A Life With No Regrets (Fairhope #5) Page 10

  “Everyone except me, as of a few weeks ago,” he says. “It’s redneck central out there, believe me. Momma and Daddy live in a double-wide trailer. My sister Carley and her husband Jack live next door with their little girl, Mazie. Then my sister Claire and her husband live in a smaller single-wide with their two kids, Wyatt and Aubrey. My sister Caroline lives a little further back in the woods in a log cabin her husband Adam built himself. She stays home with their three little ones, Nathan, Maddie, and Caleb.”

  My eyes grow wide as he rattles off all the names. I can hardly keep them straight, but he keeps going.

  “My oldest sister, Cora Mae, is married to Isaac and they live in a big trailer with their four children, Ainsley, Maddox, Peter, and Pressley. Chloe and her husband Matt live in the next trailer over with their one-year-old Lilly. And then of course there’s my youngest sister Cammie and her husband West and their newborn baby, Emma. And that doesn’t even touch on the aunts and cousins living out there.”

  I sit back, completely overwhelmed and amazed at everything he’s just told me. I can’t even remember well enough to count how many children are now living on his parents’ property, much less all their names.

  There’s one thing that did occur to me as he was rattling them all off, though.

  “Wait a second,” I say, squinting and looking up, trying to remember all the names. “So you and your sisters are Caroline, Carley, Claire, Colton, Cammie, Chloe, and…”

  I can’t quite think of the other name, but he jumps in to help.

  “Cora Mae,” he says.

  “Cora Mae,” I shout. “All C’s?”

  He laughs. “My mom is Carol, and she claims she couldn’t help herself. Named the whole lot of us with the first letter C in her pregnancy-minded haze.”

  I can’t stop laughing. Not really at the fact that all their names start with C, but just more at the way Colton has no problem making fun of himself or his family. He’s so carefree and easy, and I can’t remember a time when I felt the same.

  “I’m sorry to laugh. They sound lovely,” I say. “How come they never come up to the bar so we can meet them?”

  “Caroline’s actually been up there a few times to say hello, but mostly everyone has their hands full with the kids these days,” he says. “It’s hard to get out for a night on the town when you’ve got three little ones to take care of.”

  “I’m sure,” I say, slightly sobering at the thought. God, I could have a seven-year-old right now, if it hadn’t been for…

  But no, I refuse to let those kinds of thoughts ruin my night.

  “Whoa, where did you go just now?” he asks, forcing me from my own dark past.

  “Nowhere,” I say. “I was just thinking what it must have been like for you, being the only boy with all those girls running around.”

  “I was my mother’s pride and joy,” he says. “She calls me her sunshine.”

  “I can see that,” I say. He does have a certain sunshine quality that makes everything feel bright when he’s around.

  “Speaking of sunshine, we seem to have lost ours,” he says.

  I look up and see that the clouds have completely taken over the sky. As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance.

  “Are we okay out here?” I ask.

  A raindrop falls onto my face, followed by another. I laugh and lift my hands into the air.

  We both reel in our lines and Colton starts the motor. I wrap my arms around my body and shiver as the boat begins to soar over the water.

  “Where are we gonna go? It’ll take us forever to get back to the dock,” I say. “We’re going to get drenched.”

  “I know a place,” he says. “I’m hoping we can get there before the rain gets too bad.”

  Ten seconds later, the bottom falls out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Going all the way back to Knox’s will take more than half an hour in this rain, but I know another place we can go. I haven’t been back there in a long time, and there are nervous knots in my stomach just thinking about it, but it will be a safe, dry place to hole up while the rain pours down.

  I gun the motor and squint through the torrential downpour. In front of me, Jo has lifted her jacket over her head and is leaning over, trying not to get soaked, but it’s impossible.

  I probably should have checked the forecast before bringing her out on the lake, but it was sunny out, and I had no clue it was going to rain. Some romantic I turned out to be.

  But hey, I promised the girl adventure, so if nothing else, she’s at least going to get that.

  I spot the rickety dock on the banks and memories of my past come flooding back to me. I can almost see my grandfather standing out there, a cup of coffee in one hand with the other raised in welcome.

  Gosh, it’s been a long time. Three years? Three years he’s been gone, and I miss him just as much as the day he died.

  I pull alongside the dock and cut the motor, and then throw a rope up onto the wooden surface. It takes me a second to tie both sides of the boat up to the dock, but once we’re secure, I carefully step out and offer my hand to Jo.

  She’s laughing and completely soaked from head to toe. Her hand is ice-cold and she’s shivering.

  “What about our stuff?” she asks.

  “I’ll just grab the bag. We can leave the rest,” I say. I kneel on the dock and grab my duffel bag, which is also now soaked through. I hadn’t even thought to bring a change of clothes or an umbrella.

  “What is this place?” she shouts over the sound of thunder and rain.

  I lead her up the small hill toward the ramshackle cabin where I spent so many days of my childhood.

  The back porch that overlooks the lake is crumbling, the stairs warped and creaky, but they manage to hold our weight as we run under the tin roof overhang.

