Timing, page 8
Boone brought his mouth to her ear. "You fell," he whispered, "and knocked yourself out."
Hannah managed a nod. She thought she should probably try to get up, but she felt cozy in his arms. Protected. It was nice. He smelled so good—like a mixture of peppermint and apple pie spices. It made her heady. Wobbly.
Or maybe she was just feeling that way because of the fall…
But he was a grown man—much older than she was. They had only ever been like brother and sister, yet—
He noticed her grimace. "Are you doing okay?"
He didn't know it was confusion, not pain, on her face.
"Uh-huh. Just a bit dizzy," she lied.
In truth, she wasn't in any hurry to get away from him. It was like she was seeing him for the first time. But differently. And she definitely liked what she saw.
He had a six-pack and was carmelly tan from working outside. His ripped arms, crisscrossed by bluish-green veins, had formed a cradle of sorts around her head. A small trail of hair extended from his belly button to the ridge of his jeans.
Hannah closed her eyes and briefly imagined what it would be like pulling down his zipper, shocked her mind would even go there.
Never once had she imagined underneath his shirt he'd looked like that.
If she'd known, she would have faked a fall in his presence long before this.
Boone's gaze caught hers and their eyes locked.
His mouth quivered and amusement flickered across his face as if saying, "I know what you're thinking."
She looked away. Her mouth pursed together and her lips swished to the side of her face.
His brows met at the bridge of his nose, and his thoughts were all at once swirling. Did he dare? Would she mind? Did she want him like he suddenly wanted her?
Stillness crept over them except for the movement of air caused by his breaths falling heavy on her ear.
He still held her, only at some point—Hannah wasn't sure exactly when—he'd managed to pull her in closer to him.
She'd been limp in his arms, completely unable to even fake a protest.
And now, she looked to him like a beautiful doe in the woods. Innocent. Sweet. Lonely. Inviting…
Tentatively, in a slow, protracted motion, Boone dropped his lips to meet hers. They were wet and tasted sugary. He lingered there and then she surprised him by opening her mouth ever so slightly as if daring him to delve deeper. His eyes closed and his fist clenched tight. It took every ounce of his energy to resist her invitation. He relaxed his hand and pushed it hard into the small of her back, pulling her body into his, and at the same time pressing his lips even tighter to hers.
They were braided together in a moment of mutual need.
And then all at once, as if recoiling from a burn, Boone yanked his body away from her. He rubbed his forehead and blinked several times rapidly as if waking up from a nightmare. He looked at the ground as he mumbled, "Hannah, I'm sorry I did that."
She didn't answer.
Her face instantly hardened, but her insides were still mush. She brushed her lips with the back of her hand and scooted away from him, just far enough to show her displeasure, but still close enough for him to redeem himself.
She'd liked being near him. He made her feel safe and secure. Warm. Something she hadn't felt since—
But he misread her reaction.
He thought she was sorry he'd kissed her.
The truth was she only regretted him stopping.
"I'm sorry, Hannah," he stammered again. "I'm… I'm not quite sure what got into me."
"It's fine," she said nonchalantly, "it's no big deal. People kiss all the time." She flashed him a half-grin and lightly grabbed his forearm. "Boone, I really don't mind… and, to be honest, I kind of liked it. You were wild, though," she teased.
"Hah," he scoffed, relieved she wasn't mad. "So were you." He avoided her eyes and reached for his hat which had fallen off in the swoop. "Well, you scared me," he reasoned, "and I needed to check and make sure you were still alive."
She nodded emphatically, playing along. "Uh-huh, sure. So you kissed me—Is that how you check your cows every morning? Give each of them a wake-up smooch to make sure they're still a-kickin'… "
He grinned. "No, I save that method for humans. Preferably females." He poked her in the side. "With jet-black hair and crystal blue eyes."
He went quiet and gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
She closed her eyes as she felt his touch. God, he was sexy. And driving her crazy.
