by Amy Patrick
Oh, it was a metal stake. Several rusty old horseshoes lay near it.
Though I’d played the game before, I’d never been any good at it. But no one was watching now, and I had nothing better to do. I picked up the horseshoes and stepped back about fifteen paces before pitching one in the direction of the stake.
Instead of the metallic clank I was hoping for, I heard a strange thud, and then a voice came out of the darkness.
“Ow. What the hell was that?”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” I rushed toward the owner of the voice, stopping short as a small light blinked on and broke the darkness with its soft glow.
There was a man there holding his phone, shining its built-in flashlight onto the ground around him. Bending, he lifted the horseshoe, studied it with a puzzled gaze, then turned the light on me.
“Well this is a first.” He chuckled. “I mean, I’ve had girls throw things at me, but never a horseshoe.”
I stepped closer, more cautious now that I’d gotten a look at him.
He was young. His size and deep voice had made me think he was older. And he was huge, at least six-foot-four, with wide shoulders and the kind of strong, masculine face Josiah probably wouldn’t develop until he reached his thirties.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, awash in embarrassment. “I’m really bad at throwing horseshoes. Are you hurt?”
He rubbed his jaw with one hand and spoke in an amused tone. “Well, I may have to reschedule that magazine cover shoot, but I guess I’ll live.”
This, followed by a smile so dazzling, I literally felt my breath rush out in a whoosh.
A breathtaking grin. Huh, so it was a real thing and not just a figure of speech.
I was pretty sure he was joking about the magazine cover thing, but he had the kind of looks that belonged on one. Thick, black hair contrasted with eyes so light blue they’d have looked right at home in my predominately Dutch and German community.
“What are you doing out here in the dark all alone?”
The guy sauntered forward and offered me the horseshoe. “I mean, besides assaulting innocent bystanders with steel projectiles?”
“Oh... I uh... I’m just... waiting on my friends. That I came with. My friends I came with. They’re... busy, and I was just coming to look at the lake.”
My garbled explanation died right there. I had never been nervous talking to a boy before, but then I’d never met a boy like this one.
“Boy” didn’t even seem to be the right word for him. He was something more than that—not quite old enough to call a man—or at least not like the men in my village, who seemed ancient to me with their beards and bellies.
He didn’t seem to notice my fumbling speech, just turned and admired the moonlit waterfront scene.
“It’s pretty, huh? I was coming down here myself to look at it. Well, really to look at the moon more than the lake. I’ve always thought there was something special about a blood moon.”
He swept a hand across the sky over his head. “Every time I see one, I think... I wonder who else is staring up at this same moon at the same moment? Like, on the other side of the world, there could be somebody looking up at the same time and thinking...”
He stopped talking and gave an embarrassed laugh, peeking back at me from under his lowered eyebrows.
“Listen to me. Hell, I’m no poet.” He blew out a breath and changed the subject. “So... you been to one of the Miller’s bonfires before? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here.”
Shock prevented me from answering right away. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but when he was talking about the moon, it was like he’d ripped the pages out of the little journal I kept in my bedside table drawer and was reciting from them.
“No,” I whispered. “This is my first party.”
Ugh. And why had I told him that? I seriously considered turning and running away.
Of course that would only make me seem even more like the immature twelve-year-old he probably thought I was.
The dazzling grin returned. “Really? Your first party? And you’re spending the night all alone out here. I hate that you’re not having more fun at your first party. We’re going to have to do something about that.”
He bent and gathered the other horseshoes from the ground. “Starting with a throwing lesson. Now I don’t like to brag, but I happen to be the three-time amateur horseshoes champion of Pennsylvania.”
“You are?”
He laughed. “No, not really. There isn’t such a thing—at least as far as I know. But I do play basketball at HACC. You go to school around here?”
“Um... no.”
His question caught me off guard. Amish kids didn’t go to high school, much less college. I’d taken my bonnet off before getting out of the buggy when we’d arrived. Maybe it was too dark for him to see my clothing?
For some reason, I was reluctant to tell him I’d stopped going to school after eighth grade and basically worked full time on my family’s farm and the market stand.
“I’m... not in college yet,” I said.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Why did I even care what he thought?
“Well come on over here. Horseshoe Throwing 101 is now in session. By the way I’m Reece.”
He extended a huge hand, and I gripped it lightly before releasing it.
“Abigail Byler.”
“Pleased to meet you, Abigail Byler. Prepare to be amazed.”
Reece dragged the toe of his leather boot across the dirt, creating a line. Standing in front of it, he swung one long arm behind him in a smooth motion then brought it forward and released the horseshoe. It flew through the air in a perfect arc before ringing the stake with a clang.
He turned and gave me a smirk. “Now it’s your turn.”
I stepped up to the line and accepted the horseshoe Reece offered, gripping it and starting to swing it back behind me like he had done.
He caught my wrist, stopping me mid-motion.
“Whoa there. Do it that way, and you’re gonna kill some fish—or me. Let me give you some pointers first.”
