Beautiful Burn (10 page)

“
Okay over
there?” She asked.

“
I can’t
believe we just did that.” I soaked up the happiness radiating
through my bones.

“
I know.” She
snuggled into me more before her eyes went to the big screen.

“
If this wasn’t
my favorite movie before, it certainly is now.”

“
I’ll give you
that.” She erupted into giggles.

“
And can we talk
about you not wearing panties tonight?” I lifted my eyebrows.

“
I like going
commando. What’s the point of underwear anyway?” She shrugged
before fishing around the piles of white cotton for her shorts.

“
Umm...because
you have to,” I deadpanned.

“
Says who?”
she laughed as she buttoned her shorts.

“
Everyone.”

“
Well, I don’t
care about everyone. Not wearing undies makes me feel good, so I
don’t like to wear undies.”

“
Poetic.” I
shook my head with a smile. “So is this law? Say for instance you
wear a dress, are there panties under there or…?”

“
You’re
stupid.” She pushed me in the shoulder and then ripped the blanket
off my flaccid, but still impressive dick. The night air had me
sucking in my breath and doing some sort of desperate man grunt
reserved for only those times when the junk was involved, before I
tucked it back into my pants.

“
You’ve got a
mean streak,” I teased, lying back, pants still unbuttoned but dick
now fully covered.

“
Shut up!” She
tossed a pillow at my head. I caught it, hit her with it, then pulled
her to me and tucked our bodies together. I stuck my nose in her
hair, sucked in deeply, and then we watched the last of the movie.

I nestled down
into the comfort of our bodies twined together and smiled. This was
good. For once, I was here, I was me. I was living in the moment,
living fully, and I was happy. From head to toe, I felt gloriously
happy.

“
Do
you want to come over?” she offered as we stood outside our
vehicles after the movie.

“
Yeah?”
The few smart cells in my body screamed no, but the vast majority
were thrilled at the prospect.

She leaned in and
brushed her body against mine. “I promise I won’t molest you.”

I shuddered with
waves of pleasure from the contact. I only nodded and swallowed
before a car pulled out of the drive-in and accelerated as it
approached us. My arms dropped from Auburn's waist when I locked eyes
with the driver, one of the secretaries in the principal's office. My
stomach rolled and my chest throbbed with anxiety.

The secretary gave
a slow nod as she passed. “Fuck,” I murmured, taking another step
away from Auburn.

Realization dawned
as she watched the car getting further away. “Do you know them?”

“
You do too,
Mrs. Rose.”

“
Oh no.”
Auburn's eyes slammed to mine in alarm.

“
I don't think
she saw you.” I hoped she didn’t anyway, all I could do was hope,
something I'd been doing much more often the last few months.

Auburn nodded
somberly. “Do you still want to come over?”

“
More than
anything,” I growled, my eyes flaring as the anxiety of almost
getting caught melted to desire. I knew every moment I spent with her
was a risk, but my desire to take each day as it came and live each
moment to the fullest was overpowering. Life had taught me that you
couldn't take a single day for granted.

“
Good. I promise
I'll make it worth your while.” Her face darkened with lust to
match my own before she spun on her heel and headed for her car.

I followed her the
twenty minutes home through the twisting residential streets of
Traverse and then Sutton's Bay. I was surprised to find she lived
only a few blocks from downtown -- and me -- in a restored Victorian
home split into apartments.

She flicked on the
light in the cramped space and my eyes landed on textbooks, clothes,
and books. Lots of books. “Holy shit,” I breathed as I stepped
over a cluster of shoes to get to the nearest book shelf.

“
I’m a
collector.” She stopped beside me. My fingertips ran across the
bindings -- she clearly loved the written word, her collection nearly
matched my own in size and scope. She had the scrappy newsstand
paperbacks that we all had, but tucked between were volumes of
classic literature, from Edgar Allan Poe to James Joyce. “This is
beautiful.” I picked up a first edition of “Walden” by Thoreau.
I flipped through a few of the yellowed pages, inhaling the musty
smell of vintage paper. “So the romantics, huh?”

“
I’m a
sucker.” She shrugged. “My dad gave me that when I turned
eighteen.” She caressed the worn cover of the book. “He loved to
read, I think that's where I got my love of books.”

“
Has he read
your writing?” I asked, interested in learning more about her.

“
No.” She
shook her head and turned away. “They want me to get a real job.”
She scoffed, but I could see the pain their rejection left.

“
I'm sure every
famous author's parents said that at some point.”

“
Yeah, but…”
she paused before averting her eyes.

“
But what?” I
pushed her to open up to me.

“
They won't pay
for my college unless I choose a more practical major.” The frown
dusting her lips had me wanting to pull her into my arms.

“
Ouch.” I
placed the old edition back on the shelf.

“
It's not such a
big deal, I expected to work through college and pay for it any way I
could, but when my parents offered to pay for everything free and
clear,
if
I went into
law, or medicine, or another suitable career, it was like a punch in
the stomach. Even my grandma stopped talking to my dad for a while
she was so angry at him.”

“
Sounds like
grandma is pretty great.”

