Though his heart would have had him pressed to the barrier, he stood off to the side, so he might see her before she spotted him. He tried to calm a rampage of emotions.
Taller, leaner than he remembered. In her brother’s dark blue blazer and jeans, she exuded the quintessence of female sexuality. Wearing her black cowboy hat, a huge duffel slung over one shoulder and a black leather knapsack hung from the other, she marched with purpose, expecting to be found. Had he not been there, she might have marched straight to Mexico rather than appear disappointed.
He stepped in front of her smiling, reaching for the heavy bag saying, “Hi…you look great.” The entire county of San Antonio agreed, demonstrating with craned necks and naked stares of admiration, envy, and lust. She relinquished the bag and stepped in sync beside him with that heel-springing gait. He wanted to kiss her, just on the cheek. But instead, as he walked beside her, his arm had encircled her waist. He felt a vibrant coil of heated energy surge from the core of her on a faint scent of musk.
Behind the elegant, self-assurance, moved a braided twist of apprehension and doubt. She was constantly in motion between the two extremes, seeking a truth she could trust. They’d both reached deep for the courage to be bold. He to ask. She to say yes. She scanned the spinning bags, grateful for the task. He studied her as if to disassemble her molecule by molecule and put her back together, remembering where the pieces went.
She moved a slender arm slung like a whip, strong as a dockhand’s, snagged an enormous black duffel bag from the carousel. “That’s it,” she said on the move. He tried to take it from her. She said, “I’ve hauled this all over the world. I don’t think I could walk out of an airport if I weren’t carrying it.”
When they got to the truck, vacuumed and washed, but nevertheless, a truck, he apologized. “I thought about renting a limo but I figured it’d be too much of a fall back to reality.”
“I like trucks.” She smiled, flashing delicate teeth, and climbed in. He shut the door for her, walked to the other side and fixed himself behind the wheel. He looked at her, bit his lower lip and smiled. “It sure is nice to have you here.”
“Thank you.” She had a way of making you feel you were hearing the words for the first time. Darkness descended as they pulled out on to the road to Bandera. A melon slice of moon was rising south.
Dozer and Blizzard were there to greet them in the warm night. Holly dropped to her knees and got right in their faces. “And what’s your name?” she said in a child’s voice, ruffling the big dog’s face.
“That’s Dozer.”
“Is that because he likes to nap?” She pulled his loose jowls into a wide grin. “That’s a smoogie face.”
“No…my son Zack… he found him on a construction site. It’s for bulldozer.”
“And this guy?” She was scratching between Blizzard’s ears while still tugging on Dozer’s face.
“That’s Blizzard…cuz he blows like snow through everything.”
“We’ve got two big goldens, brother and sister…” she turned back to Dozer telling him about the goldens. “They’re smoogie, too.” She stood up and helped Jesse with the bags.
He led her to the guestroom where on the door hung a sign he’d put up after Abbie had left the house. It said, “Welcome, Holly Marie.” When she thanked him, he grinned and turned away like a schoolboy who’d just asked for his first date. He put the bags in the room, showed her the bathroom and said, “Unpack, take a shower, do whatever you like. Just be at home. I’ve got some food going, so whenever you feel like it we can have something to eat.” Then he turned and left her alone to settle in.
Every romantic impulse that had ever existed and been entombed under centuries of disuse had been, in the past days of anticipating her arrival, unearthed and set free. He had lit the fire, opened the wine, and turned on the music, Mozart, to love by. Scented candles shaped the shadows on the walls.
She came like a whisper into the room, in a warm glow, on a vapor of perfume. A tall, lithe, wraith in a sheer, flowing frock. Her hair was piled and twisted, speared by a thin long makeup brush holding it in place. A cameo profile smiling, turned and came to him. He took her hand and led her to the sofa. They sat sideways, facing each other watching the fire play over their skin. She pulled her knees to her chin and looked over them at Jesse. Her feet were naked on the cushion, just a reach away. She smiled, bejeweled in the firelight, blue-gray eyes beneath lowering lids. The soft flesh at the corners of her mouth lifted the pouting lips. “This is nice…peaceful.”
