Dad picks up a greasy bacon pan and heaves an exhausted sigh. I take it from him and run a hand over his back.
"Dad, you take a break. You helped cook. Seth and I will clean this up."
He sighs deeply again and rubs his hands over his eyes.
"Would that be okay? We trimmed hooves after milking this morning. Maybe I'll just lie down for a little while."
"Go," I say, guiding him gently toward the door.
He walks away, then pivots and says, "Don't forget it's Saturday. That's when Rhett said he'd be at that Ricky's place. You should go out tonight."
Seth, who is bent over loading dishes, straightens to a standing position when Dad says Rhett's name.
"Do you know Ricky's?" Dad asks Seth.
"Yeah, I know it." Seth returns to aligning the plates to his satisfaction.
"Maybe you could drive Andie tonight? She hasn't been there before."
Dad is overstepping again, just like he did with Rhett at the farmer's market. I know it's because he doesn't want me driving to some unknown location at night. Every birthday he gifts me a tiny bottle of pepper spray that attaches to my keychain then gives me a talk on "street smarts."
"I can drive," Seth says, "if she wants me to."
He has moved on to re-organizing the glasses now. He's actually going to fit our huge pile of dishes in there because of his meticulous arranging.
"No thanks," I say immediately. "I like having my own car. That way I can leave when I want. Plus, Seth probably has his own plans tonight."
"I do, but—"
"See? Everyone has their own plans." I wave Dad out of the room. "Go take a nap."
He shuffles away reluctantly, as if he'd love to stay and interfere in our social lives some more, but the pull of his bed is too strong.
For several minutes, Seth and I clean together in silence, and I pretend not to notice the effect his physical presence has on me. The temperature in the kitchen seems to have risen a few degrees, to the extent that I check that the oven has been turned off. I pull at the front of my t-shirt to let a little air breeze up on my chest.
"How do you know Rhett?" Seth asks, as if we've already been having a conversation.
"I don't, really," I admit, filling the bacon pan with water and soap so it can soak. "We met at the farmer's market."
The dishwasher is completely full now, and he gently closes the door then leans back against the counter. He's wearing well-worn Levis and a black t-shirt that makes his eyes look even darker than usual. From the amused turn of his smile, I have the terrible feeling he's going to say something about my orgasmic morning.
"What?" I wipe the counter with gusto to avoid his gaze. "Clearly, you want to say something about Rhett."
"Is he out of college yet?" His tiny smile blossoms into a grin.
I pause my cleaning frenzy. "Are you joking? He looked at least twenty-five."
I immediately regret including the words "at least" in that sentence because it sounds like I'm aware Rhett is young. Maybe too young. Being around Seth always gets me flustered into saying the wrong thing, and he is full-on loving my discomfort at this moment.
"I'm pretty sure he's barely legal," he says. "But maybe that's your thing, younger guys."
His face is the next thing I'm going scrub off with this sponge.
"I'm not hooking up with Rhett," I say defensively, even though I know I'm giving Seth exactly what he wants by showing my irritation. "He invited me to hang out with his friends tonight, that's all. And it's not like I'm some old lady creeping on boys. I'm only twenty-eight so even if he's twenty-two—you know what? Forget it. I don't owe you any kind of explanation about my life."
He crosses one foot over the other like he has all the time in the world to harass me.
"It's interesting that you want to make friends here. I thought you were going to snatch up your father and head north as soon as possible."