Sliding his fingers from my wrist, he covered my hand entirely with his, repositioning my grip.
“What you want to do is let it hang here on your first knuckles. Yeah, that’s right—you don’t have to squeeze it. Bring it up and touch your thumb to it. Good. See, now when you release it your palm will be facing up, and the shoe will come right out of your hand at the right angle. Okay, now let me see your backswing.”
Reece took a step back and waited. Feeling supremely awkward, I swung my right hand back then forward, releasing the horseshoe and watching as it fell far short of the target.
“Good. Better.” He stepped toward me again, placing a gentle hand on each of my shoulders. “Try squaring your shoulders toward the stake and keep your arm straight when you bring it back.”
Standing behind me, he slid his right hand down my arm and drew it back to demonstrate. His voice was a soft purr in my ear.
“Back like this... then bring it forward and release.”
Goosebumps broke out all over my body, and my belly swooped. I was so unnerved by his nearness, my grip loosened right then and there, and the horseshoe thudded to the ground inches behind us.
Jumping away from him, I blurted, “I have to go to the porta potty.”
Taking off at a near run, I headed for the bonfire then veered off toward the parking area where three portable bathrooms had been set up.
I didn’t actually need to go. I did need to get a grip on myself.
Real cool there Abigail. He probably thinks you have gas.
Well, it didn’t matter anyway. I was never going to see him again after tonight.
Better to stop this... this... whatever was happening now before it went any further. He was probably only toying with me anyway.
Nothing more amusing than teasing the Amish virgin, right?
3
Destiny
I held my br
eath and stayed in the bathroom as long as I could stand it then exited, making up my mind to go and drag Hannah and Aaron from the barn if necessary.
As eager as I’d been to get away from home tonight, I was ready to go back now.
Back to the people and the life I understood. Back to my upstairs bedroom where I would consign this evening and my strange encounter with Reece to my journal.
And maybe my dreams.
The parking area was well-lit, with strings of white globe-lights hung from the surrounding trees. They made a safe path toward the barn, and I walked that way, scanning the crowd nearby for my friends. And yes, for Reece.
“You okay?” A now familiar voice came from my right. “I was worried about you. You ran off like a scalded cat.”
I turned to see him leaning back on the hood of a red sports car in a half-sit, half-stand. He had his arms folded across his chest and one bootheel propped on the front bumper.
“Hellion,” his license plate read. In the glow of the string lights, smiling like he was, Reece certainly looked like one.
Big, dark-haired, and wearing a grin so full of wicked charm I literally felt my knees go weak.
Another thing I’d thought only happened in books.
I stopped in place, holding his gaze but not answering, as there wasn’t sufficient air in my lungs to produce speech.
In the dark of the lakefront, I had thought Reece attractive, simply based on his impressive size and the sound of his deep voice. But now... here in the light, I could really see him.
I wasn’t sure there were enough pages in my journal.
“Your shoe’s untied. You’re gonna trip and fall,” he said. “Come here. I’ll tie it for you.”
“I can tie my own shoe,” I protested, but my feet moved toward him of their own accord.
“Yeah, but why bother when you have a willing volunteer here to do it for you.”
Seeing my hesitation, he added, “I’m not gonna bite, Abbi.”
“It’s Abigail.”
Reece patted the shiny red hood just beside his left hip. “Pop that foot up here, Abigail. We’ll fix you right up. You’ll be two-stepping and doing a tango in no time. Zero tripping, guaranteed.”
“You want me to put my shoe on your car?”
“That teensy little foot’s not gonna do any damage.”
I tried to imagine hiking my leg up and propping my foot beside a virtual stranger. This was all too weird.
“I’m wearing a skirt.”
He feigned offended shock, placing the fingertips of one hand delicately on his chest.
“Oh no. I might catch a glimpse of bare ankle.” Then his grin widened. “I won’t peek. Promise.”
Normally when I’d go into town with my family or when I’d go to church, I’d have on black stockings, but I’d left them off for the party tonight.
It was a warm night, and I’d felt like being a little bit daring. Now it seemed downright scandalous.
Good sense told me to walk away. I had no business even speaking to someone with a nickname like “Hellion,” especially after what had happened at the lakefront. Reece had somehow managed to turn a horseshoe-throwing lesson into a seduction.
But sometimes good sense just isn’t happening.
I found myself going along with his suggestion, lifting my foot and propping my plain black shoe against the front part of his car’s hood.
With both hands, I held my skirt down around my bare leg and watched as he set to work on my shoelace. His hands were large and tanned, the short-trimmed nails sun-bleached and clean.
Butterflies filled my belly as I watched his fingers wrangle with the thin leather laces.
As he tied, he talked. “You’re Amish, right? What’s that like? Wait, that’s a dumb question. I guess I mean, do you like it?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. It’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah. It’s a good life... good enough anyway.”
Reece didn’t look up, just stayed focused on the knot he was painstakingly creating. “There’s no such thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no such thing as ‘good enough.’ Either it’s good, or it’s not good, or it’s great. I prefer greatness. There you go,” he said then patted the hood again. “Let me do the other shoe to match. Don’t want you walking around all lop-sided.”