Slowly, he extended his hand toward hers. “I can’t believe you are actually here…in my house…sitting across from me on this sofa. I can see you, I can smell you, I can hear you…” as he reached her hand, she opened it to accept his touch, “…and I can feel you. So I guess you must be here.”
She laughed, “I think so.”
He eased his hand around in hers as they explored their palms and felt the tingling thrills that fingertips sent scooting down the backroads of nerves. The essence of his being seemed to flow down into that moist palm. The fire crackled and the music lulled while they spoke the small talk of finding their way to a measure of ease.
As she brought her wineglass to her lips, the tip of her tongue glistened in the flickering light.
He listened as if his life hung in her words. She spoke to him with an ease she’d never known before, describing feelings she’d never been able to voice. Till now. And how good it felt.
There was something in the way he asked that unleashed a purging. She took him from New York across the continent of Europe to Asia and back to New York and the death of her brother by an act of random violence. Her naked honesty freed from him a flock of feelings of his own.
Her eyes glimmering, she stopped to breathe and empty her glass. She reached up and pulled the makeup brush that held her hair. She shook the honey-hued mane loose and let it fall around her neck. She tucked her silent chin, hair veiled across her eyes. He watched and barely breathed. Her voice came softly out of the shadows, an alien sound from another time, a distant, melancholy plea for understanding. “He was so much more than my brother. We were like twins. We knew what the other was thinking…” She cut herself off, took a huge breath and blew it out. “Wow. You’re a good listener.”
“You’re a good talker.” He realized its potential as an insult and laughed with her. “I mean it…you tell it good. It was good for you to tell me about it. It was good for me to hear it.” He paused.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
She shook her hair out of her eyes and leaned toward him. Her breath perfumed the air. My god, he thought, I could fall into those eyes and never find my way out.
“You use your eyes to search out other people’s thoughts rather than reveal your own,” she said looking deep into his eyes.
“I’m not real good with talking about how I feel…I’m trying to learn. Doesn’t come easy.”
She smiled, smoothing the rutted road of his life. Her toes stuck out from the hem of her frock. They were slender, white and pretty. His fingers floated and lit, stroking from the creases to the tips. He did it just once and slowly withdrew his hand.
“Show me your horses.” It was a whisper.
The night was star-bright, quiet, and cool. Blizzard and Dozer walked with them as the horses nickered and snuffled. They stopped at each stall. Holly stroked the velvet muzzles above the half-doors. Jesse named them and told her about each one. She ran her fingertips over a brass plaque on a stall door that read, Bueno Bar Tab. “Is this where Buckshot lived?”
“Yep.”
“And who is that guy?” referring to the brown and white overo gelding standing in the corner of the stall.
“That’s Concho. He’s kind of wary. Belongs to a lawyer. He got him in a settlement. Instead of money. Pretty nice horse. He likes women.”
It was past midnight when they climbed the steps to the porch. His hand touched the arch in her back as he opened the door for her to enter the house. They stood in the middle of the living room. Looking at each other. Jesse turned to the fireplace to move the embers around as if it were necessary. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Well…you know where the kitchen is…sleep as late as you want in the morning. I’ll be down at the barn or in the arena. Sure is good to have you here.”
“Jesse.” She stood tall across the room. Her hair, shining amber in the candle glow, the pale flowered frock draped along her slender form took his breath away. “Thank you for the sunflowers. They’re beautiful. That was very thoughtful. And thanks for listening to me talk your ear off. It felt good.”
He smiled and nodded. “Goodnight, Holly Marie.” It felt good to say her name.
“Goodnight, Jesse Burrell.”
He watched her go and stood there thinking, I could have…just walked up and…kissed her…Jesus…the thought made him nervous. He blew out the candles.
He was naked on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling, an arm slung under his head. A warm demon of desire curled in his loins now began to stretch and waken with a purpose. He let his mind run and saw himself pulling on his pants, going to her door, knocking softly. “Come in,” she says. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at her face, framed with the fan of fine-spun hair and her bare white star-lit shoulders saying she is naked beneath the sheet. In silence, they look into each other’s eyes. He leans down and softly kisses her yielding lips as his hand slips under the sheet…
That was as far as he let it run. He turned on his side, pulled his knees to his chest, closed his eyes and wondered what she was thinking.