Page 16 of Honoring Freedom
She dried off and dressed in record time, applied mascara and lip tint, and made her way downstairs and through the set of intricate French doors. She was met with a nocturnal symphony of a howling coyote off in the distance and the hooting of a nearby owl. A fire crackled from the stone fire pit and overhead through the canopy of silk curtains the stars emerged like tiny pinpricks in the purple velvet sky.
The night was made for lovers.
But she couldn’t find Keller.
The lanterns were lit offering a glow onto the table that was set with two silver platters, the partially drank bottle of whiskey and a single lit candle.
“Hello,” came his voice from the darkness.
She squinted trying to get a better look at him. The shadows shifted and a silhouette appeared. It was Keller holding a yellow rose he must have picked from the garden.
“For you, madam.”
She accepted the rose and brought it to her nose. “Thank you, it’s lovely.”
“Would you like to take a seat?” He motioned for her to sit on the L-shaped sofa that surrounded the table.
“I’d love to.” She sat down and laid the rose next to her plate. “What’s under the lid?” she asked once he joined her. He scooted so close that their arms brushed.
“The best meal you’ll ever have in your life.” His eyes twinkled in the candlelight.
She lifted the domed lid off the plate and laughed. “Scrambled eggs and toast.” Some women might snub their noses at the meal, but Freedom loved it. As a kid Dolly would make her eggs for dinner. “This is…”
“Too rustic?”
“Charming.” She used her fork to stab a bit of the egg.
“Let’s not forget dessert.” He uncovered another lid to a brownie covered in whipped cream and sprinkles.
She felt her barriers of protection slip. “I would have never pegged you as a romantic, Keller.”
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Don’t let the calloused hands, dirty boots, and whiskers fool you.” He winked. “By the way, you look lovely.”
“Thank you. It’s always a special occasion when there are eggs on the menu.” She took another bite. The eggs were perfectly cooked. She swallowed them down with a sip of whiskey. Refraining from more alcohol would be the best decision, but being alone with Keller, and in a romantic atmosphere, it only seemed natural to not allow logic to worm itself in. Sometimes a woman just needed to relax and allow the universe to take her where she needed to go.
She tucked her legs up under her on the cushion and watched him over the rim of the glass. He scooped up forkfuls of egg and when he scraped his plate clean, he used a napkin to wipe his face. When he realized she was watching him, a grin burst out over his expression.
“I still eat like a hungry cowboy,” he said.
In all honesty, Freedom didn’t mind.
“Tell me, Keller, why aren’t you married, or at least taken?” The wind caught the hem of her dress and lifted it. She tugged it back down.
He poured himself a small amount of whiskey and sat back, his hips brushing her knees. “Probably for the same reason that you aren’t.”
“You’re waiting for the perfect cowboy?” she teased.
“If you wanted perfect you should have said so. He’s sitting right in front of you.” That grin made her toes curl.
Freedom stretched her legs and when he wrapped his fingers around her bare ankles and led her legs across his lap, a tiny moan escaped her. He then took it a step further and began massaging one foot. She quivered in delight.
“Now what were we talking about?” She’d lost her train of thought.
“You were saying how perfect I am.”
His hand felt heavenly over her arch. “No, you were saying how perfect you are and I was about to tell you that you’re far from being perfect.”
He looked over at her, his gaze warm and inviting. “Pretty close though, right?”