Page 72 of Close Match
“A penny for your thoughts,” he asks, squeezing back.
I shake my head. Then I smile. “I’ll take a leaf for them though.”
Searching my face, he quickly agrees. “That’s a deal.” Bending down, he scoops up a handful of leaves. Dividing them between us, he says, “Ask me any question you want, but you have to pay for it with a leaf. I’ll do the same for you.”
“And when I run out?” I look down at the three leaves in my hand.
“We’ll find more at the next stop,” he says confidently.
“But what if I like the leaf and want to keep it?” I’m looking down at a red maple leaf that’s enormous with a bit of regret. I don’t want to let it go. It’s brazen and beautiful yet fragile. It’s a symbol of the moment he’s creating between us.
It requires special care if I want it to last.
“You can keep them all if you answer one question for me?”
I close my eyes. Here it is, I think cynically. He wants to know something about me I haven’t told anyone.
“Why do you want to keep it?”
Without thinking, I answer in confusion. “Doesn’t every girl want to keep a memento from a first date?”
“Good answer.” Grabbing the wrist holding my leaves, he pushes the bunch of leaves down and out of the way before he wraps his arm around my waist and yanks me toward him. Lowering his head, the red leaves from the maple tree above us form a canopy to block out the blue sky so that I can see his eyes. “Tell me now if you don’t want my lips on yours.”
My answer is to drop the leaves and to lift my hands to his dark hair. I sink my fingers full of the rich sable strands to pull his face down to mine.
Monty slants his head, and my head falls back. He cradles me against one arm as his tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I part mine, and he slips in. He tastes of coffee and mint and more. He steals my breath more than the Virginia hills I’ve run up and down.
He’s right.The thought barely registers through my brain as Monty warms my lips with his own in the fresh mountain air. The spark between us has been dormant, but I’d be lying if I don’t admit I haven’t wondered what this would feel like.
Our bodies shift into better alignment, so I’m able to wrap my arms around his shoulders, fitting myself as tightly against his body as the puffiness of my vest will allow. His hands don’t remain dormant. One slides into my hair, holding my head prisoner to his ministrations while the other grips my hip to rock me into the cradle of his hips.
We both are so lost in each other we forget we’re standing in the middle of a public space until the shrill shrieking of childish giggles penetrates my brain. Tearing my mouth away, I gape up at him.
Never in my life has there been anyone who’s made me feel like that with a single kiss.
“So, for my question, I’d like to know if you’re ready to discuss the fact we’ve pretty much blown the idea we’re not attracted to each other out of the water?” Monty says with a perfectly straight face.
“All right. I admit there might be a slight attraction,” I allow, my lips twitching.
“Sweetheart, if those kids didn’t show up, we might’ve be arrested for starting a forest fire in a national park.” He winks at me before bending over to pick up my leaves. “Come on. You can ask your questions in the car on the way to the next stop.”
I want to protest, but he holds out his hand so sweetly, it’s all I can do to not fall in his arms again. “If you think I won’t be asking them, you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I tell him haughtily as I pass by.
Wrapping an arm around me, he breathes, “Certainly not as well as I hope to either.”
Damn. I came to stay in Virginia to get closer to my father.
Not his stepson.
Thirty-Nine
Montague
November
“Put your hands up!” I yell. I’m sweating bullets.Don’t make me take this shot. Please, God. Just let him drop the gun.
The shooter—a fourteen-year-old kid who had been sexually assaulted by the father in the home he was staying in while his mother was deployed—holds the gun with the stillness I’ve seen only in battle fatigued soldiers. “I can’t. I won’t.”
