“Mornin’, honey.” His eyes are as soft as his voice as they dance over my face. I want to wipe away the mascara smudges, but I can’t move my arms. I’m feeling way too exposed.
“What time are you getting Little G today?” I ask, hoping to draw his focus from examining my features and boring a hole into my soul with those eyes. Why is he looking at me like that?
Instead of answering, he responds, “You should take the day off and stay in bed.”
“The thought did occur to me, but I don’t think your calves or any of the other livestock in the county care that I’m sleep deprived from banging the town carpenter all night.”
He ignores my attempt at humor. “I’ll take the day off too. We’ll tell everyone we’re sick.” He leans down to drop a kiss on my lips, but I manage to wrestle one hand free and slap it over his mouth before he makes contact.
His brows snap together, and he mumbles into my palm, “Wha re ouu oin?”
“I have morning breath.”
He pulls my hand away and pins it down again with embarrassingly little effort. “I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.” Using all my strength, I roll out from under him and lunge to my feet before scrambling for a shirt and tossing it over my bare breasts. This is getting way too intimate for my own good. Time to reset those boundaries. “I gotta hop in the shower anyway. Full day ahead.”
“Shelby.” His tone is low and holds a hint of warning.
“Dallas, whatever is running through that head of yours, you don’t have to worry,” I assure him as I wiggle into my underwear. “Like I said last night, it’s just sex. We’re two sexually compatible adults perfectly capable of separating feelings from actions.” I lean back over the bed and boop him on the nose to reinforce my point. “Don’t worry.”
Then I haul ass to the shower because it really wouldn’t take much for him to lure me back into bed and repeat the best sex of my life a few more times.
The man works miracles between the sheets. While we only had sex twice, I’m pretty sure he made me come a dozen times. He was beyond thorough in his investigation into every single inch of my skin, constantly evaluating what responses his touch could elicit. A lick to the small of my back had me arching like a mewling cat while the soft whisper of his thumb over my nipple nearly made me see stars. Not to mention the way his teeth on my neck melted me into a puddle of sensual goo. In summary, he’d make an excellent scientist with that kind of attention to detail.
And after I get my work done and take a much-needed nap, I’ll have to see where his head is at. Because now that we’ve gone there, there’s no reason we can’t keep a good thing going—as long as we both keep our heads while we’re at it.
“I heard Meemaw and Phyllis scheming about a dance they want to do for everyone. Just thought you’d appreciate the warning,” Norinne tells me from her spot in front of one of the bathroom sinks.
“Good lord above.” I exit the stall and join her at the sinks, where I frown at my reflection.
We’re all gathered at Knockin’ Boots for my fortieth birthday party. The girls went all out and decorated a corner of the bar in my favorite color, complete with a matching cake and a signature cocktail they named Turquoise Titillation, for some reason. It’s a fantastic party, despite the one thing that has me frowning.
Norinne pauses with her lipstick tube poised a few inches from her face. Her hair is a deep blue today, and it complements her coloring better than the purple did. “What’s the matter, hun? It’s your birthday. You should be smiling ear to ear, or we’re not doing our job as party hosts.”
I send her a tepid smile. “Oh, it’s nothing. The party is great, thanks. I just got my period, which is particularly annoying because I just had it two weeks ago.” I switch on the tap to wash my hands.
“Well, that’s not exactly the gift a girl wants for her birthday, is it?” She swipes a coat of fire-engine red stain on her bottom lip. “I feel you, though. Before I hit perimenopause, you could set a watch by my cycle. Twenty-eight days on the dot.” She repeats the stain on her top lip.
“You’re too young for that,” I protest. “Aren’t you only a few years older than me?” When she only shrugs and rubs her lips together, I continue talking. “I’ve always been regular, but lately it’s been all over the place.”
She pauses again and responds with a weighty, “Oh.” Well, that doesn’t sound good.
“Whatoh?” I stare at her in the mirror, wet hands dripping into the sink.
“Well…you’re forty.” She says it like she’s apologizing.
“So?”
Norinne stashes her lipstick in her apron pocket and turns to me, so I do the same, ignoring the water now soaking into my top. “Let me ask you this. Have you started noticing any other changes? Like trouble sleeping? Waking up all sweaty in the middle of the night for no reason? Feeling particularly moody? Maybe more hair in the shower drain? Anything like that?”
“Kind of?” My response comes out more as a question because I’m suddenly terrified of what she’s implying. The nightmares have always marred my sleep, but my sleep quality has gotten poorer in recent months, despite the absence of the nightmares. And the hair! I’ve been telling myself that maybe my head was shedding like double-coated animals do for the summer. And I have definitely been more emotional this year. Oh no.
“I hate to break it to you, Shelby, but you might be starting perimenopause.”
Sensing that denial is the best course, I protest, “But I’m barely out of my thirties!”
Norinne pulls a couple paper towels from the dispenser and hands them over. “I was forty-one when it started for me. Now I’m almost done.”
