“Don’t tell me there’s actually hope for you.” Lips curled into a teasing smile, or possibly a smirk, she tilted her head in an adorable pose.
Perfect kissing angle. “I like to think there is.” He’d like to try it sometime. Kiss that smirk right off her face. Probably too soon at the moment, but he couldn’t resist easing in a little closer. A faint scent of cherries and vanilla drifted up, inviting him to ease even closer. Taste her.
She pointedly looked away. “You like to think women will strip for you because you’re a pretty Frat Boy.”
Warmth flushed through him, and he couldn’t hold back a grin. “You think I’m pretty?”
She sighed. “Pretty impossible.”
“Jesus. I’ve been trying to apologize.” His frustration erupted in a laugh. Bad timing.
Her muscles went rigid under his touch. “Kind of a roundabout way to do it, don’t you think?”
“Didn’t I say it clear enough? I’m sorry, Clarissa. Very, very sorry. Sorry for insulting you when we first met, sorry for insulting your work. I beg your forgiveness. Is that better?”
Her gaze sharpened. “What work?”
“The candles.”
With a huff, she stared over his shoulder.
“I’m not surprised they sold out. You might want to consider charging more.”
She rolled her eyes.
So, apology not accepted? What the hell? “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”
“Are you sure my parents didn’t send you here? Because you sound just like them.”
Interesting. Is that why she left home? “Never met them. Can we please just try to get along?”
The moment before the song ended, she broke away. “I have to go.”
He stepped toward her. “Do you?”
“I said I did.” She stared at her fingers, twisting them in front of her.
Maybe she needed a little incentive? “Just making sure. Because if you could stay a little while, I’d love to buy you a drink. Have another dance.” Especially if she moved like she did with that cowboy.
She gave her head a slow shake. “I can’t.”
He braved another step toward her. “You mean you won’t.”
Pain filled her eyes when she looked up at him. “Good night.” She disappeared in between swaying couples.
Shit. To hell with this
. He strode off, but thought he heard someone call his name. When he turned, Jeff waved. “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “No idea.” Christ, he’d never felt so lost.
Amy in tow, Jeff strolled over. “Let me buy you a beer.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Why should he leave? “Except I’m buying.”
“That sounds even better.” Jeff steered him toward a booth selling cups of beer.
Dylan bought three. They sipped, and things started to feel a little awkward until Dylan spotted J. D. dancing with a woman. Nice-looking and older but still not close to his age. “Who’s she?”
Amy spoke up. “Vonnie Seacrest.”
Jeff turned to her. “The new theater director? Cool.”
Dylan’s very thought. “Yeah, cool.” Cool that J. D. had taken an interest in someone besides Clarissa. Why did his thoughts always turn back to her? “I should go, give you guys some time alone.”
Jeff swept his arm. “We’re hardly alone.”
“Yeah,” Amy said. “Don’t go yet. Unless you’re wiped out. We worked you pretty hard today.”
“No, I had fun. I’m kind of wound up yet.” The stars might not even relax him tonight.
“If you want a change of scenery, we could take you to the viewing platform.”
Jeff nodded. “Great idea.”
“The viewing platform?”
“To see the Marfa Mystery Lights.” Amy waved her fingers through the air and spoke in a spooky tone, to which Jeff hummed
The Twilight Zone
theme.
The famous lights. Why the hell not? “Okay. I’ll drive.”
Chauffeur was more like it. Jeff and Amy climbed in the back. Highway driving made conversation difficult, so he searched the radio for music.
Jeff leaned over the seat. “NPR’s about the only station that comes in, unless you have satellite radio.”
“Should’ve brought some CDs, I guess.” It never occurred to him. He’d taken it for granted the car would pick up some music he liked. Clarissa’s voice drifted through his head,
You assumed. Tsk-tsk
.
Jeff pointed ahead. “Another two miles.”
Distracted by the ceiling of stars, his headlights spotlighted the road, the rest a dark blur. Dylan might’ve missed it if Jeff hadn’t directed him to slow down and turn off the road.
A pickup sat beside the viewing platform. He pulled up to the other side and glanced over.
Clarissa!
Even in the dim light of the solar lights lining the bottom of the platform, he recognized her. Felt her.
And that same cowboy dude with a bad case of roaming hands
.
