“Yeah. I’m helping out at a ranch off Harris Way.”
“Warren Harris’ old place. His daughter runs it, the one who makes those soaps and jellies,” he says.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“I’m not mad at ya. She’s a beauty,” he says and I most definitely agree. “What you doing out there?”
“Mostly electrical work.”
“Sounds like you’re settling in.”
“I’m definitely settling in, so you can get your truck back.”
“I tell ya what. If you can get Foxy running, you can drive her,” he says, referring to his prized possession, his red and white 1984 Dodge D/W Series pickup truck. It was his first truck and he’s had it my entire life.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Just needs a tune-up and an oil change. I haven’t had time to work on her in a few months. Come by the house, say hi to your aunt, and work on Foxy.”
“Will Auntie be home tomorrow morning?”
“Where else she gon’ be?” he asks with a deep chuckle. “She’ll be there.”
“’Preciate it, Unc. I’ll be there around eleven.”
“I’ll let her know,” he says before ending the call.
After placing my cell back into my pocket, I put all the supplies in the back of the barn then walk out. I trek through the snow to the main house. When I stop on the back porch to grab the wood I cut, I hear taps on the window to the kitchen. I look up and see Amara’s smiling face. She steps away and opens the door.
“I was just about to come out and get you. We’re ready to eat,” she says.
“Bet. Let me take this up to the attic and wash my hands,” I tell her.
“Okay but hurry, please,” she says then rolls her eyes. “Wren’s not letting us eat till you come in.”
“Give me five,” I say and she nods before quickly shutting the door.
I grab the wood then practically jog up the steps. Amara has a way of making me want to keep her smiling, just like her sister. So as quickly as I can, I place three logs into the small fireplace and put the remaining three next to it. Then I thoroughly wash my hands and face before heading back outside. Before I can raise my hand to knock on the front door, Amara’s friend opens it.
I’m clearly one of the topics of their teenage conversation. Her big ass smile and tiny giggles as I walk in are a dead ass giveaway. It’s further confirmed when she rushes over to Amara and damn near squeals.
“I figured you were in the house,” Wren says as soon as I enter the kitchen.
“Why is that?” I ask.
“I heard your little cheerleaders. I think Kimmie has a crush.”
“As long as you have a crush, I’m good,” I tell her when I’m closer.
“I’m a little bit too old for a crush. I’m a grown woman who’s attracted and intrigued,” she admits before licking her lips and my damn dick jumps. Her eyes lock in on mine, and when I take another step closer, they quickly dart past me. “Wash your hands so we can eat,” she says.
Fuck! Interrupted again.
Amari and her homegirl just walked into the kitchen. They whisk past me and rush to the sink. While they wash up, Wren removes the sandwiches from the grill pan on the stove and places them all on a large plate.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Wren states.
For you and this food.
