  Then I find the ones of me.

  It’s a flattering likeness. My eyes look back from a half dozen charcoal-covered pages. Each portrait is so personal, so deeply private, the sight squeezes air from my lungs. This is how she sees me. She captures my smile, fishing with the dogs, staring out onto the lake from our front porch …

  Gotcha, Cricket. Say what you will from behind your mighty fortress of attitude. You care. You just won’t admit it. Yet.

  Around six a.m., Autumn’s fever spikes higher and Jesse orders her moved to the guest bedroom in the big house. For once, I’m relieved to be bossed and happily obey.

  Gus lies at the foot of her bed like a loyal sentry. He hasn’t moved since I brought her up here, but neither have I. She feels good, resting against my chest. Safe, secure. For most of the night, she was too out of it to know, let alone care, that’s she’s been sleeping on top of me for hours.

  Jesse offered to take over twice, so I could sleep, but I wouldn’t allow it. I’ve been nothing but selfish for a long time, and now I’m almost territorial about taking care of Autumn. I want to be here. In fact, I couldn’t leave her if I tried.

  I’ve been outside my mind, anxious about her fever. When I suggested taking her to the emergency room, Jesse laughed. “People don’t need the E.R. for head colds and hangovers, sweetie.” Her smile softened, then. “She’ll be fine. You’ll see. She’ll be up and driving you crazy again in no time.

  I hope Jesse’s right. I hope Autumn’s well enough for Moo next weekend and she kicks ass, but not for me. For her and for her scholarship. As I stare down at the top of my intern’s head, she snuggles in tighter. The action pulls an invisible chord in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Right now, watching her sleep stirs my blood more than any action movie I’ve ever seen.

  Her lashes flutter over her flushed cheeks. Am I part of her dreams? I like the idea. What if I could push my way inside her mind, dominate her thoughts until I make myself her desire? But then, I wouldn’t if I could. We both need something that’s real for once.

  Quinn was right. I’m becoming one of those guys. Sappy dogs that write cheesy poetry and shit for cats, but I think it’s too late to save myself.

  There’s a lot of noise downstairs. I should probably leave her, eat, take a shower, but none of those options appeal right now, not the way holding her does. She doesn’t need me, but the girl fits perfectly against me, and feels so damn good I can’t put her down.

  “Caden?” Jesse’s voice.

  “Hm?”

  “You might want to come downstairs.” She’s whispering, but there’s an uncharacteristic warning in her tone.

  “In a minute,” I say, eyes on Autumn.

  “Caden!”

  I glance up as my mother’s face pops up over Jesse’s shoulder. “Hello, son. Anything you want to tell me?”

  Jesse’s expression combines sympathy with exasperation before she drops her gaze to the floor.

  Well let’s see, Mother. Autumn, my intern, got sick, and then ass-drunk, so, of course I kissed the shit out of her. I’
ve been nursing her all night. She’s feverish, and got so sweaty, I pulled my shirt off this morning to cool us both off. That’s why I’m half-naked in bed with a girl.

  None of this seems wise to say. Instead, I slip from underneath my charge, and step toward my mother. “Good morning, Mom.” Her expression is inscrutable as I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Hope I didn’t just give you Autumn’s flu.”

  “And why would you have it to give?”

  I glance at the prone form in the bed. “Well, Mother, in her weakened state, it was pretty easy to ravage her. I’m sure I’m infected by now.”

  “Cut the crap, Caden. Jesse’s filled me in. Though, I think this is taking the role of supervisor a bit far, don’t you?”

  I grin, glancing down. “Too much? It’s the shirtless thing that put me over the top, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, son. Sexual harassment is always too much.” Mom’s gaze travels all the way down the bed, before she backtracks into the hallway, a sign I should follow.

  I give my mother a tight smile, but she only shakes her head. Not good, but not the worst response either. Jury’s still out on whether she plans to shoot me, execution style. “Get showered and come downstairs, Caden. We need to talk.”

  “Right.”

  Footsteps pad up the stairs behind us. I turn as Quinn plods up the steps with my ex-girlfriend Piper stuffed under one arm. Perfect.

  “Hi, Caden,” Piper’s always been a soft talker. I barely hear her.

  “Hey … ” My greeting is less than enthusiastic. It’s not her fault, but her arrival couldn’t have worse timing.

  A scuffling sound to my rear commands attention. Our intern makes her debut in the doorway. Caramel hair a wild tumble down her slim shoulders, skin flushed, eyes fever-bright. She looks more lion than girl. Shit. Suddenly, and in the company of my family, the shorts I’ve been admiring seem much too short. Her tank top, plastered to her curves with sweat, far too revealing.

  “Sorry, need the john,” she mumbles.