Jeff and Amy exchanged uneasy glances as they got out. Strolling onto the platform, Amy waved to Clarissa but said nothing.
Jeff sighed. “The lights aren’t shining tonight.”
“Must be picking up a bad vibe.” Clarissa glanced at Dylan.
The cowboy dude’s grin turned leery-creepy. “I like it that way. Better to make out in the dark.”
Clarissa shifted away from the guy, murmuring. “Stop.” When he didn’t, she slapped his hand.
“Don’t be a tease.” The cowboy reached for her again.
She glared and stomped off. He began to follow.
Dylan blocked his path. “You can go on your way. She’s riding back with us.”
“Bullshit.” The cowboy looked past him to where Clarissa stood.
Behind him, Clarissa said, “Go on, Reeve.”
Reeve’s mouth gaped. “Seriously? I heard you change your mind too fast, but I didn’t even have my turn.”
“No chance of one now, either.” Her voice trembled.
“To hell with you, bitch.” He strode to his pickup.
They stepped away when the truck fishtailed, kicking up gravel and dust.
Amy rubbed Clarissa’s back, speaking softly.
Staring at the ground, Clarissa nodded. “Can we go?”
Dylan led the way. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
Jeff and Amy climbed in the rear and Clarissa slumped against the passenger door in the front, arms folded, her stare vacant.
After they’d returned to Marfa, Jeff and Amy said good night and got out.
Clarissa reached for the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait, don’t you want me to drive you to your place?”
“I can walk from here.”
“Hey, are you all right?”
“Fine.” She pushed open the door.
“You’ll be okay tonight?”
She nodded.
“Make sure you lock your doors.”
Before getting out, she gave him an indecipherable look, part wonder, part surprise. At least no parts snide amusement.
He watched her walk away and could almost see her pulling herself taller, gathering strength. Amazing. One moment a fragile little girl, the next a fearless warrior goddess. But which was the real Clarissa? Somewhere in the middle, most likely. Uncharted territory.
All he could think about was exploring it.
Intense festival crowds jammed the town. Dylan had to park practically in the desert and walk to the Blue Moon Café. By the time he got there, people filled every seat, including the benches at the front, waiting for tables. He made his way to the checkout counter where Clarissa was ringing out three customers.
“Pretty busy again. Want more help?”
J. D. sauntered up. “First, you need a glider ride.”
Clarissa jerked her head up, her alarmed gaze ping-ponging from Dylan to J. D. “Aren’t you booked solid today?”
“I can squeeze in one ahead of the rest.” J. D. clamped his hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Dylan resisted the cowboy’s rough steering him out. “Right now?” He’d just arrived. And was hungry.
J.D. slowed but didn’t stop. “Unless you’re one of those namby-pamby boys who can’t take it.”
One glance at Clarissa, and the doubt in her expression caused his macho side to surface. “Of course not, I just—”
The cowboy steered him along. “No time like the present, as they say.”
He tried to turn to speak to Clarissa, but J. D. shoved him around a cluster of waiting customers. “Sorry, folks. We’re on a mission.”
Apparently, he was. Dylan’s mission was less clear. Man, in Pittsburgh he was on top of the world. On planet Marfa, he was less than nothing. Reality had an entirely different dynamic here. He hadn’t felt like such a loser since high school.
“I really should stick around and help.”
“They’ll manage without you. I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”
Yeah, that’s what worried Dylan.
Somehow, J. D. had scored a parking spot on the next block over from the café. “The silver Silverado.”
“Of course.” What else for the silver-haired fox? And J. D.’s grin was turning into more of a sly fox by the moment. What the hell was he up to?
Dylan climbed in. “How long have you been a pilot?”
“Forty years.”
“Flying gliders that long?”
“Oh hell no. I’ve only been flying gliders a few months.”
Alarm jangled Dylan’s nerves. “Bullshit.”
J. D. laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. About ten years.”
“Cool. I read Marfa has some kind of glider competition each year.” Whoa, what was that look about?
Slitty-eyed, J. D. shot him a look of disgust. “You read about it, huh?”
The cowboy objected to people reading? “Yes. Is it true Marfa’s the glider capital of the world?”
“Maybe you read too much, boy.”
Why the hell did everyone call him boy? Frat Boy, boy, he’d had enough. If he called J. D. gramps, the geezer might get the picture. After another murderous glance from J. D., Dylan thought he’d better wait until after the glider ride, if at all.
