So I said, “Knock knock.”
His eyes flickered to mine then back to the dark road. “Who’s there?”
“Owl.”
“Owl who?”
“Owl give you a kiss if you tell me where we’re going.”
Jethro’s eyebrows furrowed for a split second, then his brow cleared. The truck’s headlights made his grin visible.
“The great thing about ‘Owl’ knock, knock jokes is that they work for everything, all situations,” I said, using an instructional tone. “Owl give you a high five if you help me with this thing, or Owl make you a cake if you stop being an asshole.”
He nodded his agreement, but his smile waned. Jethro pressed on the brake, slowing the truck and flipping on his right turn blinker.
I inspected the darkness beyond the windshield, seeing nothing but mountain road and forest. Then, quite suddenly, I spotted a turn off, large bushes concealed the view of a dirt path. I held on to the door and the armrest, the truck rocking back and forth as we traversed the uneven and unpaved road.
We drove another three minutes, never exceeding ten miles per hour, nothing but inky darkness and the shadows of tall trees, before Jethro said, “This is Hawk’s Field. Or, we’re almost there. Just another half mile.”
“Hawk’s Field,” I echoed, the name sounding familiar, but I was unable to place it.
“That’s right. I thought we could check out the stars. There are no lights up here, and it’s a clear night.” His voice was tight, but he sounded perfectly reasonable, his plan innocent.
Nevertheless, his statement caused riots.
My body was rioting.
Is that really what he wants to do? Park in the middle of a field in the middle of the night and look at stars?
That had to be code for something, right?
Right?
Before I knew it, he’d parked and had stepped down from the truck, opening the door behind the driver’s seat. The sound of him rummaging in the back of the cab woke me from my stupor. Shaking myself, I exited the vehicle.
I’d dressed casually for our date: Converse sneakers, black leggings, and a long-sleeved pink cotton tunic. I wasn’t cold, but the air held a slight chill. If we stayed outside for too long, I’d likely become cold. I didn’t want to stand around lamely, so I walked around to his side just as he tossed a bundle of something into the bed of the truck.
“Can I help?”
Jethro glanced over his shoulder. The interior lights of the truck illuminated his outline. “Sure. Hold this flashlight.”
I accepted the big flashlight and quickly found the on/off switch. Jethro tossed two more bundles onto the bed of the truck then shut the cab doors, waving me forward to follow him to the back. He lowered the tailgate, and with one impressive jump, hopped up to the bed, Dukes of Hazzard style.
“Can you shine that in here? Just for a minute.”
“Sure.” I lifted the flashlight and peeked over the side so I could watch him work.
The bundles he’d tossed in earlier were sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows. I stared at them and him as he worked, the earlier body riots continuing and increasing in severity. He was making a place for us to lie down. Next to each other. So we could look at stars.
Right.
“Are you okay?”
I blinked up at him. He was frowning at me. The line of his brow told me he was concerned. I nodded quickly. “I’m good.”
Jethro glanced at the makeshift bed then back to me, the line of his brow now determined rather than concerned. “Let me help you up.”
“Uh, no problem. I can do it.” I placed the flashlight on the open tailgate and jumped up easily, using the strength in my arms to lift my body the rest of the way. I might not have been a sexy park ranger who hauled live black bears around and made it look easy, but I was a sexy Hollywood actress who did yoga daily.
Despite my ability to climb into the truck bed without assistance, Jethro was right there before I could straighten. He slipped his arm around my waist and steadied me unnecessarily, holding my hand. His thumb swiped the inside of my wrist, and he brought me flush against him.
As soon as I stood, he kissed me, a quick touch of his lips to mine. Then he kissed me again, and it felt unplanned, like he couldn’t help himself. He lingered, punctuating each pass of his mouth with hungry nips of his teeth and licks of his tongue. His hands drifted lower, caressing and squeezing as they went.
“I’ve missed you.” His voice was low, surprisingly desperate, and gravelly; my head was swimming. He lifted my tunic, his large, hot hands splaying on my sides, his thumbs drawing circles on the skin just beneath my bra. His lips lowered to my neck where he dotted the sensitive underside of my jaw with the same biting kisses.