Free Tumbleweed by Heather Huffman Page B

male scent of Ethan and the heat of his breath.
    “What the hell is that thing?”
    “Broadsword,” I rested my head against his shoulder, willing my breath to even out.
    “Broadsword,” he repeated. Then he kissed me.
    There was nothing tentative about his kiss. There was no steady crescendo in his touch. It was instantly full of hunger. Instantly all-encompassing. And oh, how I kissed him back. My body melted against his, my free hand weaving through his hair. The sword clattered to the ground and jolted me back to reality as effectively as being doused with cold water.
    “I'll have to remember how you feel about broadswords.” I eased away from him reluctantly.
    “Sorry.” He looked instantly contrite.
    “No, don't apologize.” I shook my head and took another step back. “I know it can't happen, but don't apologize for that.”
    He nodded, then picked up my sword and handed it back to me.
    “What are you doing here?” A coherent thought finally made it all the way from formulation to verbalization.
    “I was worried about you being here alone with no phone.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly.
    “Me too. Thus the broadsword,” I shrugged.
    “You know, I've seen it on your mantle but I never realized it was real.”
    “Yep.”
    “Do I want to know why you own a sword?”
    “Nope.”
    “Mind if I stick around a little while?”
    “Okay,” I hesitated. I wasn't entirely sure I could keep from throwing him down and having my way with him.
    “I can sit over here.” He must have sensed my hesitation because he moved over to the recliner.
    “Good idea.” I nodded. At least I could rest assured that I still had a libido. It had certainly sparked back to life recently. Who knew they could go dormant? Darn pesky that mine had chosen now to reassert itself.
    “So, how's life?” Ethan cocked his head to the side and grinned at me from his chair.
    “Peachy.” I smiled back. “I think I have the hots for my boss, I pissed off a crazy man today, I've been ducking my family for weeks because I'm too chicken to even talk to them on the phone, and I have an animal trainer in Southern California dodging my calls. How about you?”
    “I didn't know people still said ‘have the hots for’.”
    “I'm usually behind the times.”
    “Oh. Does Jim know you ‘have the hots’ for him?”
    “Shut up.”
    “You're cranky late at night, you know that?”
    “Please shut up?”
    “We all pissed off the crazy man, if it makes you feel any better.” He finally took pity on me and changed the subject.
    “Much.”
    “So why are you ducking your family?”
    “Because I'm happy.”
    “Oh, well, that makes perfect sense.”
    “Really?” I looked at him hopefully.
    “No not really. That's nuts.”
    “You don't know my family,” I assured him.
    “I know your Dad. He's a good guy.”
    “My dad isn't usually the problem. It's my siblings. They think I'm a total flake, and every time I try something new they just love to tell me how ridiculous I'm being. My brothers treat me like I don't have a brain in my skull, and my sisters are the best of friends with each other, so I always feel like the oddball when I'm with them. They want me to fit in with them, I want me to fit in with them, but it never quite works out. I am just so different than they are. And they do everything right. Always have, always will. Lord knows they can't do anything wrong in Mama and Daddy's eyes. It's nauseating. And they don't understand why I wanted to come here. They want me to stay in St. Louis, where I'm close enough for them to properly ignore me.”
    “Wow. All that in one breath.”
    “You asked.”
    “And so I did….. are you?”
    “Am I what?”
    “A flake,” he prompted. “And before you answer, keep in mind that I've seen your resume.”
    “Ouch. I don't know. Maybe I am. Maybe I've just taken longer than they did to figure out where I fit. That doesn't mean they should treat me like I'm a fool.”
    “Maybe they wish