Chasing Impossible (Pushing the Limits, #5)(74)

“You want to learn or not?” Logan opens his palm in front of my face and keys dangle from his fingers. “You’re going to be cranky when you can’t start that puppy up and go.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Then you’re mad an awful lot, aren’t you?”

“Then you’re mad an awful lot, aren’t you?” I sarcastically mimic.

Logan tugs on my hand again and I go with him because...I don’t know how to drive very well, and I especially don’t know how to drive a tractor...and because, right now, I’d probably go anywhere this strong hand leads.

We walk through the yard and a dozen bunnies gloriously spring out of our way. Bunnies surrounding me, a hot guy holding my hand, and I’m pretty sure tractor theft in my future. Life can’t get much better than this.





Logan

Green corn stalks fly at us and Abby squeals in a combination of delight and horror. I reach around her and one-eighty the tractor. It’s tough to do with her on my lap, but can’t say I’m not enjoying Abby being this close.

One of those barn bunnies hopped in front of Abby and the result was a detour through the cornfield. A huge grin spreads across my face and Abby laughs as pieces of green stalks fall down around us like rain.

Abby’s laughing as she helps me maneuver the huge machine away from the corn and back into the empty pasture. She has a magical laugh, a light laugh, one that I could listen to for the rest of my life.

“Good thing Chris put up the dairy cows otherwise we’d be offering steak for dinner,” I say loud enough for her to hear. She elbows me just enough to nudge me, but not enough to hurt.

“Better cow than bunny croquets.”

We’ve been driving for the past half hour and she caught on quick. Turning the big wheel with me, pressing the clutch when we have to shift, and resisting the urge to use the clutch as a brake when she wants to slow.

The tractor climbs a hill and when we reach the top, I put my hand over

Abby’s to show her how to take the tractor out of gear, into Park, and turn it off. It’s deafening when the loud engine rumbles off and the only sounds remaining are Abby’s leftover tingling giggles.

Abby giggling. Feels like a gift.

Abby slides off me and onto her feet on the ground and I follow. Like me, Abby wears jeans. The day was scorching, the night is humid, but being out on the farm requires pants. Too many things out and about that can scratch the hell out of your legs.

She’s a sight in her jeans though. Hip-hugging. Worn and threadbare in all the right places. Her blue tank is perfect for Abby. Not cut too low, but just enough for a nice peek of her breasts, ends right around the waistband of her jeans, and it has sparkles.

“How far away are we from the cabin?” Abby asks.

“Far enough away that Chris is going to wonder what the hell happened to the corn.”

Her eyes widen. “We’ll tell him aliens. I’ve seriously been wanting to use that excuse for a while—aliens. Crop circle aliens. No one seems to appreciate the alien answer for anything else. Like Abby, where were you—I was abducted by aliens. They don’t even pretend to buy it, but this time—I can totally own the crop circle defense.”

“Can I show you something?”

She bobs her head. “Besides how to harvest corn early? Okay.”

“Lie down.”

Abby releases that dangerous grin that’s half seduction, half fear-inducing. “Is this where the thing you show me involves dirty secrets?”

“Only if you’re good.” I drop onto the grass. “I’m serious, come here.”

Abby plops down beside me and looks over at me expectantly. “What’s my prize?”

“Close your eyes and lie back. Then when I tell you, open them.”

Wariness hovers in Abby’s eyes, but she does what I ask, closing her eyes and lying back. I ponder lying down beside her to see what she’ll see, but instead stretch out beside her and prop myself up on my arm, settling for her reaction.

The grass is cool against my warm skin and the humid night. Beyond us pond frogs croak and the stalks of corn rustle in the slight breeze. Abby looks peaceful tonight. One day of rest and those dark circles she’s had since she was shot are fading and there’s a smoothness to her usually razor-sharp expression.

She’s a vision. She’s beautiful. Just like the natural night painting I’m about to show Abby.

“Open your eyes.”

Abby does, and after the blinks to readjust her sight, wonder and awe race across her face. “Oh...my...God. There’s thousands of them.”

Stars. She’s referring to the stars. We’re hours away from any city, a good forty-minute drive from the nearest expressway. We’re as far from civilization as we can get and by being here, we get to witness the world as God envisioned it, as God created it, and it is absolutely good.

I ease down beside Abby, allowing the skin of my arm to touch hers. “I was in eighth grade the first time my parents allowed me to come down here with Chris and his grandfather. Chris brought me and Ryan out here and we camped. Long after Chris and Ryan went to sleep, I lay on the grass and stared at the stars in the sky. Made me feel small.”

“You liked that?” There’s an unsure tone in her voice. “Feeling small?”