by Emily Bishop
“All right, come on in,” Jerry said, at last, and stepped back to admit me.
I sputtered water and stepped under the lintel and into the warmth of the restaurant’s interior. A fire crackled in the central grate, and I slopped over to it. “She’s stuck out there. Her RV broke down.”
“Stuck out there, eh? Maybe, she wouldn’t be out there at all if it wasn’t for you.” Jerry grunted. “It’s fine, boy, I’ll fetch her myself. I gassed up the truck this afternoon.”
“No,” I said and started forward, caught his gun-wielding arm.
He looked down at the point of contact between us then back up at my face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to be the one to go to her,” I said. “She needs me.”
“You’ve done more than enough,” he replied, and his voice trembled. “When that girl left town a few years ago, it was like somebody ripped out a piece of my heart. She was like a daughter to me, still is. She finally came back. She wanted to set up a life here, and then you arrived and fucked it up for her. She can’t show her face in public because of you.”
“She can, and she will,” I replied. “Because god damn it, I’m going to make her mine for the world to see.”
“You’re going to make her yours? Why now? Why make her yours now when you treated her like a secret before? If you’d come out with it and acted upfront, people woulda known she was your girlfriend, not some damn homewrecker like on the TV.”
“It was complicated at the time.” But it was a lame excuse. “I regret it. I want to make it up to her.”
“It’s too late for that,” Jerry said. “She’s not for you, and you’re not for her. She’s going to move on and have a good life. I’ll go out and help her. You pack your shit and get outta Moondance.”
I tightened my grip on his arm. “I said no. I’m not leaving unless it’s to go to her.”
“Boy, you better let go of me.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot? If you let her leave Moondance, you may as well fucking shoot me, you understand?” I yelled. “Because I’ve fallen in love with her, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else get in the way of that!”
Jerry was frozen, already thin lips drawn into a line, accented by the wrinkles on either side of his mouth. “You love her?”
“Yeah, I love her. I’ll do anything to protect her and to get her back.”
“If you hurt her—”
“I’m not going to.”
Jerry inhaled, a long, deep breath. “I might live to regret this,” he said then reached into his pocket and drew out a set of keys. “But all right, here you go. Don’t fuck up my truck.”
“Thanks,” I said, and it came out hoarse. I took the keys from him and pressed them into my palm. The fire had dried my back but the front dripped still. None of the discomfort or anger mattered.
She was out there, and I had a chance to make things right, at last.
“Don’t fuck this up,” Jerry said.
“I don’t plan on it.”
Chapter 30
Aurora
I got up from the kitchen table and shuffled through to the bathroom then brought Luke a towel. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? I have coffee, food, the works. I mean, you’ve got a long drive ahead.”
“I’m fine,” Luke said. “Help should arrive shortly.”
I sighed. “All right. I feel so hopeless, like I should be doing something with my hands, you know?” I opened the cupboard under my tiny sink and brought out Mistress’s kibble. I opened the package then poured some into her bowl. The rattle of the pellets hitting plastic was audible above the ongoing storm outside.
Mistress leaped into view and padded toward the food, her tail straight in the air.
“She’s hungry,” Luke said and grinned.
“She’s always hungry,” I corrected. “It must be a cat thing. If I didn’t measure out her food, she’d be overweight. I swear, it’s—”
But lights flashed past the side window and I cut off. It was another car! The rear lights lit up red as it slowed to a stop beside the RV. I cupped my hands at either side of my face and pressed it to the window.
Wait a second, I knew that truck. That was Jerry’s!
Another friendly face, thank god. “I didn’t know you were friends with Jerr,” I said and straightened, offering Luke a grin. “He happens to be one of my favorite people.” And he’d probably be pissed I’d chosen to skip town without saying goodbye.
Seeing him in person would’ve hurt too much, and he’d likely have tried to stop me.
Luke got up and walked to the exit. “I guess that’s my cue. Good luck,” he said then opened the door and left, squelching off into the rain.
What the heck? What did he mean, “Good luck?”
I walked over to the door and peered out into the night. Two figures stood in the rain next to Jerry’s truck. The lights were off, now, and I couldn’t make them out properly. Jerry and Luke? Why did Jerry seem taller than usual?
They hugged, and I blinked. Wow, since when did Jerry hug strangers? Or perhaps, they’d become friends over the course of the past couple weeks. It seemed unlikely.
The two men separated, and the taller of the two, Jerry, it had to be, walked toward the RV, through the rain. The torrent had slowed up a little, and the thunder was distant, now.
Luke’s Porsche started up, and the headlights flashed, illuminating the road, the side of Jerry’s truck, and providing a tiny bit of light by which to see the newcomer.
My heart almost gave out. It fluttered three times too fast then skipped several beats.
Jarryd walked through the rain, his head bowed, but his blue eyes fixed on me. His shirt clung to him, showing off the tight abs, the broad muscles at his shoulders. Every step brought him closer and drove up my fear. He was here. Why was he here?
