Until Tomorrow Page 8

  Before I could even consider what I was doing, I licked the end of my index finger, getting it really wet, and then stuck the tip of it right into his ear. He yelped this time, as he used his shoulder to swipe at the wetness.

  “Take that,” I said, and then he went after my leg with a vengeance.

  I shrieked, laughing too hard to breathe, as he tickled me.

  “Shit…this is…dangerous,” he acknowledged, laughing so much that he could barely speak the words. He quit tickling me and put both hands back on the wheel.

  “You’re right,” I managed to say, even though I was wildly disappointed that he’d withdrawn his hand.

  “Shit,” he said, still smiling, his sunglasses again having fallen, this time to his lap.

  “Maybe you need a pair that actually fit,” I said. I had no idea where all of this attitude was coming from. It was very unlike me.

  He narrowed his eyes and then said, “Maybe I need to pull over right now and teach you a lesson.”

  I shivered inadvertently; attitude or no, I wasn’t brave enough to call this bluff, though I longed to ask, Would this lesson involve your hands all over me?

  “Chicken,” I said, smiling sweetly at him, and his eyebrows lifted before I explained, “That’s what I feel like eating for supper.”

  Marshall settled his sunglasses back into place and said, “Well, that helps me a little.”

  “Glad to help,” I said breezily.

  “I know a good place, just off the interstate in about twenty miles,” he said. “Is that all right?”

  “Oh, now you’re being considerate,” I teased.

  “I’m not especially considerate by nature,” he replied, sending a smile my way. I felt a heated jolt right between my legs again, which was so disconcerting; he looked unimaginably sexy with his hat pulled low and the scruff on his jaw, his sunglasses and his lean-muscled forearms. I felt pure want even more strongly than I had in the barn, and then instant guilt followed in its wake.

  “That’s a shame. Your dad and your brothers are such gentlemen,” I said. Somehow I knew that beneath this fronting, Marshall was every bit as much one; I had to call him on it, at least a little.

  “I didn’t say I can’t be,” he told me. “When I want to.”

  “Typical man,” I muttered.

  “What’s that mean?” he demanded.

  “When you want to be?” I asked pointedly, repeating his phrasing. “As in, when you’re trying to get laid?”

  Dang, where did that come from?

  I bit down right on the middle of my tongue.

  “Ouch, woman,” he said, but we were both laughing again. He added, “That hurt a little, I’m not gonna lie. Unless that was some kind of invitation…because in that case…”

  I smacked his shoulder, reminding him, “I have a boyfriend…”

  “That Paul Bunyan guy, right?”

  “Liam, you mean.”

  “Right. Paul. Guy with the big blue ox, planted all the apple trees in Minnesota…what?”

  I was laughing so hard I almost couldn’t reply, “That’s Johnny Appleseed, dummy…”

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, not sounding at all sorry. “Paul was the guy who chopped down all the trees with his big, huge ax and wouldn’t let his girlfriend out of his sight…”

  “Just because I can’t kick your butt, doesn’t mean I won’t try…” I warned.

  “Oh, you go right ahead and try,” Marshall said wickedly. “I’d love every last second of that.”

  “You wish,” I said, but my laughter was stamped out beneath a rush of sudden angst; I was shamelessly flirting and I was enjoying it way too much, and that was borderline slutty, in my opinion.

  Marshall saw the change in my expression, as his eyebrows lowered, but in confusion I could tell. He changed the subject then, nudging my upper arm gently with his knuckles, indicating that I look out the window to the right.

  “A prairie falcon,” he said, his voice tinged now with awe. “Isn’t she pretty?”

  He looked back to the road, while I leaned to keep watching the bird, soaring with wings spread wide.

  “She is,” I agreed softly. “How do you know it’s female?”

  “Females are always bigger than males, plus her coloring is a little more muted,” he said knowledgeably. “It’s pretty lucky to see her. You don’t see the prairie falcons quite as much as, say, red-tails.”

  “You like being outside, don’t you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer to this.

  “I do,” he said. “You too, I’d wager.”

