The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (295 page)

“I take it you don’t approve of her choices?” Ford asked when I remained silent.

“I don’t understand them,” I said, shaking the image away. “They were married twenty-five years and then
poof
. One day, she wakes up and she’s done. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“A decision like that isn’t always as instant as it seems,” he said. I would’ve argued if not for the strange note in his voice when he spoke and the way his eyes saw far beyond the walls of this greenhouse. I wondered what decision he meant. And who it belonged to. “I’m sure the decision to leave your dad was something she considered for a long time before going through with it.”

“She didn’t just leave him. She left me,” I said. My voice softened, giving way to the hurt behind my anger. I hadn’t meant to let it slip through, but I couldn’t take it back, and Ford didn’t miss it. His eyes cleared and he refocused on me.

“Parents are just people who get put on a pedestal. We expect more from them because they mean so much to us. But they’re only human.”

I shifted, uncomfortable at the truth in his logic. “We expect more because they commit to more when they have a child,” I said.

“Can’t argue that. She was here last week, wasn’t she?”

“Only to pretend to be my mom again. She had months to do that.”

“So she never called or wrote you when you went back to school?”

“It didn’t matter. She left the business in the lurch, left Dad with no help and no knowledge of how things were run. I couldn’t—well, I just couldn’t. Twenty-two years of thinking they were made for each other. Perfect. Best friends. Soul mates, even. They defined love for me and now ... Love feels like a lie.”

“For you or for them?”

“For everyone.”

Ford rubbed a hand along his chin. It made a light scuffing sound as his palm ran over the flecks of stubble. “How many times have you seen her since then?” he asked.

“She showed up at school twice but I sent my roommate to make her leave.” I stared down at my hands, my cheeks burning with the effort to keep the tears at bay. “Last week was the first time,” I added.

He was quiet so long, I wondered if he would answer at all. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Guys usually didn’t when it came to the hard stuff. And if my suspicions were right, maybe Ford had never experienced anything hard enough to hurt him. Maybe he couldn’t even relate.

I sighed. This had been a mistake. If he said anything at all, it would probably be a grunt or something equally apathetic.

“Sounds to me,” he said, “like you have to figure out what kind of daughter you want to be before she can know what kind of mom it is you need.”

I stared, stretching the silence.

“What?” he asked.

“I just didn’t—You impress me.”

“How’s that?”

“Not only was that the truest thing anyone’s said to me in weeks, but you meant it. You get points for that, Ford O’Neal.”

“I didn’t do it for points,” he said, his brows rising in amusement.

“I know, which is exactly why you get them. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were speaking from experience about the whole parents-letting-down-the-child thing.”

“Nah. I guess mine’s more of the parents letting down themselves.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Part of me didn’t want to pry, but hadn’t I just unloaded on him? It was only fair that he share too.

“My mom and dad were high school sweethearts. Got together junior year, got pregnant with me a couple of months before graduation, and married that summer. My brother came along a year later, and my sister the year after that. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still together and couldn’t see it any other way, but ...”

“But?” I prompted.

“My dad works a lot. Gave up a lot so they could have a family and make it work. He was always talking about the stuff he would’ve done or didn’t do because of settling down so fast. Not that he wishes it went any differently. He’s happy, I just ... I wish he could’ve done more of that stuff before he had to set it aside to work fifty hours a week, you know?”

“He could do it now,” I said. “You guys are all grown up and gone.”

“My sister has one more year of high school, so yeah, after that. Still, it’s not the same.”

“You can’t carry his regret for him,” I said.

Ford gave me a look. “Oh, you mean how you carry your dad’s anger and betrayal for him?”

I scowled. “No, I don’t.”

“Neither do I,” he shot back. “Instead, I channel it as sort of a ‘what not to do with my life.’ I’m going to make sure and have all my grand adventures before I commit myself to someone.”

“I get it.” I leaned over and bumped his shoulder with mine. “You’re a good listener. And thanks for telling me your stuff. I didn’t expect all that.”

“What did you expect?”

