He pulled the truck off the gravel road and took a path I would never have noticed. After another few minutes the truck’s headlights illuminated a roughhewn, stone staircase leading to a dark wooden cabin.
I didn’t wait for Duane to open my door. Instead, I jumped out of the truck as soon as he stopped, but before he’d engaged the emergency brake. He left the headlights on, and they were the only source of light.
Duane called after me, “Slow down, Jess. Those steps aren’t as solid as they look.”
I forced myself to pick my way more carefully, which allowed Duane to catch up and place a protective hand at my back. When we reached the door, I tried it and found it locked.
“I have keys,” he said gruffly, unlocking the door, and stopping me from bolting forward by gripping my upper arm. He waited until I was looking up at him before pressing the keys into my palm. “Here, these are for you.”
“For me?” I grinned. I couldn’t help it.
He laughed lightly and shook his head, walking past me into the cabin and disappearing into inky darkness. I hesitated at the door, listened to the sound of his boots scuffing on the floor, then the strike of a match. Pale illumination filled the small space as he lit a candle. I stepped in and closed the door behind me as Duane walked around the rectangular space, lighting wax candles as he went.
It was small. Really small. Maybe two hundred square feet. The walls were finished—which was surprising—but were painted plain white and held no photos or paintings. A stone wood-burning fireplace took up most of one wall, a small table with two chairs took up another, and a queen-sized bed ran along the third.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” I said on a sigh, imaging us spending countless days and nights here, enjoying each other’s company, sharing more of ourselves.
Finally, I lifted my eyes and met Duane’s schooled expression.
He was studying me, my reaction to this place. Despite the careful coolness of his features, I could read his thoughts as clearly as though he’d spoken. He wanted to know if this place would do. If I would consent to him taking liberties with my body in this cozy cabin.
He was so silly.
So I said, “Duane, you are so silly.”
“I’m silly?” He lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Yes. See now, this place is great. But I’d just like to point out that if you’ve been waiting for a room and a bed for us to start doing mattress cartwheels, then I think you’re being silly. Do you think I need candles and romance?” I waved a hand around the cabin. The place was small, but it was undeniably romantic. Add a fire in the fireplace, a bottle of wine, and naked cartwheels on the bed—it was basically a rustic den of seduction.
Regardless, I continued my tirade. “Baby, I do not need those things. You need to realize, I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. I don’t want you to keep a respectful distance. I just need you. I like you wild and I love you reckless. Outside on a picnic blanket, inside the cab of your Road Runner, on the bed in this here cabin—where we come together makes no difference to me. It’s you I want.”
Each word was true. I didn’t want or need romantic gestures or pretty things. I just wanted him. I was in love with him and nothing else mattered to me, not the where and not the when.
As I spoke I saw the corner of his mouth lift of its own accord, his gaze grow warmer. When I finished, he studied me for a long moment, his scorching stare skating up and down my body in a protracted perusal.
Good Lord, I was getting hot. Fleetingly I hoped he would take my words to heart and just take me now, fast and hard against the wall. The thought made my knees weak.
But then he crossed to where I stood with slow measured steps. And he didn’t stop coming until he’d backed me up against the door. He placed one hand on the frame behind me and the other possessively on my hip.
His eyes glittered and smoldered. He gazed specifically at my mouth, as he said in a rumbly whisper, “Jessica, I’ve been thinking about making love to you for a real long time. And I won’t settle for our first encounter being rushed—on a blanket outside, in a car, before dinner in my bedroom at home. I plan on taking my time with you...”
He leaned forward and to the side, the friction of his beard against my jaw, and hot breath dancing beneath my ear making me shiver again. His fingers on my hip slipped under my shirt, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on the skin just above the waistline of my jeans.
“Duane,” I whimpered, my hands grabbing fistfuls of his sweater. “We don’t need to wait.”
“But we do, Jess. Because I plan on taking your time as well.” He licked my earlobe, nibbled it, and I trembled. “A whole night, and a whole day…”
“Please.” My grip tightened and I yanked him toward me, needing his weight and warmth.
But instead he leaned away. This time his eyes connected with mine and they were fiercely sober, and stern as he said, “You’re already on that pedestal, Princess. And I respect the hell out of you, whether you like it or not.”
***
Like Saturday and Sunday, when Duane dropped me off, he walked me to my door and gave me a very respectful kiss. But this time he left me with a big grin. I wanted to call after him and say I’m in love with you, Duane Winston! Instead I let him go. Though I felt warm and tingly, certain of having good dreams. The anticipation of admitting my feelings was going to kill me dead…in the best possible way.
I floated into my parents’ house, not quite finished with my happy sigh, when I heard my daddy call to me from the family room.
“Jessica, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Can you come in here?”
I hung up my purse, kicked off my boots, and strolled—still ensconced in my happiness daze—into the family room. My daddy was standing in the center of the room when I entered, his hands in his pockets, and his expression grim.
I felt my smile fall. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed, looking resigned, and said, “There’s no easy way to break the news, so I’ll just tell you outright. Your momma called this evening. Aunt Louisa died this afternoon around five. She took a turn yesterday and didn’t wake up.”
My good mood deflated like a violently popped balloon; I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh no…oh goodness. But she was just…I thought she was getting better?”
He shook his head.
My eyes lost focus as I thought about Aunt Louisa, my mother’s younger sister, still so young at forty-two. Even though she’d always kept me at an arm’s length, even though we’d never formed a real bond during our summers together, I still loved her. She was family.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” I whispered, without knowing I was speaking my thoughts.
My father crossed the room, pulled me into a hug, then led me to the couch. Once there he tucked me under his arm and let me cry a bit through my confusion. When I was mostly finished, he handed me a box of tissues and patted my hand.
“I’ve already purchased our plane tickets and called Kip Sylvester at the school to explain things. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Your momma will need your help.”
I nodded numbly. “Yeah. Thank you. That makes sense.”
My daddy stirred a bit in his seat, then leaned away. I sensed his eyes on me so I lifted my gaze.
After a long moment he said, “This might be unseemly to discuss before your aunt is laid to rest, but I think I need to warn you about something before we get to Texas.”
“Warn me? About what?”
I watched as my daddy gathered a deep breath, then released it slowly. His words were halting as he said, “The thing is, Jessica…your aunt Louisa… she was your…well, she was very wealthy. And you spent a lot of time with her, more than anyone else. I think you need to prepare yourself for a significant inheritance.”
“Uh…what?”
If possible, my father looked even more mournful as he explained, “Your momma has seen the will. Baby girl, I don’t know how else to break this to you, but Louisa left you everything. She left you the house, her engineering patents, the farm, and all her money. We’re talking several million dollars.”