Tonight’s an old favorite — Abelard and Heloise — randomly one of the few I grabbed off my shelf and packed to come here with.
I’m paging through it when a clacking sound comes from outside.
I stop, frowning and glancing up. There’s only silence, and the dim sound of someone snoring — probably my father — down the hallway. I return to the pages.
The clacking sound comes again, and I glance up sharply again. The third time, I realize it’s the sound of something hitting the window. I slip from the covers, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around myself as I frown and pad to the window.
Something strikes it again just as I get to it. And I gasp, jumping back before flinging it open and sticking my head out.
“Are you serious?”
It’s Rowan, standing in the side yard in jeans and a leather jacket, a handful of pebbles in his hand.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing?”
He shrugs. “Getting your attention.”
“There’s a front door and a doorbell, you now. It is your house.”
“And how exactly do you think me ringing the bell right now would go over with Preacher Ellis?”
I half hide the grin as I shrug.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping?”
He grins. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“You woke me,” I lie.
He raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest and making a tsking sound.
I frown. “What?”
“I thought lying was a sin. A good Christian girl like yourself should know-”
“Oh my God,” I groan.
“My Lord indeed,” he shakes his head dramatically.
“Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“What were you reading?” He nods up at the book still clutched in one hand.
“Nothing.”
“Let me guess, Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul?”
“My father’s a preacher, not me.”
“My second guess was The Bible.”
“Wrong. Way off.”
“Now that sounds scandalous.”
I blush.
“A dirty romance book?”
My face wrinkles. “Eww, no.”
“Nothing with Lord Greyson of the throbbing member tearing Abigail’s bodice off?”
My face goes red. “No, it’s a classic.”
“Moby Dick?”
He smirks as he stresses the second word.
“Are you always so gross?”
“It’s a constant struggle. Look, could we continue this conversation without a fifteen foot vertical divide between us?”
“So I should leave my bed at twelve o’clock in the morning to go out with a strange man?”
“You make me sound like serial killer.”
I roll my eyes.
“C’mon.”
“No. It’s late and I have to sleep.”
“I thought you were reading.”
I purse my lips and he grins.
And all I can think about is the other night…the thoughts he brings up in me. I don’t need him here, not at night, not with that wicked look in his eyes.
There’s a sharp snore from my parents’ room, and I stiffen. “Hang on.”
What am I doing.
What the heck am I doing?
I pull on a sweatshirt and shorts, skipping down the stairs and out the back door.
Rowan immediately hands me a beer; I shake my head.
“I thought you were hell-bent on showing me you weren’t the girl I thought you were.”
I am hell bent, if I keep letting the sorts of thoughts I’ve been having about him take hold in my mind.
“Fine.”
He cracks the beer and hands it to me. “What were you reading?”
“Abelard and Heloise, if you must know.”
He makes a face.
“It’s a story about-”
“No, I know what it is, I just think of the poor guy getting his dick cut off and cringe.”
I sigh. “Well thanks for ruining the ending.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry.”
I look up and grin at him. “Just kidding. I’ve read it a bunch.”
He grins back.
“And I think it was just his testicles that get cut off.”
Rowan makes a face. “Yeah, not helping.”
“It’s a sweet story. Romantic.”
“Oh, yeah, castration is the hot thing this year for Valentine’s Day. I saw it in Cosmo.”
I laugh. “So, you came over here to talk about books?”
“I actually just wanted to make sure we’re good about the other night.”
My face burns. “The other night?”
“The, uh, transaction you saw.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah.”
I shrug. “Yeah I won’t say a word.”
“Thanks.”
We stand there in silence another second, slowly sipping the beers.
“So when does this new husband of yours come into the picture?”