The Time of Aspen Falls

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Aspen was entirely intrigued! How did a boy who liked bull riding end up being a master watchmaker in a clock shop?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said before she could open her mouth to ask the question.

  “You do?”

  “Sure,” he said. “You’re wondering how I ended up in the Clock Shop instead of in a rodeo arena.”

  “The thought was crossing my mind, yes,” Aspen admitted.

  “Well, I rode for a while…even rode as a professional for over two years,” he said.

  Aspen felt her mouth gape open in astonishment. He looked too big to be a bull rider. Still, Aspen had never really seen a professional bull rider up close. Maybe they just looked smaller because they were always so far way.

  “You’re kidding?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  Rake laughed and shook his head. “Nope. You can look me up on Professional Bull Riders. I’m listed as ineligible…but I’m really retired.”

  “Why did you quit?” Aspen asked. “I thought bull riders…you know…were obsessed most of the time.”

  Rake nodded. “Well, a couple of years into the pros, I came off a bull after a ride, and the bull caught me—gored my right hip and the back of my right thigh with a horn. Took a nice slice out of my calf before he was done with me too.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders as Aspen looked at him, mouth agape in awe. “It wasn’t a bad injury at all, and I wasn’t scared of riding anymore or anything…but I just kept thinking of Lane Frost and decided I didn’t love it enough to die for it.”

  “Lane Frost?” Aspen asked.

  “Yeah. He was bull rider back in the ’80s when my uncle was still riding. A bull got to him after a ride…broke one of his ribs. It severed an artery, and he died.”

  Aspen swallowed, entirely unsettled by the sudden realization of the dangers of bull riding.

  “I loved riding…just not enough to die doing it.”

  Aspen swallowed the lump of awkward emotion in her throat. “Probably a wise career move…as far as safety goes.”

  “Yeah,” he said. He smiled—a smile of mischief or amusement. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her and said, “I figured, if I’m going to die doing my job—drop in the harness, so to speak—what better way to go than cleaning antique clocks for pretty bookstore girls.” He winked at her, and Aspen was overwhelmed by the sudden butterflies in her stomach. “My grandpa opened the Clock Shop over forty years ago, as a hobby at first,” he continued. “But it turned out to be a really lucrative business, and when his eyesight started getting bad…well, I had always loved to work on clocks with him, so after my butt healed, I went out to St. Paul College and became a certified master watchmaker. I work on all the clocks now. Grampa can’t see well enough anymore.”

  “Wow,” Aspen breathed.

  Rake chuckled. “Wow, what? Wow, you can’t believe I was ever manly enough to be a bull rider? Or, wow, you can’t believe anybody could actually find working on clocks interesting enough to do it as a career?”

  “Wow, I can’t believe how dull my life sounds next to yours,” she answered. She did feel ridiculously plain and boring in those moments. How would he ever find anything of interest in her, with such an exciting past to his credit?

  “Are you kidding?” he asked. “The stories you could probably tell about your adventurous encounters with spiders alone would completely trash anything I could come up with!”

  Oddly enough, his teasing didn’t bother her in the least. Rather it delighted her somehow. “That was so embarrassing,” she said, blushing miserably at the memory.

  “Naw,” he said, turning left off of Fourth Street and toward the restaurant. “But I will admit…it gave me a whole new sympathy for the ladies in my life. I guess I’ll never tease my mom again about putting mason jars over spiders when she finds one on the floor. She puts jars over them and waits for my dad to get home and ‘take care of it’…as she puts it.”

  “Oh my heck!” Aspen exclaimed. “I do that too! Well, if they’re not too big, and I can actually get up the nerve to get close enough.” She sighed as he pulled into a parking spot and shifted into park. “Still, it was just about the most embarrassing incident of my entire life.”

  He chuckled as he took his key out of the ignition. “You oughta try having your jeans and underpants stripped off by the horns of a bull in front of a crowd of tens of thousands of spectators.”

  Aspen giggled. “So you were humiliated into retirement, huh?”

  He grinned, mischief twinkling in his deep brown eyes.

  “Oh, don’t misunderstand. There ain’t a bare behind in the world any nicer than mine,” he began. “It was limping off all bloody and mangled that was humiliating.” He winked at Aspen and added, “I’ll come get your door.”

  Aspen watched him walk around the front of the pickup. His behind did fill out his Levi’s to perfection. Still, it was the first hint of the conceit she’d grown to expect from perfect-looking men. The emotions in her were suddenly mingled—at odds. She didn’t want him to be stuck-up and self-centered like most handsome men. She wanted him to be true, not too good to be true. And yet, she inwardly admitted she had baited him—teasing him about being embarrassed into retirement for losing his pants in front of a crowd. Natural self-defense dictated he had to try and one-up her.

  “There are only about twenty people standing outside waiting,” he said, taking her arm and helping her out of the pickup. “I don’t think we’ll have to wait long.”

