Dana loved the rush of the speed, the air blowing against her skin. Trusting Clay not to endanger her, she threw back her arms to the wind after she turned on the radio. Blaring around them, the music allowed their silence to continue. Slowing to turn at the far end of the field, Clay waited while Dana chose a disk and inserted it into the stereo. She knew it was one of his favorites from years before, and she often listened to it when she was missing him. The vintage tunes pumped from the multi-speaker system in the small space. After several spins around the airfield, he finally pulled off to the side, shutting the engine, turning in his seat to face her.
“High marks on the performance of the vehicle, but low marks on legroom,” he told her. She wondered if he would bring up their kiss, then decided he wouldn’t. She was learning his pattern, how he only showed her adult affection when their time was limited. Always in a semi-public place where outside influences would curtail their actions. Except for the night she’d stopped for shelter during the storm. That night there were no interruptions.
“Now, for endurance, let’s hit the logging road, see how she holds it.” With a flip of the key, he drove to the far end of his property, stopping at the new clearing.
“This was where the old workshop stood, wasn’t it?” Dana pulled off her seat belt, pushing up onto the seat back, trying to get her bearings.
“Used to be, the old lean-to was falling down. It’s easier to keep all the equipment at the main shop now.”
“I never realized you could see the water from here. It’s beautiful, Clay.”
“Seemed like a shame to waste the view.” Clay turned to watch Dana. “You approve?”
“Can we get down to the beach from here?” She grabbed his hat to shield her from the harsh sun, her legs swinging over the side of the car and carrying her toward the shoreline before he could answer.
“Give me some time, kid. Jeez,” he said, shaking his head as he walked toward her. There was a wide expanse of wetlands between them and the river. “I’m waiting for the permits to cross over with a walkway and a small pier. It should be completed by next summer.” The sun glinted against his dark hair, and she lost her train of thought watching him.
She carefully walked out as far as she could go without going into the water. In front of him she threw out her arms toward the sun, laughing. “I haven’t felt this free in years. God, I missed being home.”
“Dana, about Sunday…”
“About Sunday, it was a great party, don’t you think? Lisa should have the photos printed by brunch this week.” Dana knew that wasn’t what he meant. Let’s see what he does mean, she thought. As she wove her way back toward him, he reached out a strong arm to help her over the last of the distance she had to cover. With her hand in his, it was easy for him to pull her toward him, directly into his arms. Dana knew the moment she took his hand it wasn’t a good idea. Engulfed in his arms, his chest against hers, it was hard to think. She didn’t want to think. Instead she lifted her face to his, wishing him to kiss her. Slowly he pulled off her sunglasses, the harsh change in light forcing her to close them momentarily. His lips met hers, warm, wet, searching hers for a response. Parting her lips under his, he pulled her closer, deepening his exploration. Dana held on for dear life, realizing there wouldn’t be too many more of these uninhibited kisses. Clay deserved a normal woman beside him who could raise his family without fear of accusations of her unorthodox sexual needs. She tugged him closer to her body, letting her hands roam his shoulders and chest. For so long, his image fueled her fantasies. Now, here in person, she realized it would be worse in the future when he stops touching her. Dana also knew that with time and her persistence, they’d find a comfortable level of friendship that wouldn’t embarrass either of them.
Clay knew this was a bad idea even as his mouth went to hers. He could be throwing away a lifetime of trust and friendship, but still he couldn’t help himself. She was vibrant against him, her hands running up his arms, pinching at his shoulders as she pulled him deeper. Body overrode mind, hormones and lust pushed back common sense as he held her, his tongue invading her warm mouth, hers meeting his in a fight for possession. Pulling back from her was the only way to stop it.
“Jeez, Dana.” He turned away from her, his jeans suddenly too tight for comfort. A thin layer of sweat beaded along his forehead as he fought for control.
“Clay?”
“Yeah?” He cleared his throat, trying to control his breathing.
“Doesn’t matter.” When he heard her words, anger took over.
“Doesn’t matter? Are you crazy?”
“I can’t give you what you want. What you need…what you deserve.” She walked back to the river view, keeping her back straight, refusing to turn.
Dana’s words floated through his mind, “Can’t give you what you need or want or deserve.” He was more confused than before, if possible. Finally, he knew the time had come to talk it out with her.
“Dana, what do you think I’m looking for?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. The sadness in her eyes told him more than any words could as she slowly turned.
“Whatever, Clay, you deserve more than I could ever give you.”
“You don’t know what I want. Sometimes I’m not sure, so how can you be?”
“I just know.” Slowly, with all the energy it seemed she could muster, Dana closed the space between them. “I wish I could, Clay.” Taking her sunglasses from his hand, she put them on, a mask to hide behind. She strode with purpose toward the car and waited in the passenger seat of the vehicle. It was a definite way of ending the conversation and questions she wasn’t comfortable answering.
When he finally got in, they didn’t talk. He drove back to where she had met him along the cornfield, pulling up near his truck.
“The car handles pretty good, are you going to keep it?”
“For a while. It doesn’t seem very important anymore.”
“Dana, what is important?”
