The Time of Aspen Falls

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  He chuckled. “It figures a poem-reciting, book-reading babe would think I was named after some rascal in a scandalous romance novel.” He looked at her, smiling. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Rakish? Rogue? Scoundrel?”

  Aspen giggled, remembering the day she’d met him in the clock shop—the way she’d come up with as many synonyms for his name as she could.

  “Well?” she prodded. “Is that it?”

  He shook his head, smiling and slightly rolling his eyes. “Actually, yes.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Aspen giggled.

  “Nope. Though I usually don’t admit it.” His smile broadened, and she fancied his cheeks were a little redder than a moment before. “I usually tell people my mom tripped over a lawn rake when she was pregnant with me and was inspired by the incident to name me Rake.”

  Aspen laughed, feeling oddly free and happy. “Well…the real story is more romantic.”

  “You would think so,” he said. “But when you’re seven and your second-grade teacher gives you an assignment called ‘How I Got My Name,’ you pause in telling the truth of it. So my mom tripped over a rake, and that’s how I got my name.”

  “Though in truth…you’re secretly a dashing hero from some cliché romance novel,” Aspen teased. How delicious! How delicious that he looked exactly the part. Aspen owned a secret of her own—though she was very selective, she loved romance novels! Not the smutty ones—not just Jane Austen either—but the others she deemed worthy of her time.

  “That’s right,” he said. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

  He already looked like some fictional man—so handsome, well-built, and charming. Furthermore, his personality surpassed any fiction! So what exactly did he mean by asking her if she wanted him to prove it? She was wildly intrigued. “You can prove you’re a romance novel hero?” she asked. Her insides were all atwitter!

  “Yep,” he said. “Do you want action or verbiage?”

  “What?”

  “Action or verbiage?” he repeated. “I can either act the part or speak the part. Which one do you want?”

  Aspen felt a quiver of butterflies take flight in her stomach. Goose bumps broke over her arms, though she tried to rationalize it was the cooling breeze causing them. Every inch of her being—every shred of her flesh—wanted most for him to act the part. Yet it was their first date.

  “Well, I did recite for you,” she said. “So let’s go with verbiage.”

  He said nothing—only continued to look at her. He seemed rather pensive for a moment. Then, as a grin of pure mischief spread across his gorgeous face, his eyes narrowed—smoldered as he looked at her.

  “Old-fashioned romantic…or insinuative?” he asked.

  Her first reaction was to respond old-fashioned. Yet some sort of flaw in her nature—an impish flaw—responded far too truthfully.

  “Not old-fashioned. I just did that with my poem,” she said.

  “Okay then,” he said.

  Though Aspen thought it impossible, the mischievous, alluring expression on his face deepened. She shivered slightly as the smoldering look in his eyes turned to that of near seduction.

  He leaned forward, taking her hand in his—caressing the soft, sensitive underside of her wrist with his thumb.

  “Hey, Aspen?” he began. Her heart leapt as he bent and blew softly on the place his thumb had been caressing. “Now that you know my name…” She nearly melted as he blew on her wrist once more, lightly touching it with the tip of his tongue. “And now that I know yours…” His voice was low, alluring—seductive. Aspen was besieged by goose bumps. “I just thought I’d let you know…that I’d sure like to rake your leaves sometime.”

  “Oh my heck!” Aspen breathed. Her heart was near to fibrillation! Her mouth was watering, her insides trembling.

  He released her hand, sat back in his chair, and said, “Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, poem girl.”

  “Oh, you’re good. I’ll give you that,” Aspen said.

  He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m just glad you picked insinuative instead of old-fashioned. I couldn’t think of anything old-fashioned.” His eyes narrowed, and his smile broadened. “But I’ve been thinking of that one since the minute I found out what your name is.”

  She was delighted! Elated! Ecstatic! Still, she couldn’t let him know how ecstatic.

  “Well, I suppose both our names lend themselves to teasing,” she said.

