I glance around the firepit. Besides Faith and Chad, Ford’s parents are out here, along with their neighbors from down the road. I keep catching odd looks they give me, but I’m not sure what they mean, especially since they look away when I notice. It’s as if they’re curious about me, about the woman Ford brought home during his leave. And the wife has definitely taken notice of our hands linked together. She’s frowned on more than one occasion, as if seeing it makes her uncomfortable.
“So, Ford, how long are you home till?” the woman, Diana, asks, sipping sweet tea.
“I report back Monday morning at six, ma’am,” Ford answers politely.
“That soon? But you just got here,” she replies, her tone full of sadness and question.
“I arrived home yesterday. I spent the last week in Kentucky with Chad’s family,” he states, his hold tightening on my hand.
“Well, I’m sure that was a nice visit.” She takes another drink of her tea. “You know, Sara’s off this weekend. I’m sure she’d love to catch up with you while you’re on leave.”
That’s when I feel him tense beside me. Even though it’s only our hands connected, I can sense the anxiety that sweeps through his entire body. I also see the way Chad physically blanches at her comment, which tells me he knows something I don’t know.
Beth chuckles awkwardly. “I’m sure Ford would welcome a chance to say hello to Sara if they run into each other. Though, I’m sure with Shayne here, he’s going to be kept awfully busy.”
Is it just me, or is the entire area surrounded by a thick fog of tension? It’s there, stifling the air around everyone. Even Chad looks uncomfortable. Faith looks downright murderous.
“Wanna take a quick walk?” Ford asks, already standing and gently pulling on my hand.
“Uh, yeah.” I’m up, moving wherever he takes me. As we pass in front of his mom, I notice the small smile she gives her son, one laced with an apology.
“Don’t wander off too far, you two,” Ford’s dad says, a wide grin on his face.
“We won’t. I thought we’d check on my baby again. Tuck her in for bed,” Ford replies to his dad, earning a bark of laughter from both older men.
We head for the barn, the one that hasn’t been used in nearly two decades for anything other than storage. His dad has a huge pole building that he uses for a shop, tinkering with small engines and building rustic furniture that he sells at a local market. That’s also where he stores his baby. His Shelby Mustang.
“How come your baby is kept in the barn, but your dad’s is in the shop?” I ask as we approach the big wooden structure.
Ford laughs. “I asked the same thing when I enlisted, and he told me my truck would be kept out here. He said when I work my ass off most of my life and build the shop of my dreams, I could keep whatever I wanted in it. Until then, I get the barn.” There’s not even a hint of resentment in his voice as he slides the big door open just enough for us to pass through. Then, he closes it and turns on the light. “I don’t mind it being out here though. Besides a few unwelcomed critters getting into the wiring, I haven’t had any problems. Dad comes out and starts her up, taking her for a ride every weekend. We’ll take Margaret for a spin this weekend,” he says, leading me toward the truck. “Hop in.”
I glance up at the big black vehicle and shake my head. “I need a stepstool.”
He pops open the passenger door and gives me a wicked grin. As he places both hands on my hips and lifts, he says, “No, you don’t. This is my favorite part about this big truck. I get to help the pretty ladies.”
I gasp as I move through the air, my fingers gripping his hard shoulders, and am gently deposited onto the seat. “Give a lot of ladies rides in your truck, huh?” I tease, hating the tinge of jealousy that creeps up at the thought.
Ford is standing in front of me and presses forward, filling the space between my legs. His hands run up my outer thighs, warmth left in the wake. He sobers, meeting my gaze. “No. There was only one, actually. My high school girlfriend.”
“You mentioned her,” I say, running my hands over the muscles at his upper back.
“Her name is Sara.”
It takes a second for the name to register, but when it does, I can’t hide my shock. “The same Sara…”
He nods. “The same Sara.” Ford takes a deep breath and leans forward, his head resting at my shoulder. His warm breath tickles my neck, and my nipples pebble against the coarse material of my bra, as desire swirls through my blood.