Both of us looked up in response to a buzzing from the sky. I saw something uncommon for Beaverdale, because there’s no airport nearby: an airplane flying overhead.
“Wow,” I said. “He really did buy a plane, didn’t he?”
Adrian frowned at the sky. “How did he learn to fly, though? It’s not like pretending to be a vampire. You can’t just act like you can fly. Actors can’t fly.”
“No, but butlers can, if they used to be pilots.” The plane disappeared, so I turned back to Adrian, who had a sour expression. “Hey, don’t be sad. You’ll just have to build up another empire and get your own personal-assistant-slash-butler-slash-pilot.”
Adrian snorted. “Don’t think I won’t.”
“I’m sure you will. You’ve done all this stuff with the bookstore in a few weeks. You’ll be running half the town in no time.”
“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”
“Duh. That’s why people say nice things, or that everything’s going to work out.”
Adrian turned to frown at the empty sky, not even listening to me.
I continued, “Saying platitudes sure beats the hell out of saying everything’s going to get worse and worse and then we all die.” I grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake some sense into him. “Adrian, snap out of it! You never cared about planes before, did you?”
Weakly, he murmured, “I like planes, and boats, and cars.”
“Snap out of it!” I shook him harder. “I don’t care about that stuff, and neither does any girl worth being with.”
He grumbled, “But the rich guy always gets the girl. When I was rich, I could get any girl I wanted.”
I waved toward a fallen log. “Let’s have a seat, crack open those granola bars, and you tell me all about the girls you got when you were rich. I want to hear about gold-digging sluts. In fact, that’s why I came with you out to this amazing bog.”
He shook his head, smiling sheepishly. “That was Greedy Adrian making a guest appearance.”
Cujo trotted over and sat expectantly at our feet.
“Good dog,” Adrian said, slipping off the backpack to retrieve the dog treats. The elderly German Shepherd accepted a big Milk Bone and settled down to crunch it with his remaining teeth.
The two of us humans walked over to the log and took a seat overlooking the view. The bog wasn’t as muddy as I expected, and didn’t look much different from the surrounding trees, except the ground was lower and no trees grew within the area. White and purple wildflowers dotted the sparse grass, and small birds hopped around feeding on seeds and looking at us sideways.
“Is Greedy Adrian a bad guy?” I asked.
The log was bumpy, and I wiggled around to where I didn’t have a knot or branch trying to get to third base with me.
Adrian put his hand on my knee and rubbed his palm casually along my thigh. Under my jeans, my skin registered his touch with interest.
“Greedy Adrian is a hard worker,” he said.
“Does he work through the night at bookstores?”
“He can be obsessive.”
“Does he want to be the boy with all the toys?”
“How did you guess?”
“He’s been staring at my bean bags since we sat down.” I snapped my fingers in front of my chest. “Hello, Greedy Adrian. My eyes are up here.”
“Grr,” he replied. “Greedy Adrian wants what he sees.”
I rolled my eyes. “First the bog and now the hot, sexy talk. I’m under your spell. Kiss me now.”
Adrian took my sarcastic comment as a command and immediately planted his lips on mine.
I would have pushed him away, but his lips were so pleasant. And his tongue. And his hands, first on my back, and then slipping up the front of my shirt and greedily rubbing my breasts through my silky bra. All of these things were very pleasant, and the forest setting became very romantic. The dappled light was certainly better than the dark of the roller rink or the bright light of my kitchen.
My skin was practically steaming by the time he pulled my shirt off over my head. The cool air on my bare skin was a relief, cooling me momentarily before the burning-hot kisses that rained down from Adrian’s gorgeous mouth.
I slipped my hands under his T-shirt, palming his chest and the ridges of his stomach muscles before tugging the shirt up and over his head.
We both turned on the log so we were facing each other, straddling our seat.
“You look like a goddess,” he breathed as he admired me.
“Goddess of the bog?”
He reached around to my back and unlatched my bra, drinking me in with his eyes as he slipped off my bra and tossed it onto the pile of our clothes.