  “I do,” I affirmed. “That’s the hardest part about winter for me, being stuck inside.”

  I knew he was referring to Mathias as he said, “Carter says winters in Minnesota are pretty tough. Out here, too, but I don’t think we get quite such cold temps.”

  “But I’m sure you get as much snow,” I said.

  “We get a fair amount. But I drive over to go to college in Billings all winter, or at least I have for the past couple years, and I haven’t been snowed out more than once or twice,” he said.

  “You don’t live on the campus?” I asked. I hadn’t realized he was a student, and I was curious to know more. About everything concerning him, if I was honest with myself.

  “I could I suppose, but I like living at home, plus it saves money. I usually only go three days a week. I’m working towards a bachelor’s in environmental science,” he said. “I should have done it years ago, but I wasn’t mature enough back then.” He looked over at me and said, with a touch of sarcasm, “Not a word.”

  “Hey, at least you’re going to college,” I said. “I haven’t yet and I don’t have any excuse. I like living at home too, I guess, working at the café. I’d miss my family if I moved away to school.”

  “I thought for a long time that I’d make a living making music,” Marshall said. “We put some effort into it, and we’re kinda local celebs, Garth and Case and me, I mean, but it’s not steady money. My plan is to work for Montana Fish and Wildlife, as a game warden. My brother Sean already works for the parks department in our county, as a water surveyor, and Quinn is planning to do the same, once he gets his ass in gear. I’ll graduate by twenty-eight, which isn’t terrible, I guess. God, it’s weird though. I mean, thirty used to be so far away.” He looked back at me, as though he couldn’t keep his eyes away long, and corrected himself, saying, “I guess for you, it still is.”

  “Eight years,” I acknowledged. “But still. I know what you mean about time flying by. It seems like we just moved to Landon, in some ways. I was just a kid, but that was ten years ago now.”

  “What about…” he paused; I sensed that he was enjoying talking seriously as much as I was, and so didn’t needle me by using the wrong name. He finished, “What about Liam? What’s he do?”

  “He’s a firefighter for the township,” I said softly. “He lives with my cousin Clint in Landon. I suppose that when – “ but here I cut myself off, my stomach suddenly heavy.

  “When?” Marshall prompted.

  I released a slow breath, looking out the window as though expecting to see the falcon still following us, keeping pace. I said quietly, “I was going to say that when we get married—”

  “You’re engaged to him?” he interrupted instantly, and it sounded like there was something lodged in his throat.

  “No,” I said at once, and Marshall’s shoulders visibly relaxed, I could not pretend not to notice this. I said honestly, “No, but it’s where we’re headed.”

  “You love him, then?” he asked, and his voice was hardly a whisper.

  “He’s the first guy I ever loved,” I said truthfully, aware that I wasn’t actually answering the question as he’d framed it; right now I was having a lot of trouble even picturing Liam’s face.

  What’s happening here?

  I was unduly troubled by my thoughts, but then I looked over at Marshall and just as swiftly I didn’t care that I could hardly form a picture of my lo
ngtime boyfriend in my mind. I felt swept away from solid footing, tugged away from what I knew as real. And I was equal parts elated and terrified.

  Marshall hadn’t responded to my words, instead signaling with the right blinker. He nodded out my window again, not looking at me as he muttered, “There’s the place,” and I looked to see a diner up the hill from the interstate, its red-and-pink neon sign brilliant against the pale-violet breast of the evening sky. It was a strangely pretty sight.

  “The place with the good chicken,” I murmured.

  “How could you tell?” he asked, still a little gruff, as he pulled into the parking lot beneath a giant neon bird, complete with pink feet and a red wattle, the neon flickering as it appeared to flap its wings.

  “Here, you wait,” he ordered after he’d parked. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to have you thinking that I’m only a gentleman when I want to get laid. Shee-it.”

  He climbed out of the truck and rounded the hood while I watched, so utterly drawn to him. Hat and sunglasses in place, he swept open the passenger door and helped me down, again just the briefest of touches before releasing my hand as we walked towards the entrance. I wanted to tuck my arm into his but of course I didn’t do that.

