“Don’t say landlord?” I’m whacked in the chest, making me chuckle. But I catch her other hand. “Don’t be so feisty. The money was offered with good intentions. I don’t think you’re a wanton anything. Quite the opposite, in fact.” The stiffness in her arms loosens, and her head tilts just enough for me to know she’s open to hearing more.
Before I can say anything, she says, “I can be wanton, but I wasn’t being that with you . . . I mean, I was, kind of, but?—”
I kiss her, pulling her into my arms. She sinks against me, and our breaths become moans as our tongues tangle together. When I feel the tension leave her body, I kiss her long and slow, savoring the sweetness of her lips and the way she makes me wish we were still in bed.
She pulls back with her eyes still closed and licks herlips under a contented hum. When I’m given the pleasure of her beautiful browns again, she smiles. But reality sneaks into her expression, pulling most of the joy from it. “Do you want me to pack up a cinnamon roll or something for the road?”
“No. I got all I need right here.” That helps with her smile, but she looks down, seemingly unsure of what to say. Lifting her chin until her eyes rise to mine again, I ask, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Hesitating, she takes a breath, and says, “It was good seeing you again, Baylor.”
This isn’t supposed to be anything other than a strange turn of events that brought us together for a few hours. I can understand her need to protect herself, but I still feel the urge to say something. “I don’t live here or?—”
“I know. No explanation needed.” Taking a deep breath, she steps into the kitchen, this time more than a foot separating us. It feels like a mile, but I think my mind is playing tricks on me. Or maybe it’s my heart. Either way, I need to ignore it.
I dip my head and give her a smile that doesn’t feel quite right. “See you around, Shortcake.”
“See you around, Greene.” She closes the door, but one of us had to do it, so there’s no need to place blame.
Not sure why I’m still standing here like there could be a different outcome, but this is it. I need to look at this time with her as another experience and place it where it belongs in the one-time thing drawer.
I get in the car, wondering why this feels different. It shouldn’t. I start the car and let it go because there’s no use dwelling on happenstance.
Every time I drive over the cattle guard of the ranch, I’m instantly reminded I’m home. Though I can’t say it feelsmuch like home these days. Even my old room feels more foreign than familiar, the more I live in the Northeast. My feelings on the subject are complicated.
The ranch is my sister’s, my dad’s, even more my best friend’s than mine these days in title and principle. Doesn’t matter. I’ve built a life elsewhere. Not better, just different. And sometimes different will have to do until something better comes along.
I park the car in front of the main house and head toward the door to check in with my dad. The front door opens, and the screen door squeals as he steps onto the porch. He works a smile into place, though I can tell he’s in pain. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back for a visit.
“Welcome back to the ranch, son.”
I step up onto the porch and shake his hand. “Good to be back.” He pulls me in for a hug with a solid pat on the back.
He turns to return inside, and says, “I need my coffee to get the engine runnin’ in the morning. Care for a cup?”
“I’ll take one.” I follow him inside, letting the screen door swing shut. That sound brings back memories of running in and out of the house during the summertime. Really, it was year-round, and my mom always reminded me not to let it slam closed. I can still hear her voice in my head, and I smile.
I miss her so damn much it hurts if I let myself think about it. So I don’t let my mind go there often.
Sitting, I watch as he starts the coffee pot and then joins me across the table. He looks at me, and asks, “How long are you staying?”
“I leave Monday morning.”
“You lost a night to the storm.”
I wouldn’t say I lost anything, considering the storm brought me to Lauralee’s. “It was bad.”
“It’ll dry up quick out here. We’ve needed rain.”
The sound of a UTV reaches us before the motor is cut outside, and the squawk of the kids comes closer. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”
My dad gets up to check the coffee. “They keep me young.”
“That’s a good thing.” I get up and rush onto the porch to greet them. As soon as my niece and nephew see me, I bend down and open my arms wide. “Get over here, you rascals.”
Beckett runs into my arms with little Daisy teeter-totting up the porch steps. My sister is right behind her, glowing in the sunlight, and pregnant again. I give Daisy a big hug when she makes it up the steps. Standing with her in my arms, I whisper, “I missed you, Daisy girl.”
Christine says, “She missed you. She wanted me to show her Bay Bay photos again.”
