“Sure,” she said with a smile. “It’s this way.”
Miracle showed Hardy to a small bathroom at the end of a short hallway that shot off the kitchen. Hardy noticed that every wall in the entire house was painted a cheery yellow. At least every wall he’d seen so far.
After he’d used the bathroom and washed his hands, Hardy opened the door to make his way back to the living room. Directly across from the bathroom, Miracle was coming out of what Hardy assumed was her bedroom. As if she’d forgotten something, she turned and ducked quickly back inside. Unable to stop himself, Hardy crossed the hall and stopped just outside the opening.
He couldn’t imagine a room suiting her more perfectly. The walls, unlike the predominant yellow of the rest of the house, were a pale, soothing lilac. All the furniture in the room as well as the comforter and pillows were creamy white, but for a blanket draped across the foot of the bed and the curtains; they were covered in flowers of pink, lilac, mint green and yellow. The room was soft and feminine, tranquil and cheerful, everything that Miracle was, all wrapped up within four walls. The air even smelled like her, Hardy noticed as he inhaled the scent of lavender.
Miracle stepped out of what Hardy guessed was her closet, tugging at a shoe she’d apparently just donned. All thoughts of the room left his mind, chased away by the sight of her.
She’d changed into black form-fitting yoga pants and a snug gray long-sleeved t-shirt. Every curve was delineated to perfection and Hardy’s body came alive with desire. He forced himself to look away before the situation got embarrassing, mostly for him.
“So, why the change of clothes?”
“I’d really rather not get a tick if we’re gonna be scrounging around looking for bugs to take pictures of,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she breezed past him.
“Why not?” Hardy asked as he followed Miracle back down the hall. “A little Lyme disease never hurt anybody. Oh, wait…”
Miracle looked back at him and grinned. “Yeah, who doesn’t want a rash, flu-like symptoms and overall misery with the possibility of paralysis? No summer would be complete without it.”
“See? So why don’t we just strip those clothes right off you and take our chances?”
They’d reached the door and Miracle stopped to look back at him. Hardy immediately regretted his teasing. He panicked, his brain scrambling for something to say to smooth things over in case he offended her.
“I didn’t…I just…I was just…” he stammered.
Miracle took a step closer and looked up at him. There was something smoky and hot in her eyes that gave Hardy pause. “Would you like that?” she asked softly, her voice little more than a whisper. “For me to strip, right here in front of you?”
Hardy felt his jaw go slack and his heart began to race inside his chest like a runaway stallion. “Wh-what?” He stood perfectly still and watched her as she reached for the hem of her shirt. He didn’t know what to say or do; he was paralyzed and spellbound. Unfortunately, his body knew exactly what to do. It got hard and began to throb with need.
Then Miracle laughed, winking mischievously at Hardy. “I’m just kidding, too,” she said, turning back to open the door. She stepped through it and stopped, tilting her face up to the sun that was pouring onto the stoop. Hardy stayed inside for a few extra seconds, taking deep breaths and trying to calm his body. He knew right then that if things ever got to the physical point with Miracle, it would be the most amazing experience of his life. He knew it as certainly as he knew the sun would rise in the morning.
Finally, Miracle turned to him and smiled again. “You ready?”
“Yep,” Hardy replied, hoping for a lightness in his tone that he didn’t yet feel. He was still quelling the urge to carry Miracle back to her bedroom, peel off her clothes and kiss every square inch of her perfectly formed body.
Silently, Hardy followed Miracle across her back yard, through a field and into a small patch of woods that lay between her subdivision and the river Hardy knew ran behind it. He had to purposely push thoughts of the river out of his mind, because that made him think of swimming with Miracle, which made him think of her in a bathing suit, which made him think of her without a bathing suit. It didn’t lead to a comfortable place for him, so he determined to avoid it altogether.
“So,” Miracle said, stopping a little ways into the forest. “Where would be the best place to find bugs in the woods?”
“Let’s look for a fallen tree or an old stump. I’d say those type places would be as good as any for a bunch of bugs to hide out.”
Miracle nodded once. “Fallen trees. Old stumps. Gotcha.”
With that, Hardy and Miracle began to walk slowly across the bracken-strewn ground, side by side, in search of the perfect safe haven for insects.
“Over there!” Miracle called several minutes later, pointing out to her right. She took off in that direction and Hardy followed her. Sure enough, there was a fallen tree and, at its base, the stump it had likely been separated from some time ago. Miracle placed one tennis-shoe shod foot against the tree and pushed. It didn’t move at all. Didn’t even rock, so she moved to the stump and squatted down to examine the dirt surrounding it.
Hardy pushed on the fallen tree as well and got it to move a little. Refusing to consider that his motivation might include showing off for Miracle, he squatted down in front of the felled tree and put his hands against it, pushing with all his might. He managed to move the tree enough to unsettle it from its trench, exposing to light and air and inspection a variety of critters that wiggled and squirmed.
“Here’s some,” Hardy said matter-of-factly, brushing off his hands.
Miracle looked up. “Nice,” she admired, making Hardy puff up in pride. She left the stump and dropped to her knees in front of the deep groove the tree had left. Hardy fully expected her to squeal or act squeamish over the fast-moving bugs, but Miracle surprised him yet again.
“Come here, you,” she said, reaching for a millipede as it slithered by looking for a new home. Miracle gently picked up the bug, letting it crawl over the back of first one hand, then the other. She smiled at it as she worked her hands to keep the arthropod from getting away. She let it slither up her arm a ways before she caught it on the backs of her fingers and brought it back down again. She even giggled once when it crawled across her palm. “That tickles.” When she looked up at Hardy, he figured his face must’ve shown his surprise. “What?”