13. I’m No Lady

EVANGELINE

"Ispy something blue."

"I don't want to play anymore," Darren grumbles with a petulant tone.

"That's because you've lost the last three rounds," I tease, watching as he grips the steering wheel with obvious annoyance, which is actually quite cute.

"I think you're cheating," he accuses. "And you're trying to distract me."

I sit up and drop my feet from the dash. "I do not cheat!"

"There's no other explanation," Darren declares, shaking his head and taking a brief moment to peer over at me.

I press a palm to my chest. "I am deeply offended." I flop back into my seat while Darren chuckles. "And is it working?" I lift an eyebrow.

"I won't dignify you with what Langley said to me at the dedication," Darren laments.

"Then don't, and stop thinking about it."

"He said he was never in competition with my father," he scoffs. "What a lie."

"Darren," I warn.

"Yes, dear." He bats his eyelashes at me, and I turn his face back to the road.

"Just concentrate on driving. By the way, are we almost there?" I ask.

"It's the same answer I gave you five minutes ago," he says with an annoyed tone.

"Yeah, yeah." I wave him off.

We've been in the car for nearly four hours, and the countless games of I Spy, and guess what the vanity plate says, have run their course, especially since traffic has thinned, leaving behind big cities the further south we go. I've never been in this part of the country, and I watch as the scenery passes, with its rolling green hills and deep green forests.

I can see the tilt of his lip while he concentrates on driving and place my socked feet back on the dash, daring him to protest or push them off.

The sign up ahead points towards Clarksville as Darren exits the highway, turning onto a two-lane road that passes an old gas station and a few scattered houses before driving over a long bridge to get into downtown. The street is lined with stores on both sides. It looks like one of those quaint towns that you only see in movies, with brick buildings and green awnings with names like Sara's Stationary, and Bella's Bloom's, written on them.

Even though Darren slows to a near crawl, it only takes what feels like a minute to reach the end of the block, and I crane my neck to read the sign on one of the stores, The Sweetest Secret.

"My mom used to take me there for ice cream in the summers," Darren sighs, the store winking out of view as he turns the corner.

"It looks cute." I turn back to Darren.

"I'll take you there once we get settled," Darren promises with a wan smile, and I'm eager to explore, but more eager to get out of the car because I'm tired of sitting for so long.

"Just like you promised to stop in Richmond so I could see the Edger Allen Poe Museum?"

"I missed the turn!"

"Liar."

"Okay, you got me. I have no desire to see a museum dedicated to a man with terminal paranoia," he spouts.

"But it's Edgar Allen Frickin' Poe!" I state, waving my hands in the air in frustration.

"Has anyone told you that you talk with your hands too much? I thought that was a Jersey thing."

"How's this for a hand gesture?" I give him the middle finger.

He laughs and shakes his head. "That's not very ladylike."

"I think you know by now, Darren, that I'm no lady." I smile wickedly, and Darren licks his lips while gripping the steering wheel tighter.

We turn down a back road into a heavily wooded area full of tall pines, and glimpses of water glittering like diamonds between the tree trunks. It's only a short drive before I can see a house up ahead. When the road curves and the trees open to give me a full view of the house, I realize it doesn't live up to Darren's description.

"That's not a log cabin." I point at the house with my mouth shamelessly gaping open.

"There're logs," Darren comments flippantly, as he pulls into the drive.

"Yeah, there're logs, but that's far from a cabin. I pictured something that looked like an outhouse," I tease.

Darren laughs. "Kerry and Merrill Walker staying in an outhouse?" He makes a face. "Now that would be something," he muses.

As soon as Darren stops the car, I open the door and step out. The house is made of wood logs, but there's also a portico with large wood beams and stone walls that are offset by an interesting green metal roof. I thought the Georgetown house was beautiful, but this property is… magical.

"It's amazing." I grab my bag from Darren, following him to the front door.

He stops at the threshold, as if there's an invisible barrier preventing him from stepping inside. I peer past him and spot an open book and a pair of glasses next to the couch. It's as if they're waiting for Kerry to come back and pick up where he left off.

Where the Georgetown home is all crown molding, grand chandeliers, and screams old money, this place is rich colors and inviting plush fabrics.

"How long has it been since you've been here?" I lay a hand on Darren's shoulder to bring his attention back to me.

He leaves his bag in the entryway as he moves forward, running a hand through his hair.

"Years." He flinches slightly at the admission, his voice thick with guilt.

I follow Darren through open living area that leads to the back patio where he slides open the glass door, letting in the cool crisp air that smells like pine, and carries with it the hint of winter. The large deck looks out to a clearing, and in the distance is a pier.

"He closed everything up for the winter," Darren sighs with a disappointed tone. I gather that's something he wasn't expecting.

There are no sounds of traffic, only the occasional rustle of trees and birdsong in the distance, as if we're tucked away from the rest of the world.

Darren stands in the middle of the manicured lawn with the backdrop of grand pines behind him, and his eyes are trained on me, the hint of something dark and needy that sets my pulse racing. I'm imaging him cutting wood and doing outdoorsy things with humor,

He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching the stylish jacket across his chest.

"What's so funny?" he demands.

"I was just picturing you chopping wood in a flannel," I laugh.

"And you find that funny?"

I nod.

"I'll have you know," Darren wiggles his finger in the air, "that I have, in fact, chopped wood before."

I place my hands on my hips and stare at him disbelievingly.

After a moment, Darren concedes. "I didn't say I was good at it," he smiles.

"Does this mean once the wood runs out, we're going to freeze to death?" I question, pointing to the pile by the side of the house.

"Of course not." Darren rolls his eyes. "The house has a heater."

The seriousness with which he says it has me giggling, and Darren grabs hold of me. My stomach twists into knots like the remnants of wisteria that travel along the forest bed and make their way up the sides of the trees, their progress suspended by the impending winter.

"If you want me to wear a flannel," he smiles, tightening his arm around my waist, "I will."

Darren stares down at me, his eyes full of mischief, almost willing me to make another smartass comment, and I'm only too happy to oblige.

"Then you'll have to give me the keys to the car," I explain, and Darren raises both eyebrows in question. "In case you chop off a finger and I have to drive you to the hospital." I can't keep the laughter down that keeps bubbling up inside of me.

Darren gives me a shake and I squeal in response.

"You think you're funny," he entreats.

"Yes," I giggle.

"I'm not going to chop wood in my flannel, Evangeline." He peers down at me in such a way that causes my heart to race. I tilt my head, waiting for what he's going to say next. "I'm going to wear it while I fuck you in every room of this house." He reaches down and hauls me over his shoulder.

"Darren!" I squeal, while he carries me like a lumberjack into the house, smacking my ass on the way.