Laurie Campbell - Home At Last

Which relieved her, because she didn’t want to explain her parents’ belief that there was a world of difference between Kirsten’s two closest friends. Brad had been welcome at her house anytime, always greeted with genuine warmth. By contrast, while J.D. was never turned away, it was understood that the Taylors would prefer not to see much of him.

Still, they’d never specifically told her to avoid him…and it was silly to take Debbie or her parents out of their way when J.D. was heading home right when she got off work.

She explained that to Debbie the next day, and although her friend raised her eyebrows she agreed that Kirsten might as well “enjoy it, since Mr. Rebel’s going your way.” So the ride home became a daily pattern, which she found herself looking forward to more and more.

It got so the trip lasted longer each day, as their afternoon conversations moved from friendly chat to intriguing discussion to something more thoughtful, more intimate and more appealing. She had never spent this kind of time alone with J.D. before, and she had the feeling they were both discovering unexplored depths within each other…even though they still would have defined themselves, if anyone had asked, as nothing more than friends.

Friendship, though, didn’t quite explain how the feel of his body stayed with her for hours after he dropped her off at the side street near her house. How the sound of his voice and the memory of his silences stayed with her, keeping her awake late at night. How the evocative scent of him reached her with such vivid clarity that, no matter what she was busy with when he walked into the Snack-n-Go, she would know within an instant that J.D. had arrived.

She couldn’t tell him that—J.D. probably heard such things all the time, from girls far more experienced than herself—but she couldn’t help wondering if those other girls had ever felt the kind of tantalizing awareness she felt growing between them as they shared more and more stories, more and more closeness, more and more time together. And after the third week of rides home, when she reminded him not to wait for her tomorrow because that was her day off, he looked at her for a long moment and said slowly, “I’m off, too. Want to do something together?”

Yes! was her first thought, but she’d already arranged to go shopping in Tucson with her mother. “I wish I could,” Kirsten told him, handing him back the motorcycle helmet he always insisted she wear. “I really wish I could. Only Mom’s been planning to do this college-wardrobe thing for a long time.”

“Ah.” He gazed at her for a moment longer, then clicked into first gear. “Well, have a good time.”

But she wouldn’t, Kirsten knew. Not when she’d spend the whole day missing J.D. Ryder. “Thanks,” she replied. “But I’d rather be with you.”

For one pulsing instant he stared at her, as if frozen in astonishment. Then, with what looked like a single, effortless move, he cut the ignition, hit the kickstand and drew her into his arms.

There was no time to think, and nothing to think about. All she knew was instinct, feeling, heat…the warmth of his embrace, of his hands caressing her face, his lips on hers—

Oh, yes.

Yes! J.D. felt so much hotter, so much stronger than she ever would have guessed. Their rides, no matter how tightly her arms encircled his waist, how sweetly his touch had lingered when he helped her astride the bike, hadn’t prepared her for the intensity of his body against hers, for the sheer, shivering passion of his kiss—

But already he was pulling away from her, taking a step back, staring at her with a mixture of apology and ancient, primal possession.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered.

Shouldn’t have done that? “But—”

He shook his head, looking so confused and yet so determined that she felt a tremor of fear. He couldn’t mean to back away from her now, could he?

“You’re just so…” he faltered, still gazing at her as if he’d never seen anyone he wanted more. “You’re—ah, Kirs.” With a muffled groan, he pulled her back against him and lifted her face to his kiss.

This one was headier, richer, more vivid than the first, and she gloried in the sheer, wild rightness of it. This was what she wanted, this was what she’d never experienced with anyone until now. Until J.D.

This, this was real—

Or so she’d believed at the time, Kirsten reminded herself as she turned to gaze out the airplane window at an endless bank of white.

She knew better now.

She’d known better for eight years, and it no longer mattered. All that mattered now was her children.

She held that thought like a talisman for the rest of the flight and felt a vague sense of relief when they landed in Seattle. For the last hour she’d avoided any recollections of that summer with J.D. Ryder, any memories of those old, mistaken feelings…and what she could manage for an hour, she could manage for a day. Or even two.

But please, God, don’t let it take that long.

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