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“Nah, not exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “I found women there, sure. But none of ‘em were worth holdin’ onto. Good stories? Not really. But as for excitin’ times? Oh yeah, plenty of those,” he remarked with a wry smile. “Plenty of excitement. Like I never dreamed of, or had nightmares of before.”

Resting her chin on her knee, she stared at him.

“Like what?” She hadn’t done much of anythin’, not really, since he left. It was just the plain Jane routine that she liked, but it didn’t lend much to any decent stories.

Damien looked aside at her, seeming to ponder what he should say. If anything.

“Lots of violence in the big city. Lots of fightin’. As many guns as out here, but people are packed tighter, and more willin’ to use ‘em,” he said, less a story and more of an explanation. “And if you go there without any cash on you, you’re in for a rough time fightin’ your way up. Ain’t the stuff of good stories, like I said.”

A chill of fright went through her, but she’d heard as much. It was always on the news, this or that happening. People fighting, getting into trouble and usin’ drugs to numb themselves to the pain of it all. She felt bad that he’d suffered through that by himself, but that was his own choice.

“You plannin’ on goin’ back then?”

He ran a hand back through his glossy black hair, combing it with his fingers as he puffed up his chest with a deep inhale.

“I sure as hell weren’t plannin’ on stayin’ out here with no gal, and all on my lonesome. That ain’t no fuckin’ life for a man, with or without a farm,” he said, letting his breath out slowly. “Loneliness is enough to make a man lose all control. Become a beast.”

She frowned. Even though she knew he didn’t want to stay, it still hurt her to hear it. He was all she had left of family, of someone who really knew her inside and out.

“That’s a shame,” she said with a little sigh of frustration, not like she expected anythin’ different.

They rested a while, basking in the sun. Until, at last, Damien rose up, his skin toasted. Now dry, he pulled on his clothes and tugged his jeans back into place.

“I’ll take ya on to the farm now. Unless there’s somewhere else you want me to take you,” he said, looking to her curiously. “I plan to stay out at pa’s farm a few days more, at least. No rush to get back.”

She didn’t want to leave him. Not so soon, not when they were gettin’ on so much better than they ever had before.

And maybe it was part selfish. Maybe it was spurred on by the fact that she liked seein’ him, that she was really growin’ fond of their talks and of the way he treated her.

“I suppose I don’t gotta rush back right away. The owners said to take as much time as I needed. They weren’t close to Mr. Drake but they knew what he meant to me.”

His strong-jawed face formed a bright smile, and he reached out, taking her hand and tugged her to her feet.

“Sounds good. Hard worker like you are, I bet you need a break anyhow,” he said, leadin’ her onto his motorcycle once more for the ride back.

But all the way back, the roar of the bike vibrating through her couldn’t quiet the voice in her head that said she should go back to work. That the way she was starting to feel wasn’t right.

So why did it feel like truly comin’ home?

* * *

Britney was struggling to get down a box of veggies from one of the upper shelves in the pantry for supper, but seein’ as the Drake family were all tall as giants, and she was short as a sprout, it was a real nuisance. She grunted and stretched up on her tippy toes, and then slipped…

The heavy box shifted and slid, toppling down towards her.

Comin’ in from outside, Damien arrived just in time to see and rush to help. The towering man dropped the vegetables he carried and stopped the box just before it fell entirely atop her.

“Shit, Brit!” he said in shock, placing the box back where it came from. “You okay?”

She barely had time to realize what was happening before he stopped it, and she stared at him in stunned silence. It was almost like the wind was knocked from her lungs, but after a couple seconds she shook her head free of the mental fog.

“Just lost my footing,” she explained, embarrassed.

Damien bent down and instead of helpin’ her up, just outright picked her up and put her back down on the chair at the table.

“Fuck,” he said, cussin’ like his pa never would, “guess that pantry’s kind of a nuisance for a lady as delicate as you.” He said it partially teasing, but the wry grin on his face showed he meant it playfully.

“Not my fault you’re all giants,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. She brushed some stray hair from her face, still trying to catch her thoughts. “I don’t know what happened. Was just reachin’ up to grab it and somehow I was fallin’ but I must’ve nudged it over the edge at the same time.”

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