Morgan ached to slide his arms around her waist, pull her close, and forget the flashing warning lights going off in his head. He wasn’t impulsive by nature. But India rattled his logical brain. She made him think the impossible—the two of them together—might be possible.
While he still had his wits about him, he held up a hand.
“Stop.”
India did as he asked. When she kissed his palm, Morgan groaned. Well, wasn’t she full of surprises?
“You don’t play fair.”
“Define fair,” she demanded. “In the father department, neither of us came out winners. I admit, your end of the stick is shittier than mine.”
“You think?”
India laced her fingers through his, brushing her lips across the back of his hand.
“However,” she said, inching closer. “Neither Rance Curtis nor Laird McCloud will ever receive an award celebrating their parenting skills.”
Morgan couldn’t argue.
“Money and nice clothes don’t equal happiness.”
“Don’t hurt,” he said.
“You have something money can’t buy. Something I’d trade all my possessions for without a second thought.”
Morgan rested his free hand on India’s hip as he spread his feet just far enough apart for her to fit. She molded her body to his, melting into him like warm honey.
Placing his forehead on hers, Morgan breathed in her scent and smiled when India let out a happy sigh. And why not? She’d won the battle without breaking a sweat.
“What one of my meager possessions could you possibly want?” he asked.
“Freedom. You go where you want. Do as you please.”
“Because my dad doesn’t give a shit what happens to me.”
“While mine cares too much—for all the wrong reasons.”
“And those reasons are…?”
Morgan asked the same question before and didn’t get an answer. Nothing changed. However, this time India was in his arms. Seemed foolish to focus on mundane details and waste the moment.
Instead, he kissed her. And she kissed him back.
Morgan’s head spun, his heart racing as he savored the feel of her in his arms and the touch of her lips against his. India wasn’t passive. She’d been here before, liked what she had found, and came back for more. The knowledge sent a heady burst of pleasure through his body like nothing he’d experienced before.
“Wait. What are you doing?” India gasped.
“Biting your neck.”
“Will you leave a mark? Like a hickey?”
“No.” He grinned.
“I won’t complain.” India tilted her head, giving him better access. They both sighed. “I can wear a turtleneck sweater. Or a scarf.”
“You want me to mark you?” Morgan whispered in her ear.
India’s grip on him tightened when he nipped at her again.
“No,” she said. “Maybe. Don’t think, don’t hold back. Treat me like you would any other girl.”
“Except you aren’t.”
“I am,” she insisted.
“No.” Morgan shook his head. When she would have protested, he covered her mouth with one finger. “Not because of your name or money. Because you’re India. You take my breath away. Always have, always will.”
“Oh.” India laughed, a delighted twinkle in her eyes. “Okay.”
“Okay, indeed.” He traced the curve of her bottom lip. “How much time do we have?”
“Not enough.” She sighed. “My father checks my room every night at eleven o’clock. Sharp.”
“What happens if you aren’t there?”
“Since I always am, the subject’s never come up.”
“Use your imagination.”
“If you’re concerned for my safety, don’t be. My father uses his money and power to push people around. Where family is concerned, he doesn’t use physical force. He finds our weaknesses and exploits them without batting an eye.”
What are your weaknesses, India? Morgan longed to know. But she wouldn’t say even if he begged. And he never begged.
“What will your father do if you aren’t there?”
“Worst-case scenario, he’ll ground me for a week.”
Worst-case scenario. Morgan wasn’t a fan of the term, but he had to trust India not to lie. She knew her father, he didn’t.
“Promise you won’t get into serious trouble, or we can’t do this.” Morgan gave one of her wayward curls a gentle tug.
“I’ll be fine. Cross my heart.”
“Now tell me. What are we doing?”
India’s forehead fell to his chest. He rubbed her back.
“Beats me,” she said with a sigh, then laughed. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Secret rendezvous are new for me, too.” Morgan tipped her face upward so he could look into her eyes. “Secret isn’t negotiable?”
“A public relationship would be impossible. I’m sorry.”
The distress in India’s amber gaze made Morgan want to wrap her in his arms and never let go. Hardly a practical solution. Though he hated the idea of sneaking around—especially since she wouldn’t tell him why they needed to hide—he was willing.
His head told him they courted disaster. His heart wouldn’t let him walk away. Not from India.
Morgan realized he’d made his decision. He was in. All the way. Now, they needed a plan.
“We can’t keep meeting here. Too public. Too fraught with potential disaster.”
“Fraught?” India grinned.
“Good word, right?” Morgan chuckled.
“And accurate,” she said. India took his hand and squeezed. “I can’t define what we are or what we’re doing. Not now. Because I have no idea. Do you?”
“What’s wrong with making things up as we go?” Morgan asked. “One thing’s certain. If we screw up, there won’t be any witnesses to give us grief.”
“We can be ourselves.” India’s face lit up at the prospect. “I can be…”
As if the word was too precious to speak aloud, India hesitated. Morgan felt he understood. He finished the sentence for her.
“You can be free.”
“Yes.”
India tucked her head under his chin and let out a happy sigh.
