On the way back to the car, we pass a row of bars that scream Lollie’s name. Ry says they are all usually pretty busy at night with locals but also the occasional tourists. The way he says it is as if I should be warned or turned off even. In truth, I’m a bit intrigued to see the nightlife of this small Louisiana town.
Looking at the city behind us, we drive away and head back to the estate. For the first time, I think back to Ry’s comment about getting back home, and I think yes, this could quite actually be my home. Although I could do without all the haunting visions that seem to plague me here.
It takes about a twenty-five minute drive from town back to the estate, and the sun is making its way down to the other side of the horizon. Night is close, but neither of us is ready for our time together to come to a close.
Ry and I get out of the car. My promise of showing him the cracked oak tree I refuse to break. Our way of continuing to grace one another with curious looks that speak more words than our actual words do tonight.
As we walk, another buzz of energy floats among us. I swear he must feel it, too. He keeps stealing glances at me in my white mid-length sundress. I can feel his eyes on my face, then my neck. I feel them move lower to my chest, and I blush even though I am not looking at him.
His eyes make their mark known across my skin. Fire heats every spot they land on. I finally look at him, and my skin scorches to a crisp. And when I think he will look the other way, his presencedarkens.
“As you can tell, I like my eyes on you, too.” He smirks down at me.
My body instantly heats with excitement at those words. Not sure I heard him correctly, I pick up my pace and walk ahead. He quickens as well. A cat-and-mouse game with his eyes, hunting me down with their ferocity.
When we finally make it to the oak, I look up at him. Ry’s eyes burn, but not in the way I am hoping. Anger floods out. His mood has changed again. Suddenly, he is quite different from the walk here.
“Is everything good?” I ask him, my eyebrows drawn in.
“Yes, it’s just as I thought, is all,” he growls, looking to the split oak tree. “I’ll get these branches taken care of tomorrow.”
He seems so disgruntled about the broken limbs that a short laugh leaves my mouth. The man who wears a thousand faces in a day. One minute he acts as if he has a vendetta against the world, and the next? The next minute he acts as if he wants to eat me alive.
My last comment seeming to have broken him from a spell. The surrounding atmosphere relaxes, and he closes the space between us.
“Please be careful around here. These trees are more dangerous than they look,” he says, serious as hell, and I can’t help but giggle again at that comment. “And stop with the giggles, please. They’re distracting. Everything about you is distracting.” His eyes burn again, but it is with something else. Desire? I push his last comment aside.
“How can trees be dangerous? I’ve never been hurt by a tree, Ry.” He clenches his jaw like he wants to say something, but looks past me. It is then that I feel the pull of the hickory.
Maybe together, with him, the sadness within that tree wouldn’t have such a grasp on me. I grab Ry’s hand, and his eyes widen in surprise. Spinning on my heels, I pull him in my direction, making our way toward the tree that gave me so many emotions this morning.
“I want to show you something,” I whisper behind me. It comes out breathy and full of the same things I saw in his eyes just a minute ago.
It takes five minutes to make our way to the tree, and in the meantime, the moon makes its way up to the center of the sky. I want to see if I feel the same things I did earlier, with Ry giving me added security.
I stop in front of the tree, but those feelings of sadness and heartache are gone. I take a step to get closer. The soft night breeze blows my dark copper curls against my face. I go to move them away from my eyes, but a hand is already there doing it for me.
I slowly look up to meet his candy-hued eyes, and I notice they are darker now. They are a color of the deepest sea green. A darker jade than my name can claim.
At that thought, I step closer to him so that each breath lingers against his chest. His hands wrap around my waist, securing me to him. Want grows deep, building to a crescendo I hope to make it to.
We stand there, caught in the invisible dance before something happens. How did we get here? When did we make the switch from new acquaintances to this—whateverthisis? It doesn’t feel as if we were just meeting for the first time. It feels fated.
The breeze comes again, and certain parts of my body respond to the unusual blast of cool air. He must feel it as I notice a pulse from below. We stand like that, both wanting but not moving.
I swear the earth rumbles below us as if the roots of the tree are stirring to life upon the notion of our proximity. I move up on my toes as he moves down to meet my face. His eyes dilate, moving his lips down lower to make this real.
And then it is all feathers and wings between us, followed by an obnoxious caw. Shocked by the commotion, we jump apart. The bird flies by again and toward the oak.
We both look at each other. He looks angry and agitated. I feel wound up, still hoping for a release I didn’t get. Twisting my hands, I let out a breath. I can’t believe what we were about to do, and under the hickory it felt so natural, welcoming even. A story that was destined, but ripped apart before it could be completed.
Somehow, we ease back into the reality of the situation. He turns and starts walking back toward the house.
“We should go,” he says gruffly, his feet already moving toward the house. Annoyed at his change in attitude, I start after him.
“Are you serious?” I question. How is he going to act like what just happened didn’t?
“Yep. No good can come out here. Not when they are watching.” He says still charging ahead toward the house. I huff a noise of disbelief.Whois watching?
