Serenity Falls (7 page)

As
I come to a stop, my eyes connect with a pair of cerulean ones that belong to
the sexy man on the wraparound porch. With an amused expression on his face, he
nods his head toward the screen door, silently asking me if I’m done. I take
off in a full sprint toward the house. When I jump up onto the porch, he
whispers, “Did you have fun?”

“Heck
yeah. You should try it next time,” I whisper back, chuckling.

The
screen door creaks and groans as he opens it, waiting for me to pass through. A
shiver slices through me when a blast of cold air slams against my soaked skin.
“Would you mind getting me a towel?” I sweep my hand up and down my soaking wet
body.

“Oh,
yeah. Wait right here.” He disappears into the house.

While
I wait, I take a seat on the swing at the far end of the porch. My thoughts
wander to how alive I feel. I can’t believe how much fun I’ve had today. Even
though the bonfire wasn’t that great, I still had fun hanging out with Wes. I
like that he shared a story and a piece of something so dear to his heart with
me—trusting me. I like how I felt when his strong arms hoisted me up and over
his shoulder in the rain, ready to escape the storm—protecting me. I like that
he saw a tear trickle down my face, and didn’t think twice before he wiped it
away—consoling me. The feel of soft cotton slowly gliding down my cheek pulls
me from my thoughts. My eyes find Wes with a towel in hand, drying my rain
soaked face. I reach up and retrieve the towel from him and whisper, “Thank
you.”

“You
seemed lost in thought,” he says, sitting down next to me.

“A
little.” I release a chuckle when I ask, “How is it that you’ve caught me lost
in thought more in one day than anyone else ever has in my entire life?”

“I
don’t know. Just lucky, I guess.” His eyes find mine and hold my gaze.

“Well,
thanks,” I say as I lift the towel. “I guess I should head inside.” I open the
screen door and look back at Wes, whose arms lay stretched out along the back
of the porch swing. “Goodnight.” I duck into the house and head up to my room
before he has a chance to reply.

My
back arches off the bed, and I stretch my arms above my head. The morning light
dances across my closed eyes as the first rays of the morning sun burst into my
room to wake me from a restful slumber. Twisting in the soft, handmade quilt, I
roll over, tuck it under my chin, and listen to the birds chirp through the
open windows that overlook the barn. Slowly, my eyes open to see the different
orange and pink hues as they skate across the hardwood floor of my room. I sit
up and toss my legs over the bed. The scent of smoke from last night’s bonfire
hits me hard. I smell a strand of my hair, realize it’s coming from me, and
know a shower is the only cure. All of a sudden, I’m aware of the fact that I’m
still in my too-short sleep shorts and cami, sans bra, I can’t risk anyone
seeing me like this. My head falls in the palms of my hands as I try to recall
if I brought my robe with me from school.
Fuck my life!
Another
crossroad presents itself when I remember there is one sexy piece of country
ass in a room across from me and the bathroom is down the hall.

Dragging
myself out of bed, I dig through my things for my robe. Sucking up my fate, I
collect my clothes and toiletries and gingerly open the door as quietly as
possible. Cautiously, I peek my head out. I look left first, then right, to
make sure the coast is clear. With no one in sight, I tiptoe out into the hall,
bypassing more rooms as I rush into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
Why
didn’t I bring my robe?
Mentally, I slap myself for forgetting that
extremely important article of clothing. I turn on the shower and let the room
fill with steam while I brush my teeth.

I
step into the shower, and quietly sing Adele’s
One and Only
while I wash
my hair. My fingers rake through my long locks to rinse out the suds. Just as I
begin to apply conditioner, I hear a click and my mouth snaps shut.

“Please,
don’t stop.”
Wes.

With
my eyes screwed tightly shut, I hope and pray that I’m still asleep and that
this is not the most embarrassing moment of my life. But no, I’m not that
lucky. I peel my eyes open to find that I’m still in the shower and warm water
still sprays down on my naked body. Self-consciously, one arm flies across my
breasts while my free hand covers my nether region.

“What
are you doing in here?” I snap. I
cannot
believe he would come barging
in here.
He had to have known someone was in here taking a shower. How could
he not?

“I
thought you might need this.” My eyes drift to the top of the shower where a
towel dangles above me.

“And
how did you know I needed a towel?” I ask, my tone flat, refusing to grab the
towel.