  He made a show of holding the door there for me as well, and I giggled, entering to the absolutely mouthwatering scent of frying chicken. I didn’t even realize I had moaned a little, with pure anticipation of eating that very chicken, until Marshall said seriously, “Ruthann. You can’t make sounds like that because I can’t promise I’ll keep acting like a gentleman. It’s tough enough as it is.”

  He had removed his hat and his sunglasses as we came inside, and my heart flapped around behind my ribs at both the expression on his face and his use of my name. He winked at me then, all heat and subtle suggestion; fast as quicksilver he was back to teasing the shit out of me.

  “Two?” asked the host, a boy about Wy’s age.

  “Yes, please,” I said, my heart clattering in confusion, and Marshall and I followed him to a booth near the windows. It was what I would call ‘steady-busy’ back at Shore Leave, not overflowing with customers but enough that I wouldn’t have time to stand still, was I serving. I sat on the red vinyl seat and scooted to the middle, and Marshall sat across from me. Our faces were about two feet apart; less than that as I leaned forward, pretending to regard the single-sided menu.

  “There’s hay in your hair,” he observed.

  “Yours, too,” I told him, looking up into those gray eyes that seemed to see right into my thoughts.

  “People might think we were rolling around in it,” he said innocently.

  “You are so naughty,” I said, absolutely marveling at this attention. I almost couldn’t believe it – but, like a sudden blow to the head, I realized he wasn’t just kidding around with me; it was, at long last, finally beginning to dawn upon me.

  Wake up, Ruthann.

  He likes you.

  My heart caught as though on the edge of something sharp.

  And you like him.

  Don’t deny it.

  “Told you I’m not a gentleman,” he said.

  “What’ll it be, kids?” asked a woman at our elbows. Her sudden appearance made me startle, and Marshall smiled.

  “We’ll share a number six, and whatever the lady would like to drink,” Marshall said.

  “Yes, I hate ordering for myself,” I said sarcastically, trying to locate number six on the menu.

  The server shifted to the opposite hip and tapped her pen impatiently. She was perhaps my mom’s age, with red hair arranged into two pigtails low on her neck. She was as tan as a Hawaiian Tropics model and wore a lot of mascara. She eyed Marshall appreciatively and joked, “Hon, you could order for me all you want.”

  The number six was a four-piece fried, with fries and coleslaw, which actually sounded perfect. I said, “And a root beer, please.”

  “Same here,” Marshall said politely, as she collected our menus. He told me, “It’s a lot of food, trust me.”

  And for whatever reason, I did trust him.

  “So where will you work, once you graduate?” I asked.

  “In the area, hopefully,” he said. “If you don’t mind working solo, there are actually quite a few options, and I don’t mind that one bit. Our house is crowded enough that I appreciate the solitude. Besides, you’re never really alone in nature. I suppose I’ll get my own place once I graduate.”

  “By twenty-eight?” I teased him. “I don’t know…”

  He said, with a touch of self-deprecation, “Right. I know my brothers and I fight all the time, but I would miss the shit out of them. And I hate the thought of Dad being there alone – once Wy moves out.”

  “You guys are close, aren’t you?” I asked.

  He nodded, and his gaze skimmed out the window to the parking lot and then towards the sunset beyond, the horizon scattered with pastel tints of light. Still looking that way, he said, “We were even before, but when Mom died we really learned to count on each other. That’s never changed in all this time.”

  Something panged inside of me, hard, at the way his face appeared in this moment. He wasn’t even looking at me, but I wanted him to be, I wanted it really badly. I admitted quietly, and it was an invitation to tell me more, “Tish told me some about her.”

  Marshall released a deep breath, his gaze still out the window. His shoulders hunched a little, then relaxed. His forearms lined the edge of the table, his hands stacked atop each other. At last he murmured, “She died a long time ago. But I miss her even still.”

  “How old were you?” I asked him; it hurt to imagine him abruptly motherless.