Something about the way he said it struck me as much more serious than the usual banter between us suggested. I chose my answer carefully. “Fun. Spontaneous. Light.” I shrugged. “Meaningless.”

His expression darkened. His blue eyes filled with something—not anger. Heat. Intensity. He leaned close. “Summer Stafford, you could never be meaningless.”

Any other moment with any other conversation and I would’ve melted into a puddle from that look. But right now, I couldn’t get past the emphasis he’d put behind those words. And the contradiction it made when put to our situation. I leaned back, putting distance between us as my brows creased in confusion. “You say that, but how can it not be meaningless if you’re leaving in a few months?”

“My leaving in the future doesn’t take away from the fact that we’re both here right now. In this moment. With these feelings. That has all kinds of meaning.”

His words, although bittersweet, made sense even as I told myself they shouldn’t. It was those blue eyes of his, darkening with meaning when he spoke to me that way. Looking back at him, I knew whatever he wanted from me right now I wouldn’t refuse. And it would cost me. I stood up and backed away. “Ford—”

He shot to his feet, cutting me off. “Don’t say it.”

He took a step forward. I took one back. If we were going to have this conversation, I needed space to think. I couldn’t argue with him when every time I breathed, I caught the scent of bar soap and topsoil.

“Don’t say what?” I asked, breathless with the idea of what would happen if I stopped backing away and let him reach me.

Another step. There was a storage closet somewhere behind me. I hoped I still had some room to go before I backed into it or the wall.

“All of the reasons why you shouldn’t like me,” he said.

I sighed. “I do like you, I just think—”

“Don’t think.” He was close now. Inches. His chest lining up with mine. I looked up at him. As soon as our eyes met, I knew it’d been a mistake. The blue-gray in them had deepened to something like a storm cloud. I shivered at what I imagined lay behind those swirling depths.

“Don’t think?” I repeated. It came out in a whisper.

“Just let your thoughts go. Do what you feel.” Slowly, his left hand reached out toward something behind me. I didn’t see what it was. That would’ve meant turning away from those storm-cloud eyes. His fingers caught on the object and he pulled. Something hard smacked my rear—the closet door. It clicked shut, the momentum of the door hitting my behind shoved me forward—straight into Ford.

“Oh,” I said, trying to catch myself. My palms landed flat against his chest.

Instead of backing away, his hands cupped my hips, holding me in place. He bent his head, leaning in until we were no more than a breath apart. I stared back at him, and, just as he’d suggested, my mind went completely blank.

Do what you feel ...

I closed the distance. For a split second, his mouth remained still against mine. I could feel his surprise; he hadn’t actually expected me to kiss him. Then, his hands gripped me harder, pulling me tightly against him, and his lips began to move. His kiss was soft at first, delicate and careful. Then harder. More insistent. My mouth opened and his tongue slid against the inside of my lip. My knees trembled. I leaned in, using Ford’s arms as support.

He tasted like he smelled: like sun and warmth and all things outdoors. I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his bare arms. His skin was warm, like mine. Heated from the inside out. I brought my arms up again, locking them behind his head and letting my fingers run through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Ford ...” His name came out on a sigh when he lifted his mouth from mine. I wanted to tell him to get his lips back over here, but I couldn’t form a single word other than his name. I could barely remember my own.

He chuckled. “Is this me cashing in my points?”

I smiled, liking the possibilities of the system I’d unwittingly created. “Maybe.”

“Does that mean I have to say something nice before we can repeat that? Or just wait until you try to argue with me again?”

“Are you asking which will happen first?”

“It is a difficult thing to predict.” His smile faded and he kissed my cheek. “Does this mean I won the argument? That you’ll be my friend?”

I bit my lip. I’d come in here tonight hoping to satisfy my lust and an item on my list all at once. But now, it felt much bigger than that. I wanted more of the feelings that came with kissing Ford.

“I don’t want to fall in love,” I admitted, voicing the real fear that ate at me when I thought about being Ford’s “friend” or fling or any of the other descriptives we’d used. Love hurt. I wasn’t looking for love.

