“Sure, if that’s what you want to do or talk about. I’m going to take you out.”
“Out? Out where?”
“To nice restaurants, to movies, camping, for ice cream—on dates.”
“On dates?”
“We could go to Genie’s, go dancing.”
“You dance?”
“Yes, I dance, when it’s good music and I’m in the mood.”
“You would dance with me?”
“Hell yes. I’d dance with you right now if you’d let me and I wasn’t freezing my balls off.”
I laughed again, shaking my head because this entire conversation had taken a detour to Unexpectedville. I couldn’t comprehend the idea that Duane Winston thought we were suited for each other.
In what universe would he ever think such things?
And why did these things he said not sound crazy? And why did these things he said make my heart twirl with excitement?
“I don’t…I can’t….” I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know what to think.
The evening had been too eventful and I hadn’t a spare moment to digest what had occurred. Obviously I needed time and I needed distance. I wasn’t staying in Green Valley, not more than a few years at most. Being suited with Duane Winston had the potential of being a huge confounding complication. My eyes were on the prize, namely leaving town with no debt, no regrets, or reasons to stay.
I cleared my throat and whispered, “I think it’s been fifteen minutes.”
When I pulled away he let me go. Cold water hit my lower back and thighs, replacing the warmth and protection of Duane’s body. Hugging myself I turned toward the forest and forced my stiff legs to move. This did not go well. I stumbled, slipped on a rock, and crashed sideways into the water.
The wind was knocked out of me as I hit the lake, forced from my lungs by the shock of cold. Immediately my legs straightened, pushing my head up and out. Just as I was gathering a greedy gulp of air, I felt Duane’s hands reach around my side and lift me off my feet and out of the water, cradling my front to him and carrying me with an arm around my torso and under my legs.
When I found my voice I said through chattering teeth, “Put me down.”
He didn’t respond, just continued trudging to the embankment.
“Duane Winston, put me down.” I felt breathless, confused, dizzy. Pressed together like we were, and without the chilly water keeping me sober, my body was warming to his. Our skin was slippery, my breasts against his chiseled chest, his strong arms around me. I was too exhausted to be aroused, but it felt improper.
Improper? Really? Now you’re feeling improper? I’d traded lunacy for sense.
“I’ll put you down, but I don’t want you running off throwing my pants in a tree.”
“You deserved that.” I knew to which adolescent encounter he referred and I couldn’t help a very little smile at the memory.
“Yes, I did.” He nodded then hoisted me a few inches in the air like I was a sack of potatoes, readjusting his grip when I came down.
We were out of the water now, some feet into the forest, and I was just about to complain again when he set me down gently, but wrapped a big paw around my upper arm.
“My clothes are back there.” I tugged halfheartedly away, my body too cold and tired to put up much of a fight. Goosebumps had broken out everywhere and I was shaking violently.
Duane bent to retrieve something. In one smooth motion he released my arm, shook out what I realized was a large blanket, and tossed it over his shoulders. He then yanked me forward and wrapped me in the soft fabric and his embrace.
“You need to dry off, warm up first,” he said, rubbing my bare back. It was then that I realized how cold he was, that he too was shaking.
Without consideration or caution, I snuggled closer, instinctively wanting to give and share warmth. I hugged him, rubbed the broad muscles of his back, and buried my face in his neck. Yes, we were naked. But first and foremost we were near-frozen, heat-seeking bodies.
Practicality won out over the lunacy of prudishness.
The blanket must’ve been huge because it covered us from his neck and the tips of my ears, and pooled around our feet, giving the impression of a cocoon. I was grateful he’d planned ahead. Whereas I’d just run off into the woods, relying on my anger and inexplicable jealousy to keep me warm.
The memory of and the reason for my earlier ire reared its ugly head: a flash of an image, Duane’s expert kisses shared with his ex. He was still clutching the blanket around us, holding me close, rubbing feeling into my arms and back. His hands were big and divine, strong and skillful. His heart beat against my cheek. His smooth skin, his granite stomach and shoulders under my fingertips made me feel greedy and muddled.