"Besides," he said softly, "how else would I make sure you're still alive?"
She looked at him. "Maybe check my pulse?"
"That's not as fun. Anyway," he cleared his throat, "maybe we'd better not tell your mother about this. I'm afraid she might not cook for me anymore."
Hannah chuckled. "Agreed. But I could probably use it as blackmail—"
"You wouldn't dare."
"Wanna bet?" she grinned.
He didn't doubt she probably would at some point in the future.
As if he wouldn't already do anything she asked of him…
They lingered for a while longer, skipping rocks and processing the kiss which neither of them had seen coming.
Hannah had liked it but wasn't exactly sure what to think about it. She'd always considered Boone as somewhat of a big brother, and she wasn't sure now if things had changed between them indefinitely. In a way, it scared her because it was like the closing of a long and predictable past, but in another way, it excited her like nothing else had in quite some time.
She hadn't told him it was her first kiss. And she certainly wasn't going to now. He'd think she was silly—a naïve little schoolgirl, clueless about anything in the realm of romance.
Lots of guys had thought about kissing Hannah Bailey, but most of them had never dreamed it would be in their cards to actually do it. Just for the record, two had tried—one had missed her face completely and landed somewhere in between her ear and throat—incredibly awkward. He'd been so embarrassed he'd immediately aborted any thoughts about another attempt. Another had moved in for the kill during a slow song at a junior high dance, only to receive the smack of Hannah's right palm square across his face. Shocked senseless, the poor kid had backed away from her without a word, and then he'd turned and ran. Talk about tail between the legs.
Boone was chiding himself for not being more in control of his actions. He wasn't a man of impulse. Hannah was still just a kid. Damn… how old was she, anyway?
He did the quick calculations in his head. Holy Heifer, if his math was correct, she was seventeen. Going to turn eighteen in November. He couldn't believe she was almost all grown up. Maybe that was why he'd been suddenly—almost irresistibly—attracted to her.
In spite of the kiss or maybe partially because of it, he'd noticed the changes in her today. Changes for the better. In a way, he'd seen a resurgence of the Hannah he'd always known.
A sort of vitality was back in her mannerisms, almost like she'd reclaimed a piece of herself her father's death had temporarily possessed.
One thing he knew for certain: she was no longer a child. Her recent experiences had launched her into the world of adulthood, a place where troubles were frequent and victories few and far between. But eventually she would grow stronger, he knew, for having experienced them.
And just as Hannah sent the last pancake rock skimming across the surface of the water, she threw out the name. Boone had rounded up their horses and was just about to hand her Zane's reins.
"Driftwood," she called out to him.
"Huh?"
"Driftwood."
Boone shot her a confused look.
"That's what we'll call this place," she said matter-of-factly. "Driftwood Falls."
CHAPTER 8—BUBBLING BEAN
The Bubbling Bean coffee shop was the most popular hangout in Durango, with espresso-colored armchairs and couches, Techno music on Friday nights, and four X-Box video game stations where students gathered on every first and third Saturday of the month to compete in tournaments, the winner earning the title and bragging rights of X-Bean.
Not to mention the place had good, cheap coffee, the strongest called the Witches Brew, which included four, double espressos topped with a dollop of whipping cream. Hannah had tried it only once, after which she'd vowed to herself never again, following an entire night of staring at her bedroom ceiling with crazy eyes, all the while trying to keep her legs from dancing the Jitterbug.
Today, she settled for a decidedly less potent Americano on ice while she waited for Eliza Zumwalt. She sat in a corner chair flanked by a plant the size of a palm tree and was looking through a fashion magazine, glad to have finished her Saturday shift at the vet clinic. School started in two days, and she was looking forward to squeezing in a little fun before hitting the books on Monday.
*
Sicarius sat at a table for two in the opposite corner of the Café. His face was shaded by the brim of a low-sitting baseball cap and even further concealed from her by the black and white pages of the Durango Tribune.