“The one thing I can’t have.” He looked to her to explain, but she just shook her head. “I have to get back.” She opened her door, walking around the car, waiting for him to relinquish the driver’s seat. Clay watched in silence as she readjusted the seat and mirrors.
“See you Sunday?”
“Sure, kid. See you Sunday.” Dana started the car and drove slowly away. When she was about a hundred yards from him, she stopped and backed up to where he still stood. “Clay?” She handed him back his hat, then smiled. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know, Dana. I think it would be easier if you were.”
“For who?”
“For me, of course. There would be a clear line I couldn’t cross.”
With that, she switched gears and sped away, leaving him in the developing dust cloud. Shaking his head to himself, he pitied the poor mechanic who would have to realign the vehicle.
Sitting on the screened porch of his old house, Clay sipped from the bottle his hand held. The beer had gone warm long ago, and he just didn’t have the ambition to get a fresh one. His mind kept wandering back. Had it been six years ago? Dana had come home, unexpected and unannounced. She had turned twenty a few months before, not returning for a celebration because of her work and school schedule. When she called to thank him for the flowers he had sent her, she had told him work was hectic but great. Then a few months later, she showed up without any advance notice during the fall semester. Jeff had told him she was home, but he hadn’t seen her yet.
Pushing back in the wooden Adirondack chair, he closed his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. Her vision was as clear in his mind as if she had been standing in front of him now. He had been watching the remnants of a tropical storm blow past when headlights lit up his driveway. In the darkness, he could only tell it was a truck, then the driver’s door opened and he caught the lettering on the door, Britton Farms. He had expected to see Jeff run toward him, but instead it was Dana. He held open the screen door for her against the wind. She
was drenched and laughing. He remembered how she had flung herself into his arms, drenching his nude chest with rainwater. She had held him for a long time before she finally released him.
“Hi, am I interrupting a hot date?” she teased, her hand running along his bare chest.
“Not tonight. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Maybe next time.” She rubbed the sleeves of the flannel shirt she wore. “Is it okay if I hang for a little while? I was on my way back from Aunt Mary and Uncle Leo’s when the storm came up.”
Her hair was braided down her back. One long wet tail, he thought as he left her on the porch. Returning, he tossed her a thick towel then pulled on an old college T-shirt. It was cool for summer, the storm blowing in a northeast breeze with the heavy bands of rain. Clay watched her as she toweled off her hair, and she automatically set about undoing the braid. She had peeled off the wet flannel shirt while he was gone, leaving her in a short tee shirt, faded jeans, and her riding boots.
“What are you doing out in this? Why didn’t you wait it out at Mary and Leo’s?”
“Please, Clay. I’d have been stuck there all night. Besides, I left at the first report. It just got here quicker than I did. That reminds me, your power’s going to be off for a few more hours.”
“And you know this how?” he teased. He watched as her slim fingers worked her hair against the towel.
“Because I was three miles from home when the police turned me around. There are a couple of trees down over the highway, power lines went with them.”
“Oh,” was all he could manage. Her shirt, if you could really call it that, rode up near her breasts each time she raised her arms. He knew she wore no bra under it, there were no strap lines, only the hint of her curves and her pebbled nipples.
“Mind if I try Jeff on the land line? I’m sure Aunt Mary has called him by now.”
“Sure, kid. You know where the phone is.” Dana sat on the porch floor, tugging off her boots before she entered his home. Clay sat, knowing he couldn’t follow her just yet. His cock was rock hard under his jeans, and any movement would be uncomfortable. He heard her talking to her brother through the open kitchen window that looked out onto the porch.
“Of course my car phone is charged. If you stop to think, I’ve been driving through an electrical storm on the low lands, no signal you jackass.” Whatever Jeff’s reply was, it made her laugh. “No, you couldn’t get across the highway any better than I could.”
Clay wandered into the kitchen, not prepared for the sight he encountered. She was leaning against his kitchen sink, her jeans molded to her hips and legs. The short shirt had ridden up, a large portion of her back exposed. He wanted to run his hand along her spine, watch the chill it would send through her. While a year ago he wouldn’t have hesitated, tonight he didn’t touch her. She turned and winked, shaking her head at the old-fashioned wall phone. It sent a chill through his body as he watched her wind the stretched cord around her finger.
“He wants to talk to you.” His palm was clammy, but he resisted the urge to wipe it along his leg when she handed him the receiver.
“Yeah, lost power about an hour ago. You, too. Dana said they told her a few hours. She can crash here, yeah, no problem.”
Dana leaned back, looking around the room that was so familiar. “Have a good time with Gwen, was it? Yeah, she’s all right here.” He gave her back the phone.
“Jeff, six thirty at the barn, if the storm’s passed.” He turned his back as she wound the cord around her finger a second time. “Say hi to Gwen, see you in the morning.” She replaced the receiver on the wall-hung base. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d have trouble with trees tonight. Water I was prepared for, not trees and power lines.
“No problem, kid. Want beer or soda?”
