Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(38)

Grateful that this evening was not to be shared with Lehi, I retreated to my room and flopped on my bed, staring out at the sun as it slowly disappeared behind the mountains in the distance.

My eyelids were fluttering, my body exhausted from the day, when I heard my name. Rising up on my elbow, I stared out my open window, wondering if my brain was playing tricks on me.

“Brin,” came the voice again, this time slightly louder and higher in pitch.

Porter.

As I hopped up from the bed, adrenaline coursed through my veins. Porter, a sly grin on his face, was standing beneath my window, a baseball cap on his head, hiding his face. But I’d know that smile anywhere. His blond hair poked out from beneath the cap.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered down to him, fighting the smile that crept across my face.

“I had to see you. Can I come up?”

“No!” I screeched, then lowered my voice. “Of course not!”

“C’mon, Brin. Relax, I can do it. It’s easy.”

Paranoia took my brain hostage and I glanced left and right, looking for anyone who might see us. But Porter was hidden behind the large wall of our property. Lehi was spending the evening with Leandra, and I was certain she was keeping him busy with her complaints.

I had missed Porter. Terribly. Not just his touch but his humor, his kindness, the way he understood everything I was going through.

“Okay, fine,” I called out softly. “But be careful.”

Porter rolled up his sleeves and climbed the tree that grew just a few feet from the side of the house. I watched him in awe, wondering where he’d learned to climb like that; he made it look easy.

“Move out of the way, I have to jump the rest of the way,” he said, clutching the branch that reached as close to the house as he was going to get. Within seconds, Porter leaped from the branch and landed with a grunt on the windowsill. I reached out to grab his hand and pulled him into my room. We sat on the floor, beneath the window, and he placed his hand in mine.

“So, this is where you sleep?” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

All at once, I felt naked, as exposed as the day I was born. If I had known he’d see my room, I would have cleaned it until it was spotless. As it was, my closet door stood open and two pairs of sneakers sat on my carpet.

“Yeah,” I replied with a shrug.

“It’s nice.” He stood and walked around the room, perusing the pictures on the walls and the trinkets on my desk that had been made by Aspen’s children.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know, but I couldn’t wait.”

He walked back to me and smoothed down the hair of my braid before planting a gentle kiss on my lips.

“You’re terribly impatient, aren’t you?” I narrowed my eyes as he pulled me in for a tight hug.

So this was what flirting was like. It was fun, and I liked it. It was easy to flirt, I realized, when I felt comfortable and didn’t need to censor myself.

“Guilty,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. “I can’t help it. I miss your face, your smile, your voice. God, I love your voice.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nodded, kissing me gently on the neck. “It’s gentle and melodic, like you.”

“You think I’m melodic?”

“Yep.” He removed his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “I hate not knowing when I’ll see you again, it’s torture. Pure torture.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do about that. I mean . . .” I paused when Porter’s smile turned into a devilish smirk. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I think I have a solution. I have something for you.” He reached into his back pocket and removed a small phone.

Lehi didn’t allow phones in his household, but some husbands did, so I’d grown up used to seeing women walking along our dirt roads, talking on their phones.

“We can text each other,” he went on, “figure out when to meet, stuff like that. I already programmed my number in.”

“But I-I’ve never used a phone before.”

“It’s easy, I’ll show you.”

A creaking sound came from the hallway and I froze, paralyzed with fear that someone may have heard us.

I pushed Porter down to the floor behind the bed while I crossed the room to check. As I stood with my ear pressed against the door, I could hear nothing but the pounding of my heart. Porter had to go. He was risking too much by being there with me.

A moment passed and no other sounds came from the hall. I tiptoed back around the bed, only to find the room empty. Porter was gone. I sighed and plopped dejectedly on my bed, wishing I had been able to say good-bye.

My heart nearly leaped into my mouth when a hand grasped one of my hanging ankles. In a split second, I was on my knees, staring at Porter who was laughing under the bed, covering his mouth to muffle the noise. I swatted him on the chest as he scooted out from underneath my bed.

“Sorry,” he whispered, holding back laughter. “But that was hilarious.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine, I guess it was.”

Porter pushed my boundaries, and I loved that. I loved the way he viewed the world. He was playful, yet smart. He had a rough exterior, yet a considerate heart.