Chaste

  He. Liked. Her.

  And he wanted to kiss her and make her feel things. Oh, how badly she wanted to know what he was talking about, experience all the things he promised to make her feel. Her promise to God and her father had never been so clouded. That’s what Kelly McCullough did, he made her bargain her faith, and made her want to do things she knew she shouldn’t. He was pure, unfiltered temptation.

  You could learn a thing or two.

  That was true. He was the best teacher a girl could have in all things carnal. And he promised to be monogamous while they perused this thing, even if she continued to see Josh.

  The idea of dating two men didn’t sit right. There had been no declarations of monogamy and for once she was trying to think like a modern woman. The imbalance seemed wrong, but Kelly said he was fine with it. She wasn’t sure how people could be friends if they openly admitted to being attracted to one another.

  She frowned. His attraction didn’t make sense. She wasn’t sexy. She was…frumpy and always smelled like soil, sweat, and sunbaked cotton. Her hair was a mess of cropped spikes that never looked the way it was supposed to. Admitting all of the above only puzzled her more. What exactly were his motives?

  Ashlynn would never forgive herself if she turned down the opportunity to kiss Kelly and perhaps experiment with a bit more. It had been everything she’d always wanted. Kelly was the first boy to catch her notice and he held that notice for ten long, lonely years. So why was she hesitating?

  This was why chastity worked for her. It was a thoughtful promise, a commitment to herself that obligated her to sift through all the drama and screen for a man who truly wanted…her, wanted her enough to want her forever. It put her heart and soul before her body or his.

  Kelly certainly wasn’t that man. It was inevitable that he’d eventually abandon her. If she did this she couldn’t allow herself to look at him as a long-term thing. She’d have to constantly keep her wits about her in order to protect her heart. Maybe his proposition was a bad idea.

  Her eyes shut as she prepared to tell him no, but her mouth said something altogether different. “Will you kiss me again?”

  The soft leather creaked quietly and she tensed. Warmth spread over her as he leaned in and cupped her cheek. “I’ve been dying to,” he whispered, his breath tickling her lips as his soft mouth closed over hers.

  Like before, a thousand sparks went off inside of her. Her toes curled and she sighed. This time, a bit more confident, she shifted her body and reached blindly for his shoulders.

  His skin was hot under the cotton of his shirt. Her hands gently touched his strong chest and his fingers closed over hers, pressing her palms until she could feel how tense his muscles were there. It was surreal.

  “Don’t be shy, love,” he whispered, tilting his head to take more of her mouth.

  Her legs tingled as her thighs pressed together and strange sensations prickled her tummy. Her breath came fast. The leather upholstery cushioned her back as he leaned into her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she couldn’t get it to slow down.

  Strong fingers forked through her hair and pulled. Unprepared for the gentle aggression, her excitement doubled. She gasped and he deepened the kiss. Her pulse throbbed so fast she feared she might pass out.

  “You have the softest lips,” he whispered, nibbling at the lower one and pulling it back with a snap. What was he doing to her? Everything turned soft, yet alert, lulled, yet eager. Her body shivered even as her skin seemed to catch fire.

  Her mind liquefied as he drove her mad with his mouth for several long minutes. His tongue probed, licked, pulled, pushed, and she trembled in his hold, never knowing anything quite so intoxicating. It went on and on, her body reacting, tightening, melting. She really—really—liked kissing.

  Her panties grew damp and she panicked, pushing back at his shoulders, ripping their mouths apart. As she opened her eyes, not only were the windows of the truck fogged, but also were the lenses of her glasses. She removed them and quickly buffed each lens with the cloth she kept in the console.

  Kelly chuckled. “That’s the first time I steamed up a girl’s glasses.”

  Her trembling fingers traced her swollen lips as she replaced her frames. Never had she imagined kissing being so…intense. “That was…”

  “Delicious.”

