Her body throbbed against his hand as his fingers continued to pulse into her body and he stroked her clit. She gripped his wrist, and wrested it away. She was on the verge and she’d be damned if she’d come without him.
Silently, Nate spread her legs, levering himself above her, his weight on his arms. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, until she was bucking and scouring his back with her nails, sobbing in her urgency to have him inside her.
He levered himself up on his arms, staring down at her, giving her time to adjust, but her orgasm was upon her. Before he’d even entered her fully, she closed her eyes, arching up to him as she came apart with a garbled cry.
His eyes were wild and they never left hers as he pumped into her, over and over until at last he came with a guttural groan. He rolled his heavy, heaving body off of her, settled her into the crook where his arm met his chest, and she faded out.
• • •
Ava woke just before dawn in the massive king-sized bed. The room was silent. He was gone. She sat up, the sheet falling to her waist, leaving her shivering in the chill. She hiked up the comforter, self-conscious. It wasn’t like she could gather her things and sneak out. Suddenly, Nate walked in, stark naked. She tried not to stare, but it was impossible. He was massive everywhere, thick thighs, strong shoulders, broad chest. Her aching body throbbed in response.
“Ray?” she asked.
“Fine. I gave them water and let them out for a bit. They’re better—out of the woods.”
She collapsed against the pillow, shivering. “Thank God.”
He climbed back into bed and gathered her into his arms. “I’ll have to get up and start feeding the animals in a bit and I’ve got some harvesting to do today.”
She stiffened. “Oh, okay. Um, if you just want to take me into town, I can—”
He leaned back, examining her. “I’m just giving you a heads up that I have some work to do. I figure I can get a few things done, rejoin you in bed, do a few more things, back to bed.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure my body can take that.”
He stroked the hair back from her forehead. “Sore?”
“Spectacularly sore,” she whispered, bringing one of his huge warm hands to her breast.
His grin was wicked as he moved the heat of his body over her.
• • •
The weekend passed in a blur. Care for the animals didn’t allow for long lazy mornings in bed, but Nate neglected most of his other chores for endless bouts of sex, naps and talking. He shared more of his innermost thoughts with Ava in forty-eight hours than he’d shared with anyone in recent memory. He hadn’t really missed the connections with other people, he’d never been good at maintaining relationships within the throes of his disease but there was an openness about her. A willingness to talk about anything and everything. She wasn’t as sheltered as he’d initially thought. She was well traveled for one thing. She loved to read for another, and they shared a mutual love for fast-paced thrillers, a detective series set in a third-world country and a best-selling comedic travel writer.
Sunday night, Nate hunched over the stove, prodding the edge of a pancake with a spatula—breakfast for dinner again, because they still hadn’t managed to make it to the grocery store. Tension filled his frame; it was time to tell her. He should’ve done it the first night they were together. He’d held off for so long it was now uncomfortably like a lie.
“Ava?”
“Mmm?” Her preoccupied voice trickled over to him and he heard the rustle of a page. She was engrossed in one of the books on estuary revitalization she’d found on his nightstand.
“I’m bipolar.”
He didn’t turn around, didn’t have the courage to look at her face and risk seeing disgust or disappointment. God knows she was such an easy read; he didn’t know how she survived in L.A. Her chair scraped back and he stiffened, an odd hollowness taking hold in his chest. Despair. He recognized the feeling from his dark days.
For decades, Nate had medicated that feeling, quelling his extreme moods with pills and booze, but things had grown progressively worse, until his infamous manic meltdown. That had been followed closely by a nearly catatonic state of depression, culminating in a stay in a psych unit.
People had assumed it was an overdose on the drugs and alcohol that led him to do a million dollars worth of damage to a sound studio, and break nearly every bone in his left hand in the process. His aching, scarred hand was a daily painful reminder of how bad things could get if he let them. With the hospital admission came a diagnosis for his sudden, alternating bouts of fury, manic productivity, and black depression: bipolar disorder.
For someone used to a life of calm solitude, the strength of his feelings the last few days was shocking—like being hit with a bucket of freezing water.
He couldn’t even begin to explore his feelings toward Ava. Logically, he knew there was no future here. At twenty-nine, she was a decade and several lifetimes of experience too young for him. And she was far, far too L.A. She was relaxed here but given how she’d described her work, she lived a successful and frenetic life down there. She’d rattled off a list of clients and events she organized that even he had heard of. He was pretty sure he’d donated to some at Asher’s urging a few years ago. No. There was no future with her. He couldn’t return to L.A. Not if he valued his sanity.
Too bad his heart was completely and utterly irrational.
The feel of her arms around him, her cheek resting on his mid-back was so shocking jumped.
Slowly he turned, still holding the spatula. She gave him a level look. “I figured it was something like that.”
“You did?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his tone.
“Yeah. You said that first day we met that you self-medicated. I’ve only ever heard people who have depression or bipolar disorder use that phrasing.”
“You know bipolar people?” His heart was racing, but her eyes were calm, accepting.
