The Time of Aspen Falls

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  As they exited the barn for the starlit night, the music grew louder—mariachi music!

  Aspen felt goose bumps break over her arms as she saw a mariachi band approaching up the white lighted path. They stepped out of the grove of cottonwoods, wearing traditional black charro suits and performing “Cielito Lindo.” Violins, trumpets, Mexican guitars—it was fantastic!

  Aspen shook her head, unable to believe the perfection of that moment.

  “I-I’ve never seen anything like this!” she breathed.

  Rake chuckled. “They’re my uncles…my mom’s brothers.”

  Aspen giggled, overwhelmed with nostalgia and simply pure gladness.

  “Next you’ll be telling me your mother isn’t just wearing a costume…that she really is a flamenco dancer,” Aspen laughed.

  Rake was silent, his silence causing her to look away from the approaching mariachis and to him. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she asked.

  “Nope,” Rake answered. “Does it make me more interesting? My mariachi uncles, my flamenco-dancing mother, my beat-up ex-bull-rider of a dad?”

  Aspen sighed, her smile so broad it almost hurt. “Why am I not surprised about your dad riding bulls too?”

  “Because I’m just like him…or he’s just like me…however you want to look at it.”

  Aspen’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at Rake. “But you look more like your mother,” she said.

  “Are you saying I’m girlie?” he teased.

  “No! But you do look like her.”

  “I know. But once you get to know them better, you’ll see I’ve got my dad’s personality.”

  As the mariachis began another chorus of “Cielito Lindo,” Aspen watched—awed as Rake’s father took his mother in his arms and began to dance with her. She giggled when his bowlegged cowboy, ex-watchmaking grandfather did the same with Mrs. Claus.

  “And maybe a little bit of your grandpa’s?” she giggled as she watched the weathered old cowboy lumber through dancing with his wife.

  “Oh, definitely!” Rake’s eyes twinkled with admiration as he watched his grandpa dance with his grandma. “Only I’m a better dancer.”

  Aspen’s heart leapt as he offered her his hand. She glanced around to see that nearly every couple in attendance was dancing now. Those without a partner kept time with the music with their hands or by bobbing their heads, joining in with each chorus repeat.

  “I’m not very good,” Aspen said.

  “That’s okay,” Rake said, pulling her into waltz position. “Me neither.”

  He was liar—that was obvious! Aspen smiled. It would’ve been impossible for him not to have been a good dancer. She glanced over at his mother and father. Rake’s beautiful mother held the hem of her dress to one hip with one hand as she danced with his father—swaying to and fro with an elegance Aspen had only seen in dance competitions.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Aspen sighed.

  “So are you,” Rake said, pulling her body closer to his as they danced. His eyes smoldered with mischief as he gazed at her—led her in their dance.

  “Oh, you’re good,” Aspen told him. She blushed, even though she knew he was only teasing.

  “I’m only honest,” he said.

  The band repeated the chorus several more times before ending their song to be met with whistles and applause. Aspen was disappointed the song had ended, for Rake released her in order to applaud his uncles.

  She watched as Rake’s mother disappeared into the midst of charro costumes and instruments, hugging and kissing each brother.

  “De Colores!” someone called out. One of the mariachis gave a high mariachi shout, and the band began to play.

  Rake took Aspen’s hand, whirling her under one arm several times and catching her in dance position.

  “Come on, my delicious little fairy,” he said. “Give me a chance to charm your wings right off!”

  Aspen giggled as they joined the others in dancing. She wasn’t sure she was awake. Surely it all had to be a dream! Rake flashed a dazzling, fang-embellished smile at her, and she sighed. If it were a dream, she hoped she would never wake up!

  Chapter Eight

  “Did you have fun?” Rake asked as they walked through the grove of cottonwoods toward the pickup.

  “Did I have fun?” Aspen repeated with exaggerated sarcasm. “How could anyone not have had fun here?”

  Rake laughed. “They’re all pretty great, aren’t they?”

  “Everyone I met tonight was wonderful,” she told him.

