drunk on one another, your hands on my face, mine in your hair. “Help me get past this.”
“I’m trying.”
I stroke your cheek. “Don’t give up on me.”
You chuckle. “I’m supposed to say that.” Your fingers gently pull strands of hair away from my neck where it’s stuck to my skin. “If I had it to do over, I’d go right to your door and talk to you. I’d take my time, ask you out for coffee, convince you to come down here with me—just for a weekend—long enough to let this place sink into you. You’d choose to be here and never leave. Then we wouldn’t have this…situation standing in our way.”
I rub my cheek over yours, delighting in the sensation of soft stubble prickling my skin. “I know you didn’t mean me harm,” I whisper in your ear.
Your lips slide along my jaw to my ear. “I won’t hurt you. You can trust me, Rachael.”
“Be patient.” I spread my hands across your broad, strong chest and lay my head on your shoulder.
Your hand cups my cheek. “I’ll wait forever for you if I have to.”
We sit in the last remaining moments before darkness falls, perfectly still until our breathing steadies and our hearts stop pounding. “I’m sorry I spilled the olives,” you say. “You were eating those.”
“Somehow most of our meals together end up forgotten.” I brush my lips lightly over yours. “I’m okay with it though.”
“I’ll get everything back out.” Your finger runs up and down my arm. “But I don’t want to move right now.”
I nuzzle my nose in close under your ear. “Don’t move. Stay right here.”
When the first few stars blink in the sky, I take your hand and lead you back onto the blanket. We lay side by side, our folded hands resting over your heart, letting ourselves be smothered by the darkness.
The rapid, steady beat of helicopter blades wakes me the next morning. I dart up onto my knees and press my face against the window pane, trying to see it flying overhead. I can’t spot it in the blinding white sun, but know where it’s headed.
You’re not in the room. We came back late. Both of us had fallen asleep in the tree house. After tucking me into bed and placing a chaste kiss on my lips, you retreated to the couch to sleep. I check the time on my phone. Seven-thirty. I wonder what woke you so early.
I quickly shower, scrubbing off sticky chocolate residue, dress, and head downstairs.
Voices greet me on my way through the lounge. Yours and someone else’s—a woman’s. The two of you sit at the wrought iron table on the patio sipping coffee.
She’s in my seat.
You see me and jump up. “Morning.” You’re all smiles, rushing toward me. “Rachael, this is Joan, my assistant.”
The leggy blonde stands and holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rachael. I brought you a wardrobe so you don’t have to wear Merrick’s clothes anymore.”
I wonder if all of your employees call you by your first name. “Thank you.” I shake her hand and glance down at myself wearing your t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts cinched tight at the waist. I like wearing them.
You pull out the chair on the other side of yours, across the round table from Joan. “I’ll get your coffee.” You plant a kiss on top of my head and disappear inside.
Joan raises an eyebrow and gives me a smug smile. “Well. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s the one who gets waited on hand and foot, certainly not the other way around.”
“He’s been very attentive,” I mutter, wishing she didn’t look quite so perfect in her short red sundress and spiky heels. “Did you come alone?”
“Yes, I was dropped off first thing this morning to coordinate the arrival of the work crew and building supplies.” Her red fingernails tap against her mug. “And to touch base with Merrick privately before things got crazy around here.” She laughs, but it’s fake.
I tap my teeth together. I don’t like the sound of this woman having private time with you. My
“I’m trying.”
I stroke your cheek. “Don’t give up on me.”
You chuckle. “I’m supposed to say that.” Your fingers gently pull strands of hair away from my neck where it’s stuck to my skin. “If I had it to do over, I’d go right to your door and talk to you. I’d take my time, ask you out for coffee, convince you to come down here with me—just for a weekend—long enough to let this place sink into you. You’d choose to be here and never leave. Then we wouldn’t have this…situation standing in our way.”
I rub my cheek over yours, delighting in the sensation of soft stubble prickling my skin. “I know you didn’t mean me harm,” I whisper in your ear.
Your lips slide along my jaw to my ear. “I won’t hurt you. You can trust me, Rachael.”
“Be patient.” I spread my hands across your broad, strong chest and lay my head on your shoulder.
Your hand cups my cheek. “I’ll wait forever for you if I have to.”
We sit in the last remaining moments before darkness falls, perfectly still until our breathing steadies and our hearts stop pounding. “I’m sorry I spilled the olives,” you say. “You were eating those.”
“Somehow most of our meals together end up forgotten.” I brush my lips lightly over yours. “I’m okay with it though.”
“I’ll get everything back out.” Your finger runs up and down my arm. “But I don’t want to move right now.”
I nuzzle my nose in close under your ear. “Don’t move. Stay right here.”
When the first few stars blink in the sky, I take your hand and lead you back onto the blanket. We lay side by side, our folded hands resting over your heart, letting ourselves be smothered by the darkness.
The rapid, steady beat of helicopter blades wakes me the next morning. I dart up onto my knees and press my face against the window pane, trying to see it flying overhead. I can’t spot it in the blinding white sun, but know where it’s headed.
You’re not in the room. We came back late. Both of us had fallen asleep in the tree house. After tucking me into bed and placing a chaste kiss on my lips, you retreated to the couch to sleep. I check the time on my phone. Seven-thirty. I wonder what woke you so early.
I quickly shower, scrubbing off sticky chocolate residue, dress, and head downstairs.
Voices greet me on my way through the lounge. Yours and someone else’s—a woman’s. The two of you sit at the wrought iron table on the patio sipping coffee.
She’s in my seat.
You see me and jump up. “Morning.” You’re all smiles, rushing toward me. “Rachael, this is Joan, my assistant.”
The leggy blonde stands and holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rachael. I brought you a wardrobe so you don’t have to wear Merrick’s clothes anymore.”
I wonder if all of your employees call you by your first name. “Thank you.” I shake her hand and glance down at myself wearing your t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts cinched tight at the waist. I like wearing them.
You pull out the chair on the other side of yours, across the round table from Joan. “I’ll get your coffee.” You plant a kiss on top of my head and disappear inside.
Joan raises an eyebrow and gives me a smug smile. “Well. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s the one who gets waited on hand and foot, certainly not the other way around.”
“He’s been very attentive,” I mutter, wishing she didn’t look quite so perfect in her short red sundress and spiky heels. “Did you come alone?”
“Yes, I was dropped off first thing this morning to coordinate the arrival of the work crew and building supplies.” Her red fingernails tap against her mug. “And to touch base with Merrick privately before things got crazy around here.” She laughs, but it’s fake.
I tap my teeth together. I don’t like the sound of this woman having private time with you. My
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