  Her head twisted. He leaned back against the door, a smirk on his beautiful face. His arrogance teased her in a way she couldn’t unravel. Such smugness was offensive, yet it filled her with a warm, buttery sensation she’d never experienced before. It was everything her spiritual advisors had warned her of and she was falling for it. She didn’t want to stop falling for it.

  The sudden vision of her bug zapper on her back porch filled her head. She was one of those big stupid moths that fluttered right into the blue light until it was destroyed, happily fluttering until the end.

  Cupping her face in her hands she moaned. She could smell traces of his cologne on her skin and clothes. Her lungs still weren’t breathing properly.

  “What are you thinking about?” His voice was gravelly. Everything about his mouth, his voice, his lips, his tongue, his smile, put her heart in overdrive.

  “Bug zappers.”

  He laughed. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She was a moron.

  She pulled herself together or at least pretended to and he finally asked, “Will you come to the bar tomorrow?”

  Don’t do it! Don’t go into the light! “I…I guess I can.”

  “I’d like to see you.”

  Hopeless. She was utterly hopeless. Just another casualty. There was probably a trail of moth carcasses in his wake. For the love of Pete, stop with the moth metaphor! Be a normal girl for once!

  This was Kelly McCullough. He probably had this effect on every girl. She was nothing special. But holy crap, Kelly McCullough wanted to see her.

  Stop using his full name! You sound like a star-struck stalker. “I suppose I could come by. When?”

  “I get off around two.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m in bed by nine most nights.”

  So much for that plan.

  “Oh. Well, maybe I’ll come visit you before work.”

  Her mouth gaped. She wasn’t prepared for him to make that sort of effort. “Do…do you know where I live?”

  “Yeah. The old colonial off Seymour Street.”

  He chuckled and tapped her under the chin. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked away so as not to gawk. “How do you know that?”

  “I know a lot of things, Ashlynn. Don’t look so surprised.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I don’t really know anyone, let alone where they live, and I’ve lived here my whole life.”

  “But your farm’s removed from town and I hear and meet a lot of people running O’Malley’s.” He tapped his head with a long finger. “Lots of secrets in this melon.”

  “O-okay.”

  His smile was slow and devastating. Easing forward, he brushed his mouth against hers. It was nothing like his other kisses. This one was a soft tease of lips that had her leaning in for more and him smiling against her mouth with a chuckle. When he pulled back she was dizzy and confused.

  The passenger door clicked open and the interior light came on. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, as he stepped back, slowly shutting the door. His calm whistle faded and he headed off in the direction of the bar.

  She was a dead moth.

  Chapter Five

  The spade cut into the earth, kicking up the comforting scent of time and sun. Ashlynn couldn’t sleep. She’d been restless the moment she returned to her bed last night and tossed and turned until dawn. Whatever Kelly had done to her left her in a strange hyper state she wasn’t sure how to get out of. When the birds awoke just before dawn, she’d been thrilled for the excuse to start her day.

  There were some beds near her house that needed turning and some old windows she picked up when they remodeled the old
library on Main Street. She wanted to make a small greenhouse for her herbs. The cilantro had been moved inside for the warmer months to prevent the shoots from flowering too much, but the rest of her herbs were hardy and happy outside among the other gardens.

  Once the ground was softened and tilled, she pulled the wheelbarrow over and began combining various soils to get the perfect mix. Some gardeners used tools, but Ashlynn preferred the texture of soil turning through her gloved hands, running through her fingers.

  Her lily-white skin, lathered in sunscreen, took on a dusty, coppery hue and the grit covered her like a second skin. She loved gardening, loved the challenge of harvesting a healthy crop each season. There weren’t many things she did well in this world, but she could grow almost anything if the climate remained predictable.

  When she was a child she’d learned the basics of agriculture. The Farmer’s Almanac was her second bible and every year she made notes and predicted the droughts like a pro. The past spring rolled in on the legs of a fleeting and gentle winter, perfect for sowing seeds.

