Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel Read Free Page A

crucifixion.”
    “And it’s still there?”
    “Miles and miles of it. You can touch stones placed by hands that are long gone.”
    His enthusiasm was intoxicating. Her heart was pounding a little faster, and she leaned closer. Close enough to see the shaving nick on the edge of his jaw, close enough to see the yellow flecks in his brown eyes framed by the black rims of his glasses, close enough to see the tattoo that peeked out of the sleeve of his black T-shirt.
    Before she could stop herself, she pushed the sleeve up a couple of inches. His biceps flexed, and she pulled back as if bitten. Geez, you’d think she’d never touched a man before. She cleared her throat. “What’s your tattoo of?”
    He pulled his sleeve to the top of his shoulder, exposing a stylized cross on a shield. “The symbol for the Knights Templar.”
    “Oh my God, are you on the hunt for the Holy Grail? In Cottonbloom?”
    He threw his head back, his laughter coming deep in his chest but morphing into a cough that had him hunched over and covering his mouth. Finally, his laugh-cough subsided, and he took a sip of the whiskey. “No Holy Grail in Cottonbloom to my knowledge. The Knights Templar stood for bravery and discipline. I guess that’s what it means to me.”
    “Bravery and discipline, huh? Not bad things to stand for.” She took a sip of her warm beer to have something to do besides stare at his defined arm.
    “Would you like to dance?”
    “Dance?”
    “There’s a dance floor in the corner.” He pointed somewhere behind her. “And music playing. Dancing’s not so far-fetched an activity, is it?”
    She looked over her shoulder. The corner consisted of a small square of planked flooring she’d never noticed. Maybe because she’d never seen anyone actually dancing in the Rivershack Tavern, unless it was a drunk girl’s mating call in the middle of the pool tables.
    “Yeah, I don’t dance.”
    “That’s not what I remember.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You used to take ballet. You put on a recital for me in the middle of your backyard.”
    “I can’t believe you remember that.” She turned toward him.
    He looked into his whiskey as if he could divine the future, a half smile on his face. “I’ve not forgotten a minute that we spent together. Don’t you remember?”
    Emotions she didn’t understand grew a lump in her throat. Of course she remembered. Every second. Next to her parents, Nash had been the most important person in her life. Above even her brothers back then. The fact he remembered filled her with hope and despair.
    “Why in the world did you come back to Cottonbloom, Nash?”
    *   *   *
    Nash suppressed another coughing fit. All the cigarette smoke hanging in the room like fog was making his usually well-controlled asthma act up. Friday and Saturday nights were definitely the worst as he discovered over the past two weeks of coming in regularly. He took a too large sip of the excellent, aged Scotch to soothe his throat. Not the way such fine liquor should be savored.
    He wasn’t at the Rivershack Tavern for the Scotch or the company—although he’d surprisingly enjoyed both—he was sitting in the smoky bar for Tallulah Fournette. As soon as he’d heard she was single again and a semi-regular, he’d found himself there night after night, waiting.
    It’s not like he’d moved back to Cottonbloom for her. A multitude of reasons drew him back to his hometown. His aunt was getting older. Cottonbloom College, while not as prestigious as an Ivy League school, offered something none of those schools could. The chance to build an outstanding history department from the ground up and the promise of early tenure. He was excited for the challenge.
    But more than familial obligations and a job drew him home. Cottonbloom lived in his memories like an old tome he struggled to translate and interpret. When he dreamed of Cottonbloom, the negative recollections leaked out as if his memory was a