Every so often—usually at the same time he took sips of his refreshment—he would pull the pages of the newspaper to one side and stare at Hannah from behind polarized lenses.
Most of the pleasure of the hunt, he'd long ago come to realize, was in the thrill of the pursuit.
*
Eliza was running late—she was notorious for it. And really she was the only person Hannah knew to be categorically worse than her in this department. This had actually had its advantages over the years, proving quite useful in Hannah's dealings with her own parents.
Whenever her mom or dad had given her flak about not being on time, she would casually drop Eliza's name into the conversation, with some general comment about how things could always be worse. The tactic had worked every time: literally within a matter of seconds, her parents would either drop the subject or change the topic of conversation.
Yet although they had tardiness in common, the girls could hardly be classified as two peas in a pod. Hannah loved sports and animals, Eliza claimed to be allergic to both of them; Eliza could draft a perfect sketch of anything with her eyes shut and hands tied behind her back, Hannah could hardly draw a stick figure. And perhaps the most dramatic contrast was in their looks. One resembled the distant cousin of Mona Lisa, and the other looked like Cupid's sister.
Still, they'd been friends ever since Kindergarten.
Hannah's phone vibrated. It was a text from Eliza. "Be there in two."
After about ten minutes, Eliza burst like a firecracker through the doorway and after a quick scan of the room, followed by a goofy grin of recognition, she made her way over to Hannah's corner.
"Hey there you. How are ya doing?" She leaned over to give Hannah a hug.
"Good. How about you?"
Eliza's heart-shaped face, framed by soft, strawberry curls, always reminded Hannah of a cherub. She was one of those people that always looked like a child in spite of the fact that you knew she really was aging, just like the rest of the human populace. Ever since she could remember, her friend had just loved being around little kids and had wanted to be a teacher. Hannah couldn't help but think the choice of profession a peculiar one since she would always resemble one of her students.
"I'm great," Eliza said absently, glancing sideways at the pastries in an adjacent display. "There it is. I was hoping that they would have some of that lemon cake. I've just got to get a piece of it… and a cappuccino, of course." She squeezed Hannah's arm, "I'll be even better when I get a little sugar and caffeine in me. I was watching those bratty little Bovine triplets last night, and they just about drove me bonkers—wouldn't go to bed, were screaming like hyenas for their mommy—my gosh, it was a pain in the butt."
Hannah shook her head. "I'm surprised you still go there."
"Yeah, well, it pays more than double all of the others. I do it mainly because no one else in town will watch the little hellions." She straightened her face. "Hey, I'm sure they'd offer you a job if you're interested…"
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're so kind. I think I'll stick with my work at the clinic, thank you very much. I'd rather shovel dog crap any day. Besides, I don't think I'd survive the night. And neither would the kids—"
"Just trying to be a good friend," she squeezed Hannah's arm, laughing. "Don't ever tell me I didn't offer—"
Hannah smirked and playfully pushed her away. "Liza, go get your cake."
She was giggling as she made her way to the counter to order.
At last with her coffee and dessert in hand, Eliza plopped down across from Hannah, extending her legs the length of the couch and situating the pillows behind her back, as if prepping for an afternoon at the spa.
She took a few long drinks from her straw before sighing, "That really hits the spot."
"I'm glad," said Hannah. "Mine's really good, too."
She lowered her voice. "So, how are you doing? I mean really doing." Eliza had been worried about her. They usually kept in touch every day, but since the death of Hannah's father, it was like her friend had disappeared into oblivion. She was so relieved when Hannah had finally texted her.
"Okay." Hannah shrugged. "Better than I was. And, I wanted to apologize, Eliza, for not—"
Eliza waved the comments away. "Hannah, you don't owe me an apology—"
"No, I'm serious. I really do. At least hear me out. I just want you to know that I'm sorry I didn't call you back or text you. I got all of your messages… I… for a while, I just couldn't handle anything. I didn't talk to anyone for a long stretch there."
