“Oh.” That just reminds me how little I know about Cliff. The weird pinching in my stomach gets a little more pinched.
“Yeah—uh…” Cliff swallows hard. “So if we happen to burn it down, it’s all good. We won’t get charged.”
“I can’t believe you own this place.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you, but it was pretty clear you weren’t going to be able to relax until you knew some shotgun-toting, offended landowner wasn’t going to come out here and drive us off.”
“If you own it, why did you make us come in through the barbed wire?”
He winks at me and shrugs. I nearly melt into a pile of useless goo. “I wanted to give you the full, authentic experience. And I actually haven’t taken any of the old fences down, so there isn’t a place we could get through otherwise.”
“What do you plan on doing with it? The land, I mean? Is there a lot of it?”
“I honestly don’t know. I thought about getting it serviced and building a house out here, but maybe developing it would ruin it. It kind of has a nice, barren charm to it with just the dead grass and waist-high weeds that come up in the summer. It’s charming.”
“I like it.” It’s the truth. I do. “I think it would make for great photos.”
“Urban decay?”
“I think so. But not more like rural decay.” Cliff’s lips do the shadow of a smile thing that turns my stomach inside out. “Are you ready?”
Am I? Am I ready to get into another confined space with Cliff Marshall? I guess I really don’t have a choice. If I wasn’t, I shouldn’t have agreed to come out here with him. I shouldn’t have even responded to his email. I could have just pretended I never saw it. Although, I guess that wouldn’t have worked. I couldn’t unsee it once I opened it up. It seemed like the universe was giving me a signal, so for the first time since I got out of that terrible relationship with Calvin, I decided to roll with it.
Standing under a big, velvety black blanket of a sky with a sliver of a moon in the distance and the huge barn looming before us now, I’m not entirely sure I should have. This is where rolling with things gets me.
Into a spot that I’m not sure I should be in. Actually, I’m sure I shouldn’t. Although maybe I’m not sure about that either. So what if I might still have to plan another date for Cliff? This can be a very unconventional debriefing like he said. It doesn’t have to be anything more. Or less. Or anything at all.
It can just be us sitting by a fire in a crazy cool old barn and enjoying the fact that for one night, at least, we’re not alone.
Is that so wrong?
CHAPTER 11
Cliff
There’s a fire ring in the barn—an ancient washer drum that one of my high school friends brought to the barn for the fire we had the night we graduated. We didn’t get hammered or try to relive the good old days like most people do when high school comes to an end. Instead, we just sat, watching the flames. The fire pit has been here ever since, and since I keep coming back, I bring firewood every now and then and leave it stacked up by the pit.
Since I already have everything I need, it only takes me a few minutes to get a fire going. In no time, the barn is warm and cozy, or at least, the area by the fire is. I drag over two of the folding lawn chairs, and we sit. Not too close together, but not too far apart that the hair on the back of my arms is going to stand down any time soon. I’m extremely aware that Rowan is just a few feet away.
She keeps studying the fire, which gives me time to study her. I love watching the shadows and illumination of the flames flicker over her face. Her dark eyes get even softer in the glow from the fire. Her lips are turned up in a smile that hasn’t left her face since we stepped into the barn. I don’t even know if she’s aware of it. Then again, I don’t know if she’s even aware of how beautiful she is.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Rowan whispers, surprising me.
I glance away quickly before she has time to look over and realize I’ve been studying her, and before she can give me some more fake date pointers. Except this doesn’t feel fake. This doesn’t feel like a dry run of anything.
“It could be a lot of things.” I keep my voice light and brush a hand through my hair.
“I know. But I already know a few things.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I know your mom and dad are nice people. I know they’re kind and tried really hard to raise you to be the same way. I know you went to an Ivy League school—sorry, I looked that up.” She’s still looking at the fire, but she grins sheepishly. “I know what kind of car you drive, and I know something about your house because you told me. I know you really love what you do, and the company is important to you because it’s a family thing, and that matters. I know you don’t have any siblings. I know you loved this place so much that you bought it years later, which is really—uh—amazing. I also know you don’t like to get gas. Ever.”
I laugh at that. “It’s not
