"Little girl? That's what you're calling me now? I'm a fucking physician. The patronizing attitude is getting old."
"A doctor and a cop," he said. "It's perfect. I'm sure you'll look great together in your house with the white picket fence and two kids."
"Go to hell, Cade," I said. The sky was ominously dark, and I saw a flash of heat lightning on the horizon. It was about to storm, and the mare was skittish underneath me, shimmying around.
Screw him, and his stupid I'm-so-much-more-badass-than-you biker attitude.
Screw him and his comments about Jed.
I pulled at the reins, nudging the mare's flank with my foot, and she took off at a trot. There was a storm rolling in, and Cade could do whatever the hell he wanted to do. I remembered an overhang near here where we used to go as kids, and I was taking cover before it spooked the hell out of the horses.
Thunder cracked loudly, and I remembered those days when I was a kid and a storm would roll in, the air charged with static electricity and smelling of rain even before it actually began to downpour. I would sit outside on the front porch, watching as the rain poured down heavy around me, and when the thunder crashed, I'd climb up into my mother's lap while she sung to me, assuring me everything would be okay. It was one of the things I still did when I was upset, hummed the songs she used to sing, her voice so soft I could barely hear her around the constant white noise of the rain coming down around us. Sometimes, late at night before I fell asleep, I still pictured her, sitting at the foot of my bed reading to me at the same way she would when I was a kid.
Behind me, I heard Cade.
"Whoa," he said, and his horse slowed to a stop beside me.
The rain was already beginning to pelt my skin, cool against my arms. I dismounted, shaking off Cade's outstretched hand when he offered it.
He smirked. "Fine," he said. "Be angry at me. There's not that much space under that overhang, darlin'."
I stumbled slightly as I walked behind him, the mare's reins in my hand, toward an overhang near the ridge, where the rock jutted out a few feet over a slick quartzite surface. The rain was coming down harder now, dripping down the my head and running down the back of my thin tee-shirt. I wiped damp hair off my forehead.
"Here," Cade said, taking my hand in his when I slipped again. I wanted to shake it off, be angry at him, but I couldn't, not when I felt the heat from his hand on mine, the jolt of electricity between us when he touched me.
Damn him.
I ducked underneath the overhang, wiping my wet hair from my forehead. Cade paused to buckle hobbles on the horses, and left them huddled together as they waited out the sudden rain. And then he was there, right in front of me, no more than a few inches away. The space between us felt charged with nearly as much electricity as the air around us.
I looked away from him, still angry, but afraid of my desire for him.
"You remember being out here?" he asked. How could I forget? This wasn't the first time I'd been with him under the overhang, escaping a sudden storm or sneaking sips of beer we'd stolen from his father's stash. But that's not what he was talking about. He was talking about the times we'd been out here before, just like the time in the aspen grove. The thought of the things we'd done out here sent a shiver up my spine.
"Of course I remember," I said, my words clipped short as I tried to keep my voice steady. I didn't dare look at him. If I did, it would be over.
The last time we'd been under this overhang, twenty years ago, he had kissed the length of me, roamed my body with his hands. Even now, a lifetime later, I could feel the heat of his touch on my skin, the memory imprinted on my body.
All of that was in the past. Far in the past. I'd left that part of me behind and it was staying in the past. Cade may have been my first love, but he wasn't anymore. If I reminded myself of that fact enough times, maybe I'd be able to ignore the irresistible pull toward him that I felt right now.
Cade put his hand on my arm, the heat radiating through me. "June," he said, his voice gravelly.
Finally, I looked at him. Everything was suddenly eclipsed by this feeling of deja vu, the knowledge that I had been here before with him, not only in this physical place, but this emotional one. I was sixteen again, heady with lust, my thoughts clouded by desire.
“You’re all wet,” I whispered, looking at the way his tee-shirt clung to his chest, the fabric clinging to his muscles. I didn't need to think about what he would look like without that shirt.
“So are you,” he said. I pulled at the hem of the shirt, shaking it away from my body. It's not like he hasn't seen me naked before, I thought. But I was overwhelmingly self-conscious, standing there in front of him.
Cade's gaze moved from my face down lower, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
"Cade," I said. "We - I - can't." My voice came out shaky, timid, and uncertain. It sounded nothing like me.
"Can't what?" he asked. His hand was still on my forearm, and I felt him slide his other hand around to the small of my back, sending a shudder rippling through my body. I felt pulled to him by some kind of irresistible force, powerless to just step away.
And that's what I needed to do - step away from him now, before everything changed.