Cards of Love_The Hermit by Cora Brent

Cards of Love_The Hermit by Cora Brent

Author:Cora Brent [Brent, Cora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-20T05:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eight

Jeremy

We didn’t have any awkward, “Hey, you want to fuck tonight?” conversations about what we were doing.

The sun would go down and we’d find each other. And then we’d fuck twelve ways from Sunday. Not that we never talked. We talked plenty. She told me about the progress she was making in her work and she described the solitary life she’d led as a professor at a small college in Pennsylvania. It didn’t sound to me like she missed that life.

I didn’t have as many exciting things to talk about. For the past five years my world had been very small and there just weren’t too many things to say about it. I told her what I knew about the motley collection of humanity populating these parts. She laughed over a tale of hip young New Yorkers who’d moved here with big ideas about starting a mini farm because they’d read an article about modern homesteaders. They knew nothing about growing food and certainly nothing about the challenges of growing crops in the desert. They planted the wrong things at the wrong time in the wrong place and complained to Betty Grable when they wound up with a pile of dead stalks. They lasted three months and then ran back to New York.

Deirdre was interested in my book collection too. Every day she asked me what I was reading and what I thought of it. She liked to hear me read aloud and even though I felt weird about it the first few times I got used to it. She liked poetry and adored Shakespeare’s sonnets. She said I had the perfect reading voice and I didn’t know about that but I enjoyed the way she’d curl up beside me and listen so I’d happily read to her for as long as she wanted me to.

So far we’d avoided talking about our most painful moments. She hadn’t volunteered any additional details about her family or about the mystery of her name. I wondered about her but I didn’t ask her those kinds of questions. If she regretted choking out that tearful confession then I wouldn’t make it worse by digging deeper. And while I told her a few things about growing up with my family in Tulsa I stayed away from any mention of the plane crash, or of the way I’d walked out of the cemetery and refused to look back. There were some words that would always hurt to say out loud.

We’d been carrying on this way for about three pretty fucking incredible weeks when she appeared from around the hill just as the sun was dipping below the horizon.

I stopped what I was doing and just watched her walk toward me, aware that something in my chest jumped at the sight of her. My dick might have jumped a little too. She was wearing a dress for once, a blue and white striped thing that molded itself to her hips and tits. I got to thinking about how it felt to grip those sweetly rounded hips in my hands before I pushed my way inside her.



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