  “Okay,” she said. His hand gently gripping her arm had an astounding effect on the rest of her body. Goose bumps rippled over her legs; more butterflies erupted to flight in her stomach.

  He closed the pickup door behind her and asked, “You ready?”

  “For Sadie’s? Always!” she answered.

  Rake opened the restaurant doors for her, and Aspen stepped into Sadie’s. She was immediately aware of the way every set of female eyes within viewing distance stuck to Rake Locker like flies to honey. Still, what right did she have to judge? Hadn’t she spent her lunch hour in the park every day for two weeks, simply to get a look at the gorgeous real-man-stranger jogger guy? Her insides swelled with a sort of pride mingled with jealousy. Secretly, it was kind of pleasant and satisfying to have the women in the room ogle Rake and then look to Aspen with a “you lucky wench” expression. Yet it bothered her too. He was her date! They should all keep their eyes to themselves.

  “How many, sir?” the girl at the hostess desk asked.

  Aspen didn’t miss the blush rising to the girl’s cheeks as Rake smiled at her and said, “Two, please.”

  “And the name?” the girl asked.

  “Rake,” he answered.

  “We’re at an hour wait just now, sir. Is that all right?” the girl asked.

  “Sure,” he answered.

  The girl handed him a square black restaurant buzzer.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Oh, you’re very welcome, sir,” the girl answered, winking at Rake.

  Rake turned to Aspen and asked, “Do you want to wait outside…or in here?”

  Aspen smiled. He was completely unaffected by the girl’s reaction to him and her flirting. It seemed he hadn’t noticed at all.

  “It’s cool enough outside, don’t you think?” she answered.

  “Yeah. It’s a great evening. Come on.”

  Rake took hold of her arm again, leading her toward the exit. Aspen couldn’t help the impish thrill of delight welling in her as every set of female eyes followed their path as they left.

  Once outside, Rake led Aspen to a bench, and they sat down.

  “Ahhhh!” he sighed, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “It feels so good out here. I get tired of being cooped up in the shop sometimes.”

  “Me too,” Aspen said.

  The sun was setting, and its orange warmth felt good on Aspen’s face.

  “So…were you born here?” he asked.

  “Born
and raised,” Aspen answered. She liked talking with him. He was a good conversationalist—very engaging. Again she noted how every woman who passed them on their way into the restaurant couldn’t resist taking a second look at the handsome Rake Locker.

  “Me too,” he said. “Does your family live over here on the west side?”

  “Nope. They’re in the north valley, a little southwest of the balloon park,” she answered.

  “Man! I bet they have a good view of the balloons, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah! We usually just set up a few lawn chairs in the backyard and have a great time.”

  “It’s only a few weeks away,” he said. “Man! I can’t believe how fast this year went.”

  “I know.”

  Aspen sighed. She couldn’t believe she was sitting next to the real-man stranger from the park—couldn’t believe such a man had actually found her interesting enough to ask her out. She felt warm, filled with hope, delight, and giddiness. Oh, she had no doubt Rake Locker would show his true colors eventually. No doubt he would turn out to be exactly what all uncommonly handsome guys turned out to be—a real piece of work. Still, she decided she would enjoy his company, his seemingly good character, while she could.

  The scent of green chili wafted through the air past her for a moment. This was what life was all about, she thought—the simple, wonderful moments like this. She’d enjoy the present—not worry about the future and whether Rake Locker were too good to be true.

  

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Rake said, leaning back in his chair. The remains of the gargantuan chicken burrito smothered in red and green chili on Rake’s plate were few—far fewer than those of Aspen’s carne adovada enchiladas. Still, she felt more uncomfortable than she had in months—more satisfied too, however.

  “Why do I eat like this whenever I come here?” he asked.

  Aspen giggled. He looked positively miserable for a moment.

  “Because it’s the best thing you could ever eat and you don’t want to stop eating it,” she answered.

  “Here’s your check, sir,” the waiter said, placing the white slip of paper on the table. “More salsa or water?”

  “Hell, no!” Rake said with a friendly chuckle. “But thank you, man.”

  “You’re welcome,” the waiter said. He turned, taking his pitcher of Sadie’s salsa with him.

  “Can’t they tell when you’re ready to detonate?” Rake asked.

  “It’s the only place I know where the waiters walk around with a pitcher of salsa in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other,” Aspen said.

  “I know. It’s great, isn’t it?”

  Aspen giggled and reached for the tab receipt. As she picked it up, however, Rake’s hand covered her own, pressing it to the tabletop.

  “What’re you doing, girl?” he asked.

  Aspen shrugged. “Looking to see how much my tab is.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I asked you out. It’s my tab.” The expression on his face was that of pure confusion.

  “But I—” she began to argue.

  “And if you would have asked me out…it would still be my tab,” he interrupted. Rake reached under her hand and pulled the tab receipt out from under it. “There’s something you should know about me, Aspen,” he said.

