Impossible by Laurel Curtis Page A

could tell he was trustworthy somehow. Call it instinct or some freakish sixth sense. But if I told him, that would mean I would remember it, relive it...suffer it. And I just couldn’t go there. I wasn’t ready.
    Whispering softly, I said, “I’m not sure I can give you the respect you deserve back.”
    He considered what I said for a minute before gentling his face and reaching out to put his palm to my cheek. “That’s okay, Roni. I have a feeling you’ll give it to me eventually, and I’ve got time.”
    He stroked his thumb under my eye, no doubt noting the ever present purple circles, and then pulled his hand away. “Come on, let’s ride, Banty baby.”
    He clicked and bumped his heels, and I followed his lead. The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, both of us lost in our heads, but I found it to be completely enjoyable. Just being in his company was easy, and the trails were beautiful. Everything was lush and green, thriving under the same summer conditions that had me melting out of my skin. Flowers were bright and vibrant all over the place, and the golden wheat danced in the background as we rode around the edges of the Cade fields.
    After about an hour of virtual silence, sweating, and riding, I was glad to see the barn come into view. Walking the horses back into the arena, we stopped at the fence, jumped down off of our respective horses, and tied them up (I copied Coleman since I had no idea what I was doing on my own.).
    It was so freaking hot that I could feel the sweat trickling down between my breasts and settling around my bra strap. As I was thinking this, apparently Coleman had the same thought. I watched intently as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it to the side, revealing the tattooed set of bull horns on his upper back spanning his shoulder blades. The way it was done made it look like the horns pierced straight through his skin. It was both freaky, in a ‘that could really freaking happen’ way, and cool as hell.
    When he turned toward me again, I grumbled my petulance. “That is so un-freaking-fair. I want to take my shirt off, but being a woman makes that more complicated.”
    A smile broke out across his face as he gestured graciously with his hand, his every movement flexing his perfect eight pack of abs. “By all means, take yours off. I don’t mind at all.”
    I just bet he didn’t.
    Maybe I was suffering from heat stroke, maybe I was losing my mind, or maybe I was just tired of caring at all. Whatever the case, I took us both by surprise by reaching down for the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head, leaving myself exposed except for the coverage of my plain black bra.
    “Holy shit.”
    The look on his face was more adolescent boy than well-experienced man, and I knew that wasn’t the true story. “Give me a break. You’re gonna try to act like you haven’t seen hundreds of sets of these? Even your mother knows you have.”
    He pretended to be offended as he said, “Hey, I’ll have you know that I haven’t seen...okay, yeah. Probably hundreds.” Giving me- and my vulnerable girls - a look that could take away your virginity, he finished, “But baby, they never get old.”
    Rolling my eyes, I said, “I didn’t take off my shirt for you, I did it for my girls. They’re freaking dying out here. It’s a million degrees.”
    His eyes stayed locked directly on my chest, unabashed, while he muttered, “Hot summer days are my new favorite thing.”
    A smile lit his face, a direct result of our teasing banter (and likely his unobstructed view), but promptly slipped off when he processed what I had said about Nan. “Wait. Did you say...?” Within a span of just a few seconds, I watched as he fought an internal battle with himself, finally making a decision. “ No. Don’t tell me. I absolutely don’t want to know the reason that you’ve had a discussion about this with my mother!”
    “Let’s just say your anti-innocence hasn’t fully escaped her