They reached the small airport and J. D. pulled up to the smaller of two hangars. Several other vehicles had arrived ahead of them, and J. D. waved. “Be with you soon. We need to make a test run.”
Test run?
Dylan said nothing but the odd feeling haunted him again. J. D. was up to no good. At least with a crowd to witness the flight, he couldn’t do anything serious.
J. D.’s too-happy grin, like he couldn’t wait to get the glider in the air, set Dylan’s nerves aflutter, but he helped the old man push the glider onto the tarmac anyway. A two-seater plane taxied ahead of the glider. The pilot helped J. D. secure the towline and saluted before jogging to the cockpit.
“Come on.” J. D.’s light stride further unnerved Dylan.
He just loves flying
. A lot, apparently. When J. D. sat behind the windshield with that same crazy grin and waved him inside, Dylan had to drag himself to the passenger side.
“Buckle up.” The old man’s glee came through loud and clear.
Dylan hastened to adjust the straps around him, and the glider jerked forward.
“Off we go into the wild blue yonder.”
“Yeah. Let ’er rip.” Wrong phrase. It made the cowboy laugh.
J. D. winked. “That’s the spirit.”
The tow plane lifted into the air and dragged the glider up. Ripples of wind filled the cockpit. All too soon, the towline dropped away.
So did Dylan’s stomach. He reached out for the line as it disappeared, a cartoonish and meaningless gesture. They were high above the flat, hard landscape. Did these things have air bags? Guess it wouldn’t make much difference, falling from three thousand feet.
Still smiling, J. D. assessed Dylan with a steely-eyed glance. The cowboy steered into what must have been an air current, and the glider floated higher. “So you and Clarissa are getting along better.”
Not a question. Christ, of course that’s why the cowboy wrangled him up here. “A little. She’s pretending, anyway.” Like Dylan was pretending not to be alarmed.
“But you like her.”
Hmm, “like” might be too strong a word. Intrigued? Perplexed?
Turned on
. “Sure. She’s—” Dylan braced as J. D. dipped the glider down and his stomach rolled with it.
“She’s what?” J. D.’s low tone had a menacing quality.
Jesus, a wrong answer might land them in a splintered heap on the ground. Dylan did his best to speak in a casual voice. He couldn’t manage macho at the moment. “A little too ephemeral for my taste. Jeff speaks about Amy and Clarissa like their creativity bestows some special status on them. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful, but a little too…complex.”
He relaxed, a little, when J. D. evened the plane out.
“And what are your tastes?”
Dylan shrugged. “You know. The usual.”
“The usual what?” J. D. clipped the words.
What was with this guy? “I’ve never made a list of attributes, but okay, then.” He shrugged. “Pretty. Intelligent. Responsible. Good work ethic but fun to be around.”
“That’s Amy and Clarissa to a tee.”
“No. They’re….” He couldn’t quite define it.
J. D. banked hard left. “What?”
Cheek touching the window, his dad’s old saying went through Dylan’s mind: some days you’re the bug, some days you’re the windshield. He’d rather stay on this side of the glass, but wished the ground and sky weren’t tilted like a child’s whirligig. “Like I said, too ephemeral.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“You can’t quite wrap your head around them.” If J. D. didn’t straighten his plane out soon, Dylan would show him how his stomach couldn’t wrap around this kind of flying.
“And you can with other women? You must be a real lady-killer back home.”
Anger flared up. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I am. Nothing like here.”
“A bit out of your element in Marfa.” J. D. pulled up on the control. The glider shot upward, not unlike a rocket. Higher and higher, puffy, white clouds closer and closer. And the air grew thinner and thinner.
Dylan’s head grew light. “Exactly. No, wait.” What the hell did he mean?
“So why hasn’t some lucky woman nailed you yet?”
Hey, it’s not like none have tried
. That sounded too flimsy. “I don’t want to be Jeff.”
“Crazy happy?” J. D. sat calmly as the glider lost momentum on its upward track, its flight petering out. Stalling sickeningly.
If Dylan panicked at the plane nearing the clouds, now he wished it would stay there. One thought stuck in his mind: hitch your wagon to a star. He desperately wished he could. The glider wouldn’t stay suspended in midair for long.