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“I need...” I gave Wilson a questioning look and raised an eyebrow before deciding on “an extraction.”
Wilson nodded in agreement at my word choice. Not over the top, but it conveyed the situation adequately.
“A what? I’m dealing with a blocked bridge, a jackknifed tractor-trailer, and a loose ass. I don’t have time for subtle word games.”
“A loose ass?” Was that some kind of cop slang for a hooker I didn’t know?
“Myrtle.” He said the name like she was Satan’s minion. Of course, that cheeky bitch. Er—ass.
I gave my brother a quick rundown of our not-so-perilous situation and the location of the house. He listened with half an ear while directing traffic and a handful of volunteers from the brewery/donkey rescue who were chasing the loose ass.
“Look, I can’t get to you for hours. The tractor-trailer is blocking the bridge, and until it’s cleared, most of the force and I are on the opposite side of the river from you, trying to catch that damn donkey.”
“Well, shit.”
“But I can send Jethro.” He almost laughed as he made the offer. Big jerk.
The sound I made in response was the involuntary noise made before dying of mortification. “Anyone but him.”
“Sorry, sis. He is on your side of the river and has the department ATV with him. He is at the state park assessing fire risk. And we know he’d like nothing better than to come to your rescue. Maybe you should give him a second chance?”
I made the same pathetic whimper, and Wilson shot me a look of concern. But unfortunately for me, one can’t die of future potential embarrassment, so he did not need to worry.
“Fine. Jethro it is.”
My brother hung up without saying goodbye.
Blisters and a sprained ankle might be worth it to avoid Jethro. Dating him had been a huge miscalculation. It hadn’t even been a relationship, more like a few dinners and a forgettable night in his bed with never-ending repercussions.
This town wasn’t big enough to hide from your mistakes.
“My brother is sending a deputy to come to get us.” I attempted a smile and wished I knew how to fix the ATV because Jethro, ugh.
“And the wail of anguish?”
“Forget you heard it.” This time I chuckled because, at my age, uncomfortable interactions with an ex should be nothing but a minor inconvenience. Small towns had a way of magnifying little things.
“No problem. Forgotten.” He sat on a downed log with a marvelous view of the river. “Join me.”
I hesitated, reason telling me not to sit next to Wilson. But it was nothing compared to having him plastered to me on the ATV. Totally innocent. I settled in, and we started picking out landmarks from our vantage point to pass the time. The courthouse. A vineyard on the opposite bank of the river that I liked. The house of his friend who had first brought him to Elmer.
The friend’s house was gorgeous. A new sparkling modern with massive windows that glinted in the sun. It had a view that rivaled what we saw from this hilltop. No wonder the first two houses we looked at hadn’t impressed Wilson. If he wanted something to rival his buddy’s place, I’d have to show him world-class properties.
The log sat mostly in the shade, and our shoulders brushed every time one of us pointed to something in the distance. The heat from his body soaked into my side like warm honey, hot and oozy. And so very sweet.
I should have shifted away, but he drew me like a magnet. A bone-deep attraction that was nearly impossible to fight. There, on that mountaintop, I ignored the reality of life in the town down below. Forgot that I needed this commission and gave my building desire a longer leash. I imagined what might have been possible if he’d been planning on putting down roots in Elmer. These thoughts were nothing but borrowed trouble, as my grandma would have said.
“See the kayaker?” I held up my arm and pointed at the person slowly paddling toward us.
“Hmm, where?” He leaned closer, his chin on my shoulder, using my arm and pointer finger like a rifle sight to pick out the speck in the distance. The red of the paddler’s life jacket was hardly visible on the distant horizon.
“Right there.” I whispered the words as I turned my head. We were nose-to-nose. The air crackled between us, hot and charged with attraction. Reminiscent of ozone in the atmosphere after a lightning strike during a summer storm. Tingles raced over my skin, waking up body parts I’d ignored for too long.
I slicked my tongue over my lips, a nervous reaction and a subtle invitation. He wasn’t looking at the river. Our gazes tangled and held. Time slowed to a crawl. The breeze ruffled my hair, and the buzz of insects filled my ears.
I forgot the distant kayaker and let my outstretched arm lower, my hand settling high on his thigh. His leg muscles jumped at the touch, bunching into granite. I dug my fingers into the tightened flesh. He was thick and hard, whereas I was soft and pliable, open to suggestion. We balanced on a knife’s edge between sanity and need. He’d eroded my good sense just as the river below cut into the limestone.
He was a paycheck, a client.