In answer, Ford tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “This is nothing as serious as that. I want to show you how to have fun. No plans. No rules. Enjoy each other for the time that we have.”

I hesitated. “That’s a big risk for me.”

“You’re not living unless you’re risking.”

“That sounds like a slogan for something.”

He grinned. “It’s my slogan for Summer.”

“As in, the season?”

“As in, the girl.” I smiled. “Go out with me,” he said suddenly.

“Okay,” I said before I could change my mind.

“Okay,” Ford echoed, his smile widening. He kissed me on the cheek and my skin tingled. “Tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Sounds good, but be warned, there aren’t very many places to eat that don’t require clean elbows.” I pointed to the black stains on his arms that came from leaning on the soil too long.

He laughed. “Same goes for you.”

“I’m not dirty,” I protested, holding up my arms as proof.

He didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “Well, that’s a damn shame. It would’ve made cashing in my points so much more fun if you were.”

Ford

“Love will never separate a man from his personal legend.”

–Paulo Coelho,
The Alchemist

––––––––

T
hat girl wound me up. Her mouth and the way it worked, shaping either words or kisses, was something else.

I’d endured an entire week of her moody silence as she ignored me with no explanation. If that hadn’t been confounding enough, she’d come to me with those puppy dog eyes that begged for attention and forgiveness. Had I given it to her? Damn straight. No questions, no giving her a hard time for seven days of silence that would make a monk proud.

It was that mouth. Had to be it. And the way she locked her arms around me when I kissed her hard or went limp when I pulled away too soon. She had no idea what she did to me. But if this kept up, she would find out sooner rather than later.

And then she’d gone and asked me about love. I knew she was scared. Her mom leaving had really screwed her up. I wanted to reassure her she wasn’t going to end up like that, but she wouldn’t have heard me anyway. Too wrapped up in the hurt. But love—that was one thing I knew to be off the table. This would be fun and we would be friends. We’d have a great time and make some great memories before I left in October. But love? Not happening. I wasn’t ready for all that. I had too much life to live before I allowed that.

Thoughts of my dad sprang to mind and I checked the clock. He’d be home from the day job soon. After twenty years of ten hour days, he’d finally been promoted to management, allowing him the luxury of punching out by dinner time. Now he’d spent what daylight was left tinkering in the garage. The creations he made out of wood were stunning. He’d have a business in a heartbeat if he wanted it. But whenever I’d asked, he always said wood-building was a hobby, for fun... “Not something that put food on the table when there were little mouths to feed, son.”

I always regretted that for him. Giving up a dream to support his family. He was always quick to come back with, “My family is the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t give up, I just got a new dream.”

Fine. But not me. For me, the solitary adventure was the ultimate dream. And no one, man or woman or even lover, was going to distract me from pursuing it. Or worse—abandon it.

Cold weather plants. That was the next project. The next adventure. And no girl—no matter how meaningful—was going to stand in the way of the adventure. Maybe for my dad, that had worked out, but not for me. I intended on living every experience I could to the fullest. Then maybe, just maybe, I’d be ready to settle somewhere. But that girl would have to be pretty amazing.

Unbidden, an image of Summer in that bathing suit sprang to mind and I groaned aloud. Just thinking the word “amazing” was enough to make me remember her that way—dripping wet, legs up to her neck, and glaring at Casey with death rays for eyes. As passion went, anger was a powerful version, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to have her that worked up at me.

Come tomorrow night, I’d have the chance to find out. Well, the passion anyway. Hopefully not the anger. Both possibilities made me grin.

As I worked on closing up shop for the night, I made a mental note to find Casey and ask him about local eateries that didn’t feature peanut shells on the floor and fried bar food as the special of the day. Or better yet, maybe I’d ask Mazie.

I wondered what sort of place Summer would expect for a first date and then immediately brushed the thought aside. I definitely didn’t want anything about our night to be typical. In fact, I intended to go out of my way to make sure it wasn’t. Typical or expected weren’t what Summer needed. Good thing, nothing I had in mind was either one.