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The Saguarosin the surrounding preserve start to look like shadowy figures against the purple and pink sky, but not in an ominous way; more like standing guard as I press a bare foot to Adrian’s chest in the cab of his truck.
I’m still on a high from seeing the wild horses on the riverbank. Being in the sun all day has made me lazy, and I didn’t bother putting my swim top back on, letting my bare breasts lay heavy against my chest. Stretching my body along the length of the bench seat, all I have on are my shorts. There’s no one around except the coyotes and jackrabbits, and of course the Saguaros standing ever vigilant in the distance.
Adrian covers my bare foot with the palm of his hand, rubbing the top with his thumb. The radio is on, filling the cab with music, and all I can do is smile at him while plucking another grape from the vine and popping it in my mouth.
“Thank you again for today,” I say, mouth full of grapes and pushing my toes further into his bare chest.
His elbow hangs out the window, and I can feel a soft breeze filter in.
“Which part?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“All of it,” I answer excitedly. “I can’t tell you the last time I felt this relaxed.” Looking out the front windshield at the darkening sky, everything feels so much more like a dream. “It’s like there’s no tomorrow, only right now.” I turn back to see him watching me.
Propping my head up with my hand, I sink back against the door, letting my other leg rest on his lap.
“I like being the one to make you happy, Lake.” His mouth tilts into a genuine smile.
“Do you come out here often?” This is part of the McDowell Mountains I’d never been to before. It’s past the trailhead for the Sonoran Preserve, and has a beautiful view of the city below. We’d parted ways with Finlay and Emma in the parking lot. Layla was already fast asleep in Emma’s arms, her pudgy cheeks reddened from the excitement and the sun. Adrian drove past the exit to my house and brought me up here so we could enjoy the rest of the food he’d packed that I didn’t get a chance to eat while we were on the river.
When he shut off the engine, I slide onto his lap, letting my hair shield our faces while I kissed him. My swimsuit had already dried by the time we got here. I didn’t want to put it back on after he’d taken it off, feeling uninhibited in this part of the desert.
“My dad took me up here four wheeling a bunch of times,” Adrian sighs, looking out at the preserve.
“My dad took me to the Frank Lloyd Wright house a bunch of times,” I say, digging my foot into his ribs to try and make him laugh.
“It’s a very nice house,” he says, grabbing my foot and running a finger under the bottom, causing me to jerk my foot away from him, laughing.
“My dad was an engineer. He liked to know how things worked.” I settle back down, letting my foot rest in his lap again.
Adrian nods, making a sound of agreement deep in his throat.
“And you?” he asks.
I think on that for a minute, because I don’t really know what I am.
“I like it when things make sense.” I nod. “Numbers never lie.”
“And people do,” he says definitively while seeming to look right into me at the catalog of lies I’ve tallied since we met.
“Yes.”
“Even me.” There’s a slight tick in his jaw when he says it.
“Yes.”
“That’s fair.” He rubs his chin and then looks at me. “Everyone lies, Lake. Sometimes we lie to ourselves.”
Swallowing hard I look away, letting my hair fall into my face because he’s right. I have lied. I’m lying right now in the cab of this truck when I look at him and try to tell myself that this is just a summer fling.
When I look back at him he’s staring at me intently, and not at my bare breasts but at my face, right into my eyes. Sitting up, I pull my legs from him and straddle his lap, holding his face between my hands.
“You’re starting to grow on me, Corvin,” I say, smiling against his lips.
His palms slide up my back and fist my hair. A low groan vibrates in his chest, and I can feel my nipples pebble against him. When I open my eyes, I expect him to be staring back at me, but his eyes are closed as he breathes me in.
“Nu te îndragosti de mine,” he whispers in Romanian.
