Page 34 of In the Dust

Now I realize the position I’m in. It looks innocent to everyone else but boy, is this far from innocent.

“I’m doing good! Y’all headed to the farmers’ market?” she asks.

I calm as she shuts her door, sliding back into her seat. “Yes ma’am!” I smile. “On the way now.”

She waves as she pulls away, and I exhale, allowing my body to relax for a moment.

I can feel him beneath me. I can feel all of him. I forgot just how … well-built he is.

“Perfect position,” he chimes as his palm trails the back of my thigh, landing on my ass.

I dip down, traveling back to my seat. I’m getting so lost in the lust, in the want to see anything else. “We’ve gotta get going.”

His knuckles brush my cheek. “We could skip?”

I dust my dress, pulling it back down. I need to tamper my hormones. “Now why would I spend all morning baking these pies then?” I gesture to the basket.

He leans his arm behind me, stretching. “Good point. Did you bake me one?”

I shake my head. “No, I’ve got two for the market and I left one for the guys.”

He nods, grinning. “I guess I'll have my dessert later then.” He winks as we pull off, impossibly full of himself.

* * *

He looks soproud as he opens his door and steps out, reaching up to help me tackle the distance to the ground. Getting in is easier, but trying to step out of the Bronco would be impossible. For him and his long legs, it’s nothing.

I slide down his body as my feet touch the ground, our eyes never parting. Something is going to have to break this dam, and quickly.

With his hand in mine, we head into the market. Dozens of vendors are lined up, selling various crafts and sweets. Mostly it’s old men in overalls with baskets of fresh veggies, but my favorite old man is waving us over. “Hey, Grandpa!” I grin, setting down my basket on the only free corner of his very full table.

It overflows with jams, jellies, and homemade canned veggies. My grandma’s recipe. I used to open the green beans from the pantry and eat them out of the mason jar.

“Hey, Burl.” Colton nods, shaking his hand.

Grandpa peeks into my basket. “What have we here?” His eyes light up.

“She baked,” Colton tells him. All the men in my family know when I bake it’s because I’m happy.

He inhales. “Smells delicious, Dixie May.”

“Don’t steal any.” I playfully point at him. “There’s an entire pie for you and Dad at home.”

He holds his hands up innocently, “I wouldn't dare,” he lies. That’s why I baked two for here. One for people to buy, and one for Grandpa to eat.

Virginia, Colton’s mom, greets us at the table and wraps me in a hug. “Oh, Dixie!” She smiles. Her eyes trail along my dress, and I know from the frown on her face that she recognizes it as Mom’s. They were best friends from the time they were little girls.

They would meet at the same tree and swing on the same swing. I know when she looks at me, she sees her. And as much as it hurts us both, it’s comforting to remember.

She reaches out and touches the fabric. “You look gorgeous.”

I blush. “Thank you, Virginia.”

Colton pulls me in close to his side. “I’m hungry,” he announces, pulling me away to get some alone time.

We stop by Mary Beth’s booth first, and I don't miss the way Colton looks at me as we walk up to it. Mary owns The Whispering Willow. It’s a little shack tucked in on the shoreline of the town’s lake.

We would take my dad’s paddle boat there; it was our one semblance of freedom that we started in middle school since we were too young to drive. But we did have that rickety old boat, and as long as we rode the shoreline, the nautical patrol wouldn't bother us.

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