The only thing she couldn’t bear was never having him at all.
She had five days left with Cain, and regardless of when and if she ever saw him again, she wanted all of him now. She wanted to know, even for a few short days, what it felt like to love and be loved by him. If she had to, she’d live on that bliss, that certain heaven, those passionate memories, for the rest of her life.
And, yes, she’d make a good life for herself in Apple Valley with a good man. She’d have a home and children—a decent, respectable, stable life that she would guard and treasure. But, like Cain’s lust for wandering, Ginger lusted for Cain, and she wanted the memory of fleeting hours spent in his arms, of his body moving against hers, of her heart in his hands, of her soul tangled up inexorably with his before he left her indefinitely again.
***
“Servus, Klaus,” she said, swinging by the barn on a search for Cain after church and finding his father mucking out one of the many stables.
She’d put her increasingly impure thoughts out of her mind for an hour of services, but all her lusty feelings had returned in a rush when she’d gone home to change into her white lace underwear, tight jeans, and a form-fitting scoop-neck black sweater. Her hair was down, curlier than usual because rain was imminent again, and she’d darkened her eyes and lips with makeup. She didn’t want Cain to hesitate. She wanted this to happen.
“Ginger! Guten Tag.” He leaned on a shovel handle and grinned at her. “I sent him over to the old barn to pile wood.”
Ginger nodded, turning to leave. “Thanks. I’ll go find him there.”
Klaus dropped the shovel and rushed ahead of her, grabbing a yellow raincoat from a peg outside the tack room and holding it out for her. “Rain comin’.”
“Danke, Klaus,” she said, grinning at the old man she’d known her whole life.
His ice-blue eyes, replicas of Cain’s, searched hers before he nodded, swallowing whatever words he was about to say.
She waved good-bye and headed out to find Cain.
The old barn was a structure that had originally housed the McHuid horses a hundred years ago, when Ginger’s great-grandfather had first bought the land of McHuid Farm and settled in Apple Valley. When Ginger’s grandfather had taken over the farm, in the 1950s, he’d built the present manor house and in-law cottage on a bluff about a mile south of the original farmhouse and barn. The small farmhouse had been razed to discourage squatters and unsanctioned teen parties, but the old barn had been kept in working condition for visiting stock. Ginger’s father, however, had renovated the modern barn at the foot of the hill and hadn’t had any use for the old barn in a decade or more. The last time she’d visited the place, a year or two ago, it had been dilapidated, the roof caving in and boards missing from the walls. Klaus was determined to dismantle the barn piece by piece and sell the wood, much of which was still in excellent condition. And Ginger’s father had told him he could keep whatever profits were to be made if he handled the work and sales on his own.
As Ginger hiked through one empty paddock and then another, a light rain started to fall, and she was grateful for Klaus’s foresight, regardless of the fact that the buttoned slicker ruined her sexy outfit. No matter. She was a woman on a mission, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach and the condom in her pocket. If she overthought her plan to seduce Cain, she might lose her nerve, and she couldn’t miss out on this chance. She had to act quickly if she wanted to be with him before he left again.
After fifteen minutes of trudging, she arrived at the ridge that looked down into one of the many McHuid valleys to see the old barn down below. And there, working in the rain, carrying boards to a neat pile a few yards from the barn, was Cain.
Standing unobserved on the hill, she watched him for several long moments, her heart throbbing and bursting with love for him. He was bare chested again, his jeans low on his hips, haphazardly tucked into beat-up, tan work boots. His chest was shiny—either from sweat or the rain, she didn’t know—but she was mesmerized by the toned, sculpted beauty of him.
“Cain!” she called, raising her hand in greeting.
He turned around, and as always, his smile was quick and wide, taking over his face the moment he laid eyes on her. It gave her confidence and hope. It propelled her forward, down the hill, and hopefully into his arms.
“Hi,” she panted, offering him a smile of her own as she drew closer. She took a deep breath to quell the butterflies in her stomach. The old barn looked ethereal with the dark clouds overhead, and she ducked inside, hoping he’d follow.
“What’re you doin’ here, princess?” he asked, leaning down to pick up a water bottle he’d left on one of the abandoned stall doors to take a long sip.
Ginger stared at his lips, watching the way they puckered and drank, the way his tongue slipped between them to lick the excess droplets, the way he backhanded his mouth and grinned at her with curiosity.