Page 73 of Dream House
“You’ll never know unless you try,” I challenge.
“How many caves haveyoubeen in?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
“More than twenty?” she asks, squinty-eyed.
“Easy.”
Now she’s downright shocked.“Where?”
I pull in a breath. “Let’s see. Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Georgia…” I count off the ones that were drivable and try to remember all the trips we’ve taken as a family. Then the ones I’ve done with friends or as part of my degree program and summer internships. “Idaho, Utah, Colorado, Arizona, Nevada, New Mexico—“
“In other words,” Stella interrupts my litany, “everywhere.”
I’m sure my grin is both satisfied and hungry. “Not even close.”
“But you’d like to explore all of them?” The curious spark in her eyes tugs at something under my ribs. I’m enjoying her questions way too much.
“All?” I shake my head. “Not possible, but I do have what you might call a bucket list of geological sites I’d like to see before I die.”
“Such as?” Her mouth shapes the question around a distracting smile. I stare at her lips for a second or two before I answer. I can’t help it. I’ve seen her without makeup, so I know their shape and color are artful and sensual even without the berry gloss she’s wearing. They look soft, but not the voluptuous softness that gives everything away. No, Stella’s lips look like their softness has to be chased. And claimed.
What the hell am I thinking?
“Uh… Like…” I rack my brain. What were we talking about? Not lips. Definitely not lips.
Bucket List!
“The Blue Grotto in Italy, for sure. Vatnajokull Glacier Cave in Iceland. Glow Worms in New Zealand…” These are low-hanging fruit, the first easy spots I can drag to my prefrontal cortex. They aren’t going to impress her because anyone would list them first. It’s like saying I’m going to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower.
Wait. Why am I trying to impress her? “Th-the Turda Salt Mines near Bucharest. The Yekaterinburg Salt Mines in Russia. The Reed Flute Caves in China.”
She looks impressed, and okay, fine. I want to impress her. Also, this is the longest I’ve just sat and talked to her, and the more I do it, the less I want to stop.
“So, you’re like a geo-junky.” Her teasing grin makes me feel like I’ve swallowed a couple of shooting stars.
Since that makes no sense, I adopt a deadpan expression. “That’s not the preferred term we use, but maybe.”
Laughter overtakes her. If only everyone overtaken by laughter made it look so good. The world would be a shit-ton more bearable. “Who’swe?”
The deadpan thing is working so I stick with it. “Me and the other geological enthusiasts of the world.”
“And have you always been a geological enthusiast? Ever since your trip down into the mine shaft?”
When she takes us back to that memory, I realize I’ve been sucking up all of the air in the room. “I’m pretty sure it was even before then, but what about you? Have you always wanted to be Salon Stella?”
Her eyes bat wide. Did I really just say that?
“Salon Stella?”she parrots.
I shake my head. “Forget I said that. I didn’t say that. What are you talking about?”
She gapes at me like I’m a nutter—which I am. “Okay, we’re going to put a pin in that, but first I need to hear more about you—”
Stella wants to hear more. About me.
I’m not fizzing over like a shaken Mountain Dew. I swear I’m not.
