Page 79 of We Redeemed the Rain

My arms loosened and she broke free, turning to face me. The defiance I expected was nowhere to be found. Her eyes were wide, uncertain. Her flushed cheeks a deep pink. The heat winding through my body grew to an infernal level.

I kept walls up for a reason. I kept people at arm’s length for areason.

But of all the people who could’ve showed up at this ranch and obliterated defenses, it was Bea. With her, what you saw was what you got. She’d always been that way—never bothering to smoke screen anyone. No bait and switch. Just her.

I trusted Bea as a kid. And, despite the moment by moment debate going in my head, I trusted Bea now. Attraction to her was an easy step. Too easy a step. She was a thousand times brighter in real life. And I was already smitten with her paper version. The burn mixed with a fear-fueled dread until I could hardly pull in a breath.

She had single-handedly upended the safety I’d created here.

I was no good with women, but I wasn’t completely inept. Whatever was racing through my insides was racing through hers too. It was all over her face, clear as a bell. Was it on mine? Our beat of eye contact was almost unbearable. I turned away.

For the next hour, we mucked stalls in pin-drop silence.

Thedinner is readytext dinged my phone. I dropped what I was doing, washed my hands in the outdoor sink, and made a beeline for the house. It was nearing nine o’clock and my mouth watered in anticipation. Bea had finally retreated to the house at around 8 p.m.

It was now Friday. Bea worked hard and long hours just like yesterday. I had to hand it to her—her work ethic was impressive. She was a curious observer and fast learner.

As far as descriptions go,stubbornwas only the tip of the iceberg with her. Bea was downright relentless—as all-in as a person could be. She didn’t like being bossed and wouldn’t accept the wordno. When I told her to take a break, she said, “are you taking a break?” A few times I sat down and had a nice, long drink of water just so she would take it easy. Her determination was a characteristic our letters hadn’t captured, and it blindsided me.

Two days, working side by side, was all it took to see that Bea was highly individualized and had a good sense of who she was and what she wanted. She wasn’t the type to be talked out of things or pressured into giving up what she deemed important.

And she had a heart of gold—but that I already knew.

My morale was higher than it had been inyears. Because Bea’s spirits were as unhindered as her will. I felt simultaneously jealous and in awe. We laughed off and on and she poked fun at her ownexpense. It was impossible to carry on long conversations while working, but the need to catch-up brewed deep within me. I craved slowing down to talk with her. And that was really something. Slowing down, talking, lingering—had I ever wanted those things?

Yesterday and today, she volunteered to start dinner. Despite the good day, it relieved me to see her go inside. Her feet had started to drag, the red hue on her shoulders had deepened, and she’d stopped talking. When Bea went toward the house, I saw her stifle a yawn.

Now, I crossed the barnyard, catching a whiff of something fantastic. The last rays of orange light receded, leaving a dusk gray blanket over the ranch. Fireflies dotted the bushes, blinking around the sides of the house. The bullfrogs and crickets provided consistent background noise—a muted roar everyone forgot about after a minute or two.

And there was Bea, setting dinner out by the porch swing.

Porch dinner? My heart thumped.

Yesterday, we ate dinner inside at the bar stools.

As I got closer, I noticed she’d showered. She was wearing my red t-shirt again and the cut-off shorts. Her damp hair was pulled back in one of those clip things. The image of her slightly bending as she arranged plates on the wicker table, of the way a drying wisp of hair brushed her cheek, of my tied shirt riding up the curve of her waist…I swallowed and looked off into a distant pasture, trying to muster the strength to get through this dinner.

Dim light, sexy company, fireflies.

I was already on a slippery slope. It’d embarrass me to admit how often I remembered the feel of her back pressed against my chest or her soft shoulders squished in my embrace. These feelings were brand new to me—terrifying.

I’d navigated life in such a way to ensure I never felt attraction. For anyone. Ever.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.Beawasn’t supposed to happen.

She looked up. “Oh hey! Perfect timing!”

“Hey,” I forced my eyes to her face.

“You done out there?”

“Gettin’ close.”

“I figured you’d want to go back out, so I thought I’d serve dinner on the porch.” She looked at me, shoved her hands in her back pockets, and swiveled her body from side to side. “That okay?”

She asked as if I had the power to say no.

“Yep.”

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