Page 30 of July 27

"Yes?" she answered.

He glanced inside. It was safe to look. She sat on the bed with her legs crossed, fingers combing the wet strands of her hair.

"Come outside with me." He motioned his chin. "In the yard."

"Now?" She looked toward the window. "It's dark."

"The stars are out." He leaned against the doorframe. "I made popcorn."

She frowned. Used to staying inside where it was safe once the sun went down, she only got the courage to walk outside during the daytime by herself today. Maybe he was pushing her too fast.

"You're going outside, too?" she whispered.

He dipped his chin, unable to take his gaze off her. All he wanted to do was get close enough to enjoy the smell of her fresh out of the bath. That's all. Just enjoy having her nearby. And being outside, she wouldn't tempt him as much as sitting across from him with her eyes telling him to fuck her.

"Okay." She scooted off the bed.

The t-shirt rode over her bare hip. His ball sac constricted. He groaned.

She stilled. "What?"

He shook his head and limped down the hallway. His cock had jumped to attention at the knowledge that she wore no panties under his shirt.

Gathering everything he needed, he opened the front door and walked out onto the grass. He picked a level spot with a clear view of the sky and spread out the sleeping bag. Leaving the bag of popcorn sealed, he dropped it to the ground. Then, he returned to the house, grabbed a can of Pepsi for Rachel, and mixed him a whiskey and water. He needed something stronger than beer to get through tonight.

Rachel walked into the room wearing a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. He handed her the pop and led the way outside.

When she sat on the sleeping bag, she said, "What are we doing?"

"Watching the stars."

"Why?"

"You talk too much." He patted the ground. "Stretch out and look up."

He leaned back on his elbow, propped up enough to drink without it spilling. Rachel lay beside him on her back. She blinked up at the sky.

Then, the scent hit him. That cleanness. That warmth. The scent of a woman.

He inhaled deeply. He'd lived in the rankest place in the state for eighteen years. The odors of desperate men, fear, and bodily functions hung heavily in the air. In prison, you couldn't escape the smells.

He'd stretch out on his cot and try to remember the clean scent of a warm woman, and as each day and year passed, it got harder and harder to remember. After a while, he forgot. But as soon as Rachel was able to start showering after he rescued her from her kidnappers, it was like he'd never gone years without smelling a clean, warm woman.

"I can hear the ocean," she whispered.

Brought back to the present, he took a drink. There was a hum in the air that rose and fell.

"Are you warm enough?"

She turned her head toward him. "Mm-hm."

He reached behind him and handed her the bag of popcorn. She lifted her head, put it back on the ground, and then lifted it again.

"I need a pillow." She laughed softly.

He drank the rest of his drink, set the glass to the side, and went down on his back, letting her have his arm under her head. With his other arm, he propped up his head. It was a comfortable position. They slept this way most nights once Rachel fell asleep and naturally gravitated onto his side of the bed. Only when she touched him would she settle.

The rustle of paper tearing warmed him. She'd eat popcorn all day long. It was one thing she loved to eat.

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