Page 4 of Wood Lessons
Until today...
But it’s more than availability, I realize, shooting down the assumption that the attraction I feel would be the same for any woman who appeared.A few have visited out here—not many, but some—and I never had this reaction to any of them.
It’s all Anna.
A vulnerability in her eyes that beckons me, and a shyness I recognize in myself, making me curious to see if we could overcome it together.That’s a lot of pressure, man.
Wiping my sleeve across the sweat on my brow, I overlook the warning in my head and choose to focus on the possibility of Anna...and a future filled with love instead of emptiness.
***
MY PHONE RINGS THREEdays later as I amble back to the cabin after double-checking everything is set for Anna when she arrives this afternoon.Looking down, her name appears on the screen and my throat tightens.“Hey, Anna, what’s up?”
For a second, I wonder if she’s about to cancel our first lesson, fear making it difficult to swallow.We’ve texted to arrange this time, but it hasn’t gone past a professional tone—no matter the multitude of questions threatening to burst from me.
“Well, I think I might be lost.I’ve been up and down this road, my GPS says I’m here, but I don’t see anything.”Music lowers while the phrase “You have arrived at your destination” repeats in the background.
“Are you on Racine?Because the turn off for my drive is right after you round the curve over the creek.”Miles outside of town, winding roads are common around here, and it’s easy to miss hidden drives with the dense trees lining the area.
“Alright, I think I know what you’re talking about, let me—” The phone muffles her voice when I hear a scream, and the line goes dead.
“Anna?Anna!”Panic spikes in my blood at the sudden silence.Accidents occur at that bend all the time due to people not slowing down when taking it, and worry slices through me that Anna could be hurt.Racing to my truck, I barrel down the drive, kicking up a cloud of dust.Time slows like molasses despite my lead foot on the gas.
Please be okay...
Finally, I round the curve to see Anna’s car pulled off to the side; it doesn’t look like it’s dented from hitting a deer or anything which allows my grip on the steering wheel to loosen.When I make a U-turn to park behind the vehicle, she comes into view, peering down at the creek from the top of a ditch.
“Thank God.”I exhale a ragged breath and hurry to check on her.“Are you alright?”
She jerks at the sound of my voice and slips in the slick grass with a yelp.Before I can reach her, she slides down into the muddy creek below.
“Fuck!Anna, are you okay?”I carefully make my way down until my pants and shoes are soaked from standing in a foot of water.
“Yeah, I’m fine; you scared me, though.I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here.”
“Sorry,” I apologize, bending to provide stability as she tries to stand.“When I heard you scream on the phone I was worried something had happened, so I drove down here to check on you.”
Her drenched clothing clings to bountiful curves, giving me a delightful show of hills and valleys I long to touch—uncaring of the mud streaks marring the outfit.
Not the time.
Steering my gaze upwards, I ask, “What happened?”
Red spreads from her chest to her cheeks as she ducks her head.“Um...a family of ducks were crossing the road.I slammed on my brakes, so I wouldn’t hit them.That’s why I’m down here—watching them swim away.”
Damn, could she be more adorable?
“I’m glad they crossed safely, but we should get you clean.That mud will dry soon which won’t be a pleasant experience.”
Anna nods in agreement, and we trudge up the bank with me sticking close in case she loses balance.“Wait here, and I’ll grab something from my truck to protect your seat.Then you can just follow me.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”She brushes a hand over cheek, leaving a smear of dirt.“I’ll go home, and we can reschedule for another time.”
“Nonsense.My home’s a few minutes away; that beats driving home in the state you’re in.”
And I don’t want you to go.
An irrational fear that she won’t return forms a knot in my stomach.I need her to stay, to be given a chance—prove I’m worth the trouble of coming out here.