Thinking about his words, I did as he asked almost robotically, offering up my other shoe for Reece’s attention.
Once again, he bent and gave the task his full concentration. The party lights glinted off his dark hair. It was much longer than Amish boys wore theirs, and it curled just the tiniest bit where it reached his collar and ears.
It was only shoe-tying, but somehow when Reece did it, it was... sensual.
If this guy could get me all worked up with horseshoes and shoelaces, I knew I couldn’t handle whatever other skills he might possess.
When he finished tying the laces, I set my foot on the ground and took a step back.
“Well... thanks. I should go and find my friends.”
He narrowed his eyes and twisted his lips in a wry grin. “What’s your hurry? Sit with me a few minutes. You’ll be able to spot them better from here anyway than you would wandering around in the crowd. I mean, they’re gonna end up in the parking lot eventually.”
Staring at him, studying his too-innocent expression, I decided to just be blunt.
“What do you want from me, Reece?”
He chuckled and shook his head again. “I just told you. I want you to sit with me, and talk for a few minutes, and enjoy this crimson moon. There won’t be another one for another two and a half years, you know. That’s not something to take lightly. Besides, Hellion likes you.”
I laughed out loud. “Are you actually talking about yourself in third person?”
Reece’s laughter joined mine. “What? No. Hellion’s my car’s name.”
His tone suggested that should have been obvious.
“And why does your car have a name?”
He shrugged. “Why not? It’s a Dodge Charger Hellcat, but that license plate was already taken, so I went with the next best thing.”
“It has nothing to do with you then,” I asked, thoroughly amused now. “And your ‘behavioral record?’”
“What behavioral record?” he said with a wicked grin. “This boy is a hundred percent tame.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” My tone expressed my disbelief.
I did sit with him though.
Hours passed as we sat and talked. I was amazed at how much Reece and I had in common, in spite of our vastly different childhoods. We both loved reading, we had the same favorite food—watermelon—and we both dreamed of traveling and maybe one day living at the beach.
Talking with him was, hands down, the best time I’d ever had in my life. He was the most appealing person I’d ever met.
At one point, Reece leaned back and folded his arms behind his head to recline on the hood and stare up at the sky.
I stretched out as well and propped myself on one elbow. “Beer catching up with you?”
The single drink I’d had was making me a little drowsy as well.
“Nah—I don’t drink. Basketball, you know? Gotta stay in shape,” Reece said. “I’m just getting a little tired. I had an early workout and practice today.”
“Oh, I should let you go home and—”
He wrapped a hand around my arm to stop me from moving off his car. “No. Don’t leave. Stay just a few minutes longer—until your friends show up. Talk to me some more, Abbi.”
This time I didn’t correct him about my name. Though I’d never really liked nicknames, I sort of loved how he said mine in that low, lazy voice of his.
“What should I say? My life’s not that interesting.”
Reece closed his eyes, folding his hands across his sternum. “It doesn’t matter what you say. I like listening to your voice. And I’m interested in everything about you.”<
br />
A warm, sweet feeling spread through my chest, like eating a bowl of Mamm’s homemade vanilla ice cream on a hot summer day.
It was nice looking at him like this with his eyes closed, where he couldn’t see me studying every aspect of his face—the long, black eyelashes, the strong, straight nose, the full male lips.
Whew. Better not look at those too long.
Shifting my gaze to safer territory, I noticed several large bits of ash had lodged themselves in his thick hair.
“You got too close to the fire,” I murmured.
Reece didn’t open his eyes, but his lips parted in a sleepy smile. “What is that... some sort of Amish wisdom or something?”
Surprised, I giggled. “No. You’ve got ash in your hair.”
Raising one hand to the top of his head, he scrubbed it through the hair. “Where?”
“Stop, stop. You’re just pressing it in farther.” I laughed and reached for him on instinct. “Here, I’ll get it.”
Reece obediently removed his hand and allowed me to finger comb his hair to extract the bits of burned paper and wood.
It was the kind of thing I would have done for my younger siblings without a second thought. Being the oldest daughter, I’d been bathing them and combing their hair for years.
But as soon as I touched him, I realized this was different. Reece’s hair felt amazing, not coarse at all, but as soft and sleek as my horse Esther’s coat.
Being close like this, I could smell the woodsy fragrance of Reece’s shampoo or bodywash or whatever it was he’d used that smelled so fresh and enticing.
And I was struck by a sense of unreality. I’d never touched even my closest male friends in such an intimate manner.
What on earth am I doing?
Rather than answer my own question or stop, I continued to sift through his hair.
Reece didn’t seem to mind. His face relaxed. His breaths became slow and even. The sounds of the party nearby faded until it felt like we were the only two people there. I was almost sad when the task was finished.
“Okay, all set,” I wheezed, surprisingly out of breath.
Reece opened his eyes and shifted upward, propping himself on one elbow and meeting my gaze straight on.
