Or naive.
They were both more worldly than that.
Kentucky had always been one to throw the cards up in the air and let them land where they may.
Maybe she was wrong about how Sean would feel. She’d just acknowledged they both knew how things worked. Maybe he’d take comfort in her and her in him and they could let it be just that.
She crept up out of the water and sat down on the sand next to him. She remembered how they’d all chipped in from their summer jobs to buy the sand to spread so they could have the fire pit. It was the old farmer’s one caveat to letting the kids stay on his property. Mossy Rock didn’t technically belong to him, but no one in Winchester County was going to tell him that.
His arm slid around her and he pulled her down with him. She settled against him, memorizing where their bodies touched and how the heat contrasted with the night air around them.
Kentucky looked up at the stars as they glittered in the velvet sky.
They didn’t speak for the longest time. Just two people clinging to each other in the dark, their chests rising and falling together in unison.
Part of her told her that she could still jump ship. She could make any excuse in the world to hop up and head back to the real world, where girls like her didn’t get boys like him, but she wasn’t going to. Kentucky had already thrown aside caution. Now she’d see what happened.
SHE FELT GOOD.
Like nothing had in a long time, Sean realized.
Wild Kentucky Lee calmed him, soothed him, made him feel as if no matter how screwed up the world was, everything would right itself.
It was so wrong.
He didn’t deserve to be soothed. He didn’t deserve to be reassured. Lynnie was gone and it was his fault.
He loved Lynnie. He always would. But for the last year before her death, he hadn’t been in love with her. She was an amazing woman, to be sure. Kind, warm, intelligent and red-carpet beautiful. She belonged to another world. A world where men didn’t get shredded by land mines; a world where people didn’t strap bombs to children. Lynnie belonged to a world with Sunday dinners and peach cobbler. A world that didn’t have a place for him.
When he ended things with her, she wasn’t even angry with him. She’d felt it, too. She just hadn’t wanted to put more on his plate while he was deployed.
Then they’d had to bury her with that ring on her finger. That ring that was a symbol of how both of their dreams had died. He supposed it was fitting that it go with her.
But if he hadn’t Skyped her, hadn’t told her how he felt, she wouldn’t have been out on that country road that night. She’d have been home, curled up in her favorite chair with her favorite tea and reading.
* * *
HE PULLED KENTUCKY CLOSER, her lush body a haven away from all that was bad. All the memories he didn’t want.
This moment between them was more than just a hiding place, though. Kentucky was hot and his body responded to her as it would any sexy woman. Whereas Lynnie’s appeal had been that she was so unearthly, a sort of fey loveliness with her petite pixie features and golden-blond hair, Kentucky was earthier. She was solid and strong but curved and soft. She was at odds with herself, as she was with most everything else.
Her arms were toned from her work as a mechanic, hands rough, but the swell of her hip seemed as if it’d be the most dangerous to ride. And her breasts in that lace bra... When she’d pulled off her shirt, he’d been so aroused.
Guilt had filled him, but it had done nothing to cool his desire. That was why he hadn’t wanted to get in the water with her. He didn’t want her to know how much of a bastard he really was.
Kentucky had always looked at him as though he were some kind of strange bug. The nicer he was to her, the odder she thought him. But underneath that, he’d always seen her secrets. When she started looking at him with a kind of longing, he knew it.
He also knew it was because he saw her, cared about her, and she didn’t have that. She didn’t have anyone she could trust. Except him. Except Lynnie.
But now Lynnie was gone.
And he wanted to lose himself in the woman next to him. For a moment, he wanted to feel something good. He wanted her to feel good, too, but he didn’t want to shatter the fragile trust she’d put in him.
“Thanks for today,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
“You, too.” Her hand settled on his chest. “It was good to know that some things can be the same.”
“But it wasn’t the same.”
“No? You didn’t have fun? You didn’t laugh? You didn’t wish for a single second that we had that cordial Rachel used to swipe from her cellar and some hot dogs on that fire? Not once?”
He found himself laughing again. “Yeah, you’ve got me there.” Sean exhaled heavily. “I’ve laughed more with you this evening than I have in a long time.”
“Well, you’ve got to do that for yourself now and again. Self-care, bro.” She elbowed him lightly.
“Yeah, a prescription of two doses of Kentucky Lee for what ails ya?” Damn, why had he said that? Because it was exactly what he’d been thinking, and she deserved better than that. He’d punched Robbie Carter in the face for saying something similar in cruder terms when they were sophomores.
Instead of taking offense, she just laughed. Not the kind of laugh that was false, or hiding some kind pain, but a genuine belly laugh. “Sure. Why not? It’s the first time I’ve ever been someone’s cure instead of their disease.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t see anyone lined up waiting for you to hand them that particular prescription.”
“Once upon a time, there was a boy named Robbie Carter—”
She groaned. “Don’t remind me. That’s so embarrassing.”
“You know?” He turned on his side to look at her.
“Wait, know what?” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Besides he didn’t show to pick me up for Winter Royalty. Didn’t call. Never spoke to me again.”
“He thought you were the cure, so to speak.”
“Funny way of showing it.”
“Eric and I didn’t care for the way he talked about you in the locker room.”
She pushed at his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
“He talked about how he was guaranteed to get in your pants at Royalty. He called you a slut, so I punched him.”
“Once?”
“Repeatedly. Then Eric hit him. Then the rest of the team told him if he said one more word about you, they’d leave nothing left of him but a grease stain on the floor.”
“Those guys never gave a damn about me. Why would they do that?”
“They cared about what Eric and I cared about. That was enough.”
She sighed and flopped back on the grass. “Well, you could’ve told me he wasn’t coming.”
“We didn’t want him to bail. We just wanted him to treat you with respect.”
“My knights in shining armor, trying to keep me celibate since tenth grade.”
“Oh, please.