  Aspen’s heart fluttered as the intensity of his smoldering brown eyes bore into her vulnerable green ones.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I’m the kind of man who thinks the guy should pay the restaurant tab, pump the gas, and change the flat tire. Okay?”

  Aspen smiled, warmed by his modern chivalry. “Okay.”

  “Good,” he said. He stood, pulling her chair away from the table as she stood. “Ready?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “Yeah,” she said, delighted as he motioned for her to precede him to the cashier’s counter.

  An elderly little Hispanic woman still sitting at the table next to theirs reached out, taking hold of Aspen’s hand as they passed. “Where can I get one of those, mi hijita?” she asked with a wink.

  Aspen smiled and shrugged. She patted the little lady’s hand and returned her wink.

  “What was that?” Rake asked.

  “Couldn’t quite understand,” Aspen lied.

  Rake paid the tab and then took an individually wrapped toothpick and two peppermints from the basket near the cash register. He handed one mint to Aspen as he said, “Let’s go for a drive.” It was a statement, not a question, and without waiting for her to respond, he added, “I’m running to the men’s room first though. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Aspen said. She knew it was his delicate way of letting her know she might want to take the opportunity to visit the restroom herself. It seemed to Aspen most guys had bladders the size of swimming pools; men could wait for a week before needing to find some facilities! She was impressed he would be so considerate of her. It did cause her to wonder how long of a drive he meant to take her on, however. Still, she felt no warning signals flashing in her brain. Maybe Rake Locker wasn’t a serial killer after all.

  “I’ll meet you back here. Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Aspen answered.

  

  The pickup’s high beams lit the pavement of the freeway—the only light in the desert save the moon and stars. Aspen couldn’t remember the last time she’d ridden with the windows rolled down. It was so invigorating—liberating somehow.

  Warm New Mexico autumn nights were the stuff of dreams—perfect in temperature—soothing. The scent of desert sand, cactus, piñon, and sagebrush mingled with the night air. Aspen closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling the dusty perfume of the desert, relishing the feel of the cool breeze on her face.

  She didn’t know where Rake was heading, only that they were driving west. The city was far behind them, but she wasn’t worried. She’d convinced herself that if Rake Locker were a serial killer, her instincts would’ve told her by now. Of course, he could be some predatory molester! The thought caused Aspen’s eyes to widen. She glanced over at Rake. His right hand held the top of the steering wheel while his left arm rested in the open window.

  “You’ve been quiet for a while. What are you thinking about?” he asked, grinning at her.

  “I was wondering if maybe you’re a serial killer.”

  His burst of amusement was wonderful! His broad smile and deeply intonated laughter caused Aspen’s heart to swell inside her chest. Dang, he was gorgeous!

  “A serial killer?” he laughed. “Gee…thanks.” He shook his head, still smiling, residual chuckles of mirth echoing low in his throat.

  “Well, you know how your mind…weirds out when you’re getting to know new people,” she explained.

  He nodded, chuckled once more, and said, “I can honestly say…I’ve never once considered that you might be a serial killer.”

  Aspen rolled her eyes and shook her head at her own musings. “I guess I’ve just watched too many creepy movies.”

  He laughed again. “Maybe. But in truth, I should be flattered that you didn’t ditch me after dinner,” he said. He nodded, his eyebrows arching with self-approval. “I guess I didn’t freak you out too badly, huh?”

  “Not at all,” Aspen said. “I’m just…just…”

  “Paranoid?” he finished.

  “Yeah.”

  “With a few trust issues thrown in too?”

  Aspen’s smile faded a bit. Trust issues? What did he mean?

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He shrugged, his smile fading to a grin. “I’ve had girlfriends, and I’ve got a sister too. Experience has taught me a lot. And I’m guessing the reason you were thinking you were going to pay for your own dinner is because you’ve gotten burned by that one before.”

  “By what one?”

  “By a guy paying for a date and expecting you to…pitch in because he did?”

  “Pitch in? To pay for the date, you mean?” she asked.

 
He shrugged and frowned a bit. “I guess ‘put out’ would be a better way to describe it…though it sounds a little vulgar when I say it to you.”

  Aspen didn’t want to respond. Of course she’d had guys expect what Gina liked to call “favors of affection” after they’d taken her on a date. Still, she was uncomfortable talking to a guy about it. She breathed deeply of the night desert air as she gazed out the open window into the darkness.

  “Am I right?” he asked. It was obvious he wasn’t about to let her get away with not answering.

  “Probably,” she admitted.

  “Well,” he began, “if it eases your mind any…I always pay for my mom and my grandma if I’m out with them. My sister too. So don’t worry.” Aspen looked back to him. He glanced away from the road for a moment. “And I’m not a serial killer, a rapist, or a terrorist,” he said. Aspen smiled when he added, “But I am a guy who knows how to show a girl a good time. Don’t you think?”