Free Lost Along the Way by Marie Sexton Page A

my last priority,” he said as if reading my mind.
    The breeze was light, the sun hot on my shoulders and the top of my head. The tall grasses crunched dryly under our ruthless feet. Grasshoppers buzzed as we passed, jumping wildly through the weeds, occasionally colliding with my bare legs. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. I finished the second slice of bread and immediately wished I’d kept the glass of water, but I’d left it on his kitchen counter.
    Landon slid the garage door up and led me inside. “Most of my finished work is at the market, but I have a couple of new things I’m trying to finish up in time for Jubilee Days.”
    A welding mask, gloves, and a leather apron hung on the wall. Equipment I couldn’t identify lay here and there along with bits of metal, some of them bent and shiny with metal leaves or birds or scoops attached. A shelf along one wall held jars of chemicals and a pile of rags. But everything was dwarfed by the ornate silver sculpture sitting in the center of the space, much larger than the one in my parents’ yard. This one had birds too, although they were smaller, with strange little fan blades for wings.
    “It’s hard to balance,” he said, eyeing the piece. “You want people to see the artistic part, not the part that makes it move. But it’s all one and the same.” He reached out and gave it a push, setting it into motion. The fan blades on the birds spun—not soaring, like the one in my yard, but flapping wildly as they twirled.
    “It’s wonderful.”
    “Well, it’s a work in progress. I want their wings to move, but the fan blades aren’t quite right. I think I lose too much momentum there, but if I make the scoops much bigger, the birds’ll look out of place.”
    He spun it again, watching it with a critical eye, analyzing the way it moved. A ray of light fell through the open door, slicing through the shadows, highlighting specks of dust in the air, turning them into a golden halo around his head. His dark hair stood in messy clumps from the jog. A bead of sweat ran down one sideburn. His full bottom lip disappeared as he chewed it thoughtfully.
    Christ, he was gorgeous. I’d noticed it before, of course. How could I not, working side-by-side with him one weekend after the next? But now, standing there in his dusty garage with his mechanical birds whirring away and the dust dancing around his head, he seemed radiant. Almost godlike.
    He pushed the birds again, and I found myself fascinated by the movement of his scarred hand. I noted the dark hair over his veined forearms and had to stop myself from reaching out to touch him. He turned toward me, his eyes bright, his smile inviting.
    “What do you think?”
    I think I want to kiss you.
    “Danny?” he asked, puzzled by whatever he saw on my face.
    Had I said the words out loud? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was right then, in that one crazy moment, I wanted him like I’d never wanted anybody before. I wanted to crush his lips beneath mine. To tear at his clothes. To bend him over his rough wooden workbench and fuck him like mad.
    No. No, that wasn’t it at all.
    I wanted to take him inside. To undress him while we kissed. To revel in every inch of his flesh. To make love to him like it was the only chance we’d ever have.
    He reached for me, not out of passion, but out of concern, and I felt the blood rushing toward my groin, the unmistakable stir in my loins telling me I was about to pitch a rather embarrassing tent in my jogging shorts.
    “Oh my God,” I mumbled, turning away.
    “Are you okay?” He sounded confused, and who could blame him. I knew exactly how he felt.
    “I’m fine.” I was already halfway across his backyard, concentrating hard on grasshoppers and scrap metal and barking dogs. Anything to get my damn penis under control and back to its inert state. “I need to go.”
    He followed me inside. The smell of baking hit me hard, causing my stomach to lurch, and I wavered, confused at