  Once she had the bed cleared and her soil ready, she hoisted her old wooden toolbox over to her worktable, which was nothing more than two saw horses and a strip of plywood. Her mind slipped away as the sanding block filled her hand and she set to her task.

  Using a good old hammer and some nails, she constructed a simple herb box. There was something satisfying about building with her hands. There were plenty of power tools in her father’s barn, but she preferred manual tools. The required mental focus served as a great distraction.

  She sculpted three herb boxes and set them on risers, each one graduating behind the last. The wood had been treated and drilled for proper drainage. Last, she piped perforated hoses through holes that would be covered with soil so her herbs would get proper irrigation.

  Her entire acreage was fitted with a handmade irrigation system she’d developed when she was in high school. It wasn’t powerful enough to handle her father’s crop, but for her little plot it was perfect. There wasn’t anything sophisticated about the contraption, but she liked knowing exactly how things worked and inspected every plant daily. Her farm was small in comparison, but manageable and it brought her great pride.

  Tossing the premixed soil into the beds, she paced back and forth until she gathered all of her herb pots. Tenderly, she uprooted the sprouts and cozied them into the dirt.

  “You’ll be happy there,” she whispered to her plants as she tapped down the soil at the mint root.

  “Do you always talk to your plants?”

  She jumped and turned. Kelly stood ten feet away in a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His booted feet planted to the right of her beefsteak tomatoes. So many questions ran through her head though she remained silent, unable to pick which one to speak.

  You really came?

  Are you going to kiss me?

  How bad do I look?

  Do you know how sexy you are standing in my garden?

  What time is it?

  Her hand lifted to her brow as she gazed at the sky. The sun was high, telling her it was around noon.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she said, brushing her dirty gloves down her overalls. Her brow tightened as she took in her grungy, soil smeared appearance.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “No, I’m just…a mess.” She shrugged. “Life of a farmer.” There was a reality check. He’d probably leave now.

  He stepped closer. “What are you making?”

  Flustered with his proximity, she turned toward her beds. “A mini greenhouse for my herbs. I got the windows a while back.”

  His hand coasted over the treated wood of the beds and his gaze took in all the various tools scattered nearby. “You’re a handy little woman.”

  How did he do that, make ordinary words like “woman” set her nerves on end? Warm tugs of anticipation tormented her insides. Her shoulder lifted and dropped as she attempted to disguise the effect he had on her. “I like building things. My dad’s busy with his own farm. I can’t wait around for someone else to fix what needs fixin’. My house, my land, my job.”

  “I know how that goes. When my aunt got to a certain age she was fed up with all the additional work around the bar. I’d been busing tables there since I had my working papers and the minute I turned eighteen I moved behind the bar. Within a year she offered me the business.”

  “You own it?” Kelly had worked at O’Malley’s since high school, but she thought it was just a job. She supposed she held that as a strike against him, never suspected the bar actually belonged to him. Guilt for not giving him the credit of owning his own business made her shrink a little. People shouldn’t be judgmental and she didn’t like that she’d unconsciously been judging his work ethic as a sort of lack of ambition—judging him wrongly, at that.

  He didn’t seem to notice her surprise. “I have a split mortgage, but for the most part it’s mine. I’ve been doing modifications to the apartment upstairs. Eventually I’ll live there.”

  “I didn’t realize there was an upstairs.”

  Kelly shrugged and reached in her toolbox for a spare set of leather gloves. He pulled them onto his big hands and smirked when they barely reached his wrist. “So what are we planting?”

  Her heart fluttered wildly. Every time she was granted a little more of the man’s presence it was a surprise. It also scared her, but it was like a roller coaster and she was addicted to the thrill of him. She smiled and stepped aside. “I just transplanted the sweet mint. Want a taste?”

  “Sure.”

  She broke off a leaf and poured water from her canteen over it. When she held it out he took the offering, his strong fingers grazing hers through the leather covering of his gloves.

  “Just eat it?”

