As I made my way around a bend in the road, still munching on that gingerbread cookie, I saw someone coming my way—someone with long, wild, brown hair cascading around her shoulders. Tonight she wore a pair of black joggers and one of those sweatshirts decorated to look like an ugly Christmas sweater. Hers was bright red with a wreath covered in puppies who had light-up eyes. It wasn’t a bad choice of clothing for a dark country road late at night.
I waved as she came toward me. “Hi!” I realized I had no idea what her name was, even though she’d been creeping into my thoughts the past few days.
“Simpsons guy.” She raised the tumbler she was holding as a toast.
“Matt,” I told her.
“Dani,” she said.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“Apple pie moonshine.” She took a sip, savoring the beverage for a second. “My dad made it.” She offered me the glass, a very intimate action from a stranger, but I accepted the gesture. We were in the moonlight, after all, and she was a very attractive woman. The spicy cinnamon liquid oozed down my throat, and I gave a little cough.
“Smooth,” I said.
She laughed. “No, it isn’t.”
“Where’s your dog?”
“I left that animal at home,” she said. “I needed a few minutes to myself. Too many people in the house right now.”
I checked out our surroundings. No sounds of traffic or other people. A few crickets and owls, coupled with a coyote off in the distance, provided our soundtrack. The house next to us stood dark and had a “For Sale” sign on the lawn. The Wackernagel Resort & Spa was such an odd place—a central inn surrounded by thousands of acres of single-family homes, condos, and golf courses. Some people were obviously here on vacation, but others, like Linda, had made this resort their home. “Do you live here?” I asked Dani. “I mean, are you a full-timer?”
“About two years ago, my mom and dad finally did what they’d been threatening for decades—they bought a house here after they retired. Now they live in the resort full-time, and I just moved in with them.” She raised her drink at that and took a sip. “So yes, I suppose I live here now.”
“Like Linda.” I nodded down the road.
“Ah, you’ve met Linda.” Smiling, she nodded toward my hand. “That must be where that cookie’s from.”
“It is.” I popped the rest of it in my mouth.
“Are you here on vacation?” Dani asked.
I debated how to answer her. I wouldn’t lie. She knew Linda, after all, and anything I said could be disproven. But I wouldn’t give the game away, especially since Dani still seemed to have no clue who I was. I longed to keep that dynamic going.
“I’m here for the holidays,” I said.
“You have family in town?”
Me? No. But I knew someone who did. “My friend does. I guess I’m here to celebrate with some chosen family.”
She smiled softly. “That’s nice, ‘chosen family.’” She handed me her drink again, and I took a small sip, trying to avoid another coughing fit.
“You said your house is full…” I was trying to get a read on her. She wore no wedding ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t seeing someone.
“My parents are there, obviously, and the dog and my daughter. And my niece and nephew and my sister-in-law…” She chuckled. “Kind of a full house, and my brother’s not even here yet.”
No mention of a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner or anything like that. “You said your daughter is there. Are you married?” Way to be blunt, Matt. Eh, sometimes it was best not to beat around the bush.
“Divorced,” she said. “You?”
“Single. Very single.”
Something in her eyes shifted. Heavy lids darkened her irises to charcoal as she studied me. “I was hoping that was what you’d say.”
I laughed nervously as the air around us shifted. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”
“I’ve been thinking about you since we ran into each other.” She pushed her hair over one shoulder. “Which is…not something I’d normally say to a complete stranger.” She laughed.
“We’re not complete strangers now, though, are we? I’m Matt. You’re Dani—”
My stomach bubbled with excitement as she stepped closer.
“Continuing this whole ‘things I normally wouldn’t say to a complete stranger’ business…I’m kind of in a giddy mood right now, and I’d like to kiss you,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
“Please do,” I told her. “I’d like you to kiss me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She snatched the tumbler of moonshine back from me and drained it as a soft, chilly breeze ruffled her hair. With a lick of her lips, she dropped the cup. I barely had time to register the clank of the aluminum against the asphalt before her mouth was on mine.
I stumbled backward, still holding on to her, trying to keep us upright as our shoes skidded on the gravel next to the street and we tripped into the grass on the side of the road. Her soft, silky lips tasted like mangoes and cinnamon with a hint of alcohol. I held on tight to her, breathing her in, this stranger on the road in the middle of nowhere.
After a few moments, she pulled away, and I stifled a laugh.
“What?” Her eyes flashed.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just that, a few minutes ago, I’d been thinking about how we barely knew each other and were sharing a drink.”
She laughed, too. “I suppose all of this escalated quickly.”
“I’m not complaining.” I glanced down the road, toward the house where I was staying. I could invite her to join me, but no. If I let Dani into my house, I’d be opening a can of worms. For the next several weeks, she’d be my neighbor. We’d run into each other constantly. Things would get awkward, and the stress of dealing with a romantic entanglement would distract me from my writing. Better to cut this short and leave ourselves with the sweet, perfect memory of making out with a total stranger in the moonlight on a deserted road. “I should probably…” I nodded back toward Linda’s house, attempting to preserve my anonymity by making it look like I lived up that way.
“Me, too.” As she walked backward, heading the way she came, she said, “But Matt, if you ever want to do that again…”
“I’ll keep an eye out for you.” I waved good-bye and headed back toward Linda’s house, ready to walk and walk and walk until I got that kiss out of my mind.