  He hefted the two boards he was carrying over his shoulder.

  “Well, I’m glad you liked it…and I’m glad that everyone managed to make a good impression.” He looked down at her, smiling. “They liked you too, you know.”

  “Well, I hope so! I was on my best behavior,” Aspen giggled.

  “Do you have bad behavior?” he asked. “Maybe I’d like to see that…the bad-girl side to Aspen the arachnophobic autumn fairy.”

  “And does Mr. Rochester Darcy have a bad side?” she asked.

  Rake stopped and frowned down at her. “I’m a vampire, ain’t I?” he asked.

  “I guess that does make you a little bit of a bad boy,” Aspen said.

  “Draining people dry of their blood…yeah, I’d say that’s in the bad boy category.” He smiled at her, his teeth seeming to glow in the moonlight. “I’m going to run these boards over to that muddy spot by the irrigation ditch bridge. Wanna wait here a minute?”

  “Sure,” Aspen agreed.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Aspen watched Rake disappear into the darkness. The sudden solitude unsettled her a little, but the warm, happy atmosphere of the evening was still sifting through her, and she was encouraged.

  As she stood waiting for Rake to return, she tipped her head back, gazing up at the moon. It hung full and heavy against a velvet black sky. The stars winked and glittered against the same velvet black, just the way frost sparkles on new-fallen snow. The cool breeze lifted familiar autumn fragrances into the air—the scent of candles slowly cooking jack-o’-lanterns from the inside, straw and hay, and cattails. Crickets sang, soft and calming, and little wafts of wind swirled dried leaves in circles here and there amid the mist settling on the ground.

  Aspen sighed, enchanted by the magical atmosphere of the warm autumn evening. Glancing around her, her gaze fell to a large, dark rock nearby. The rock had an interesting shape, sort of like a big black cooking pot. A deep, natural sort of hollow bowl shape rested in its center. Moisture from the rains the day before had puddled there, and several bright yellow cottonwood leaves floated in the water. Aspen fancied the dark rock with its worn bowl center resembled a cauldron simmering a lovely autumn brew of fallen leaves.

  “I put the boards across the mud over there.”

  Aspen looked up when she heard Rake’s voice—gasped when she saw him approaching. He appeared half-hidden in the evening mist, walking toward her through the swirling leaves, looking exactly like a handsome, roguish ghost! She bit her lip with delight, for had she not known better by now, she would’ve sworn he was only a spirit—a phantom from some past century. All night she’d seen him, gazed at him, danced with him, talked with him, and yet she was still awash with the feeling that the presence of some chivalrous hero had stepped directly from the pages of a Jane Austen novel.

  Aspen’s heart pounded, again frantic with delight at the sight of him. In those moments, she promised herself she would never forget the sight of Rake Locker advancing toward her through the autumn mist. She sighed as she studied him for the umpteenth millionth time—the tall boots and fitted front flap, black breeches accentuating his long, muscular legs, the blue waistcoat worn beneath the dark blue tailcoat pronouncing the broadness of his shoulders. He looked delicious—simply delicious in the white shirt with a tall standing collar and white cravat. It was a dream. Surely it was! Surely he was a dream.

  As she w
atched him progress toward her, she sighed when he removed his tailcoat, revealing the billowy white sleeves of the period shirt he wore. He smiled a dazzling smile just then—a dazzling, vampire-fanged smile—a smile meant only for her.

  Rake felt the smile broadening across his face. Aspen Falls was adorable! Looking at her as she stood there in the gathering mist, he almost believed she was a fairy. He half expected her to take flight and leave a trail of sparkling pixie dust in her wake. He inwardly scolded himself, thinking his mom had let him watch Peter Pan just one too many times when he was a kid.

  Moisture flooded his mouth as he continued toward her, and it unnerved him. What was it about this girl that made him literally salivate? She was fun, yes, and she was uniquely pretty. Still, Rake couldn’t figure why he was so physically attracted to her. He was a guy, sure. But that alone wasn’t it. There was something else—something drawing him to her—and it felt dangerous. He had it in his mind to walk to her, take her in his arms with brutal force, and kiss the taste right out of her mouth! It was a wicked, delicious feeling that filled him.