  Once out of the rain, we both stop and shake off like two stray dogs, laughing and trembling in the cold. Jo stares out at the downpour while I search for the spare key hidden in a pile of wood at the other end of the porch.

  “Aha, got it,” I say, triumphantly holding up a key with a tattered red ribbon attached.

  I unlock the door and push it open, holding my arm out for her to go inside. “Ladies first.”

  “Why, thank you,” she says. She walks inside and looks around, finally flipping a light switch up and down.

  “No electricity,” I say. “Hasn’t been for years.”

  “Where are we?”

  I walk inside and set the duffel bag on the floor. The place looks almost just like he left it. A dusty plaid couch in the center of the room. A faded rug covering part of the scratched hardwood floor. I inhale, wanting to catch his scent, but he’s long gone from this place.

  “This was my grandfather’s cabin,” I say.

  “Oh,” she says. “He didn’t live on the Tucker family land?”

  “This was my mom’s dad,” I say. “Not a Tucker. He was a Wilson.”

  I pull open the drawer of a side table and smile. Bingo. There’s a flashlight just where he left it, as if no time has passed at all. I grab it and pray the batteries still work after all this time.

  A beam of light cuts through the dusty darkness, and my heart sinks.

  The whole place is covered in dust and cobwebs, everything old and worn with time. I’ve let this place go to hell. Water drips somewhere inside the house, which means the roof is leaking. I guess it’s no surprise, what with no one looking out for the place, but I had hoped to find it in better shape. I wanted it to be exactly the way it always was.

  Jo walks in and strips off her wool hat and jacket, revealing nothing more than a black tank top underneath.

  “I don’t suppose your grandfather has any blankets?” she asks, running her hands up and down her arms.

  “Had,” I say. “He passed away a few years back. But yes, I imagine I can find us something.”

  “Thank you,” she says as I make my way to the small back bedroom. “And I’m sorry to hear about y
our grandfather.”

  I swallow a thick lump in my throat and disappear into the room. I ignore the pipe still sitting on the bedside table and open the closet, searching the top shelf for blankets. There’s a whole stack of them, and I take them all and present them to Jo.

  “Thanks,” she says. “Now turn around, I’m going to peel these wet jeans off.”

  The cold shivering feeling is replaced by a hot need, like lightning flashing through me. Maybe not checking the weather will turn out to be the best thing I ever did.

  I turn around and stare at the wall, but I listen as she unzips her jeans and pulls her legs free. I’ve seen her in a bathing suit before out at Knox’s, but there’s something so much more intimate about this moment. I want so badly to turn around and take her in my arms.

  “Okay,” she says.

  I spin and find her wrapped in a soft blue blanket. She sits down on the couch and pulls it tightly around her body. I reach for a second blanket and lay it over her legs and feet.

  “Aren’t you cold?” she asks.

  I raise an eyebrow, my heart pumping faster. “Trying to get me naked?”

  She tries to hold back a smile, but fails. “I just don’t want you coming down with pneumonia and dying on me,” she says. “How would I find my way home?”

  “Haha,” I say. “I’m going to be just fine, so don’t you worry. I’m actually going to check that wood outside and see if it’s dry enough to start a fire.”

  “Ooh, yes please,” she says. “It doesn’t look like this rain is going to let up any time soon, so we could be stuck here for a while.”

  “Worse things have happened,” I say, just thinking about the possibilities. Jo and I stranded here in the cabin for hours, even all night?

  I clear my throat and head to the front porch, trying to make sure I don’t let my imagination and my libido get too far ahead of reality. There’s no doubt how much I want her, but I haven’t figured her out yet. I’ve never had to work so hard to bring a woman out of her shell. The kiss we shared last night was amazing, but I’m still wondering how she feels about me. She wasn’t exactly jumping into my truck to spend the day with me. I had to almost trick her into it, so where does that leave us?

  The wood on the porch is mostly dry, so I gather a few logs from the middle of the stack and bring them into the cabin. The red brick fireplace takes up nearly half the wall on that side of the living room. My grandfather never owned a TV, but he would spend hours just staring into the fire, as if it were telling a story of its own.

  I dig through drawers until I find a set of matches. I take an old newspaper from a stack near the fireplace and crumple it up, strategically placing pages around the stack of wood I’ve arranged inside the fireplace. There’s also a little box full of fat-lighter, so I break off a few small pieces and place it between the logs.

  Here goes nothing.

  I strike a match and light four pieces of newspaper, watching as the fire spreads. The fat-lighter catches and, after a few seconds, so does the first log.

  I smile and slap my hands together. “Now that’s how it’s done right there,” I say.

  Jo laughs and covers her mouth. “You are so full of yourself.”

  “I’m confident,” I say, holding up a finger. “There’s a difference.”

  “Well, either way, I’m glad you got a fire going,” she says. She gets off the couch and moves to sit down in front of the fire. The blanket I’d placed over her legs falls to the floor, revealing the smooth white of her skin.

  My mouth goes dry, and my heart races.

  “I’m going to go see if I can find some dry clothes,” I say.

  I disappear into the bedroom again and lean against the wall. I hardly recognize this breathless, nervous me. I’m usually the one making all the right moves and sweeping girls off their feet, but Jo has me all mixed up. I don’t know where to start or how to tell her what I’m feeling.

