Page 61 of Tattered and Torn

She leans her head against my shoulder. “That’s okay. Your body is radiating heat like a furnace. I’ll be all right.” She pushes off with her foot, setting the swing in motion.

I rub lazy circles on her right arm. She smells good—like vanilla, maybe? Or frosting. “Why do you smell like cupcakes?”

She laughs. “I made cupcakes this afternoon for dessert. I would have brought you one, but they were all gone by the time I packed up our dinners.”

The swing sways gently forward and back, and our feet push in unison on the porch boards to keep it moving.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning,” I say. I figure I might as well get that out there. “I was a real jerk. I worried about it all day.”

“It’s okay. It was just a misunderstanding. Hannah thought I was talking about Chris, when I was really talking about you.” She tilts her face up to look at me. “I have no interest in the sheriff, you know. Just so we’re clear on that.”

A ton of weight lifts off my chest. “I have no interest in him either.”

She laughs, as I hoped she would.

I twirl a length of her hair around my index finger. “I want you to know, I don’t usually react like that. It was a bit of a shock, especially after last night. When I left your bed this morning, I thought there might be something between us.”

“Oh, there’s something,” she says. She links our fingers together, then brings my hand to her mouth to kiss it. “I felt the same way.”

As the last of the evening light begins to fade, we spot a couple of bats swooping overhead.

“It’s kind of late for birds to be out, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Those aren’t birds. They’re bats.”

“Bats!” She bolts upright, shaking the swing. “Are you serious?”

I rub her back. “It’s all right. They won’t hurt you.”

“No, it’s cool.” She leans back against me once more. “I always wanted to see a bat.”

“Oh, right. I guess there aren’t too many bats in the city.”

“I never saw one.”

She relaxes against me again, and her closeness feels so damn good. Part of me is afraid to get my hopes up that somethin’ can come of this. She’s so young and vibrant, not to mention beautiful. I imagine she could have anyone she wanted.

Gabrielle lays her palm on my thigh. “So, what’s the plan? For our camping trip, I mean.”

“We’ll get up and have breakfast. Then I’ll pack us some gear and saddle the horses.”

“What can I do?”

“Maybe pack us some food? Things we can cook easily over a campfire. I can bring a pot for soup, or a skillet. There’s a grill up at the lake, so we could cook burgers.”

She nods. “Burgers sound good. And maybe some chili. Leave the food and drink to me. That’s sort of my thing.”

I shift in the swing to face her. It’s dark now, so the yard is nearly pitch black. The porch light casts a soft glow on Gabrielle, making her look impossibly lovely. I reach out with my left index finger and brush her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “How is it that you’re sitting here with me planning a camping trip? How did I get so lucky? Why me, Gabrielle?”

She meets my gaze, studying me for a moment. There’s a hint of a sad smile on her face. “You underestimate yourself, John.” She reaches for my left hand.

Out of habit, I try to pull my hand away—not wanting her to touch my rough, damaged skin—but she holds on tight.

“Your scars don’t define you,” she says quietly. “You’re a good man, John. Dependable, strong, honest. And sexy as hell. Did I mention that?”

“Nope, you didn’t. I’m glad to hear you think so. You know all that about me already? In the short amount of time we’ve known each other?”

“I’m a good judge of character.”

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