Morgan felt the same. Happy to be with India. Glad he could help provide her with a small but tantalizing taste of freedom. The one thing she wanted above all else.
What they were about to do was foolish. Selfish. But for once in his life, Morgan didn’t care. Like India, he spent the first seventeen years of his life taking care not to step too far outside the boundaries set by people he’d never met, or adults he didn’t respect. Year eighteen would be different, Morgan vowed. They would obliterate the lines. Together.
India Curtis and Morgan McCloud. An unlikely duo. Maybe they would work for a week. Maybe a month. Maybe longer. The length of time wasn’t important—not now.
They would make their own rules, set their own boundaries. The rest of the world could go to hell.
CHAPTER TEN
♫~♫~♫
SEPTEMBER WEATHER WAS unpredictable. Unseasonably hot one day, the temperature falling to near freezing the next. For most people, the abrupt changes were a minor inconvenience.
For a farmer whose fall harvest needed another few weeks to fully ripen, checking the changing conditions turned from a daily occurrence to an hourly one.
“Luckily, the root vegetables are safe. Deep in the ground, covered with dirt,” Marcy Reinhold said. “Mother Nature’s insulation.”
Morgan smiled as he remembered the first time Marcy used the phrase. He’d been a foot shorter and, wanting to do a good job, was nervous about the role he would play during his first harvest.
After all the years and everything he’d learned, Morgan understood the shadow of worry in Marcy’s dark eyes. Farmers lived from crop to crop, harvest
to harvest. Though they loved what they did, the life wasn’t easy. No matter how much they did right, so many things were out of their control.
Market prices were hard to predict. The weather, impossible.
“Supposed to take a turn toward hot next week,” Morgan reminded her.
“Won’t matter if everything’s ruined this week.”
Some would describe Marcy as homely. She barely skimmed five feet tall with a square-shaped body built for hard work. With her broad forehead, pointy chin, and skin she moisturized every night but still bore lines from squinting into the sun, her looks were plain, Morgan supposed. In his eyes, she was beautiful.
Queen Marcy, he called her.
More than his employers. More than friends. She and Sven, her husband of twenty-five years, were Morgan’s family. They treated him with care but didn’t hold back their displeasure when he did something wrong
They filled his growing body with food and nurtured his soul with love. Morgan would never be as eternally optimistic as Sven or have Marcy’s ability to see the good in everyone. However, since he found his way to their farm, he tried to be a better person today than he was the day before.
Just before his fourteenth birthday, the Reinholds attempted to permanently take Morgan in. Laird McCloud dug in his heels and refused what seemed like a perfect solution for everyone concerned.
Morgan would have a place he felt safe and loved. Laird would be free of a responsibility he never wanted.
Whatever his reason for saying no—guilt or plain stubborn pride—it didn’t matter. Morgan continued to sleep under his father’s roof, but his home was here, on the farm, with Marcy and Sven.
“The kale is hearty enough to take a touch of frost, but the tomatoes and more fragile greens will be useless if the thermometer drops too far. And don’t get me started on what will happen to the last of the berries. I’d hoped to get another picking to sell at the Farmer’s Market. If they freeze…”
Money down the drain Marcy and Sven couldn’t afford to lose.
“I know.” Morgan placed a hand on her shoulder. She was a worrier, a fact he learned early on. “We could start the harvest now.”
Marcy gave her head a firm shake. The messy bun of salt and pepper hair swayed to one side but didn’t fall. A perfect metaphor for the woman herself. She might wobble from time to time, but she never toppled. She had a will of iron to match her heart of gold.
“We’ll be fine,” she said, her arm going around his waist. “Always are, one way or another. Right?”
“Absolutely.”
Though Morgan towered over Marcy by more than a foot, she was his rock, his hero, his savior. He wouldn’t miss much when he left Lake Darwell. But she and Sven were at the top of a very short list. Wherever he went, whatever happened, he needed to know they were here. A constant he could count on.
Marcy turned from the field, tilted her head, and looked into Morgan’s eyes.
“Something’s on your mind.”
“The weather,” he said. “What else?”
“You tell me.”
A dozen responses flashed through Morgan’s mind. Easy lies he would never get past Marcy’s infallible radar—unless she let him. But he’d always had a hard time lying to her. The words stuck in his throat.
Besides, what was the point? Marcy always knew. And she had a way of making him feel guilty, even for the smallest of fibs.
“There’s a girl,” Morgan began.
“Always is.” Marcy chuckled. “You noticed them before their radars landed on you. But when they caught up and their blinders came off, the line started forming at the rear.”
Morgan smiled, but he didn’t join her teasing banter the way he normally would. Marcy’s gaze sharpened.
“Someone different than the others. Special?” When Morgan nodded, she sighed. “Bound to happen. I hoped you’d wait to fall in love until you were older, more prepared. Not that anyone ever is.”
“Guess not.”
“Well?” Marcy gave him a nudge. “Who is she?”
“Her name isn’t important. We—”
“Oh, no.” Marcy closed her eyes. “She’s married. A teacher? The mother of a friend? Tell me so I can kick her sad old cougar ass.”
