Page 37 of Tin

“I can’t. I want to. I just can’t.” I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. “I’m not staying, Riker. I have to go back home in August.”

“For good?”

I nuzzle my face into his shirt and nod. “I have some things to take care of there. Things I knew I would have to do long before I met you. I just didn’t know when.”

His chin comes down to rest beside my ear. “Is this some of the stuff you didn’t want to dig up last night?”

“I still don’t. Can’t we just take the next two months and spend as much or as little of it together as we want? Can’t that be enough?”

He sighs and his breath moves through my hair until it touches my skin with its warmth. “No. It’s not enough.” He moves back, taking me from the safe spot I’d carved out for myself on his chest. “But I’ll take it.” He kisses my forehead. Then the tip of my nose. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me for however long you give it.” He doesn’t have to move in for my mouth because I’m already reaching for his, my lips open and starving for him as if it’s been weeks since I’ve kissed him, not minutes.

When we finally separate, I’m not sure how long we’ve been standing in my sister’s driveway anymore, and I’m fairly certain she’s spying on us from the kitchen window.

“We should probably get out of here,” I say. “Provided you still want to take me on this date thing.”

“Are you kidding? For the next two months, this date thing is going to be the norm. I’m going to cram everything I can possibly think of into every second between now and August.” He takes my hand and leads me to the passenger side of his truck.

“Why? What was wrong with how we’ve done things up until now?”

He opens the door for me and even helps me up. I’d almost forgotten guys in pick-up trucks did that. Then he hurries around to the driver’s side and gets in as well.

“Nothing. Nothing was wrong with it. And we’ll still be keeping that stuff the same. We’re just adding to it. Because when you leave here, I don’t want to just be the guy you were screwing in North Carolina.”

My face snaps to his, and I quirk up an eyebrow. “Who do you want to be?”

He just starts up the truck and grins like he’s about to get me good. “I’m not telling you. But you’ll figure it out when I’m no longer just the guy you’re screwing in North Carolina.”

“What, are you planning on taking me over state lines and screwing me there too?” I’m doing it again. Using stupid jokes to avoid the stuff that scares me. The feelings. Well, it’s not the feelings that scare me, really. It’s finding out whether or not I actually have any. And finding out I have them is not what terrifies me. It’s finding out I don’t. Because if I can’t feel something for him, I’ll never feel anything for anyone. It’s an ugly truth I live with day in and day out, but it seems magnified now, and harder to bear with every day Riker continues to be in my life.

He doesn’t say much of anything the entire drive, just holds my hand, rubbing the top of it with the inside of his thumb. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it’s a gesture he’s making for no other reason than that he wants to, which sort of takes it from simple to significant.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

I’m not particularly fond of surprises. They rarely seem to work out for me. “Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed appropriately?” I went with jeans this time. And the boots he was so eager to show his disdain for the firsttime we met.

“Nope.”

“You’re not giving up anything, are you? Not one itty bitty clue, even?”

He briefly takes his eyes off the road to flash me a satisfied smirk. “Nope.”

“Fine.” My inner two-year-old is tempted to yank my hand from his out of spite, but then I’d have to come cowering back a second later, my fingers creeping past his palm to lock in with his. Pouting wouldn’t be worth the humiliation.

Thankfully, it isn’t much longer before he turns down a small dirt road leading away from the main drag. Shortly after, a house becomes visible at the end of it.

“What is this place?”

“It’s the Butterfly Inn. Don’t worry, we’re not staying the night.” He parks the truck and kills the engine. “We’re just here for their chocolate fondue. They have other food, too, obviously, but why ruin a perfectly good appetite with real food when we can go straight for dessert?”

I slant my eyes at him. “Who are you? And what woman has been telling you all of our secrets?”

“I grew up with a sister, remember?” He winks and tugs my hand to slide me across the seats to follow him out of the driver’s side door, before either of us can dwell on the part where his sister is no longer here.

Still holding hands, we walk up to the most charming cottage-style house I’ve ever seen. “You know, it’s kind of funny they call you Shep.”

He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

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