  “Who said I was teasing?”

  “You’re trouble,” she said, smiling at him. Yep. He was the kind of guy she’d learned to avoid—handsome, charming, flirtatious, and dangerous because of it.

  “Trouble?” he asked with a chuckle. “Why, Aspen…I take offense. I only meant I’d like to run my fingers through that soft brown hair of yours.”

  Aspen smiled. Oh, he was rascally!

  “Rake Locker,” she began, “the ex-bull-riding, wild-cow-milking watchmaker.”

  “Watchmaker. Hmm…it doesn’t sound so bad when you say it like that,” he said, returning his attention to the twinkling lights in the valley below them. “Aspen Falls—the book-selling, poem-reciting arachnophobe.”

  She knew he meant to tease her, but somehow she felt ridiculous. A quick vision of how stupid she must’ve looked—fainting right there in the park—popped into her head.

  “Mine about you was way better,” Aspen said.

  “Of course it was,” he said. “That’s the secret I try to hide from the world.”

  “What is?”

  “That I can come up with one flirtatious insinuation…but it empties my cleverness cup for the rest of the day.”

  Aspen giggled. “That’s okay. The one clever line was a zinger.”

  “Well, I thought so,” he said. He was quiet for a moment and inhaled a deep breath. “So tell me about your friend,” he began, “the one from the park and the rodeo.”

  In truth, she’d just been thinking about Gina—imagining her reaction when she repeated Rake’s leaves raking line. She’d tumble right out of Old Goldie for sure!

  “Her name is Gina,” Aspen began. “We’ve been friends forever, she’s hilarious…and she has this weird fixation with UPS guys.”

  He smiled. “Does she have one?”

  “One what?”

  “A UPS guy?”

  “Not yet. Why?” Aspen’s suspicion suddenly rose. Why was he so interested in Gina? Probably because she was so drop-dead gorgeous and a better physical match for the likes of Rake Locker. Still, she tried not to think along those lines. Perhaps he was just curious—getting to know Aspen better by finding out about her friends.

  He shrugged. “I was just curious. I figured you guys were longtime friends…being she knew exactly what seeing that spider was going to do to you.” Before Aspen could respond, he added, “Hey, check it out! I think you can see the midway on the fairgrounds from here. See?”

  Aspen looked in the direction he pointed. It was true! The lights from the midway rides at the state fair were bright and colorful, standing out with obvious brilliance amid all the others.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “How cool!”

  “I can’t do the midway anymore,” Rake sighed. “Used to love it. But about three years ago, I rode the Tilt-a-Whirl with my sister and totally launched the minute we got off. We all call it the ‘Tilt-a-Hurl’ now. Guess I’m getting old.”

  “But a bull ride doesn’t bother you?” Aspen asked. He was so communicative! It was amazing.

  “Nope,” he answered. “But of course that’s, like, eight to ten seconds…not three or four minutes.”

  “Good point,” Aspen said.

  “Man, I love it up here,” he breathed.

  Aspen studied him for a moment. What a nice guy! Or so it seemed. Surely he would show his true egotistical colors at some point. Still, for the moment, Aspen was determined to enjoy his company.

  She looked out across the valley to the luminous string of pearls—the streetlight
s for Albuquerque’s main thoroughfares. Crickets began chirping nearby, a rabbit skittered near the fire, and the scent of piñon and sagebrush enveloped the night like a soothing autumn cloak.

  “Do you like piñons?” Rake asked.

  “Of course!” Aspen answered. Aspen had never known anybody native to New Mexico who didn’t crave the little brown seeds. Dropped by piñon trees, piñon nuts were a favorite treat to New Mexicans. Aspen had heard on the radio that a bumper crop of piñons was expected.

  “We should go pick some,” Rake said.

  “Kind of hard in the dark,” Aspen giggled.

