Page 132 of Love in Riverbend
“Devan has an office?” Ricky asks.
“I never use that craft room.”
“Why does she get an office? I do the books for the farm.”
“And you use the office on the first floor to do that.”
“But that’s Dad’s office.”
As Janet and Ricky go back and forth, I steal a glance across the table. Devan’s hair is still damp, making it appear darker than before. It’s piled on her head with cute bouncy curls around her ears. Her face is freshly washed and without makeup. And while I can’t currently see them, I have absolutely no complaints about the length of her shorts.
While Devan’s trying not to look up, she’s stunningly beautiful in a real and genuine way.
I’ve never been a big admirer of made-up women. In my mind, the amount of makeup worn has a negative correlation to their beauty. It’s not that those women on TikTok and Instagram are unattractive. I simply find natural much more appealing.
“May I get you some more chili?” Janet asks.
“I’m good,” I reply.
“Oh, surely you worked up more of an appetite than that.”
“I did,” Devan says, walking to the stove. Bending forward, she takes a second helping.
A smile curls my lips. I’m loving the shorts. It’s also because of Devan’s appetite. Today for lunch, she ate all her chicken nuggets and the entire large order of fries with mayo—gross. Now, she’s getting herself a second helping of chili. I can’t help thinking about times when I’ve taken a girl out on a date and she barely picks at a salad, as if eating in front of a guy is a crime.
Truth is, I would like more chili.
“I think I will have seconds,” I say, pushing back the chair. “I can get it myself.”
Devan sets her bowl on the table and reaches for mine.
As our gazes meet, it’s one of those surreal moments. “Really,” I say. “I’m capable.”
“I’m sure you are,” she says, taking my bowl from my grasp. “I’m up already.” She carries my bowl to the stove, the hem of the sweatshirt covering all but an inch of her shorts—not that I’m looking. When she brings the filled bowl back, I catch the scent of flowers. It’s not overpowering, simply the perfect, sweet aroma.
After dinner, Ricky, Jack, and I go out to the trailer as Janet and Devan clean up the kitchen.
Of course, the desk Mrs. Dunn wants us to carry upstairs isn’t packed near the opening to the trailer. Getting to the massive piece of furniture takes time, removing totes, boxes, and other furniture. We pile everything in the garage until we reach the desk. Getting the couch down the stairs in Muncie was a piece of cake compared to getting this long desk upstairs with turning corners.
We start using the back stairs, but the narrow stairwell makes it impossible. The front staircase is open and works better. Then there is the negotiating around corners. By the time we succeed, my fresh shirt is damp from perspiration. Back in the kitchen, I say good night. For a moment, I consider asking Devan to come out to the car with me.
Instead, I stuff my hands back in my pockets and head toward my truck.
Chapter 14
Devan
“I’m going to go get a few things from my car,” I announce to my family who all seem disinterested. I peek over my shoulder to see if I’m being watched before I head toward the door, following Justin. As I debate calling to him, the screen door behind me slams, and he turns. My steps slow as he grins in the moonlight.
The floodlight near the garage comes on, bathing us both in bright illumination. And in that moment, I worry that I am being too forward. Maybe I should have stayed indoors.
Without a word, Justin steps from the bubble of light into the shadows at the end of the garage. Before he disappears, I see him tip his head for me to follow. I take one last look back at the house. The kitchen windows are open to the spring breeze. They’re filled with a golden light, yet no one remains in the room. They’ve moved on. If I were to guess, Dad is in the living room. Mom is in her room, and Ricky is either with Dad or in his room. Or he could still be complaining to Mom for giving me the extra room.
I walk carefully, the gravel sharp under my bare feet. I’m watching the ground, careful where I step as I slip behind the far end of the garage and run face-first into a brick wall. Strong hands reach out to steady me as I bounce backward.
Justin’s solid grasp of my arms keeps me from falling. I crane my neck upward until I see his eyes. In the kitchen I was noticing how blue they are. A deep cobalt reminding me of the summer sky. Now, they appear black, his pupils dilated in the darkness as his stare goes to my lips.
“I want to kiss you again,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through me.
