Page 19 of Adam's Rising

Boyd, on the other hand, had slicked-back black hair, and clothes that screamednot from Alaska. Like Roger, he wore jeans — but not the kind that earned their fade. His were cornflower blue, practically new. And Boyd wouldn’t wear flannel if it were stitched with gold thread. Instead, he’d paired his obligatory Alaska denim with a long-sleeved polyester shirt, wide collar and all. The rose-red and teal floral print looked better suited for a luau than the drive-in. And — Claire had to purse her lips to keep from laughing — it was unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his chest, enough so others wouldn’t miss the gold chain resting in the hollow of his throat.

Roger walked to the driver’s door, lowering his chin and staring at Lala until she read his meaning. She scooted across the bench seat, then curled her body against his.

Boyd climbed in beside Claire, settling close. He eyed her from top to bottom, then flicked the edge of her skirt. “You going to a hoe-down, Claire?”

Claire offered him a closed-lipped smile. “You going to a disco, Boyd?”

Both Roger and Lala cracked up.

“Told ya,” Roger said, throwing the shifter into drive.

Boyd punched the back of Roger’s seat. “We’re going to a disco movie, so this shirt’s in style. At least I don’t look like I’m a working-class stiff.”

No one laughed. There wasn’t a lot of money in Wasilla, but Boyd’s family seemed to have cornered it all.

Noting that Boyd’s face had turned nearly as red as the buds in his shirt, Claire slid a little closer. “The first movie’s some fighting flick, so you both dressed for the night.”

Boyd rested a hand on Claire’s knee and squeezed. Her heart jumped — but not in a good way. The touch felt condescending somehow, like he was rewarding her for playing along.

* * *

Throughout the entire karate movie,whenever there was talking, Boyd was pawing at her. Breathing on her. The moment the fight scenes resumed, he turned to the screen like it was sacred. Normally, Claire didn’t mind making out with Boyd. After all, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, as Grams referred to Boyd. With his dark brows, olive skin, and hazel eyes, he looked like he might have a bit of French in him — or was it Italian? But tonight, all she could smell — and taste — was cigarettes and stale beer. He and Roger must have had some pre-movie party. Not that it mattered, her mind wasn’t on Boyd.

Her brain… her heart… wherever these gut-wrenching feelings of loss and desire were coming from were tearing her insides apart. All she saw when she closed her eyes was Adam — a boy she hadn’t seen in nearly two years. A boy she didn’t even really know — not personally. They’d shared moments, mostly their love of horses. They hadn’t discussed what lay ahead for their futures — they’d only been kids. In truth, she was still a kid — teenager — but with the griefs she’d already lived through, she often felt thirty-six instead of her short sixteen — almost seventeen — years.

Lala peeked over the seat and nodded toward the concession stand.

Heck yeah, I want to get out of here! Claire screamed internally. She pushed down on the silver handle, then shoved the heavy door open.

“Hey!” Boyd grabbed her forearm. “Where ya goin’?”

Claire glared at his hand as if he’d burned her. “Lala wants me to go with her.”

Boyd splayed his fingers but kept his damp palm pressed against her skin. “Lala’s a big girl; she doesn’t need an escort.”

Lala poked her head around the door frame. “Lalaisa big girl, but she alsowantsan escort. Don’t you watch the news,Boyd?” Lala wagged her head and leaned against the vehicle — out of Boyd’s line of sight. She winked at Claire, then nodded for them to go.

Claire hopped out, slamming the door behind her.

Lala looped an arm through Claire’s and, together, they hustled across the dirt road, ignoring horn taps and cat calls from the movie-goers still sitting inside the cars.

“You wish!” shouted Lala. Her outspoken and gesture-fond cousin flicked a middle finger at a truckload of young guys thrusting their hips in their direction. “Jerk-offs!” She turned back to Claire. “Speaking ofjerks… What the hell was that possessive crap?”

Claire shrugged. As much as she wanted to ditch Boyd, she wanted to see the featured movie even more.

Away from the line of cars, Lala pulled Claire to a stop. “We should just leave. Make an excuse. Then drive to Clara Mae’s ranch.”

Claire huffed. “This is why your step-father sent you up here, Lala. You’re incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means, Claire-belle, but it sure sounds like me.” She trotted forward, pulling Claire with her. “Okay, we’ll stay, but Tony Manero better be as cute and funny as Vinnie Barbarino.”

“I knew you were interested.” Claire laughed. Sometimes, she actually enjoyed hanging out with her cousin. Lala had a lot of faults, but she was definitely fun. “I heard Travolta dances in his underwear. After watching him, you might even start liking disco.” Claire twirled across the concrete, then went into one of the dance moves she’d seen in the previews. “I mean, really, how can you not like dancing to disco?”

“Ohhhh!” Lala hummed. “You’re thinking about that boy. Thomas’s brother, the one who was dancing on the back of his truck.”

Claire lifted her eyes. “No, I’m not. I haven’t seen him in nearly two years.”

“I haven’t seen Thomas in forever, but that don’t mean I’m not thinking about him.” She did a little hip-thrusting herself, then smiled devilishly and turned for the bathroom.

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