Riding the storm - By Julie Miller Page 0,68
off to sleep. The baby stirred between them and Nate adjusted their positions to give the little guy room to maneuver.
But he couldn’t quite let go of her. Not yet. He knew he was holding something precious in his arms, something he’d only recently discovered. Something he wasn’t ready to lose.
Crazy Texas woman. Losing her virginity in a barn loft after a hurricane had decimated her home and left her stranded with no amenities whatsoever.
Giving that gift to him.
Crazy.
He pulled the ends of the blanket loosely over their bodies, kissed her closed eyelids and cuddled her close beneath the last rays of sunshine streaming in through the roof.
Crazy wonderful.
JOLENE PICKED UP the dirty paper plates and blew out the candles on the kitchen table, temporarily plunging the room into darkness and erasing the lingering image of the awkward dinner she’d shared with Nate. Their conversation had been stilted and polite, on topics ranging from food and supply lists to seasonal weather expectations.
Neither of them had said much about what had happened in the barn, beyond his report that she’d dozed for about twenty minutes and that he’d have to get back on the roof in the morning since he’d run out of daylight to complete the job. As eagerly as they’d stripped off their clothes and explored each other’s bodies, they’d made a point of turning their backs to each other and hurriedly dressing.
Jolene couldn’t tell if that was the practical side of Nate—after all, he’d insisted on carting everything back down the ladder for her, then climbing down a few rungs ahead of her in case she lost her grip or missed her footing. Or whether the reality of what he’d just done—and who he’d done it with—had set in along with regret.
The dinner itself had been a delicious concoction of stew from one of his Grandpa Nate’s secret recipes. Nate had tossed in just about every type of meat and vegetable they had on hand so that nothing would go to waste now that the contents of her freezer had thawed. Jolene’s plate was embarrassingly clean, even after two helpings and a serving of “creme brulee” made from a pudding cup, brown sugar and the lighter for the grill—Nate’s creation. Her ravenous appetite was the result of pregnancy and hard work—and the emotional and physical drain of having sex.
Great sex.
Change-her-life-in-one-orgasmic-rush-and-cuddle-like-she-was-in-love-afterward sex.
“Oh, Lordy.”
Jolene flipped on the switch of a battery-powered lantern, knowing that standing around in the dark and reliving every moment before, during and after the event wasn’t going to improve her situation any.
The lantern flooded the kitchen with a cool, yellowish light that hinted at secrets and shadows and unknown hazards beyond the edges of its illumination. It was nothing like the warm, cocooning rays of sunshine that had warmed her body and wrapped her in a hopeful spell up in the loft that afternoon with Nate.
She’d made love to a man.
He’d made love to her.
She’d lost her freaky status as Turning Point’s first and only pregnant virgin. She’d lost a few of those self-conscious doubts about her own sexuality.
She’d lost her heart. Sealed the deal completely. Set herself up to be hurt in ways that a mother’s abandonment and a good friend’s death couldn’t touch. Jolene had been too young to fully comprehend her mother’s choice, and she hadn’t had the skills or the miracle up her sleeve to save Joaquin’s life.
But she could have kept her feelings for Nate in check. They could have stayed friends and coexisted at a less intimate level if she’d been paying closer attention. But, no, like everything else, she’d jumped in with both feet and no life jacket and fallen in love with the guy. She’d listened to her heart and trusted her gut and completely ignored common sense and the inevitable pain headed her way.
She’d known him for thirty-six hours. Thirty-six! And they’d barely gotten along for the first twelve. There were men in Turning Point she’d known all of her twenty-eight years whom she’d never even considered dating. And now she’d not only slept with this stranger, she’d given him her heart.
“Idiot.”
Jolene wrapped up the leftover stew and placed it in an ice chest. She’d insisted on cleaning up, since Nate had cooked. It was only fair. Besides, if he wasn’t in the mood to say much, she wasn’t in the mood for listening to silence.
Now he was washing up in the bathroom, sponging himself off with the basin of water they’d set aside for bathing. He