Page 6 of Innocent

Warmth pools below my rib cage and my heart slams against my chest. She can’t mean it the way it sounds. She’s being polite, and as perfect as all this seems, I’m not sure I can trust myself alone with her. “I think Mark might be home tomorrow. He would probably like to see you, too. We could go then.”

Janie flashes her gaze to the side before centering on me again. “I have to work at the library all day tomorrow. Then, I have a thing to take care of.” She diverts her gaze again, and I’m reminded of why I started the conversation. I was going to tell her I knew about the virginity website. The one where she makes good on her promise Christmas Eve. “Anyway,” she exhales hard, “I’m up for tonight if you are.”

The doorbell rings and my Disney obsessed client walks in. It’s an older woman with silver hair and an arm full of tattoos already. At least she knows what she’s getting into. I nod toward her and smile. “Go ahead and grab a seat at my chair. I’ll be over in a second.”

The woman smiles back and steps up into the parlor, looking for my name on the wall.

My glance returns toward Janie. She’s gone back to the computer as though the conversation was a passing thought to her. Maybe I’m reading into what tonight could mean. Maybe it would be good for me internally to prove I have self-control. I don’t need to make this difficult. Janie is nostalgic, that’s all. “Tonight sounds great. After I finish, you can follow me up to the cabin. I’ll even grab a couple slices of pie on my break for the ride.”

She grins so wide that I fear my heart will stop and burst right here and now, but I can’t read into it. I can’t let my head go to a place where I have a shot with Janie. What good does that do me? What good does that do anyone? Whatever I feel is inconsequential to the bigger picture. Janie is my son’s best friend and everything about her is off limits.

Chapter Five

Janie

It’s official. I’ve lost my mind.

Huck’s old truck is rumbling beneath me, sending a shiver into my stomach. It’s either that, or his mere presence that’s turned me alive. Either way, it’s stranger than I’d imagined. He’s in the driver’s seat in a flannel with rolled-up sleeves, showing off dark ink that runs up his arms. Between us sits a picnic basket of hand pies from the diner on Main and a bottle of wine I brought along because I figure that’s what grownups do. Though, now I don’t think I need alcohol to loosen me up. I need an antipsychotic to rein me in again.

How did I get here? How did we have a conversation that led to this moment? How are we in the same truck, on a dirt road, heading toward the lookout? The same place Huck used to drag Mark and I home from when we were younger.

It’s all so wrong, and though I haven’t technically done anything to betray Mark, I can’t help but feel like I’m hurting him somehow. What would he do if he knew I was riding up to the ridge alone with his dad? How would he feel?God, what am I doing here?

“So,” Huck sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he breaks the silent air around us, “what do you think? Is the old truck what you remember?”

I stare at him through the dark, the only light on his face a reflection of headlights off the snow. God, he’s gorgeous. His biceps flex unintentionally as he shifts the truck. My nipples poke at my bra.

This is the part I remember from all those years ago. Huck’s giant body moving, flexing, working. Just watching him dig up a patch of dirt out back for his garden or lift a heavy piece of the truck and put it in place gets my body pulsing like a second hand on a clock. He’s effortless in everything he does. Whether it’s the manual labor of his small ranch, or the way he uses his hands at the tattoo shop. He’s so careful and methodical, etching in every detail with precision.

My clit throbs again and again. Tick, tick, tick. I lose myself a little more with each pulsating ache.

“Yeah. It looks brand new. Are you going to sell it or…”

“My dad would roll over in his grave,” he chuckles. “This truck is the only thing that’s been passed down in the family. Not sure who it’ll go to next. Mark doesn’t want it.”

“Do you ever think about having more kids?”

He laughs. “At my age? No. I did the kid thing. I love Mark to death, but I don’t see myself being in a relationship again and well… I raised Mark without his mother, but I’m not sure that was the best thing for him.”

“You’re selling yourself short. You’re only forty-five, right? You have like half your life left. You can’t really think you’ll spend the rest of it alone.”

He pulls onto the top of the ridge beneath a few snow covered pines. It’s the best spot I know to see every star in Rugged Mountain. Huck looks toward me, his arm still on the wheel as the other lies on his lap. “I guess if I found the right person, I’d settle down again, but that’s a shot in the dark. Most women don’t like guys like me.”

“Guys like you?How so?” Part of me knows what that means already, but I’m curious about what he thinks of himself.

He nods and looks out the curved front window. “I don’t know… assholes.” He laughs. “Women want everything sugar coated. I’m not that guy. If I think something, I’m going to say it, and it’s probably going to come out rough as hell.”

At least he’s self-aware.

“I kind of like that about you.” I twist my thumb and forefinger together, trying to compartmentalize the nervous energy working its way up my throat. “I mean, I always thought it was cool the way you just spoke your mind.” I look toward him, watching as the stress of what he’s said settles onto his shoulders. The way he stiffens his back has me thinking he’s keeping something from me. It’s unnatural for him, and his body tells that story.

I wonder if it was the mention of Mark’s mom. I’ve known Mark since I was eighteen and he’s never talked about her much. From what I know, she and Huck were never married. They had Mark together young and went their separate ways when her mom got involved in drugs. Huck has spent his life devoted to raising Mark ever since.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “you’d be the first woman to ever think that.” He cracks his door open. “You want to check for these aliens?”

I’ve made him feel awkward. This big strong man who speaks his mind is holding back with me. Because to him, I’m a child. A kid he used to know. A girl who’s spent way too much time pondering a fantasy that will never be. I bite the inside of my cheek and lean against the hood of the truck next to him, twisting off the cap on the bottle of wine I brought along. “We don’t have glasses.” I hand him the bottle and he takes a swig, then hands it back to me, fogging up the air with sweet raspberry on his breath.

“You’re cold.” He looks toward me, then turns back to grab a blanket from the truck. He wraps the fleece around my shoulders and rubs his hands together, mist escaping from the warmth from his breath. “When was the last time you were up here?”