  “I was a senior in high school. I had just turned eighteen,” he said softly. His voice was hardly a breath. His eyes came abruptly back to mine and then I was the one releasing a sudden breath. He explained quietly, “She died in the autumn. A semi driver went over the yellow line on the highway and hit her car. Later he admitted he was asleep at the wheel.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  “I remember her best when I’m outside,” he said, almost as though I hadn’t spoken. His eyes moved back to the sunset as he continued, “She loved being outside, riding the horses, working in the yard. Garth and me used to pick flowers out in the foothills for her, bitterroot was her favorite. She always said the best presents were the ones that don’t cost anything at all.”

  My throat felt raw and again I experienced the sensation of being swept from any sort of solid footing, into a swift-moving current, and it was only his presence that kept me from being seized away forever, that kept me anchored. I said, “She was right about that.” And then I asked, “What was her name?”

  “Faye,” he breathed softly, and in his voice was an ancient ache, a pain that would never fully heal, despite the years separating this moment from that one. He added, “Faye Therese. God, my dad loved her with all his heart. In all this time, he’s never found someone else. And he won’t, I know. He wouldn’t do that to his memory of her.”

  My heart beat in pain at this thought. I asked, “Wouldn’t…don’t you think that she would want…” and abruptly I broke off the words, fearful that what I was trying to say would be offensive.

  Marshall knew what I meant though, as he looked back to my eyes and finished quietly, “She would want him to be happy, you mean?”

  I nodded.

  He said, “She would, I truly believe, but that doesn’t mean that he agrees.”

  I said quietly, “Thank you for telling me a little about her.”

  This close to him, and allowed a lovely excuse to look directly into his eyes under the diner lights, I could see flecks of secondary colors in his irises, deep indigos and clear greens, radiating outward like thin spokes on a wheel. He had straight long eyelashes, mink-dark, just like his eyebrows.

  “Your eyes are a very unique color,” I said without thinking.

  “I was just thinking the same thing about yours,” h
e said quietly. “I’ve only seen that color on a dragonfly.”

  “On a dragonfly?” I repeated.

  “You know, those golden-green ones that seem to sparkle,” he clarified. “Those kind.”

  Our root beers had arrived while we were talking, but I hadn’t noticed. Marshall took one of the straws and ripped the paper from the top, then pulled it out with his teeth; for a second I thought he was going to put it in my drink, so that our mouths would have touched the same spot, but he didn’t.

  “It was fun singing in the truck today,” I said. Just now he had seemed so vulnerable and I was battling the very strong urge to touch his hands, even briefly. I opened my own straw, which he had handed me; our fingertips gently brushed. I added, “And last night.”

  “I just hope Case can hear it,” Marshall said. “I haven’t been gone longer than a half-day since he’s been in there.”

  “Tish really appreciates that,” I told him again. His eyebrows had drawn together, a single crease of worry forming between them, almost unconsciously. I said quietly, “My sister really loves him.”

  “She loves him like crazy,” he acknowledged. “And Case loves her right back, just as much. I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been in the past few weeks. God, and now this. Tish thinks it was an arson fire, has she told you about that?”

  I nodded. I said, “She’s told me some. She thinks it’s that man named Yancy whose business is trying to buy up Jalesville. She said she learned something about the company on the night of the fire. She tried to tell Dad, but he wasn’t buying it, even I could tell.”

  “He doesn’t take her seriously?”

  “It’s more that he can’t quite believe what she told him,” I said. “The man Tish is accusing is someone my dad has known for a long time. I mean, Tish was planning to work for this Turnbull guy before she decided to work here instead.”

  “But it sounds like your dad thinks she made the wrong choice, staying here.”

  I nodded again. “Yeah, he’s really angry at Tish right now, can’t believe she’s not coming back to Chicago.” I braved a long look in Marshall’s eyes and asked, “You don’t think someone is trying to kill them, do you?” It seemed unimaginable to me, like something from a television movie that Grandma and Aunt Ellen would watch, not reality.