Page 177 of Love in Riverbend
She chuckles her perfect melody of laughter. “No, I’ve got the message.”
I keep my hand on Devan’s thigh the entire drive to the Dunns’ farm. It’s as if I have the basic, primitive, and innate need to be touching her. The sky overhead is a blanket of stars. With the truck’s windows down, the summer night sounds create our soundtrack. Driving slowly down the lane toward Devan’s house, crickets and toads sing their songs.
When I pull the truck up toward the garages, I cut the lights. “I’ll take the blame if anyone questions why you came home so late.”
Devan shakes her head. “I’m an adult, remember?”
My cheeks rise. “Yeah, that’s not something I’m about to forget.” I squeeze her thigh. “Stay there.”
Opening my door, I hurry to the other side. Devan is a vision under the glow of the dome light. I open her door and offer her my hand. She steps down, her sandals landing on the gravel. As I lean down, ready to kiss her goodnight, I remember a text I received earlier today—well, now it was yesterday.
“I almost forgot.”
“What?” she asks.
“Kandace texted me” —I shrug— “yesterday. She wondered if I could bring you to her and Dax’s house Sunday afternoon.”
Her lips curl. “I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a date.”
Devan nods.
“I don’t think I can wait until Sunday to see you again.”
Her giggle is a tune I’ll never tire of hearing.
“It’s already Saturday,” she says.
Taking her hand in mine, we walk the pathway to her porch. Gently cupping her cheek, I lean in for one last kiss. Our lips linger, both of us unwilling to say good night until fate and the clock refuse to let the night go further.
With a small step back, I say, “I had a great time.”
“Me too.”
I tilt my head. “Text me when you wake up. I’d like to see you.”
She looks down at the bare flower beds. “I promised Mom I’d help her plant her annuals tomorrow.” Her smile returns. “I’ll text.” She climbs the steps.
I wait until the door is open before I say, “Good night.”
“Good night, Justin.”
Chapter 28
Devan
Snapping the plastic lid in place, I secure the two quarts of fresh strawberries. They’re cleaned, hulled, and delicious. Since I picked them this morning, I’m not sure they could be any fresher.
Ricky comes in the back door. Instead of heading up the stairs as he usually does, he pulls out a kitchen chair and sits.
“Hi,” I say.
“I want to see your classroom.”
“You do? Why?”
He smirks. “Justin told me about it, and I’ve been thinking. I’m a shit brother for not asking about your new job sooner.”
