Waiting On the Rain

by Caudia Connor

  “You’re doing fine but you don’t have to grip the wheel quite that hard. It’s not going anywhere. I’m going to speed up a little. Turn us a little to the right.”

  At his direction she yanked the wheel to the right, slamming them both to the left.

  “A little!” he said laughing and covered her hands with his own.

  She was screaming and laughing. “This is nothing like riding a horse!”

  “Okay, drive. You’re in control.”

  “What! Where do I drive? I don’t know where I’m going!”

  “Anywhere you want. I’ll tell you if you’re going to hit anything.”

  He kept it slow rolling over the uneven ground.

  “I want to go faster! Can we go faster?”

  “Always wanting to go faster.” He gave it a little more gas.

  “More,” she demanded, driving them in a serpentine pattern across the field of grass. “I’m doing it! I’m driving!”

  “You’re a natural.”

  She laughed. “You’re lying and I don’t even care!” She leaned over, stuck her head out the window and let out a wild woo weee, letting the truck veer off to the left as she did so.

  He put his hands on the wheel to correct them and she swatted them away. “Let me do it! No helping!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” They drove and drove, serpentines and big, wide circles, him giving her gentle instructions.

  When they came to a stop and the engine was off, the keys safely in his hand, he lifted her hips from his lap. He maneuvered his way out from behind her and got out.

  “Okay, Nascar, let’s get some air.” He took her hand, held it as she climbed down. “Oh, my heart,” he said dramatically. “I’ve had a grenade dropped in my lap and not been so scared.”

  “Stop it.” She slapped at his chest. “You said I was good.”

  “You were.” Then she surprised the hell out of him by throwing her arms around his neck.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him, once again as bright as the sun.

  “You’re welcome.” He wanted to kiss that smiling mouth, but he was afraid to push too hard. And he wanted her way too much.

  “You want to know what else I can’t do?”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “Baseball or softball. Neither. But it was baseball that I wanted to play.” She dropped her hands and moved to stand beside him, but he eased her over until he could wrap his arms around her from behind.

  “I begged my brother to give me one chance so he did,” she said, relaxing back against him. “And busted my lip. It scared my mother to death. My brother got in so much trouble. Want to play with me?”

  “Absolutely not.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his chin on the top of her head. Tried to figure out what the hell to do with what he was feeling toward this woman.

  “Doesn’t feel like it’s going to rain today,” she said, her head resting back against his shoulder.

  “Nope. Sun’s out. No clouds. What’s your fascination with rain, anyway?”

  “I already told you, I like the feel of it. It’s maybe one of my first really clear memories as a child. Sitting outside, listening to the steady patter. I stuck my feet out and then that patter was hitting my skin, coming from… Well, I had no idea where it was coming from. It felt like magic.”

  “That’s a good memory,” he said. “I should have brought some food out here.”

  “We weren’t really thinking of food.”

  “No. I guess not. Next time. Unless you’re hungry. We could go get something.”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  But now that the thought was there, it took hold. He’d bring her out here one day, to this exact same spot, with food and drinks. Maybe a blanket to sit on. Maybe he’d even let her drive.

  He laughed softly at himself. Making picnic plans, for God’s sake.

  “Ahhh.” He drew in a deep breath of the clean air, let it out. “A beautiful girl, a truck, and an open field.”

  She laughed. “Is that every boy’s dream?”

  “A lot of them.”

  “Just what did you do with girls and trucks and open fields?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, kissing the side of her neck like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they’d hung out like this every day for years. “What about you? I bet not a truck in a field. Back of a car?”

  “Uh, no. I didn’t get many dates. It was camp for me.”

  “Camp?” Ava felt Luke’s arms tighten around her. “Jeez. What kind of camp did you go to? And wait. How old were you?”

  She laughed at the outrage in his voice. “It was blind camp. Teen blind camp. And I’ll bet I was older than you were.”

  “Please don’t tell me it was a counselor.”

  “No! Good grief. It was another camper. I was seventeen. The blind leading the blind, you could say. You can laugh. It wasn’t pretty.”

  He didn’t laugh, but slid his arms even tighter around her, pulling her back against his chest. “Should I be jealous?”

  “Of…well, shoot. I can’t even remember his name so I guess not.”

  “Good.” He dipped his head, kissed the side of her neck.

  “Should I be jealous?”

  “Yes. Sally Sutherland.” He nodded slowly as if he was remembering her fondly until she smacked his arm.

  “Did you concentrate on school at all or just girls?”

  “A lot of girls. A little school.” That got him another light smack. “How was school for you? I’m going to bet you were straight A’s. Probably Valedictorian.”

  “Salutatorian, and it was good. I was a good student. I liked school.”

  He nodded, his head moving on the top of her head. “I’m betting it wasn’t all easy.”

  “No. Not all. Kids can be cruel no matter who you are or how you’re different. I learned to be… not paranoid, but…”

  “Cautious?”

  “Yeah. Cautious. But I had my friend Maddie.”

  “And she had you.”

  “Yeah. But she never needed me like I needed her.”