“Beer I suppose, I’m not going anywhere for a while.” Clay handed her a cold, long-necked, green bottle, taking a second for himself. She had wandered back out onto the porch, beer in one hand, the towel in the other. Her hair was starting to dry, the ends curling in different directions. The oil lamp that sat on the table next to him burned dully against the darkness. With the turn of the switch, he could have illuminated the whole porch, but decided not to. If he could see Dana, she would be able to see him.
“Why did you come home, kid? Jeff said it was unscheduled.” She was wandering the length of the porch like a trapped animal. He wasn’t prepared for her reply. Her laughter started out loud and strong, and then eased away to a heavy sob.
Standing at the far end from where he sat, she glanced over her shoulder. “If I told you the truth, you’d have me locked away.”
“Tell me anyway.” He held the bottle in his hand, not really drinking from it. He needed to have a clear head tonight. Dana alone in his home could mean trouble. He didn’t want that kind of trouble.
“My plant died,” she whispered.
Clay sat forward in his chair, placing the bottle on the table next to him. “Excuse me?”
“See, I know it was silly. I guess I was just missing home. It’s been a while.”
“Since last Christmas. What did the plant have to do with it?” He tried to keep his voice low and smooth.
“It’s silly, I know. I’ve just been busy, too busy, I suppose. Between school and work, it was the last straw. I came home from a weekend shoot and it had died. The next thing I knew, I was at the airport.”
“What did you blow off to come home?” Clay wondered where this was going, almost afraid of her answer.
“Just schoolwork. I brought it with me, did most of it on the plane.”
They were silent for a while, listening to the rain come down hard against the metal roof of the old house.
“What kind of plant was it?”
Turning, she smiled. “Promise not to use it against me?” The fire was back in her eyes. It wasn’t there a half hour ago.
“Promise, kid.”
“It was a flat of grass.” She waited to make the obvious connection. “Run that by me again?” Clay knew she wouldn’t be growing pot in her Manhattan apartment, but still couldn’t get the mental picture.
“Relax, I mean just that, grass as in lawn. They sell it in wooden flats. I found it very soothing somehow. I’d come home and run my hands across it. The texture, the smell, the memories.”
“You got homesick, kid.”
“Yes, a little. But it was more than that, Clay, I felt lost.”
Clay closed the distance between them, his hands going to her shoulders, pulling her back against him. He ran his hands along her arms, feeling the cold come from her. Slowly, he pulled away, leaving her to enjoy the breeze, returning with a sweatshirt he spread across her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
Chapter Four
The portable radio on the kitchen windowsill told them another band of rain was heading their way and they were now predicting it would stall over the coast, probably not moving away until mid-morning.
“There goes my morning ride,” she joked.
Clay knew she meant her horseback ride with Jeff, but the initial image he conjured up in his head was anything but that. The winds started howling again, the rain coming in heavy drops.
“Dana, we can go inside if you’re cold.”
“Not yet, Clay, it feels good. In New York storms are different.”
“Are you really homesick, Dana, or is it something else?”
“I just needed to know it was still all here, that it hadn’t changed.”
A heavy gust of wind tossed water though the screens, dousing her with cold rain. Her hair blew back from her face, the ends wet again.
“Inside, kid. I’m not sending you home with a cold.”
“The temperature’s dropped, hasn’t it?” Slowly, she followed him, reluctant to leave the howling winds.
Inside, Clay set a match to the kindling and paper that was stacked in the old stone fireplace. When it caught, he added several small logs, stacking them carefully. Dana chose to sit on th
e hearth, half turned to the fire. Clay went to the sofa that sat six feet in front of it, opting for the far corner.
She asked him about the farm, what crops he had planted, asking questions that blew his mind.
“How did you remember all that stuff? I didn’t know you were listening when Jeff and I talked.”
“I learned how to be seen and not heard at a young age,” she teased.
He asked her about school, not surprised the semantics classes were her favorites. She told him she had been to Paris in the spring and had loved it. But her favorite was still Venice, the history and the architecture. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but she was sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, settled in between his legs.
Jeez, Dana.If I was any other guy…No, I’m not any other guy. Clay knew one thing, Dana trusted him, and he wouldn’t do anything to change that. “Dana, if you’re finished with classes after the first of the year, why not come home?” She stretched, laying her head on her knees, her arms wrapping around her legs.
“I will when it’s right. I figure I’ve got three good years left, and then I’ll decide.”
“Three good years, what in the hell are you talking about?”
“Modeling, of course. I’m twenty, Clay. By the time I hit twenty-three, some new fresh-faced sixteen-year-old will come along. I just hope I have the grace to accept it when it happens. I don’t want to go out kicking and screaming. I’d rather walk away, preferably with an elegant air.”
“You’re serious. You’re prepared for your life to end in a few years, God, Dana.” Clay was up and pacing the length of his living room.
“Clay, I didn’t mean my life would be over, just the modeling portion. If I’m careful, I should be able to work for a few more years, but I have to be realistic.”
“What will you do then?”
“I’m not sure. Hopefully by then I’ll have banked up some money, and, never mind, it’s silly. I’ll come home and find something to do with myself.”
Payne, Lillith - His Unconventional Woman (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4
