Tumble (Dogwood Lane, #1)(54)

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only absorb the growing intensity of his soft lips and firm hands. When I begin to shudder under his touch, he breaks the kiss.

His eyes are wild, his breath panting, as he searches my eyes. I want to lift his shirt over his head. My fingers itch to dance across his bare skin and feel him against me. But as I’m assessing the potential pleasure versus pain in this situation, he takes a step back.

“We have two choices,” he says, still catching his breath.

I shake my head. “No. We only have one.”

My shoulders fall, my bottom lip trembling, because as much as I want this with him, I can’t have it. There’s no reason to continue this. It’ll only make everything harder. He isn’t just a one-night stand, even though I suck at those too. He’s Dane. He’s the only guy I’ve ever considered being with for a very long time. He’s the only man with whom I have a hard time forgetting the way it is.

He nods, bowing his head. “We better get out of here then.”

“Yeah. I think so.”

He opens my door and I climb in. He gives me a long, sorrowful look that cuts me to the core before shutting the door.





CHAPTER NINETEEN

NEELY

Where’s Mia tonight, anyway?” I ask as the truck hits a dirt road.

“She’s staying with Madison and Keyarah. They were all supposed to stay at our house, but their mom offered to take them to a movie and I got out of it.”

“I see.”

The sky is dark, trees thick on either side of the road. The only light comes from the headlights shining down the country road. I settle against the seat and try to let the sound of the engine’s purr relax me.

I would have no problem reaching over and taking Dane’s hand. I’d not even have a problem leaning over the console and planting a kiss on his cheek. It would be the most natural thing in the world.

Whoever said to do what’s right, not what’s easy, is an asshole. Right, but an asshole anyway.

“Hey,” I say, leaning forward. A security light shines up ahead a good way off the road. “Is that Malone’s Farm?”

“Yup.”

“I used to love it out there. I’d volunteer to clean the horse barns just to get to spend the day with them.”

The light gets brighter. I plant myself sideways in my seat and watch the complex of farm buildings grow closer.

“If you want to stop by, we can probably get away with it,” Dane says. “I come out here sometimes when they’re clearing land. Things like that.”

I whip around. “Really? We won’t get arrested or anything? And you wouldn’t mind?”

He pretends to think about it. The truck almost passes the turnoff before he swerves right and hits the driveway. “Of course I don’t mind,” he scoffs. “I’ll warn you, though. He doesn’t have horses anymore. Got too old to take good care of them.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah, well, we live, and unless we die, we get older. Right?”

“I guess.”

The truck slows as we approach two buildings on the right and the horse barn on the left. An old farmhouse that looks like it hasn’t been inhabited for years sits at the end of the driveway.

“I’m guessing no one lives here?” I ask as the lights scan across the acreage.

“Nope. He moved in with his daughter in Fairbanks. He has a guy manage the place for him, but to be honest, there’s nothing here to manage anymore.”

Dane parks the car in front of the horse barn. “You wanna go in?”

“Can we?” I hold my hands together in front of my chin. “Please?”

“The things you talk me into.” He winks as he shuts off the engine. “Let’s go.”

I slide out of the truck and slam the door behind me. Crickets chirp from all angles, and lightning bugs flicker in the distance. I take a long, deep breath.

“I’m starting to worry about you and the smell of manure,” Dane says. He motions for me to come along.

We make our way through the darkness under a sea of silver stars. Memories of running through the fields and chasing lightning bugs come cascading back to me.

Dane digs a key out of an old lantern hanging near the door and pops it in the lock, which opens with a creak. I stand in the doorway, unable and unwilling to descend into the dark barn until Dane flips on the lights.

A buzzing sound comes from the bulbs at the top of the barn as they light up the space. Five stalls line the area to my right, and three stand in a row on my left. At the end is an office that the Malones used to run their farm.

“Wow,” I say, spinning in a circle. “This is even more beautiful than I remembered.”

The tops of the stalls have hand-carved details in the wood. The beams are thick and rustic, and I could imagine this place selling for a million dollars in New York. Yet somehow, the thought of this place in the city seems wrong. Like the preciousness of it would be spoiled.

I start down the long corridor, noticing all the little things about the place the younger version of me didn’t appreciate.

“Thunder used to be in here,” I say, resting my arms on top of a stall door. “He was my favorite. He was a butterscotch color and a creamy white. He was so gentle.”