  “Yup.”

  He popped it in his mouth, his full lips pursing as he chewed. His eyes widened. “That’s a lot of flavor.”

  She smiled proudly. “Maybe when I’m done here I’ll make you lunch from the garden.” Her breath was jagged as though his proximity literally stole the air from her lungs.

  He smiled. “Bet you never need to go grocery shopping.”

  The small talk was good. It would keep her from freaking out or saying something stupid. “I use the market for necessities, but even a lot of my cleaning products are organically made. I don’t like polluting the earth with unnecessary chemicals.” She lifted a window. Each one had nine panes. “This one still has to be sanded.”

  “Put me to work.” He stepped closer and she cleared her throat, carefully stepping away. Her skin tingled and her head seemed to be rapidly filling with bubbly, juvenile, ridiculous thoughts.

  No other man did this to her and any other man was a safer bet than Kelly, but she loved having him there. He was a bad boy and she…well, she was undesirably dull, but oh…she wanted to do bad things with this man. If only she knew what bad things were.

  Get ahold of yourself, woman.

  Sucking in a long breath and raggedly releasing it, she handed him a sheet of sandpaper and some tack cloth. Her body was a mess and her physical state was starting to affect her mental competency.

  Turning, she forced her focus on her work. They sanded for the better part of an hour, talking about everything from his family to the process of maintaining a hardy pumpkin patch.

  He had a lot of family. She knew most of them from school or church, but there were so many more she didn’t know. Growing up with just her and Roy she found the idea of such a large family fascinating. It all seemed so intimidating and chaotic, yet beautiful in a strangely imperfect way that filled her with longing.

  “You never wanted to work in the logging yard with the rest of your family?” She asked as she carefully transplanted another herb.

  He shrugged, keeping his gaze on his work, but she noticed a strange set to his jaw as though he were self-conscious. Any signs of insecurity intrigued her. He always appeared so confident, but the more they talke
d the more she realized he was as human as the rest of them.

  “The log yard was something I grew up around. I know how to do it, but it never really appealed.”

  “How come?”

  “It’s boring. I couldn’t imagine climbing trees day after day with no one to talk to.”

  He was so social. “I think that’s one of the things I like about farming, the quiet.”

  “Don’t you get lonely?”

  Oh, yes. Loneliness was something she struggled with on a daily basis, mostly at night. “Not with work. There’s something satisfying about looking at my land and knowing I created it with my own hands.”

  “I know that feeling.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded as he continued to sand. “I have a creative side too. Maybe one day I’ll show you some of the stuff I made.”

  “Do you build stuff?”

  He tipped his head and smirked at her. Her stomach bottomed out at the reminder of his beauty. “Not yet, love. When I’m ready I’ll show you. Let’s get there first. I’m enjoying getting to know you.”

  Her heart stuttered. Was that what this was, them getting to know each other? And to think there was more. What was he holding back? He hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell her, only that he wanted to wait. The idea that he intended to share his secrets with her eventually did very dangerous things to her heart.

  Once each window was sanded and dusted clean, she reached in the back pocket of her overalls and pulled out her plans. She’d been lost in her thoughts for the last ten minutes. Glancing at her plans, she stilled when his touch grazed her shoulder. Her breasts tightened and her body tingled with awareness.

  “I like these,” he said, running his finger under the suspender of her overalls.

  Her lips twitched as she glanced at him, trying to detect a hint of sarcasm. They were men’s overalls. His blue eyes were bright in the sun and she didn’t think he was making fun. Awkwardly, she shifted away, and laid out the paper, making no comment about her terrible wardrobe.

  She wore what was functional for work. She’d recently visited the woman’s section of McCrery’s Five & Dime, but even then she wasn’t sure what to purchase. After a frustrating hour of sorting through the women’s department, she ended up leaving with a bag of white cotton shirts and denim skirts. That was as girlie as she got. Her upbringing hadn’t prepared her for pinks and pastels.