“I know a lot of people, Nate. I meet thousands in my line of work, and yes, I have friends who have major depressive disorder, bipolar disorder, anxiety issues.” She shrugged. “My father struggled with depression. I’ve certainly seen friends on the losing end who have trouble staying on the meds. I’m familiar with the illness. And I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It was all he could do not to sag against her.
“Nate?”
“Yeah,” he said from where his cheek rested on top of her head.
“I think you’ve burned this batch.”
He turned to see smoke pouring from the griddle. He flipped them off into the trash and went to pour another cup of coffee, grinning like a madman.
Chapter Four
Ava awoke smiling and stretched next to a sleeping Nate. He gave off so much heat; she didn’t need more than a sheet for cover despite the early morning chill in the old house.
On Monday, Marty, the mechanic, had told her it would take two days to repair her car. She’d texted her assistant, Lucy, to let her know that she’d taken a rare and impromptu vacation and to hold down the fort as best she could.
But now it was Sunday. Her smile vanished. The mechanic had been finished with her car for most of the week she was sure. He was probably wondering why she hadn’t picked it up. She could only imagine how many emails and texts were waiting for her. For all she knew her voicemail box was full. Her stay here was irresponsible and completely unfair to Lucy.
It had also been the best week of her life. She’d had more fun pitching in and helping feed and help care for the animals on the farm than she would have believed possible.
She and Nate had been to town early in the week to get her some essentials. They’d taken long walks, he’d even gotten her up on the back of one of his horses—a first for her. She’d been terrified, but the mare was a gentle ancient plodder and she discovered she loved being up on the horse, her body moving naturally with the motion of the animal. They’d ri
dden the all terrain vehicle around the perimeter of his property. He’d been so proud showing her the fruits of his labors. Initially, she’d thought it sad, perverse even, that he’d given up music, his life in L.A. She’d seen his move to the farm as escapist.
After a week she had a much better understand of him as a man, a person committed to the land and the environment. She understood what he was trying to accomplish with the CSA, the restoration of the estuary and ecosystem and she admired his ability to leave his damaged life and start anew. They’d talked about every topic under the sun—except her departure.
Ava wouldn’t torture herself pretending this could continue long distance. Her life barely allowed time for a relationship, let alone one with a man who lived five hours north and off the grid. And despite her reassurances when Nate had admitted his illness, his bipolar disorder did give her pause. His was no mild form of manic depression, not if his history was anything to go by.
Ava had seen the way bipolarity could suddenly and drastically change a person’s whole life, their entire personality even. Her college roommate Bella, had gone off her medications for bipolar disorder their senior year. It had been shocking and horrible to witness her considerate, serious-minded friend throw herself into the party scene with a vengeance. Her parents finally pulled her out of school a few months before graduation and she’d been hospitalized with “exhaustion,” but word had gotten around that it was actually bipolar disorder a few months later. They’d lost touch over time, but Ava found out via Facebook a few years ago that her former friend had eventually committed suicide.
Nate managed his illness well, here on the farm. But he’d shared enough of his history for her to know that returning to L.A. was out of the question.
That night, after they made love, as they were drifting off to sleep, still tangled in each other, Ava whispered “tomorrow” into the darkness. Nate stilled against her, but she was too tired and too chicken to talk. She wanted one more night in his arms to remember.
• • •
Ava put on the work boots Nate had bought her in town and shrugged into his fleece jacket for a final walk around. He joined her on the porch, looking every minute of his forty years. They’d been up half the night. He’d woken her once, and she’d returned the favor. Then they’d lain silently, not sleeping, holding each other until dawn.
She reached for him and he walked with her, hand in hand as they visited the barn.
“Down there is where they’ll be having the Valentine’s dinner next weekend,” he said, pointing to the field behind the wooden structure.
“And where you can show off all the amazing things you’ve done with the slough.”
“Not just me,” he protested. “My team of non-native plant removal specialists.”
Ava laughed. “I’m going to miss these sweet specialists,” she said, stroking Margie the goat who had approached the fence hoping for food.
They strolled down to the water’s edge and Nate pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. Ava sighed and leaned back against his strong chest, watching the white pelicans paddle lazily. She turned in his embrace, and his kiss was so gentle tears sprang into her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his chest and clutched him to her.
He bent his head. “Stay,” he whispered.
“I can’t,” she whispered back, silent tears soaking into his soft flannel shirt. She couldn’t stay here, on a farm, off the beaten path. This had been a wonderful interlude, a daydream, but reality beckoned. Her life and work were four hundred miles and a world away from this place. There were people relying on her, good, charitable organizations that depended on her to raise the money that funded portions of their programs in this era of cutbacks and diminishing budgets.
They needed her, and what did Ava need?
Well, her needs didn’t really seem all that important in comparison.
Chapter Five
When the phone rang late Friday afternoon, Ava was sitting on her sofa with her laptop, exhausted from a week of playing catch-up. She scowled at the phone when she recognized the number.
“Did you find him?” Asher asked, without preliminaries.
“Yes,” she replied, her heart constricting in her chest.
“And?”