“Because
I pulled the last one out last night. Remember, when I brought you one after
you danced in the rain like a mad woman?” I know he has a smirk on his face. I
can hear it in his voice.

With
my eyes still staring at that damn towel, I retort, “You know, you can set the
towel on the vanity. I’m not reaching up to get it from you. By the way, how do
you know your mom didn’t replace the towels this morning after she got up?”

“Because
I’ve been the only one downstairs. She didn’t come down until about ten minutes
ago.” He removes the towel from above me.

I
huff in frustration because I didn’t think of that and because I’m acting like
a bitch when he was just trying to be thoughtful. No, screw that. Who just
barges in on someone in the shower? My teeth clench while I bite back my
annoyance and try to gain control of myself. “Thank you,” I reply, feeling like
I just swallowed acid.

“You’re
welcome.” Pressing my ear against the shower curtain, I focus to drown out the
sounds of the water pelting against the bottom of the ceramic tiled tub floor.
I listen for the sounds of a door opening and closing, but nothing comes.

I
inhale deeply, realizing that if he could see me, he would know how ridiculous
I look right now. “You can go now,” I say, with an exasperated sigh.

“You
can continue singing. I really do like your voice.”

I
hear the familiar click of the door closing, and my retort dies on my tongue.
What would be the use anyway?

When
I finish my shower, I pull back the shower curtain a smidge, and look to make
sure Wes is really gone before I step out and lock the door. And there it sits.
That damn towel he just had to bring me. As much as I want to be upset, I
can’t. It beats standing here drip-drying. Wes was trying to be nice, even
though I’m pretty sure that he had some sort of ulterior motive.

I
dry off and dress in record time. I flip my head over, pulling my hair into a
tight messy bun on the top of my head, before gathering my dirty clothes and toiletries.
As I flee the confines of the bathroom and steam, I head to my room to deposit
my things in all their respective places. I make a mental note of the need to
head into to town to pick up a robe. I can’t keep trying to dodge everyone,
praying they won’t see me in my sleep clothes.

A
light flashes on my phone from the nightstand and catches my eyes. I flip it
open and stare at the missed call from my Aunt Brenda. I know it’s hard for her
to be in Conroe with my not coming home. Just as I press the send button to
call her back, a knock resonates on my door. When I pull it open, Wes stands
there about to say something, but I point at my phone silently asking him to
hold on.

“Hey,
Aunt Brenda.”

“Hey,
Sweetheart. How’s it goin’?”

It’s
obvious to me that she just wants someone to talk to because she’s lonely. When
my parents died, she dropped her whole life to move in and take care of me.
I’ve told her that she needs to meet someone, because eventually I’ll grow up,
and then what? She truly is a magnificent woman; she deserves to love and be
loved back wholeheartedly.

“Not
much. I’m just about to go eat breakfast and then see where the day takes me.
How are you?”

“Oh
you know. Livin’ life and all that good stuff,” she replies with a chuckle.

“All
that good stuff, huh? You’ve been playing too much bingo, haven’t you?” My
laughter rings through the phone. Now that I’m gone, she keeps herself occupied
by playing bingo, gardening, and trying out new recipes for Sunday dinner at
church.

“You
know it, but I just wanted to call and see how it was going over there in
Cameron.”

On
their own accord, my eyes flick to Wes who’s still standing there, listening to
my one-sided conversation. “It’s goin’ good, real good, actually. Mr. and Mrs.
Adams bought two new Appaloosa mares and asked if I’d help their son get them
broken in. Plus, you know, the kids will be here next week, and you know how
much I love that.”

“So
there’s a boy there, huh?” she asks, with a teasing tone.
No. Not a boy. A
man. Definitely a man.
A blush instantly burns my face, making me wonder if
I’m on fire. I don’t know why I’m as embarrassed by this question as a
fourteen-year-old having her first major crush.

Instead
of answering her question, I rush off the phone. There’s no need to go into
detail, especially with him standing right here in front of me. “Hey, I gotta
go, but I love you and miss you and I’ll call soon.” I hurry to disconnect the
call.

As
soon as I slip my phone in my back pocket, Wes asks, “Why is your face so red?”

Damn
him. I really wish he wasn’t so perceptive. “Because I just got out of the
shower, but you should know that. You did pay me a visit, remember?”

“Oh,
you can bet your sweet, southern ass I remember.” He laughs.