He halted in front of the steps and looked up at me, his long lashes catching droplets. He blinked water, licked his wet lips. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I shook my head and stumbled back a step, put out my hand. “Don’t come any closer,” I said, over the rain. “Don’t you dare.”
“I came to help,” he said. “You need help.”
My core tightened up, I pressed my hands to my stomach, but it did nothing to still the butterflies swirling within. “No, I’m fine. I’m fine, you should leave, now.”
“I won’t leave, Aurora. I came to help you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He clamped one tan hand onto the inside of the door and lifted himself into the interior of the RV. He dripped water on the floor. Mistress looked up from her kibble and meowed a greeting.
“I don’t need help from you. This is wrong. I told you it was over, Jarryd!” My ass hit the kitchen table, and I gripped it for leverage, to keep myself from falling. My legs had turned to jelly.
In the hours we’d been apart, I’d almost managed to forget what it felt like being close to him. The inexorable pull to touch him. He was perfect—the tiny wrinkles either side of his mouth, smile lines that spoke of happier times, the hook in his nose. There were droplets caught in his stubble.
My hand itched to reach up and smooth them away, but I kept it firmly at my side.
“We can talk about that later. Let’s fix the engine first.”
“I don’t know anything about engines,” I said, softly.
Jarryd took one step closer.
I scrambled away from him, sideways, like a crab. No, like a coward. Need crashed over me, wave after wave, accompanied by the scent of his cologne, light yet cloying—only because I couldn’t detach my emotional response from the smell of it.
“Stay away, please,” I said and choked on the sentence. “I need distance.”
“That’s fine. I’m going to go out there and check the engine, now. Do you have a flashlight?” He put out his hands as if I was a scared animal and he was the handler. “Aurora? A flashlight?”
“No,” I said and shook my head. “My
phone’s not waterproof.”
“Ah!” His eyes lit up. “Good idea. Mine’s waterproof.” He took it out of the front pocket of his jeans, struggling with the wet fabric then switched on the lithium light at its back. “There we go. You stay in here. I’ll be back in in a minute.”
I nodded, stiffly.
Jarryd turned and clumped back down the stairs and into the night, his flashlight slicing through the darkness and lighting up shots of water droplets. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing.
Calm. The. Fuck. Down. He’s a man. A gorgeous man, who you’ve fallen in love with. Who feels like home. And you’re leaving him. Why are you leaving him again?
“For him. So that he doesn’t lose his movie and damage his career,” I whispered and opened my eyes again. I set my jaw. That was it. That was the whole reason, and I’d stick with it.
Jarryd and I were from different worlds. It would never work.
A noise clunked at the front of the RV, followed by scratching and another thump. I half-expected the car to start of its own accord. Curiosity tugged at me behind the navel—that and the need to see him again.
I shuffled through to the front of the car and slid in behind the wheel. Jarryd’s shape moved out in the darkness, the flashlight trained on the open engine compartment. All I could make out was his chest, pecs defined beneath the shirt, and nipples pricking at the fabric. The torchlight flashed across his forearm and lit up those muscles, taut and under strain.
I swallowed and leaned against the wheel, paying rapt attention. Nothing had intrigued me more.
Jarryd leaned in and the front of his face came into view, dripping water, his lips parted and tongue poking between his teeth.
I sighed and relaxed against the wheel completely.
BAAAAAAP!
The horn sounded, and I jerked back with a shriek.
“Jesus Christ!” Jarryd yelled outside, and stumbled back. The phone lifted and shone into the inside of the cab, lit up my red cheeks.
I squirmed out of the seat and rushed back into the back of the RV, cursing my idiocy. What the hell was wrong with me? Around him, I became a lame teenager rather than a fully grown adult woman.
I slammed into the kitchen counter and braced myself against it, eyes closed.
The side door of the RV opened then shut.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Jarryd said, mirth tinkling in his throat. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“No,” I replied and opened my eyes.
God, it was painful seeing him there.
The smile tugged up at one corner, his hair dripping, flat against his forehead. He tilted his head to one side and swept his gaze up and down my body. “Are you OK?”
“You don’t have to keep asking me that,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Well, the engine’s not,” he said and stowed his cell phone in his pocket. “Not by a longshot.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Uh, let me put it this way, what’s not wrong with it?” He laughed again. “When last did you have this RV serviced?”
I colored. A while ago would’ve been a kind estimate. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, there’s your problem right there. There’s no way I’m going to get it started in this rain. I’ll have to come back tomorrow, with help. Maybe a certified mechanic,” he said.
“I don’t have until tomorrow. I need to get going now.”
“You have somewhere to be?” His smile faded. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Where do you need to be, Aurora?”
“Away from here,” I replied.
He bore down on me, took my wrists in his fingers, and pulled me to his chest. “Why?”
The heat between us, his wet shirt against my dry one, made this so much more difficult. “You know why,” I whispered. “Just let me go, and leave. I’ll figure this out in the morning. I’ve got a bed and a lock on the door. I’ll be fine.”
“You expect me to leave you here in the middle of a storm? With no protection? On the side of the damn road?” His voice rose.