“He’s fine,” she said, curtly. “I’ve got to go. I have a ton of work.”
“He still farming?”
She closed her eyes, but the memory of riding behind Nate on the ATV, pressed to his warm, flannel-clad back, arrived unbidden. She wiped her tear-filled eyes. “Yep.”
“He coming back?”
“Coming back?”
“To L.A., to music.”
“Is that why you sent me up there?” she returned coldly. “To feel him out about Spade’s latest project?”
You bastard.
“What? No! I was worried about him. He’s never gone so long without returning a call.”
There was something in his voice that smacked of guilt.
Her eyes narrowed. “Look, he’s never coming back, okay? He’s happy there. He’s … good. Don’t you dare pressure him into something. You hear me? Leave him alone,” her voice rose to a shout.
There was silence from the other end—then muffled laughter.
“Fuck you, Asher,” she said quietly, tears blurring her vision. “If I find out this is your idea of matchmaking … “
There was a long pause on the other end. “Maddy and Kate could see that you’re not happy, even if I couldn’t. And I’ve been there, Ava, I lost sight of the things that matter most.” The sincerity in his voice made her anger fade. Truth be told, she was kind of shocked. Devil-may-care Asher Lowe getting serious, who would’ve thought? “Don’t let that happen just because your head’s shoved up your day planner. There are people who can fill your shoes, you know.”
Ava bristled. “Are there? Do you know how much your arthritis benefit raised last year, Asher? Or the Sawyer’s foundation?” she said.
“Yeah, I do. To the penny. You’ve done an amazing job for us—succeeded beyond our wildest imaginings—brought awareness about the things close to our hearts to thousands of people. We’re grateful and we love you. But we want you to be happy and you aren’t.”
She didn’t argue with him, she couldn’t. And she was afraid if she opened her mouth she’d crack.
“You have options. You can get out of the business and turn everything over to that assistant of yours. Lisa.”
“Lucy,” she corrected him absently, her mind already turning.
“Sure. And you can cut back, do a few events a year instead of dozens. Or you can go back up to Farmville—”
“Watsonville.”
“Right—and make a life with Nate, helping him with that CSA thing and doing benefits, like that Valentine’s Day one for the charter school tomorrow night.”
Wait, how did he know … Anger surged through her. “What? Asher! You—”
“Oops,” he said, and hung up.
Ava sat staring at the phone in her hand, shaking her head. She rose from the couch with the first genuine smile in a week.
It was just before midnight by the time she locked up her condo. The roads were surprisingly quiet as she took the 101 freeway from Los Angeles to Watsonville. For the first two hundred miles, she debated turning around at each green-and-white lettered exit sign, at war with herself.
Was she crazy to give up the life she had in L.A. for a chance at a life with a bipolar, musician-turned-farmer ten years her senior? Her friends would be flabbergasted if she traded in her Prius for a diesel pick-up. She grinned.
Perhaps she was unduly influenced by how good the sex had been. She’d had good sex before, great sex even, but nothing approaching the intimacy they’d shared. And it wasn’t just the sex. It was his patience and generosity with the animals, with the land, and with her that she’d fallen in love with.
Her resolve hardened as she approached Watsonville. Before her, he’d lived his life without complications
, but she would bring them, hell, she’d almost killed his dogs. But convince him she would. She had to.
She couldn’t live without him.
Chapter Six
He made his way into the barn to get the feed together. The last two mornings he’d struggled to get out of bed at dawn for the first time in years. There was this hollow emptiness after she’d left, and instead of getting better as the week progressed, it had amplified. Perhaps his medications needed an adjustment. He shook his head. If only. What ailed him wouldn’t be fixed by a dosage change or a new pill. Despite the preparations for the party tonight, he was consumed by thoughts of Ava.
Maybe he could re-enter her world. It had been years, his disorder was under control. There had to be some way. He’d make plans to go down to L.A., have Yancy take care of things on the farm for a few days. It wasn’t a long-term solution of course, and his gut clenched at the memories of that life, the traffic, the smog, and worst of all the teeming mass of noisy humanity that he’d traded in for this idyllic life. But for her, he’d try a long-distance relationship. People made those work, didn’t they?
He emerged from the barn, blinking in the early morning light and spotted a car creeping up his dirt road. It was a little blue Prius. For a split second, the thought crossed Nate’s mind that he was hallucinating. No, that cloud of dust was no mirage. His heart leaped in his chest, and he was dizzy with joy. He tried to rein in his happiness, tried to rub the stupid grin from his face but it was no use. He took off running down the dirt road, Molly and Ray next to him, barking excitedly at the sight of a beaming Ava exiting her vehicle.
Nate took her in his arms roughly, swinging her around as she wrapped her legs around his waist and raised her head, giving him her mouth.
Nate kissed her with all the joy and desperation and love he could no longer restrain. He set her on the hood of her car, cupped her jaw in his hands and continued, stroking into her mouth, setting them both on fire. She clawed at his clothing, rubbed herself against him. Ray leaped up on his hip, barking non-stop. Laughing he tore his mouth away. “Down, Ray.”
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 35
