“Everyone has a past, Slate,” she said.
“Yeah?” he asked, maybe a little too challenging. “What’s something in yours you don’t want anyone to know?” He felt her tense next to him, and regret filled him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so combative.”
“Well, I dropped out of college,” she said. “My dad wasn’t too happy about that. I literally keep bees for a living on a ranch I don’t own. I don’t own or live in my own house, and I can barely afford to keep gas in my car, because I have a ton of debt from what my grandmother calls my ‘wild years.’”
Slate hated this conversation. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about this. Look at the sunset. It’s real nice tonight.”
Jill sighed, and he couldn’t tell if she was frustrated with him or not. She relaxed next to him and he released her hand and lifted his arm around her shoulders. She settled into his side and put both of her arms around him.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, dipping his head to take a deep breath of her hair. She smelled like peaches and cinnamon, and Slate could hold her for hours and be happy. “Real nice.”
“I think so too,” she whispered, and they stayed that way until the last of the light left the sky.
Only then did Slate stand up and collect his glass and the box of cookies. He took her glass from her too and balanced it all in one arm and hand so he could hold hers on the way back to Granny’s house. “Lunch tomorrow?” he asked, eyeing the square of light that was the kitchen window.
“Yes,” Jill said. “Did you figure out where you’ll be?”
“Yeah, I’m on construction with Luke.”
“I’ll text you when I’m coming in from camp?” she asked.
“Sure.” He paused just outside of the reach of the light spilling from the house. “That works.”
“You don’t want me to come in and say goodbye to your granny.” She reached up and played with the buttons near his collar. Heat rushed through his body, because this was a new kind of human touch he hadn’t experienced in a while.
“It’ll be better if you don’t,” he said. “Trust me on that.” He cast a look toward the window and saw the curtains flutter. Kissing Jill was out of the question, though Slate had already started thinking about it.
Ridiculous, he told himself. They hadn’t even been out yet. Maybe asking her to come to the farm was a date, though. Slate had been out of the game for so long, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t going to ask Jill either, who obviously had way more experience with dating than he did.
“Okay.” Jill tipped up onto her toes and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger against his skin for a couple of long seconds. “See you tomorrow.” With utmost confidence, she smiled at him as she settled back onto her feet, and then she turned and walked away.
“Wait,” he blurted. “I’ll walk you out before I go say good-bye.”
“If you want,” Jill called, nearly around the corner of the house already.
Slate cursed himself as he hurried to set the glasses and cookies on the back steps and go after her. He caught her near the front of the house, where the porch lights bathed the driveway and part of the front lawn in light.
He tucked his hands in his pockets, his default for when he didn’t know what to do with them. He also had no idea what to say, as it seemed like her mouth had branded him and rendered his thoughts dormant.
“Thanks for having me out to your grandparents’ farm,” she said. “We’ll have to come again when you can actually show me around.”
“Oh, there’s a couple of cows and horses,” he said, though he loved this place. “But sure. I think Granny likes you.”
“Most grandmothers do like me,” Jill said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
The moment stretched, and Slate decided to just act. He’d kissed a couple of other women in the past, and it hadn’t been this hard. He reached for her, glad when she stepped into his embrace. “Thank you for not judging me,” he said, running one hand up her back.
“I didn’t even finish all of my failures,” she said.
“Another time.” He dipped his head as if he’d kiss her goodnight, which he fully intended to do.
“Slate,” Granny barked. “Come inside, and bring those cookies.”
Slate sighed, his mouth maybe three inches away from Jill’s.
“Another time,” she whispered, her fingers clenched in the fabric on both sides of his collar. She released him and fell back, and she stepped out from behind him. “Goodnight, Edith,” she called.
“Oh, dear,” Granny said, and Slate wished his troubles could be summed up as nicely.