REN

* * * * * *

2006

 

 

“YOU DIDN’T COME to the house last night.”

My head shot up from where I was checking the blades on the hay cutter.

Cassie leaned over the tractor’s front wheel, uncaring that dried mud and horse manure wedged in its big tread. “Where were you?”

I frowned. “Where was I?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, licking her lower lip, dragging my attention to places it shouldn’t go.

Clearing my throat, I grabbed the rag in my waistband and wiped away the grease on my hands. “In bed. Where I normally am once I’ve finished for the day.”

“You do realise it was New Year’s Eve, right? Dad said he invited you and Della to the house to watch the ball dropping in Times Square on TV.”

“He did invite us.”

“So why didn’t you come?”

I glanced at the door leading toward the room I shared with Della. She’d been helping me all day—sweeping out the tack room, sorting out old bags of feed, and generally doing a tidy up. Poor thing was knackered. I’d found her having a nap face down on the bed when I went for a glass of water, and she hadn’t emerged since.

Moving my attention back to Cassie, I brushed past her to grab another tube of piston grease resting on the tool chest. “Tired, I guess.”

“You guess?” She followed me, crossing her arms and cocking her head in that annoying but somehow attractive way. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

What did she want me to say? That I’d declined their invitation because, although Christmas had been amazing, it had drained me of all my reserves? That I’d reached my people quota and so had Della?

We’d spent the evening chatting about old campsites and wondering what the New Year would bring—both of us nostalgic for open air and cool streams.

When I didn’t respond to her question, she tried another one. “Do you have any New Year resolutions?”

I shook my head, once again moving past her to return to the tractor and its hay cutter. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“It’s a thing.”

“To make resolutions?”

“To have goals you want to do differently this year than last.” She moved back to where she’d leaned against the huge wheel, watching my every move. “What did you guys do last year? Was my dad right when he said you’d been living rough for a while?”

I pursed my lips, pretending to be absorbed with using the squirting gun to apply grease.

“Silent treatment again, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “One of these days, I’ll learn more about you, Ren Wild.”

I flashed her half a smile. “Nothing to know.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that.” Pushing off from the wheel, she pointed at the floor in front of her. “If you won’t answer my questions, you better do something for me instead.”

It was my turn to cock my eyebrow. “Do what exactly?”

“Come and stand here.” She waggled her finger. “It will only take a second.”

Doing my best to see a trap and unwilling to participate in whatever she wanted, I took my time to place the grease gun on the hood of the tractor and reluctantly moved to where she pointed. “What do you want?”

“I want what all girls want on New Year’s Eve.”

“And what’s that?”

She waited until I stopped a few steps away from her. She licked her lips nervously, her cheeks pinking and feet fidgeting. “You honestly don’t know?”

I jammed my hands into my jeans pockets, rocking backward on my heels. “Know what?”

“What happens at midnight on New Year’s?”

“The clock switches to a new year. That’s why it’s called New Year.” I frowned, wondering if I’d assessed her wrong, and her intelligence level was lacking instead of above par.

She sighed heavily as if I tried her patience. “No.” She raked both hands through her hair, the brown strands cascading over her shoulders. “God, you’re not making this easy.” She laughed suddenly. “Normally, it’s the boy making these moves.”

My heart quickened. “What moves?”

A long pause, then an explosion of speed as she closed the distance between us, stood on her tiptoes, and breathed, “This.”

Her lips landed on mine, freezing both of us to the spot.

I didn’t know what the hell she was doing. All I knew was if her father caught us, I’d be fired and Della wouldn’t be allowed to go to school anymore.

Tripping backward, I wiped my mouth from hers. “What the hell was that?”

“A kiss. But not a very good one.” Her eyes locked on my lips. “Want to try again?”

I wanted to scold her like I’d scold Della for doing something I wasn’t comfortable with. Instead, common-sense drowned beneath hot, hard need and my silence answered for me.

My brain emptied of reasons and rationality, and even the fear of ruining the bargain I’d made for Della’s benefit didn’t entice me to run.

Slowly, hesitantly, she stepped toward me again. Her hands fluttered by her sides, and my heart winged like a trapped bird. We didn’t speak as she stopped with her shoes touching mine.

I wanted to stop her.

I wanted to grab her.

I stayed locked in stone as she once again balanced on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.

This time, I didn’t stumble away, and she didn’t disappear.

She smelled sweet and young and innocent. My eyes hooded, wanting to close, but I kept them open. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do and didn’t want to insult her by shutting her out.

With a soft breath, she moved closer, her chest brushing mine, twin roundness so different to my flat hardness. My arms twitched to encircle her, but I couldn’t move.

My jeans hurt as my body swelled beyond normal. I wanted to readjust myself but daren’t move in case she stopped whatever magic this was.

And then, the softest sweep of warm wetness and my eyes snapped shut on their own accord. Her tongue came again, and I gasped, opening my lips, letting her tentative quest go deeper.

My first kiss.

And hell, it was better than anything I’d experienced.

Cassie moaned as my tongue moved to meet hers—testing, learning, tasting. We stood there, hidden behind the tractor and kissed awkwardly, but somehow, that awkwardness only added to the blistering awareness and want.

My fingers curled to push her against the wall and kiss her harder.

My lungs gulped air to stop from going light-headed.

We slowly learned the other, and when it was over, Cassie smiled softer, happier than I’d seen. Her eyes were dewy. Her mouth wet from mine. Her steps floaty as she nodded once and whispered, “Thanks for my New Year’s kiss, Ren.”

With a lingering look, she left me to pick up my brain from the hay-dusted floor, wrangle the unbearable ache in my jeans, and somehow remember how to work.

* * * * *

That night, Della was subdued and not her usual self.

It took everything I had to lavish her with attention and be as supportive as I could when the only thing on my mind was a repeat of the kiss this afternoon.

When Della threw aside one of the few books we’d brought with us from Polcart Farm and curled into a tight ball, shutting me out and not responding to any of my suggestions to play, I lost my temper a little.

She wasn’t sick. She didn’t have a fever. She was just being a spoiled little brat, and I didn’t have time to offer her stories or promises to do anything she wanted when all I earned was her skinny back and a savage little growl.

Leaving her to pout and deal with whatever mood she was in, I returned to the barn and found solace in Cassie’s horses.

I didn’t know their names, but they stuck their heads over the partition, nickering in the night for treats.

Stroking their velvet muzzles, I allowed the urge to spill my annoyance about Della’s attitude to blend with the amazement of indulging in my first kiss.

The two extremes kept me standing there long into the night.

Confused.

Elated.

Frustrated.

And most of all, wary of what other surprises this New Year would bring.