  He thought back on the evening—the dancing and talking—the flirting and laughter. Aspen was a thoroughly fun person to be with. He thought how easily she’d fallen into conversation with the members of his family, how utterly accepting they were of her, and it freaked him out a little. Part of him had wanted his family to disapprove of Aspen—to see through a veil of cuteness and personality and find she was really a witch in sheep’s clothing—to warn him against getting involved with her. But they didn’t. They liked her, and now it was just as he’d feared—Aspen Falls was as good as she looked!

  Fine, then! Maybe he’d just pull out a few of the stops—test the waters, so to speak. Rake knew, by the way Aspen had freaked over his teasing her—about threatening her virtue when he’d picked her up—that she was a good girl. Maybe he’d let a little more devil out—see if she were as attracted to him as he was to her. Surely she wouldn’t be, but there was no harm in trying. Right? After all, she liked his costume, didn’t she? Sure she did! He could tell by the way her pretty eyes had widened when she’d answered the door—by the delighted smile on her face at that very moment as she watched him walk toward her. Had he remembered to thank Marissa for helping him come up with the idea and for making the costume for him? He made a mental note to remember to thank her again.

  He chuckled, remembering how mortified he’d been when he first put on the blousy shirt and tightfitting breeches. He was a Levi’s guy through and through, and the period costume had been a stretch for his pride and confidence. Still, the boots were cool, and obviously Aspen thought the whole costume was cool. So he’d settled into accepting himself in the clothes—for one night, anyway.

  Yep! He’d test her—see if the little fairy standing in the moonlight were as totally tripped out about him as he was about her. After all, it was all in fun. Right?

  Aspen couldn’t help but giggle. He was so handsome! In those moments—standing there in the dark, watching him approach through the mist—she didn’t care if Rake turned out to be a jerk. He was gorgeous! Part of her figured he would’ve shown his true colors by now—surely! He couldn’t have sailed through an all-night date on the West Mesa overlooking the city and a barn party at his grandparents’ place without slipping up at least once. Could he have?

  Maybe she’d just let go—kick all her inhibitions aside and just let whatever would be, be. Maybe—just for one night—maybe she’d let herself like him as much as she feared she already did. Maybe she’d just let the profound, supersensitive physical attraction he provoked in her linger; maybe she’d just let the reins slacken a bit. If he tried to kiss her good night, maybe she’d make sure it was a longer kiss than their first one had been.

  He was almost to her, and she couldn’t help but giggle. As the vampire Rochester Darcy descended on her at last, Aspen trembled a little—trembled with pure, delicious anticipatory delight.

  “What?” he asked as he reached her.

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “Something made you smile,” he said. “Is my fly down?” He glanced down, releasing a breath of relief as he saw nothing was amiss with his breeches. “You scared me,” he said, chuckling as he looked back up to her. “Getting caught with your fly down is an entirely different thing than getting caught with this front flap thing down would be.”

  “I’m sure,” Aspen giggled.

  “Then what’s so funny?” he asked.

  Aspen was rendered breathless for a moment—simply by the sight of him and his proximity. He was magnificent! She let her gaze caress the angular line of his square jaw, the perfect shape of his nose and lips. She thought how soft and touchable his dark, dark hair looked—how his nearly black eyes smoldered with mischief. Yep—magnificent!

  “It’s just…just that you’re so perfectly fitted to that costume,” she answered. “Rake Locker…the ex-bull-riding, watchmaking, Austenian vampire.”

  He smiled and chuckled. “I told you chicks would dig this costume, didn’t I?” He leaned forward—closer to her—and added, “You just thought you were gonna be immune…and you’re not. Are you?”

  Aspen held her breath once more, entirely mesmerized by the gorgeous, lethally attractive, ex-bull-riding, watchmaking, Austenian vampire before her.

  “I guess not,” she admitted. “I will admit…that it’s just about the best costume I ever saw on anybody.”