  “I mean in the daytime,” he explained. “There are some good trees up here, but we could drive up between Santa Fe and Las Vegas where there are more. There are a ton up there, especially if you’re willing to walk a ways away from the freeway.”

  Aspen smiled and felt a thrill of delight travel up her spine. He was asking her out again—sort of.

  “We should,” she said. “I love picking piñons.”

  “Me too,” he said, smiling at her. “We’ll go do it…soon.”

  Aspen sighed as Rake turned his gaze from her to the lights once more. What a night! Dinner had been wonderful—the drive west with him had been wonderful—the lights were wonderful—he was wonderful!

  Aspen inhaled deeply the scent of burning cedar in the fire. As the lights of Albuquerque blinked and winked, she smiled, wrapped the fleece blanket more snuggly around her shoulders, and snuggled down into her chair. In that moment, she decided she could linger there forever, refreshed by the autumn air, poised above the beautiful city lights—with only the incredible Rake Locker for company.

  She glanced at him when she heard him softly chuckle. “What?” she asked.

  “You’ve got to admit it was pretty funny,” he said. He chuckled again, his eyes smiling with the rest of his face as he said, “Aspen? Rake your leaves sometime?”

  Aspen giggled. It was clever! And she adored the goose bumps rippling over her body at the memory of his tasting her wrist.

  Yep! Gina would drop right out of that old tree—just like an overripe apple.

  

  Rake opened the passenger’s side door. Aspen was tired, yet she didn’t want the evening—rather, morning—to end. Still, she stepped out of the pickup and into the first soft rays of a pink sunrise.

  “What time do you have to be at work?” Rake asked as he walked with Aspen up the sidewalk toward her apartment.

  “I’m off today. Just meeting my friend at noon,” Aspen answered, fighting a yawn.

  “Good,” he said. “That gives you almost eight hours to recover so I won’t feel too bad about keeping you out so late.”

  Aspen was tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been awake for twenty hours straight. Yet Rake Locker—he was so worth it!

  “How about you?” she asked, fighting another yawn.

  “I’m off too,” he said. “I’ve got some things to do today…but they can wait. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know. I need a little more sleep than you pretty young things.”

  Aspen giggled. She couldn’t believe she’d stayed out all night with him. She couldn’t believe they’d spent almost nine hours sitting out in the middle of nowhere just talking.

  As they reached the door to her apartment, Aspen said, “Thanks for dinner…and for taking me to see the lights.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. A delicious grin of mischief spread across his handsome face. “Are you convinced now?”

  “Convinced of what?” she asked. Convinced he was fabulous? Convinced he was too good to be true? Convinced she would be praying every night for him to ask her out again? Of course!

  “Convinced that I’m not a serial killer.”

  “Well, considering that west of the city would be the perfect place to dump a body…and that I’m still here…I guess you’re not one after all.” She smiled as he chuckled.

  “And are you convinced that I’m not going to expect favores especiales from you…just because I paid for dinner?” He winked at her, and part of her wished he would expect her to kiss him goodnight as compensation for paying for their dinner. She liked the way the Spanish phrase in the sentence rolled off his tongue, as if he hadn’t even realized he’d blended two languages.

  “Yes,” she giggled, blushing.

  “I mean, I even gave you my Snickers bar for breakfast…so I hope I’ve proven myself a gentleman.”

  “I think you have, Mr. Locker. And I thank you for that, as well as a wonderful time.”

  “Thank you, Miss Aspen Falls.” He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. Goose bumps, the likes Aspen had never experienced, raced over her arms and legs. She almost reached up and took his face between her hands—almost raised herself on her tiptoes—almost kissed him square on the mouth!

  Disappointment washed over her as he said, “I’ll see you later then.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  With one last dazzling smile, he turned and started to walk away.

  Aspen felt her heart swell—felt fresh goose bumps ripple over her arms—as he turned back around and said, “Actually, Aspen…I never have been much of a gentleman.”

