"June!" I was so lost in the memory, that when I heard Cade's voice, calling me from a distance, it was a minute before I realized it was him. But there he was, riding from the ridge toward me on his horse. The sky behind him was greyer now, signaling the weather changing, a storm threatening to roll in. The air had that distinct smell, the one that said that the sky was going to open up any minute now.
As he rode toward me, for a moment I saw him as the adolescent boy I'd just been thinking about, the Cade I remembered from high school. I felt the same nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach that I used to feel when I saw him, that mix of anticipation and surge of hormones, lust and love all jumbled up together.
Cade rode up on the horse, pulling up on the reins as he got closer to me. His horse neighed, sidling up beside Missy, and I felt her relax under me, shifting her weight to accommodate for mine.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
And just like that, old Cade was gone, replaced by new Cade.
"Riding. What are you doing out here?" I asked. "Are you following me again?"
"I was riding. I had no idea you were up here," Cade said, his brow wrinkled. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in following you. You can get your little cop friend to protect you, if you're that worried, little girl."
"Little girl? That's what you're calling me now? I'm a fucking physician. The patronizing attitude is getting old."
"A doctor and a cop," he said. "It's perfect. I'm sure you'll look great together in your house with the white picket fence and two kids."
"Go to hell, Cade," I said. The sky was ominously dark, and I saw a flash of heat lightning on the horizon. It was about to storm, and the mare was skittish underneath me, shimmying around.
Screw him, and his stupid I'm-so-much-more-badass-than-you biker attitude.
Screw him and his comments about Jed.
I pulled at the reins, nudging the mare's flank with my foot, and she took off at a trot. There was a storm rolling in, and Cade could do whatever the hell he wanted to do. I remembered an overhang near here where we used to go as kids, and I was taking cover before it spooked the hell out of the horses.
Thunder cracked loudly, and I remembered those days when I was a kid and a storm would roll in, the air charged with static electricity and smelling of rain even before it actually began to downpour. I would sit outside on the front porch, watching as the rain poured down heavy around me, and when the thunder crashed, I'd climb up into my mother's lap while she sung to me, assuring me everything would be okay. It was one of the things I still did when I was upset, hummed the songs she used to sing, her voice so soft I could barely hear her around the constant white noise of the rain coming down around us. Sometimes, late at night before I fell asleep, I still pictured her, sitting at the foot of my bed reading to me at the same way she would when I was a kid.
Behind me, I heard Cade.
"Whoa," he said, and his horse slowed to a stop beside me.
The rain was already beginning to pelt my skin, cool against my arms. I dismounted, shaking off Cade's outstretched hand when he offered it.
He smirked. "Fine," he said. "Be angry at me. There's not that much space under that overhang, darlin'."
I stumbled slightly as I walked behind him, the mare's reins in my hand, toward an overhang near the ridge, where the rock jutted out a few feet over a slick quartzite surface. The rain was coming down harder now, dripping down the my head and running down the back of my thin tee-shirt. I wiped damp hair off my forehead.
"Here," Cade said, taking my hand in his when I slipped again. I wanted to shake it off, be angry at him, but I couldn't, not when I felt the heat from his hand on mine, the jolt of electricity between us when he touched me.
Damn him.
I ducked underneath the overhang, wiping my wet hair from my forehead. Cade paused to buckle hobbles on the horses, and left them huddled together as they waited out the sudden rain. And then he was there, right in front of me, no more than a few inches away. The space between us felt charged with nearly as much electricity as the air around us.
I looked away from him, still angry, but afraid of my desire for him.
"You remember being out here?" he asked. How could I forget? This wasn't the first time I'd been with him under the overhang, escaping a sudden storm or sneaking sips of beer we'd stolen from his father's stash. But that's not what he was talking about. He was talking about the times we'd been out here before, just like the time in the aspen grove. The thought of the things we'd done out here sent a shiver up my spine.