  I just want her.

  And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m afraid of being rejected. I’m scared to take that next step.

  She’s guarded and there’s something in her eyes that’s almost haunted, like she’s been through something she can’t let go of. I don’t understand why I recognize that about her, but I see it as clear as day, and I know it means I have to be careful with her.

  I take a deep breath and shake my head. Or maybe I’m overthinking this whole thing.

  I search through my grandfather’s closet and drawers, but most of his clothes were taken out of the house after he passed. I do manage to find a pair of gray sweatpants, but nothing else that’s usable.

  I peel off my wet clothes and slip into the sweatpants, feeling a little exposed going commando, but if I want to warm up, I have no choice.

  I gather my clothes off the floor and bring them out into the living room where Jo is rubbing her hands together in front of the flames.

  Her eyes flash as she looks at me, and for a moment, I think I recognize desire, and it drives me over the edge. I have to grab a blanket and wrap it around myself quickly so she doesn’t see what she’s doing to me with those looks of hers.

  “If we lay our clothes out on the bricks, they should dry pretty quick,” I say.

  She nods and spreads her jeans, jacket, and hat out across the bricks. Then she crawls over to where I’m standing and grabs mine to do the same. The blanket she’s wearing slips, revealing the side of her thigh, and my lips part. I can hardly breathe.

  I don’t care about rejection. All I care about is Jo and how much I want to know every part of her. I want to explore every inch of her body and make her mine.

  I’ve never felt more wide awake in my life. This is something more. Greater than anything I’ve felt before, and as much as that terrifies me, I also know that I can’t deny what my heart is telling me.

  I kneel beside her and she looks over, startled. I take her bare shoulders in my hands and pull her up to her knees across from me. Her chest rises and falls with mine, both of us breathing shallow and fast.

  “Colton—”

  But I can’t resist what I’m feeling any longer. I pull her to me, my mouth descending on hers. I wrap my arms around her and let my hand travel up the length of her back.

  Her blanket drops to the floor, and I can feel her shiver against me. This time I don’t think it’s from the cold. The fire blazes next to us, filling the room with smoky heat. Our bodies come together, our hands exploring as we get our first real chance to let go of inhibitions and see where this might lead.

  I reach for her braid, wanting to bury my fingers in her hair. The ends are still soaking wet, and I pull the elastic tie from them, carefully unbraiding her hair as I softly kiss her lips and cheeks and jaw. She’s breathing fast, her heartbeat pounding against my chest.

  “Colton, wait,” she says, pulling away and putting her hand on mine.

  She sits back and takes a deep breath. She turns her face toward the fire, and in profile, she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s vulnerable and trembling, and I struggle to find the words that will put her at ease.

  “I know this is moving fast,” I say. “I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but I am sure that I have never wanted to know someone more than I want to know you.”

  My voice shakes a little, and I clear my throat. I’m so nervous I can hardly hear myself over the throbbing pulse that echoes in my eardrums.

  “And it’s more than that,” I say, running a nervous hand through my hair. I want to touch her again so badly it hurts. “Please tell me I’m not crazy here. That you feel it, too.”

  She closes her eyes and pulls the blanket back over her legs. When she looks at me, her eyelids slowly lifting to reveal beautiful dark brown eyes shimmering with tears, my breath hitches.

  “I do,” she says. “And you have no idea how hard that is for me to admit.”

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I want to reach for h
er, but I am no longer smooth and confident Colton. I’ve become someone else in the intimacy of this moment. Someone I don’t recognize.

  “I’m not used to this,” she says. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve…”

  Her voice trails off and she looks back toward the fire, avoiding my eyes.

  “You can talk to me,” I say, touching her arm.

  “Can I?” she asks. Pain is written across her features, as if this whole scenario is agony for her.

  “Of course,” I say, moving closer. “What’s going on?”

  She shakes her head and swallows, looking down to her hands now cradled in her lap. “I know that you’ve been with a lot of women,” she says, half-laughing, half-crying. “And it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re not with them for a very long time.”

  I straighten. Is that what this is all about? She thinks I’m some kind of player who is just trying to score? And have I ever given her any reason to think differently?

  My heart tightens. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling and how different this is for me, but I also don’t know how much I can promise her.

  “And I’m sure you’ve noticed that I haven’t exactly been seeing anyone,” she says. “Not for a very long time.”

  “I’m guessing there’s a reason for that,” I say.

  She nods and sniffs, wiping a finger under her eyes. “It’s not something I like to talk about,” she says. “Not to anyone. But I know even just talking about this is probably killing the mood.”

  “If you’re not comfortable and you need me to understand what’s going on, I’m here, Jo,” I say. I don’t know what she needs from me, exactly, but I’m willing to listen.

  “Part of me wants you to understand,” she says.

  “And the other part?” I ask, holding my breath.

  She looks up at me, then, her eyes wide and scared. “The other part wants you to just go away,” she says.

  It’s not at all what I was expecting her to say, and the words punch me in the gut, leaving me hollow and lost. Is that what she really wants?