“
She is.” The
smile that lit her face made it perfectly clear why she'd come home
to spend the summer helping her. “She reads everything I write. She
even loves the steamy parts.”Auburn winked and I couldn't help the
chuckle that fell from my lips.

“
I think I need
to read these steamy parts.”

“
You have to
work for the steamy bits.” She shot me a sexy, half grin before
leaving the room. “Do you want anything?” she called. “Water,
beer, orange juice?”

“
I'm going to
make you a bookshelf!” I called in reply.

“
What?” She
handed me a bottle of water when she returned.

“
You have so
many books, I don't think this thing could stand much more weight. ”
I wiggled the feeble shelf stacked high with thick volumes.

“
I don't need a
new book shelf.”

“
It's not a big
deal. I made custom bookcases for our house, crown molding and
everything. I’ll make you something.” I assessed the available
wall space. Measurements were already flying through my head.

“
You’re not
making me anything.” She set her water down on the table and
straightened a pile of books.

“
I like to do
it. Helps me get my mind off things.”

“
I generally
prefer other forms of distraction.” She trailed a dainty fingertip
up my forearm.

“
I think I'd
like to hear about these other forms...” I swiveled and ran a hand
along the smooth skin of her neck.

She shivered and a
pretty smile split her lips. “Stay tonight and I'll show you.”

“
There's no
where else I'd rather be.” I murmured and wove my fingers into her
hair, pulling her face to mine and covering her lips with my own. Her
fingers ran up my arms to tangle in my hair as she pressed her body
against mine and kissed me with a passion that destroyed me.

My hands slipped
down her waist to grip her thighs and I lifted her into my arms. With
her legs locked around my waist I headed for the hallway at the
opposite end of the room, anxious to lose myself in her arms again.

Meet
me at the cherry orchard off of West Bay road in an hour.

I sent her the
email before tucking my phone in my pocket and unloading the stuff
I’d brought with me to make this night extra special.

Waking up with
Auburn's dark hair twisted around my pillow and her elegant arm
draped over my chest had been the perfect start to my day. Making
omelets with her had been the most fun I'd had on a Saturday morning
in a long time, and sharing coffee with her while the sun's golden
rays filtered through her kitchen window felt right.

This was it. I
knew it. I felt it. There was no going back. I couldn't stay away
anymore and I was sick to death of fighting what I wanted to do
versus what I should do. In the eyes of people in our small town we'd
face cataclysmic judgment, but fuck if I couldn't stay away.

My phone buzzed
with her reply.

Okay.

That was it. Short
and to the point, never one to overcomplicate or ask too many
questions. With Auburn, what you saw was what you got. No drama, just
a sense of living life by the moment and making it so beautiful it's
worth remembering. Her easygoing, carefree take on life had rubbed
off on me.

Text me when
you get here. I’ll be waiting.

I replied,
including my phone number at the end of the email, before unloading
the little two-person table and chairs I’d brought, set out wine
and water and placed the picnic basket next to my chair, and then I
waited. Heavy with the scent of sweet grass and cherries, I sucked in
deep lungfuls of the humid air and let my mind wander.

I'd been keeping
Mel pushed to the far corners of my mind of late. It wasn't hard to
do when I was losing myself so much in Auburn, but it was time to
drop the denial and work on creating the life I wanted. A life that
included Auburn.

When I'd promised
my hand to Mel in marriage the spring I turned twenty-two, fresh out
of college and ready to conquer the world, I'd meant it. We bought
the house, she finished the last year of her bachelor's in teaching,
and I started as the new english teacher at Sutton's Bay High. Two
years passed, and Mel was forced to take a substitute job until
something permanent opened up. I worked and she waited, continuing to
get more irritable, more resentful. She began to talk about moving
out of state for work, I began to talk about getting my Masters and
even moving on to my PhD to teach at the college level.

For six years I
gave Mel everything. I gave her all of me until there was nothing
left to give, and still, it hadn't been enough. We went from sleepy
Saturday mornings over coffee to hurling insults I hoped neither of
us meant. Despite a year of fighting and a year of therapy on top of
that, we grew further apart. The death of the dream had hurt more
than leaving, I just didn’t know who I was when I was with her
anymore.

My phone lit up
with a text indicating Auburn was here. I hit reply.

Meet me at the
water.

I’d lined the
narrow path through the rows of cherry trees with candles that
flickered and danced in the moonlight. I held my breath and waited
for her form to come walking through the trees to the edge of the
gently lapping water. When the soft filtered light of the moon lit
her outline, I smiled. My girl was here.

I stood and walked
to her. “Hi.” I placed gentle hands at her waist. My fingertips
lifted the soft cotton of her tee and made contact with her skin.

“
Hi,” she
murmured, almost shy.

I broke into a
cocky grin. “Do I make you nervous?” I nestled into her ear and
breathed. She only nodded in response. “Good.” I steered her to
the table.

“
Reed,” she
exhaled as her eyes took in the one lone candle that lit the table in
a golden wash of color. “This is beautiful,” she said as she sat
in the chair I'd pulled out for her. “What is this place?”

“
My parents’
farm.” She looked at me, waiting for further explanation. “My
family has owned cherry orchards in the area for years. My
grandfather planted the original trees in the fifties and the
business has grown ever since.”