“Yes, that’s what I expect. We’re not a couple. We’re not anything. You shouldn’t care what happens to me.”
“That’s fucked up, Aurora. On too many levels to word eloquently.”
I wriggled in his grip but it was a half-hearted struggle. This close to him, pinned, I could barely breathe, let alone think straight. And again, I didn’t want him to let go of me. Why is this happening? I want to do the right thing.
“I’m not going to bring you down,” I managed. “I don’t want your movie to get ruined because of me and my crappy reputation. Do you get that? Do you get that maybe, just maybe, I’m also doing this for you?”
“You’re scared,” he said, and his eyes flicked back and forth in his skull, sizing me up.
“I’m not.”
“You’re scared because I love you,” he said.
“I’m not,” I warbled, like a little bird tweeting for the first time. “I’m not.”
“Then stop running.”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
Finally, Jarryd let go of one of my wrists but he bent and clamped and arm underneath my breasts instead. He lifted me up and clutched me to his chest.
“What are you doing?” I asked, as he pinned my other arm to his torso. I wiggled. “Put me down!”
“No. I’m not letting you sleep out here,” he said.
And out into the rain he stomped, taking me with him. The drops were lighter now, more of a drizzle than actual rain, but it was cold and wet, and anger erupted behind my eyes. “Put me down,” I yelled. “I’ll stay out here. I don’t need you to help me. I’m fine on my own. I’ve been doing this on my own ever since she died!”
“You’re not on your own anymore,” he growled. “It’s time for you to accept that.”
I burst into tears and struggled against him, forming fists. I beat one of them against my chest. “I’m always alone.”
“No.” And finally he put me down, this time to hold me against him in the wetness, as rain soaked through our clothes. He pressed his forehead against mine, and the smell of him, of his skin and cologne, flooded my nose.
My knees buckled. He kept me upright.
“I’m not going to bring you down,” I whispered. “I know what it feels like to be judged, and you don’t deserve that.”
“You don’t get to choose for me,” he said, and then he placed his lips against mine and seared me with a kiss, burned away my anger with his tongue and his taste.
I moaned into his mouth, clung to him, one hand still balled up. “Stop,” I said and pulled back. “I get a choice, too.”
“You made it without all the facts,” he said, and water trickled down the slope of his forehead, the bridge of his nose, dropped from its tip.
“What? What facts?”
“I dropped Pride’s Death,” he said.
“What?!”
“I dropped it. I wasn’t happy with it from the start. I already called my investor and told him that it’s over. Felicity’s out of my life for good. And quite frankly, I don’t give a shit what anyone says about me, Aurora. You scoured that need to care away. All I want is you. All that matters is you.”
Hot tears struggled to escape the corners of my eyes. “I—”
“I love you,” he said. “You’re all I want.”
“I-I love you, too,” I replied.
We kissed again, and the water on our lips mingled, a fresh coolness that spread on our tongues. I loved him, and he loved me, and we could be together. This was too good to be true.
I pulled back and looked up at him. “But how will this work? I don’t understand.”
“We’re going to move in together,” he said. “No offense, but I’m not much for RV living. It’s kinda cramped. Don’t you think Mistress deserves better?”
“Mistress!” I spun and looked back at the open door of the RV. My kitty sat in the entrance, calming wai
ting for us to realize we’d left her behind. “I’d better get her.”
“No, I’ll do it,” he said then handed me the keys to Jerr’s truck. “You get in and wait.”
“OK,” I said. “But cover her in a robe or something. A towel! She doesn’t like the water.”
I watched him walk back to the RV, his back muscles rippling underneath the wet shirt, and those tears did, finally, escape. This is happening. He gave up Pride’s Death for me. What am I giving up for him?
My entire way of life, was probably the answer.
I walked around the truck, unlocked it, and got into the passenger’s side of the vehicle. Boy, Jerr would flip out about the wet seats when we returned it to him.
Jarryd got in with Mistress, highly indignant over the towel wrapped around her furry body, in his arms. He gave her to me then sat down and shut the door behind himself. He took the keys, started the truck.
“I still don’t understand how this is going to work,” I said. “Us. Where will we live? I mean, we can’t stay in the Moondance Motel. They don’t allow pets.”
“We’ll smuggle her in for tonight,” Jarryd replied and grasped the back of my neck in one massive hand. “And tomorrow? I know a place that will suit our purposes, just fine.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
“It’s close by. You’ll like it,” he replied then drew me into another earth-shattering kiss, the experience dampened only by the annoyed cat in my lap. “What do you say?” he asked, after our lips had parted.
“I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you.”
Chapter 31
Jarryd
The small bench in front of Aurora’s mother’s cabin, now ours, needed a damn cushion. I shifted on it, and something pricked my ass cheek. “Ouch!”
“What’s wrong?” Aurora called from the kitchen—the windows were open, and the rich scent of apple pie drifted out into the garden and over the lake, still in the early morning light.
“Splinter,” I called back and shifted to get it out. “Another splinter. I’m going to head to the hardware store later and get some sandpaper or something. Varnish, too. I can’t continue like this.”
