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She said she's tired of living a life of disappointment. She's had the bittersweet end of everything, but 21 years of that is too many.
"We can't take this any further in the parking lot," I tell her between kisses, my mouth on her ear. Desire on my lips. She's tearing at my shirt and I know she feels my cock. I want to taste her pussy, touch it, sink myself inside of it. She nods understanding.
"Then take me anywhere," she says, "because Holt Stone, I'll go anywhere you want to go."
Paisley
"Whose land is this?" I ask him when he pulls the pickup to a spot I don't recognize, an old dusty road in the Ranch Lands.
"It's my land," he tells me. "It was my pa's and my granddad's before that. It's been in my family for a long time."
"Nobody's ever done anything with it?" I ask.
He shrugs as he kills the engine. "No," he says, "it’s just empty farmland."
"You want to do something with it?" I ask him.
"I don't have any big dreams like that," he tells me. "I don't want to start a ranch or anything."
"No?" I ask.
"I like working at the Cherry Blossom Ranch. I don't have lofty ideas of running some massive place. I like the managerial position that I've got now. I can imagine moving up in the company, but I don't want to run a big ranch. And I didn't go to business school. Hell, I went to school planning on running a baseball team, not a ranch." Holt laughs, but I see the pain in his eyes. Still.
He shrugs. "My mom has a nice little house, but..." He shrugs again. "Look, it's a nice three-bedroom rambler. It's a nice, modest home. It's where I grew up and I’m staying there now, but I can't imagine living there forever. Eventually, I might build a house out here."
He shrugs again, and I can imagine that is quite enough heavy conversation for one night.
"Hey," I say, taking his hand. "We don't need to go over all that tonight.”
"Okay," he says. "We can go back to that toe-curling fantasy?"
I nod. "Yeah, please."
"I mean, if you insist," he says.
"But," I tell him, running my hand through his hair like I've been aching to do for hours. "I do want to hear about that house you're going to build one day out on this land. Maybe you can build yourself a little field of dreams."
He smiles. "You're too young to know that movie."
"Hey," I say, frowning. "I know lots of things. I'm smarter than I look."
"You look pretty damn smart," he tells me.
I smile. "Yeah? Tell me more."
"You look pretty damn sexy, too. This dress, it's fucking working."
"Yeah? You like me in peach?"
"I'd like you out of peach, too," he says with a grin.
"How's this going to work in this truck?" I ask. "You know, I think I might need a little bit more room to move, considering this is my first time."
"Your first time, first time?"
I nod. "Yeah. I am completely untapped."
"Like completely, completely?"
"How explicit do I need to be?" I tease.
"You're an unpopped cherry in Cherry Falls?"
I nod. "Yeah, the one and only unicorn."
"Fuck," he says. "Paisley, are you sure you want this?"
I nod. "I do." I press my palms together. "I can beg again."
"Don't beg," he says. "I mean, it's fucking hot when you do that, but is it me or does this feel really fucking special, whatever's happening here?"
I smile, my heart tight in my chest in a way that makes the butterflies flip-flop and my knees go to jelly and my whole body light on fire. A million different metaphors that are all jumbled together in the most perfect kind of way happen at once.
"Yeah, something's happening here, Holt Stone."
I smile, my lips pressed together. My eyes close.
"What are you doing?" he asks, cupping my cheeks and kissing me softly.
I admit the truth. "I'm making a wish."
"What's your wish, Paisley?" he asks, his voice soft, precious, sweet. Not at all condescending, like he understands.
"I'm just feeling like all of this might disappear in a moment, like it's too good to be true. And I'm trying to memorize it, because I'm scared that I'm going to wake up tomorrow and none of this will have happened."
"This is real," he tells me. "I promise. I'm too old for this to have been fake. I don't believe in make-believe anymore."
"That's sad. See, I still believe in make-believe, because I have four younger siblings who watch the Disney Channel, so I'm very well-versed in fairy tales."
"See? You're lucky," he tells me. "You still have that childlike magic happening on a day-to-day basis."
"That's not luck," I tell him. "That's tragedy. I should not be having all of that magic in my day-to-day life because along with that magic comes making sure there is lunch money and filling out field trip forms and parent teacher conferences and..."
