Page 46 of Dust and Desire
I brushed it off and quickened my pace. The storm wasn’t going to wait, and I wanted everything to be perfect for Alex when he came home.
Chapter 17
Alex
Rain was pouring down as I headed up the lane to Dustin’s place. I would’ve run, but there didn’t seem much point after about three seconds. The rain soaked me through to the skin nearly the moment I stepped onto the path. I knew I should’ve taken my truck, but the walk sounded nice after spending all day on horseback. Oh well, my clothes would dry. I knew Dustin wouldn’t mind.
By the time I reached his porch, water was streaming from my hair, and my boots were squelching with every step. I could see warm light glowing through the windows, and the sight made my chest tighten with something I was still afraid to name. Home. That’s what this felt like, coming back to him after a long day.
I knocked, not wanting to just walk in despite how comfortable we’d become. The door opened almost immediately, and Dustin’s face lit up when he saw me, then immediately shifted to concern.
“Jesus, Alex, you’re soaked.” He stepped back, pulling me inside. “Get in here before you catch pneumonia.”
I stood dripping on his hardwood floor, suddenly self-conscious about the puddle forming at my feet. “Sorry, I should’ve taken the truck. The rain came down harder than I expected.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, already moving toward what I assumed was the linen closet. “I’m just glad you made it safely. The lightning was getting pretty intense.”
He returned with a towel, and I expected him to hand it to me. Instead, he stepped closer, reaching up to gently dry my hair. The intimate gesture caught me off guard, and I found myself studying his face as he worked. There was something different about him tonight, a confidence I hadn’t seen before.
“Better?” he asked softly, his hands stilling in my hair.
“Much,” I replied, my voice rougher than intended.
The storm outside seemed to intensify, rain hammering against the windows and thunder rolling across the prairie. But inside this small house, with Dustin’s hands still tangled in my damp hair, everything felt perfectly still.
“You know,” he said, a small smile playing at his lips, “I was thinking while you were gone. About the rain, about you coming home to me...” He trailed off, color rising in his cheeks.
“What about it?”
Instead of answering, he moved to his phone, scrolling through something before soft music began to fill the room. Something slow and romantic that made my pulse quicken.
“Dance with me,” he said, extending his hand.
I glanced down at my soaked clothes, then back at his expectant face. “Dustin, I’m still dripping wet.”
“I don’t care.” His blue eyes were bright with something that looked like joy. “I want to dance with you in the rain.”
“We’re inside,” I pointed out, but I was already reaching for his hand.
“Then let’s fix that,” he said, tugging me toward the door.
“Are you insane?” I laughed, but I was following him anyway. “It’s pouring out there.”
“Exactly.” He threw open the door, and the sound of rain filled the small space. “Come on, cowboy. Live a little.”
He pulled me out onto the porch, and I felt the spray of rainmisting across my face. The music drifted through the open door, mixing with the percussion of raindrops on the roof. Dustin’s hair was already getting damp, dark strands sticking to his forehead, but he was grinning like he’d discovered some wonderful secret.
“You’re going to get soaked,” I warned, even as I let him draw me closer.
“Good,” he said, stepping off the porch and into the downpour. “I want to be soaked with you.”
The rain hit us both immediately, cold and shocking and perfect. Within seconds we were both drenched, our clothes clinging to our bodies, water streaming down our faces. But Dustin was laughing, actually laughing, and the sound was better than any music.
He pulled me into his arms, one hand on my waist, the other clasping mine. We swayed together in the muddy grass, rain cascading around us like a curtain. I could barely hear the music anymore over the storm, but it didn’t matter. We found our own rhythm, slow and intimate and completely ours.
“This is crazy,” I murmured against his ear, but I was smiling too.
“The best kind of crazy,” he replied, tilting his head back to let the rain wash over his face. When he looked at me again, his eyes were bright with tears I couldn’t distinguish from the rainwater. “I feel alive, Alex. For the first time in my life, I feel completely alive.”