  “Mmm. You might be surprised.” He’d known Ava three weeks and already felt a pull, a need.

  She turned sideways to face him, her smile slipping. “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I just survived the most dangerous ride of my life.”

  “I mean from before.” She lifted one of his hands, feathered her finger over his knuckles.

  As much as he didn’t want her feeling that, imagining that, he couldn’t make himself pull his hand away. It was the first time he’d wanted to do something. And by do, he meant, hurt, kill. Gary was going to love this.

  “You were really mad,” she said, and lifted his hand to press her lips to his scraped skin. Her lips curved up in a small smile against his skin.

  “I wasn’t mad. Well, not at you. I’ve spent the past twenty–two years protecting innocent against evil. Today seemed to fit the bill. But this isn’t Afghanistan. I have to adapt, change tactics. I look at you and I think…”

  “What?”

  “I think…” That I’m falling in love with you. “I think God, you’ve done a lot of adapting.”

  “Maybe, but not really.” Still holding his hand, she turned, leaning against the truck, beside him. “I started out this way so I haven’t really changed anything. And for the record, I think you’re adapting just fine.”

  He closed his eyes. “Am I?”

  “Why would you say that? Because of today? You were upset. Anyone would have been.”

  “Would they have wanted to kill four men with their bare hands?” There. He’d said it. And he braced himself for her retreat. She didn’t move.

  “I’m sure my brother would have wanted to. Not sure he could have,” she said with a small laugh, surprising him. “But he’d have wanted to. And you calmed fast enough. You calmed me.”

  Luke opened his eyes, looked at Ava. He had to touch
her. When he stroked a finger down her cheek, she turned her face to his, smiled. Then the smile faded and doubt replaced it.

  “I like to think of myself as self-sufficient and I’m usually confident. But today I was—”

  “Amazing.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Brave. Bold. Strong.”

  She shook her head. “Sounds like you’re describing yourself.”

  Part of his charm with women was ability to smile and charm, his way out without giving up anything. Without analyzing it too deeply. It was different with Ava. “I don’t think so. I was scared.”

  “What were you scared of?”

  He might not have answered, certainly wouldn’t have answered Gary, but because she seemed to have her own fears, because she seemed to need to hear his, he did. “Letting the team down. Making a mistake that got someone else killed.”

  “Did you? Ever make a mistake?”

  “A couple. No one died because of them, but good men did die. Men that had families to go home to and I think after, or maybe even before Hannah’s wedding, I started thinking maybe I’ve dodged enough bullets, you know?

  “My commanding officer asked me what I was waiting for? Coming up on twenty years and he asked me point blank, are you going to stay in until you get killed? Is that your goal? Not long after that, I had a close call. RPG hit close, too close. And for a second I laid there, ears ringing, trying to feel if I still had all my limbs because I was too scared to look, and for just a second I thought, I should have gone home.

  “Then the close call was forgotten. A week, a month, went by and if I ever thought that again, I pushed it out. I didn’t have the guts to go home. What kind of person needs guts to see his family? Would my parents be proud of that?”

  “I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”

  It made his throat dry, the way she looked at him, as if even without seeing, she saw something in him. Something great even, something absolutely worthy. And it rocked him. She rocked him.

  “I’m about to kiss you,” he said, just before he took her face in his hands. He gave her half a second to say no, then touched his lips to hers. On a quiet moan, she shifted toward him and everything in him sighed.

  His thumb stroked over her jaw and when she parted her lips, he slipped his tongue past. He tasted her, drew her in and he thought he’d be content if there was nothing else in the world but right here, right now. Just Ava and a country field. No other sound but their combined breathing, their lips moving together. The slight movement of air over grass.

  A long, slow rush of pleasure rippled through him. There was heat between them. A toe tingling, impossible to walk away from heat. With a grip on her hair, he pulled, exposed the long line of her throat. He dragged his teeth down and back up. Nipped at her ear, her jaw. “I have a confession.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not really sure about this friend thing.”

  “No?” Her breath trembled out. Her fingers dug into his arms as she held on, pressed her body closer to his.

  “No. Not just. Is that still what you want?”

  “Not right at this second, no.”

  Then his mouth was on hers. His hands raked through her hair, held her face to his, bringing her in and up onto her toes. He hooked one arm around her waist so that her body was plastered to his and the kiss deepened to a level of desperation. “You know this isn’t going to be enough.”

  “For who?”

  “Both of us. Either of us.”

  She didn’t pull away, not physically, not out of his arms, but he felt her shields come up like ten-foot barriers. “It’d probably be a mistake,” she said softly.

  “For who?”

  “For both of us,” she said, and now she did step back, just enough to let him know he’d pushed too hard. “It’s getting late. I should get home before my mother decides I’m dead on the side of the road.”

  “Not funny.”

  “It is if you knew how many times she’s been certain I’ve been murdered, hit by a bus, or fallen down a manhole.”

  “So call her. Text her, whatever. Tell her you’ll be late.”

  “I’m already late. Probably really late. Shoot.” She slipped from between him and the truck, used her hand to feel her way to the passenger side and her bag. She pulled out her phone, clicked it. “Dead.”

