Page 24 of Dust and Desire
He gave a hollow laugh. “Not even close.”
The sadness in his voice tugged at something deep in my chest. I wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, but I knew better. Not yet.
“Maybe,” I suggested, “you need to get out of this cabin more. See the world beyond these walls.”
“I see plenty,” he protested weakly. “I go to the main house sometimes. And into town for supplies.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I stood up, an idea forming. “Come on. Get your boots.”
He blinked up at me. “What? Where are we going?”
“For a walk,” I said, already moving toward the door. “The sun’s almost down, but there’s still enough light. And I know just the place.”
Dustin hesitated, glancing at his half-eaten dinner. “I haven’t finished?—”
“It’ll keep,” I assured him. “This won’t take long, I promise.”
For a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then something shifted in his expression, a decision being made, and he pushed back from the table.
“Alright,” he said, reaching for his boots by the door. “But just a short walk. I’m not exactly dressed for hiking.”
I waited on the porch while he laced up his boots, watching as the last of the daylight faded from the sky. Stars were beginning to appear, pinpricks of silver against the deepening blue. When Dustin joined me, he’d added a light jacket over his t-shirt, and the sight of him, casual, slightly rumpled, but still so handsome, made my heart skip.
“This way,” I said, gesturing toward a narrow path that led away from his cabin and into the trees.
The trail was just wide enough for us to walk side by side, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we navigated the uneven ground. Each accidental touch sent a jolt through me, and I wondered if he felt it too. The tension between us was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each step we took.
“Where are we going exactly?” he asked as we moved deeper into the woods.
“You’ll see,” I replied, unable to keep the smile from my voice.
The path began to slope downward, and I could hear the soft gurgle of water in the distance. As we rounded a bend, the trees opened up to reveal a small creek, its surface shimmering with the last remnants of twilight. The bank was grassy and dotted with wildflowers that had closed for the evening but would open again with the morning sun.
“I found this place my second day here,” I said, leading him to a flat rock near the water’s edge with a big grin on my face. “It’s peaceful. And it’s the same place you caught me skinny dipping if you recall.”
A deep blush spread across Dustin’s face at the mention of our first encounter, and he looked away, focusing on the creek instead of me. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the gentle babble of water.
“Good,” I said, settling onto the rock and patting the space beside me. “Because I’ve been thinking about that day ever since.”
He hesitated for a moment before joining me, careful to leave a respectable distance between us. The rock was warm from theday’s heat, still radiating comfort even as the evening air began to cool.
“It’s beautiful here,” he said, and I could hear him trying to steer the conversation away from that charged moment we’d shared by the water.
“It is,” I agreed, but I wasn’t looking at the creek. I was watching the way the emerging moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. “Dustin?”
“Yeah?”
“What happened the other night? At the bonfire?” I kept my voice gentle, non-threatening. “One minute you were letting me touch you, and the next...”
He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them close to his chest in a gesture that made him look younger, more vulnerable. “I got scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of myself.” The admission came out as barely more than a whisper. “Of what I wanted.”
My heart clenched at the pain in his voice. “And what did you want?”
He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his words were so soft I had to lean closer to hear them.