“Who has a cougar ass and why do you want to cause her bodily harm?”
Morgan stifled a groan as Sven joined them. Dressed in his ubiquitous overalls and plaid shirt, he removed his hat, running a hand through a thatch of thick dark hair. No matter his efforts to tame the wayward locks, they always poked out in a dozen different directions.
“Our boy’s in love,” Marcy said.
Sven slapped Morgan on the back with a big, work-calloused hand. Only a few inches taller than his wife, and on the skinny side, he was strong as an ox but gentle as a lamb.
“Congratulations, son.”
“Don’t celebrate quite yet,” his wife warned. “Seems the girl prefers to remain anonymous. My question is, why?”
Sven winked at Morgan. He loved Marcy with undying devotion. However, he wasn’t blind to her faults. Often, she jumped to conclusions and worried about the facts later.
“Did you give Morgan a chance to explain?”
“When he won’t tell me her name, I cry foul. Something’s fishy.”
“Morgan?” Sven asked with his usual patience and twinkling blue eyes.
“She isn’t older,” he assured Marcy. “We agreed to stay under everyone’s radar because—”
“She’s a drug dealer. A wanted felon. A member of the mob.”
“For the love of Pete, Marcy.” Sven rolled his eyes. “Let the boy finish. Go on, Morgan.”
“It’s just…” He swallowed as he tried to decide on the right words. “Her family wouldn’t approve.”
“Rich girl,” Marcy scoffed. When Sven sent her a warning look, she crossed her arms, feet planted. “Well? Am I wrong?”
“No.”
Morgan admitted the truth without worry he’d give away India’s identity. The money and power in Lake Darwell was concentrated. However, quite a few families qualified as rich. While the Curtis family was the pinnacle, the top of the heap, he saw no reason Sven or Marcy would guess the truth.
However, Marcy was determined to try.
“Lori Randall? No. Ally Troy.” She frowned. “What’s the name of the cute little blonde with the overbite? Emily. You’d think with all her family’s money, they’d get the girl to an orthodontist.”
Sven ignored his wife’s ramblings. He placed an arm around her shoulders.
“You want to tell us, son?”
“No, sir,” Morgan said. “I’d rather not.”
“You’re eighteen and capable of making your own decisions.”
Marcy snorted but held her tongue.
“Planning anything illegal?” Sven asked in the same everyday way he’d used when they were in the field digging rocks.
“No plans,” Morgan assured him.
“The girl? She’s your age?”
Morgan understood what Sven meant. Too old was bad. Too young was worse.
“She’ll have a birthday in a few months. Then, yes. We’ll be the same age.”
“But you’re worried. Why?”
While Marcy grabbed at every answer, Sven knew how to get to the heart of a problem with a few simple questions. She was air, he was earth. Might not work for everyone, but for them, the perfect combination.
“We need a place to meet.” Morgan hated to ask, to pull Sven and Marcy into a potentially volatile situation. But the farm, with all the hidden nooks and crannies, seemed the only solution. “Somewhere away from prying eyes.”
“Don’t bristle,” Sven warned his wife. “You’re a sucker for Romeo and Juliet.”
“Shakespeare didn’t write a love story,” Marcy reminded him. “The end was tragic. Cautionary.”
“How did we go from a boy and girl sneaking around to teen suicide?” Sven
demanded. “Morgan has a good head on his shoulders. He’ll get out before he puts himself or his friend in danger.”
“Love has a way of turning the smartest person stupid,” Marcy said. “Remember when we were young? Wasn’t so long ago. Ninety percent of the time, our hormones were out of control. The other ten, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“Okay.” Morgan held up his hands in surrender. “Too much information. All I wanted was permission to use the pond.”
“Secluded location. A thick cover of trees. A good mile hike from the access road.” Sven tapped his chin as he pondered the idea. “The little cabin has electricity and indoor plumbing. Good choice.”
“But—” Marcy let out a huff of breath. She could fight two against one—had on more than one occasion. But she rarely won. “Be safe. Condoms and common sense.”
“One of the first things you taught me.” Morgan laughed as he sank into her hug. “Don’t worry.”
“Every child since time began has said the same thing. Doesn’t make any difference. I’ll worry. Sven, too. Won’t be as vocal, but he will.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said. “Both.”
Taking his gloves from his pockets, he headed for the barn, a little lighter of spirit. Taking India to the pond made sense. When the weather was warm, they could swim then lay out in the sun. Once winter came, they could bundle up inside in front of a roaring fire.
Morgan cut the twine on a bale of hay. He filled the feeding trough and watched as Sadie and Saul, two retired mules who were part of the family, munched their dinner.
As he worked, the knots in his stomach loosened. A place to meet India was the solution to problem number one. As they went along, more were bound to arise. Together, they would figure things out.
Leaning against the barn door, his gaze followed Marcy and Sven as the couple walked along the rows of fall vegetables. They held hands—nothing new. When in the same vicinity, they were rarely far apart. However, their most important connection came in their minds and hearts.
A true team, every day, every way, they showed Morgan the definition of devotion, love, and compromise. They taught him to hope, to dream, and to believe he could find his soulmate.
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