"You didn't need to return my calls or messages. I just wanted to let you know I was there if you needed me."
"Well, it meant a lot," Hannah said. "I hope you know that."
"I wish there was more I could've done."
"That's the thing. There wasn't really anything anyone could have done. Not even my mom really helped. Then I finally came to realize that, at some point, I would have to be the one to kind of look forward… and not live in the past."
Eliza nodded. "Still, if you ever need anything, at any time of day or night, I'm here. I just hope you know how sorry I am about everything. It's awful, just awful, and I can only imagine how difficult these past few weeks have been for you."
"Thanks, Liza. And thanks for being at the funeral too. I noticed you were there."
"Of course, I wouldn't have missed it."
"Your dad did a really nice job of leading the service. It was kind of him to do that."
"Everyone loved your dad."
"Yeah… I know," Hannah said sadly.
"Well, are you ready for school?" Before meeting up, Eliza had made a mental note to keep the conversation as light as possible, for Hannah's sake.
Hannah's eyes got wide and she brought her hand to her face, swiping her bangs away from her eyes. "I'm not really sure…"
Eliza sat up. "Hey, what happened to your forehead?"
"I fell."
"Where? That's quite a gash."
"It's no big deal." Her fingers brushed across the cut. "Besides, it's a long story."
"Girl, I've got nowhere to go until seven and, even then if I'm late, it's not like they're not used to it."
Hannah smiled sheepishly. And then she could feel her face turning crimson.
Eliza was suddenly suspicious. She'd privately wondered if Hannah was involved with some guy. Up until now, she'd never really given any boy the time of day, but she'd known it was only a matter of time. Most of them were too intimidated by her to even attempt to win her over. Her red face was practically a dead giveaway.
"What are you not telling me?" Eliza traded in the couch for a chair and scooted it close to Hannah, sliding all the way forward to the edge of its seat.
"It's kind of some good news," she offered. "For a change."
"Yeah, well you deserve it," she said. "And who's the lucky boy?" Eliza couldn't believe what she was hearing, especially coming from Hannah who was seldom interested in any guy. For years they'd all been after her, but she was picky… pickier than she would have been in her shoes.
"Well… he's not exactly a boy," she said framing the word "boy" in quotation marks with her fingers.
"Are you trying to tell me you've gone lesbian?"
"Um… no," Hannah said firmly.
Her eyes narrowed. "Then what do you mean he's not a boy?"
"He's older."
"Like how much older?"
"Oh, not that much older."
"Mmm," Eliza raised her eyebrows. "So, who is it?"
"Boone."
She paused for a long second, and then her jaw dropped. "Boone Grassle?"
This was definitely interesting.
"Yep."
"But I thought he was like your brother."
"He was. I guess. But things have kind of changed."
"What do you mean?"
"He kissed me."
"What?"
Hannah clamped together her lips. "I'm not kidding. He really did."
"And you let him?"
"Sure. Well, kind of." Her face corkscrewed.
"What was it like? I mean, how did it happen?"
"Do you want the short version or the long version?"
"The long one—of course," she exclaimed.
"Well, he took me riding a few days ago, like he just showed up early one morning, completely out of the blue—woke my mom and I up—and then we all had breakfast together, and he kind of talked me into going on a ride with him. Anyway, it ended up being a really good thing… I mean, it really helped me, Eliza, he took me to this really cool place—a waterfall on the edge of where his property meets ours, and we just talked a lot and he helped me through some things about my dad. And then not long before we were going to head back, I was walking on some rocks, trying to get this piece of driftwood floating in the water, and I slipped."
"No way."
"I'm lucky it wasn't worse. But it just made this gash in my forehead and knocked me out for a little bit." Her voice lowered, prompting Eliza to move in even closer. "The crazy thing was when I fell, he came down to help me and when I woke up, he was holding me in his arms. I mean, his body was to die for—totally ripped all over the place and tan—"