“Did
you need something?” I know there has to be a reason why he came to my room.
With my arms crossed over my chest, I wait for him to answer.

“I’m
sure I did, but now I forgot.” A grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“I
bet you did,” I murmur as I squeeze past him into the hallway. Without looking
back at him, my phone chimes. It’s a text message and I know it’s my Aunt, but
I choose to ignore it. She’s probably wants to remind me this conversation is
not
over.

The
smell of bacon invades my senses and causes me to jog down the stairs to my
destination. The kitchen. Sandy stands behind the stove in an apron to protect
her clothes. The grease pops and sizzles as she flips strips of bacon. “Good
morning, Mrs. Sandy.”

“Oh,
hey, Kenleigh. I didn’t hear you come in the kitchen.” She doesn’t look up from
the stove as she moves to another skillet to scramble the eggs.

“Can
I help with anything?”

“Actually,
you can. I have a bag of oranges in the fridge. If you look in that cupboard
over there,” she points beside the pantry, “there’s a juicer somewhere along
with a pitcher. Could you make some orange juice?”

“Absolutely.”
I rummage through the cabinet until I find the juicer and the container.
Sitting them on the counter, I turn to the fridge for the oranges. I grab a
knife from the butcher block, and set to work making fresh, squeezed orange
juice. Just as I finish up, a freshly showered Wes strolls into the kitchen and
smiles directly at me. Denim jeans cover his long legs and hang loosely from
his hips. I can’t help but notice how his dark blue T-shirt stretches over his
broad shoulders and hugs his biceps nicely. The material clings to his chest
and stomach, and makes me wish I was that damn T-shirt. When he stretches his
arms above his head, my eyes hone in on the sliver of skin playing peek-a-boo
between the hem of his shirt and the top of his jeans. I pry my eyes away from
him and shake my head clear of any thoughts containing Wesley Adams.

“Hey,
Mom. Need help with anything?” He drops his arms back to his sides before
walking toward the island in the kitchen.

“Yep,
you can set the table. Breakfast is almost done.”

He
nods his head, plucks the plates out of the cabinet above me, and the
silverware from the drawer next to me, barely brushing my hip with the back of
his hand. “Good morning, Kenleigh,” he whispers, leaving me with goose bumps
and speechless.

Fuck,
he smells so good, like musk, citrus, and fabric softener.
Inwardly, I groan as I realize just how screwed I am.

“Good
mornin’.” I pretend that I didn’t feel what he just did to me.

“How
did you sleep?” he asks, not looking up from the table he’s setting.

“Fine.
Thank you,” I reply, remembering I need glasses for everyone’s drinks.

“How
was the bed? It’s new.” Sandy chimes in.

“Very
comfortable. It sleeps better than my bed back at the dorm that’s for sure. Uh…
Mrs. Sandy, where do you keep the glasses?” I ask, not wanting to dig through
her cabinets any more than I already have.

“I’m
so sorry, dear. They’re over there.” She points to the cabinet next to the one
Wes pulled the plates out of just a couple of minutes ago. “You’ll learn where
everything is soon enough,” she adds, as I pull out four glasses.

“Do
you know if Brantley is having breakfast with us?”

“I’m
pretty sure he is, Hun. But if he isn’t in here in the next five minutes, we’ll
just start without him.”

“Do
you need help with anything else?” I feel like I should be contributing more
than just making orange juice.

“Nope.
I think I’m all set. It’s ready, so y’all just help yourselves while I go and
get that husband of mine from the barn.” She unties her apron from around her
neck and waist, hanging it on a hook, and heads out of the kitchen.

Just
as I turn around to pick my plate up off the table, I run into a hard, solid
chest. Wes’ chest. The plate in my hands slips from grasp, but with cat-like
reflexes, Wes catches it right before it hits the floor. Shocked and wide eyed,
I look up to apologize. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see… You were just
over… And then you were…” I shut my eyes tightly and take a deep breath as I
try to gain my composure.

“It’s
fine.”

Slowly,
my eyes open and I meet blue ones staring back at me.

“It’s
fine,” he says again, softer this time. “Here, you might need this.” Wes hands
me the plate back.

“Thank
you,” I whisper, trying my hardest not to meet his impenetrable stare. When he
notices that I won’t meet his gaze, he steps back, and lets me pass by.