  Rake smiled—a roguish, alluring smile. Aspen found her gaze affixed to it—to his smile, to his mouth, to the way his perfectly straight teeth seemed even more brilliantly white in the moonlight. She couldn’t help but smile, for the two fangs he’d adhered to his top eyeteeth were so eerily attractive. It’s those vampire romances everybody’s reading, she thought. They’ve got me as bewitched as they do everyone else.

  “You’re staring at my mouth, you know,” Rake said. His voice was low—tempting somehow. Aspen felt the heat of a deep blush warm her cheeks. He’d noticed her staring!

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. She averted her gaze for a moment, yet she could not keep from looking at his face—couldn’t keep her mouth from watering as she again looked at his.

  “It’s—it’s just…” she stammered.

  “Just what?” he asked.

  Aspen shook her head and silently begged the blush to fade from her cheeks. She shrugged. “It’s just the moonlight…the fact we’re out her alone…and your teeth.”

  “Oh. Then it’s only that my fangs are freaking you out,” he said, feigning disappointment. His smile faded for only a moment, almost instantly returning as a roguish grin. “I was hoping you wanted me to kiss you.”

  Aspen felt her own eyes widen; her heart’s already frantic rhythm suddenly doubled. Of course she wanted him to kiss her! Was he kidding?

  He sighed and shook his head. He stripped off his tailcoat, tossing it to a nearby tree stump. Stepping nearer to her, he said, “But I guess it’s the whole vampire thing going on right now. Chicks don’t want a guy to kiss them anymore.” Aspen gasped as his strong hands suddenly encircled her throat. Sweeping her hair aside, he added, “They want you to bite them.”

  Rake forcefully, yet somehow entirely gently, wove his fingers into her hair at the back of her neck, grasping it loosely and softly tugging until she tipped her head to one side. Aspen felt her neck, arms, legs, back, and shoulders blanket in goose bumps as he caressed her throat, his fingers trailing teasingly over her skin. Aspen held her breath as he inclined his head—as it descended. She nearly fainted when she felt his mouth at her neck, his fangs gently pressing her flesh.

  A wave of euphoria shuddered through her—traveled the length of her body—left her trembling. Oh, he didn’t really bite her at all—just let the tips of his fangs press against her jugular vein a moment before softly kissing the place. Still, it was enough to keep her body covered in goose bumps—and he noticed.

  “Goose bumps?” he asked, his voice low and no less than entirely seduc
tive.

  Suddenly shy and embarrassed by the powerful physical reaction he’d evoked in her, Aspen stepped back, out of his seductive grasp.

  “M-my neck is very sensitive,” she stammered, covering the place he’d kissed with one hand. Her cheeks were ablaze with blushing.

  “Really?” he asked. Reaching out, he brushed her own hand aside, taking her neck between his powerful hands once more.

  “Yeah,” she breathed. His gaze was locked on her, his eyes smoldering with a sort of predatory determination.

  “Hmm,” he mumbled. “What about your mouth then?” he asked, drawing closer, his thumbs tracing the lines of her jaw and chin.

  “M-my mouth?” she stammered in a whisper.

  “Is it sensitive too?” he asked.

  “I-I-I don’t know what you—”

  “Let’s find out,” he whispered.

  The first touch of his lips to her own caused Aspen’s lungs to draw a measured gasp. He kissed her slowly at first, drawing out each melding of their lips—as if savoring some rich, decadent dessert. His hands moved from her neck to her face as he coaxed her lips to part—the promise of deepening kisses between them.

  Aspen was wonderfully warmed, as if something sweet and soothing were being drizzled over her, and as she accepted his deepening affections, she realized her trembling was borne not only of Rake’s luscious, alluringly applied kisses but also of her own body’s fighting to resist surrendering to him. Somehow, Aspen knew that if she would only release her inhibitions—let go of her anxieties concerning his good looks and her stereotypical judgment of him because of them—somehow she knew that melding mouths with Rake Locker would whisk her to bathing in a euphoria she never could’ve imagined!