Page 112 of Heartland
“No—” She holds up a hand. “It’s honest. I’m not trying to force you into some big decision right now.”
“I know you’re not,” I say quickly. But I’m still fucking this up. The truth is that I want us to be exclusive. And I care more for Chastity than I ever did about a hookup. Or anyone else for that matter. I care about her a lot.
I don’t, however, say that. I could, but I don’t. Because that would open up a lot more discussion that I don’t feel ready to have.
“Okay,” she says softly. “So it’s just you and me for now. And you’ll let me know if that changes, right?” After she asks this question, she looks out the window, and I can’t see her face.
The subtext is pretty clear—she doesn’t plan on being the one who calls us off.
I reach over and take her hand, because I’m better at the physical stuff than I am at talking. I don’t know what to say to make this moment any less awkward. “Gonna be a long couple of weeks. Maybe we can sneak away at some point.”
“To where?”
She makes a good point. It’s not like we can go spread a blanket under the stars somewhere and spend time together. “We’ll think of something,” I mutter. It’s not just the sex, either. My family is going to drive me crazy. They always do. I’m going to need a little dose of Chastity’s quiet calm and happy smile just to keep me level. “Kiss me,” I order.
“Right here?” She looks over her shoulder, probably wondering if I’m blocking the road for someone who wants to get by.
“It’s either right now or in Leah and Isaac’s driveway.”
“Oh. Good point.” She unlatches her seatbelt, and I put the truck in park.
I reach over and slide her body across the seat, which makes her smile. But I take my kisses very seriously. She feels good in my arms. I lean in and take her mouth with mine, and her body softens against me.
It’s always like this. So good. Maybe it’s the heavy talk, or her little announcement about letting my box of condoms expire, but I do not want to stop kissing her. I tilt my head and take what I want from her. She wraps her arms around me and gives it right back.
Until a car approaches. We break apart at the sound of tires on gravel. Unsatisfied, but out of options, I put the truck in gear and maneuver out of the way.
It’s only three miles or so to Leah and Isaac’s place. I get there way too soon.
“When am I going to see you?” I ask as I pull into their driveway.
“Tomorrow, right? Christmas Eve? Rickie will come over and amuse you, too.”
“Fine. It will have to do.”
She gives me a sad little smile and opens the door on her side.
I wait for her to collect her stuff out of the backseat, and when she walks away, I give her an awkward little wave.
It isn’t enough. But I guess it will have to do.
Thirty-Five
Chastity
I’m too tiredto be very sociable that evening. I go to bed even before Maeve does. And then I sleep late, which is rare for me.
When I finally go downstairs, Leah is trying to grate cheese and play with Maeve at the same time.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. “What can I do to help?”
“You can sit across from me and eat breakfast,” Leah says cheerfully. “Coffee?”
“Sure. Thanks.” I cross the kitchen to the pot, pour myself a cup, and then slide a slice of bread into the toaster. “Maeve? What shall we do today while Mama makes her potato tart?” This dish is legendary at holiday parties, because Leah uses fancy cheese and crispy duck confit. No potato hasevertasted so good.
“Clubhouse?” Maeve suggests.
“Sure,” I agree.
