Page 12 of The Story We Wrote

“Look, it wasn’t me who stopped,” I scoffed, showing how annoyed I was by the way things ended.

“Aspen, I —” Boone began and I wasn’t having it. He wasn’t about to give me some sob story or bullshit apology.

“Nope. Spare me the pity party for one. I don’t need you to justify it for my sake.” I made my way to the edge of the hole to sit down, using my arm to cover my breasts now that I was slightly above water.

Boone exhaled, running his hands through his wet hair because he was clearly torn up about the decision. There was a shift in the air. Unwanted tensions built, and not the sexual kind. Boone got out of the water, using his shirt to dry his legs enough to get his boxers and pants on.

When his boxers were on and his jeans sat unbuttoned on his hips, he turned back towards me. Boone brought his shirt at the edge of the water, handing it to me so I could also use it to dry off enough to get my clothes back on.

I didn’t want to let myself get caught up in the anxious thoughts and drown in regret, but I was having a hard time. The confident woman I saw for a moment retreated back into her shell. I’d let my wall down and look where that got me. Sexually frustrated and rejected by the hottest man in Faircloud.

We walked back to the cabins in silence. My mind was reeling. What started as a fun night, ended up with me feeling guilty, horny, and more attracted to Boone Cassidy than I was before. How was I supposed to keep coexisting when we were both so close to crossing the line? Not only was I now fighting my mind, but now I was going to have to fight my libido.

When we got back, neither one of us said goodnight. I found myself laying in bed, reliving the moments in my head over and over until exhaustion finally took over.

Seven

Boone

Sleep was hard to come by after last night with Aspen. I rolled over in bed to check the clock on the nightstand, 9:00 am. I couldn’t tell you the last time I slept this late, even on a day off.

I was up until the early hours of the morning, reliving the swimming hole. What the hell was I thinking? Hooking up wasn’t new to me. Typically, the person didn’t live next door or work at the ranch. I counted my blessings that nothing went farther than a hot make out session. I would’ve loved to bring her back to my place and learn the noises she’d make while taking all of me. However, the look of indignation on her face was burned into my memory. As much as I was thankful things didn’t go too far, I hated knowing how stopping everything made her feel. The attraction I felt towards her was more than just physical. She was sunshine, and I was addicted to it.

I blamed the liquor; I did stupid shit while drinking tequila. I didn’t regret kissing her, swimming naked, or having her body pressed up against mine. I just wished the circumstances were different and less complicated. She was an employee and myneighbor. If I were still eighteen, I would’ve done anything or used every pick up line in the book to get her to come home with me. Rules and boundaries meant nothing to me back then.

I wandered to my kitchen in pajama pants that hung low on my hips. Turning on my coffee maker, I brewed a few cups to help flush out the night before. Luckily, when I woke up, Rhodes, Mac, and Logan were gone, which allowed me to get lost in my thoughts.

Do I bring up what happened with Aspen when I see her next or do I let her be the one to start a conversation? Would she be down to do it again, this time with both of us sober? One thing I did know, I needed to keep my cool the next time I saw her. If I acted like how I was thinking, I’d for sure scare her away.

I smiled, reliving the memory of her, joking and laughing with my friends. The way her eyes sparkled with the mixture of tequila and wine. If I was an artist, I’d paint that image and frame it in my house for everyone to see.

The sound of my coffee pot dinging brought me back to the present. I poured myself a cup, adding cream and sugar. Wanting to get some fresh air before the Texas heat became too much, I took my fresh cup and headed to the door. When I opened the door, I saw a Tupperware container sitting on my porch. There was a piece of yellow lined paper folded in half, held onto the lid with a piece of scotch tape. My name was written on the front in beautiful cursive letters.

Boone,

I hope these blueberry muffins help with your hangover. They sure as hell helped with mine.

With Love,

Aspen

I let out a deep breath and was flooded with relief. Maybe thingsweren’t going to be awkward. I was overthinking, which was something I didn’t do. I wasn’t a “worrier.” This kind of thing wouldn’t even cross my mind; however, I cared about how Aspen was and if things would be normal.

I took a step further towards Aspen’s cabin. She wasn’t sitting on the porch, which was surprising. Since moving in, she’d spent any free moment curled up on the swing with a book in her hand.

“Oh, come on!” I heard a female voice groan from the other side of the cabin. Placing my coffee and the container inside, I threw on my slippers and walked toward the sound. Aspen stood in front of her Jeep with the hood propped open. As I got closer, I saw her standing on her tippy toes. She was back in a sundress; this one was a pale yellow. Her hair was half up with a gold butterfly clip.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, coming to the front of the car.

“No!” she huffed in frustration, settling back onto her feet. Her hands landed on her hips, and she blew a piece of hair from her face. “It won’t start! I haven’t had an issue with her, ever. I wanted to go into town and pick up stuff for tomorrow. I found a local beekeeper who’s selling honey. Looks like that isn’t going to happen.”

“Let me take a look,” I moved closer, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her out of the way. I looked under the hood to see if anything was obviously loose. Nothing stood out, but I wouldn’t know more until I got underneath or checked the battery. I tugged at the belt and checked the fluids; both seemed fine. I wiped my hands on my pajama pants and turned to face Aspen.

Smirking, I asked, “You like what you see?” She stopped and looked up, cheeks flushed with a faint tint of pink. If I had a dollar for every time this woman looked at me like I was some kind of meal, I’d be a few dollars richer.

Ignoring my question, she spoke, “The car started up fine last time. Now, when I put the key in, she just kept sputtering.” She mimicked the sound I assumed was coming from her car; it wasn’t very helpful.

“Could be your battery. If a light was left on, it could’ve drained. When was the last time you changed it?”

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