“Sure,” I said, the words coming out more croaky than sultry.
“I want you to…” he said then stopped. He still wore Thatch’s cut-off sweatpants and almost too small T-shirt. His hair threatened to come unbound, his forearms and shins were raw in places, and his eyes broadcast confusion. Lust-tinged, desperate, confusion. “I need you to touch me, Calliope.”
“But your skin,” I said, pointing to the obvious. “It hasn’t healed.”
“What needs healing is inside me. I need you, and I need to be outdoors to start that process.”
“Then let’s go.” I tugged the hem of his T-shirt and gestured the way we’d come, thinking we’d go out the front door.
Tanner put up both hands for me to stop and looked over his shoulder. “Let me cloak us first.”
“How…”
But he put on finger to his lips then said, “I need to get something from your bedroom.”
He ducked away and came out with two purplish-green leaves in his hand.
“Tulsi?” I was confused. Tulsi was one of my favorite healing plants. I rotated small pots of herbs between my bedroom and front porch. Usually, I harvested the leaves for tea, not for whatever the druid had in mind.
Tanner placed both leaves in my open palm, cupped my hands in his, and whispered words over the surfaces. The warmth of his breath brought out the tulsi plant’s distinct clove and pepper scent. Straightening, he pinched one short stem, placed the leaf on my head, and did the same with the other, placing that one over his head.
The little leaf turned up its nose at settling on Tanner’s hair.
“It’s floating,” I said.
He nodded. “I spelled it to cloak us, but tulsi leaves are too tiny to last very long.”
“Cloak, as in no one will be able to see us?”
He nodded again, touched my elbow lightly, and led the way down the hall, out the front door, and down the steps. At the bottom, he turned right instead of toward the heavily trafficked left side of the house and yard.
We stepped into the shadow cast by the long slope of my A-frame’s roof. The grass here wasn’t as dry and crunchy as the patches receiving the full brunt of summer’s sun. At any given point, only three to five feet separated the foundation from the woods, and one branch of an old Arbutus tree looked like it was ready to kiss my bedroom’s window.
“Calliope, I need to be naked for this.” Tanner peeled off the ratty T-shirt, his pectorals and abdominals flexing as he lifted, turned, and dropped the shirt to the ground. He slid his thumbs into the waistband of the sweats and folded forward as he drew the cloth over his buttocks and down his legs, wincing twice.
Tanner Marechal stood before me, all six-feet-something of him naked. I followed his lead, partially, tugged my cargo pants over my hips, and left them beside the sweatpants. I wasn’t going to read his tumescence as anything other than a male thing.
“Now what?” I asked. My tulsi leaf floated in front of my eyes, in that swoopy way leaves do when there’s very light breeze. The leaf that had floated above Tanner’s head was tangled behind one ear. I pulled it away and let it go.
“I lie down.” He went to his hands and knees, patting the grass and ground for rocks. Everywhere his hands landed, the grass went a little greener, a little fuller, until he had prepared an area roughly seven feet long, from the edge of the house to the edge of the trees.
“You made yourself a bed,” I said, marveling at the way the earth responded.
“I made this for us, Calli.” Tanner stretched out on his back and invited me to lie beside him. I didn’t hesitate. Every time I exhaled, more of my weight settled against him. I used each breath to ease more of the nerves fluttering along my limbs.
Tanner touched the arm I draped across his chest. He closed his eyes as he stroked me from my shoulder, to my ribs, waist, and hip.
“I’m sorry, Calliope,” he whispered. “I’m sorry she followed me here. I’m sorry she’s harassing you.” He shuddered. “I’m sorry I gave in.”
My eyes closed. I stretched my arm until my fingertips touched base with the foundation of my house. If Tanner felt the need to speak, I was there to listen, and as words tumbled from his mouth, I opened the front of my chest and sank my awareness deeper and deeper into his body.
I didn’t know intimacy could be like this, skin cells parting to make way for bones singing to bones. While Tanner spoke of his guilt and everything he was running away from, my skin, bones, and blood invited him to find a home inside me.
My usually overactive brain hung out on the sidelines, kicking back on a lawn chair and sipping lemonade, a straw hat pulled over its face. I nestled my nose into Tanner’s armpit. His pulse beat against my cheek while his voice created rock slides of my remaining resistance.
And his. I knew the moment he dropped more of his guard. He stopped talking and took more of me in. The stone at my fingertips warmed in reaction to our progress and shifted. A chunk of the plaster overlay fell off, revealing the perfect hiding spot for the pouch.
Druids welcome.
I swiped at an ant crawling across Tanner’s collar bones and came up on my elbow. Slipping the dual cords over my head, I stuffed the pouch into the crack and wedged the fallen bit of plaster over the opening. Pressing my palm over the area, I asked the house to keep my secret safe.
The stone shifted.
Tanner’s embrace tightened in response to my movements. Fanning his fingers over the dip in my waist, he whispered, “You okay?”
“I’m okay. Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m better. Thank you for listening.” He started to shift. I slid my knee up his thigh and pressed down to stop him getting up.