  “I’ll take you home. Or we could check out the cabin. It’s right over there.” He lifted her hand to point with his in the direction. “About two hundred yards. You could see how I’m doing. Or not see…exactly. Sorry.”

  Ava linked her fingers with his. “It’s okay to say see and watch. I say it too.”

  “Okay then. We can see what tips you can give me and you can charge your phone. Let your mom know you haven’t been murdered.” He held his breath. This felt like a hurdle right here and now. One he hadn’t known how badly he’d wanted to get over until just this second.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he said, tightening his fingers around hers. “Want to drive?”

  “Nah,” she said with a teasing grin. “I’ll ride.”

  23

  They parked in front of the cabin and Ava stopped just outside the truck. “Can you tell me what it looks like from here. I don’t really have my bearings.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure. So straight ahead is the cabin. There are two steps up and I’ll be building a ramp on the right side. Or maybe one on both, I’m not sure yet.”

  He drew her hand to the right again, angled up. “Hannah’s house is that way, up a slight hill in the wood. You can’t see it from here. The cabin is straight ahead, then…” He took her hand and lifted it to point. “The plan is to build another one to the right, and two more to the left. Each spaced about forty yards apart.”

  “Are there trees here?”

  “Lots of trees back behind, maybe thirty yards from the cabin and a few pines sprinkled around.”

  “So they’ll be nestled at the edge of the woods. That’s nice. It’ll feel like they’re camping.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s the idea. Hannah’s full of ideas.”

  Ava smiled. “She is. I love that about her. Cookouts with campfires and s’mores. So it’s not just about the riding, but the whole camp experience. Not with riflery and swimming, I mean it’s a riding camp, but they can’t be riding every second of the day. You could have a camp fire, but there’ll need to be some kind of a guard rail.

  “What about around the cabin? You could maybe have something different than grass. A path? Maybe gravel for the walkways so they can hear and feel if they go off track.”

  “Hannah had mentioned paved for wheel chairs.”

  “Oh, right. Shows what I know. But maybe both.” Hmm. She pursed her lips, running the problem around in her mind. “It’ll have to be wide enough for people to pass and walk in groups. That way you could keep the walkers on the gravel, chairs on the pavement, that kind of thing.”

  “I can actually picture that. Want to check out the inside?”

  “Lead the way,” she told him, and smiling, took his arm again.

  “Stick close. There’s no railing yet.” And looking around with Ava here, he saw a lot more things that needed to be changed, improved, altered, reworked.

  “You and your brothers built it?” He opened the door and she stepped inside.

  “We helped. Hannah’s husband Stephen and his brother Matt did most of it. We were extra muscle.”

  “And you’re going to build all the others?”

  “Not just me, but yeah. I guess that’s the plan. Hannah wants to have four cabins that would each house four campers and one counselor. Here. I’ll give your phone some charge.”

  He took her phone and moved a few feet away. “Now that I’ve seen them do it, I think with a little direction I could do the rest. Or at least frame up the walls then get some help putting it together. The money is an issue. We’re all chipping in and Hannah’s trying to get a lot of the lumber donat
ed. Matt helped her out with the plumbing and electrical with his contacts.”

  He came back to her, laid her hand on his arm. “The style is simple and the layout is mostly a square. Main room here, just big enough for seating and a table for games.”

  “What kind of seating?”

  “Right now there’s a couch and a coffee table, thanks to Zach and Nora consolidating their furniture. Probably need to add a couple of roomie chairs.”

  “Wood floor?” She said, walking across it.

  “Yeah. Wide planks. I need to do another round of sanding then a couple coats of poly. The walls are tongue and groove.”

  She slid her hand over the wall as they walked. “I like it. You can feel each piece of wood.”

  “Yeah. Each one is quarter rounded. Then off this room on the right, a bunk room for the campers and to the left the counselors room.”

  He led her to the campers’ room, stopping in the middle. “It’s tiny, but it’s mainly just for sleeping. Two sets of bunk beds, one on each side. Hannah said some kids she’d have here would be able to sleep in a top bunk. They’ll get a kick out of it. Don’t know what is about a top bunk, but some kids really get a charge out of it.”

  “It’s different, if they don’t have one at home.” She let go of his arm and walked to the bed, running her hand along the smooth side. “And it’s independence. I always felt more freedom when I was away at camp. I’m sure my parents signed some kind of waiver in case I got hurt, and I know the counselors were careful, but they didn’t hover, you know? There was more room to be a kid. Get some bumps and bruises.”

  “Sounds like you’re an expert. No wonder every other word out of Hannah’s mouth lately is, I’ll run that by Ava.”

  Ava turned in the room, running her hands along the side of the upper bunk. “Did you build these beds?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re amazing.”

  She kept touching it, more like caressing it. It made him proud and also made him think thoughts of her hands caressing him.

  “I um… I always wanted a bunk bed. Dallas and Zach got bunk beds. There was a constant battle between them for the top.”

  She smiled, made a wistful sound.