Page 106 of This Time Around
Thirty-Three
Cooper
After learning Rebecca was even more amazing in bed than I’d imagined she’d be, I continued learning new things about her every day.
Like, when the Fourth of July hit, the woman went crazy.She tricked out her house for Independence Day like my mom did for Christmas.I went to the feed store one day to pick up her order of mineral blocks and feed for the goats and chickens.In the two hours that trip took me, I came back and the house, inside and out, had exploded in patriotic decor the likes of which I’d never seen before.
Red, white, and blue towels and napkins and plates appeared in the kitchen.Red metal stars hung in sets of three above the fireplace, the front porch, and the side wall by the stairway.She’d set up a canopy of red, white, and blue twinkling lights outside, strung them around and above the fire pit and along the length of the back of her house from poles I had never seen.Lanterns had been popped into the edging of the landscaping around the back patio.
Everywhere I turned, stars were hung, flags waved from small poles along the front walk to the house and the gravel walkway to the guesthouse.There were pots of new flowers, all red and white spread along the wooden staircase leading to the front porch and door.
It wasn’t just the decorating that exploded.She jumped into a party planning frenzy, explaining to me two nights ago when she was quadruple-checking her shopping list for the upcoming barbecue party, that she hosted this event every year and she wasn’t missing it this year.
She had shoved the pencil eraser into her mouth and nibbled.That sent my mind straight to other things she could be nibbling and before she knew it, she was flung over my shoulder, plopped down onto the couch where I made love to her on top of a patriotic throw blanket.
God Bless the U.S.A.
Afterward, she flung it around her body and hauled her tight little ass upstairs to clean up and that memory of her, wrapped in stars and stripes, slapped me in the face as she came down the stairs this morning before we headed to the Carlton County 4thof July parade.
She was again, practically draped in a knock-off of our country’s flag but this was hella sexier than the throw blanket.Strapless and cinched at the waist, it was a one-piece with shorts that ended mere inches beneath the swell of her ass.And on her feet, she wore red leather thong sandals that perfectly matched her red and white striped toenail polish.
She called it a romper.
I called it a tiny little slice of heaven.It clung to her curves, showed a hint of her cleavage from the straight line of the top across her breasts.It showed off her sexy as hell legs.
I was still laughing at her and her sudden burst of insane excitement when we pulled up to the grass parking lot she directed me to for the best parking on the parade route.We were two hours early for the parade and the lot was almost filled.I’d dodged child after child, parents, and families, repeatedly through the streets, inching along at two miles an hour in her Chevy Silverado while people hustled along carrying folding chairs and blankets that almost matched Rebecca’s outfit.
“You are not wearing those,” I said, looking at her like she’d gone absolutely crazy.
“Of course I am.”She grinned and pressed something at the sides of a pair of sunglasses that had made a sudden appearance.And yes, they were red and white striped with tiny blue stars along the frames.They were three times too large for her small, typically cute face, and whatever she pressed made the stars blink in a rapid, wild manner.“What’s wrong with them?”
I buried my face in my hands fighting back a roar of laughter.“You have been holding out on me,” I said, pointing at her once I grabbed control of my laughter.“Brooke and Kelly are not the crazy ones.You’re their ringleader, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Her face, what I could see of it, was of picture-perfect innocence.
Like I could take her seriously with blinking glasses.“Sure you don’t.”
Despite my urge to flee from her sudden arrival of crazy, I grabbed her hand and reached into the bed of the truck to get the chairs.At some point during the week, it became an assumption we’d come to the parade.I hadn’t even been asked, and it’d been so long since I went to one, I hadn’t even thought about it, but once she started talking about the party later, mumbling her way through the planning of it and constantly recalculating the number of ribs and hot dogs I was sent to the store to purchase yesterday, I was drawn in to her excitement.
Apparently, so was everyone else in Carlton because the town had swelled to at least four times its typical size for a weekday morning.The streets were lined with chairs and blankets, a few small canopies had been opened to offer up shade.A slew of children of all ages ran around, some toddling by on chubby legs, while others raced up and down the now closed streets, tossing a football or Frisbees.Some sat on the curbs, sucking on popsicles, the red and blue juices dribbling off their chins.The mist of a poorly shot water gun dripped down on us and the streets were filled with joyful shrieks and happy squeals.
It was a scene I was certain had to be similar to the parades I’d attended in my childhood.But the last parade I went to was spent waving from a float on Thanksgiving Day in New York, and that parade, while wild and rambunctious and filled with kids was not anywhere similar to the scene in front of me.This was family and community and small town coming together, embracing one another freely, celebrating their love of their country and their excitement of a day off work, or a day off summer sports, where they’d most likely drink and eat a lot of hot dogs and brats, wave their flags, holler out the memorized words to a Toby Keith song or twelve, and they’d do it all with their friends and neighbors and families by their sides.
It was no longer any surprise why this day, above all other days in the year, sent Rebecca spinning like a lunatic.
We walked through the crowd, Rebecca next to me, and holding my hand.We were looking for Brooke and Andrew and their boys when reality smacked me across my face.
This was everything beautiful about small-town life.
She was everything beautiful I’d ever wanted.
The woman I’d marry.The woman who would have my children.
The woman who, for the rest of my life, I’d never have to worry about whether or not I could trust her because we’d both been through hell, and knew to appreciate it when God handed us something good again.
I pulled to a sudden stop, almost yanking her off her feet.
I didn’t apologize.