  Aspen gasped as he reached out and slipped both powerful hands around her neck, pulling her to him and pressing his lips to hers. It wasn’t a long kiss, nor was it overly intimate, but it was the best kiss Aspen had ever experienced! Too brief it may have been, but it was confidently applied and absolutely thrilling. It left her breathless, tingling, with mouth agape.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

  Aspen watched as he strode to his pickup, feeling as if she’d never be the same again.

  Chapter Six

  “You recited the poem to him?” Gina asked.

  “I did,” Aspen said.

  “And he sat still for it? Was he snoring by the time you finished? I mean, I love that poem…but a wild-cow-milking hottie like that?”

  “An ex-bull-riding, wild-cow-milking, watchmaking hottie,” Aspen corrected.

  “Well, excuse me!” Gina exclaimed with a giggle.

  “And you were right,” Aspen began. “He didn’t turn out to be a serial killer…yet.”

  “Yet? What the heck, Aspen? You seem determined to find a serious character flaw in this guy.”

  Aspen shrugged. “I know. It’s just that…you know what they say. If something looks too good to be true, then it probably is.”

  “Probably is a lot different than definitely, Aspen,” Gina said. “Take me for instance.”

  Aspen smiled. Any time Gina began a sentence with “take me for instance”—well, humor was sure to follow shortly—and usually unintended.

  “I know that my Prince Charming will show up someday,” she said. “I know he will.”

  “Dressed in warm chocolate-brown and holding a package,” Aspen added.

  “Exactly,” Gina affirmed. “And when he does, I’m not gonna waste my time waiting for his flaws to show up! He’ll have them, no doubt. Everybody does. The trick is finding a person whose flaws don’t drive you crazy—you know, someone whose flaws you can live with…someone who can stand your flaws too.” Gina plucked an apple from Old Goldie’s branches, rubbed it on the front of her shirt, and took a bite.

  “You’re right. I know you’re right,” Aspen sighed.

  “I’m always right.” Gina munched on her apple in verbal silence for a moment—but only for a moment. “I mean, let’s analyze it. What were some things that weren’t perfect about your date with him? Nothing’s perfect…not in this whole world. Tell me what you would’ve deleted if last night were a movie and you could cut some parts out.”

  Aspen frowned. “I was really nervous for the first half an hour,” she said.

  “Good. Okay…nerves. Now what else?”

  “He’s eye candy…that’s for sure. You should see the women stare at him.” Aspen felt a wave of indignant jealousy well up in her at th
e memory of the many sets of female eyes that had lingered on Rake at the restaurant.

  “Okay. Nosey she-skanks ogling your man. What else?”

  “He kissed me…on the first date,” Aspen ventured. “You know I don’t go for that.”

  “Yeah…but you liked it, and it was a great kiss,” Gina reminded. “He probably read your pheromones and knew it would be okay.”

  “Pheromones? Humans don’t have pheromones,” Aspen giggled.

  “So he read your body language then.” Gina smiled. “Or he read your mind and knew you were thinking, ‘Kiss me, you gorgeous hunk of honey lusciousness!’”

  Aspen laughed. “I swear, Gina, you’re all talk when it comes to dating! I’m going to put an ad in the paper. Single woman obsessed with UPS men seeks—”

  “No, no, no!” Gina interrupted. “It has to happen naturally. Someday, I’ll open the door, and he’ll be standing there. ‘Sign here, ma’am,’ he’ll say…and I’ll say, ‘I do!’”

  Both girls giggled—laughed until their backs ached. Still, as their laughter subsided, Aspen noticed a veiled shadow of heartache pass over Gina’s eyes for a moment, and Aspen hated Nick Dalley all over again. Sure, it had been almost two years since he’d broken up with Gina, but Gina still endured horrible heartache over the loss. Aspen knew the whole UPS man thing—though based on Gina’s lifelong infatuation with UPS men—was really just a way to keep everyone from pushing her into a normal dating life.