I smiled and scooped my boy up. Dahn was getting heavier. Still nothing but arms and legs but filling out in muscle. Someday this would be impossible for me, say within a few years, but for now, I relished carrying him to bed. Once a pillow was under his head, I gently removed his jeans. He mumbled but didn’t wake up. With a soft tug, I had the thin summer blanket and top sheet over him. The boy sighed dreamily and rolled onto his belly. I left the small lamp on the dresser on in case he woke up alone and was frightened, and then I went to join Ollie in the kitchen.
“I made us a couple of iced teas,” he said as I closed the distance to link my arms around his thick neck and kiss him. Soundly. “Mm, that’s a nice thank you for a simple Arnold Palmer.”
“I love golf.” I tasted his lips again.
“Do you?” His hands rested on my hips. The house was quiet, the ice maker in the fridge the only sound other than the soft whir of a fan overhead.
“Not really, but I do like a nice nightcap with a handsome man.” He rubbed his nose against mine and then, sadly, took a step back. Probably a wise call since both of us were getting hard.
“Do you want to return to the sofa or go out back and sit?” He placed my drink in my hand and adjusted himself with a devilish look.
“Let’s do the sofa. The bugs outside are larger than Ford’s love of goats.”
“That’s pretty big.” He took my hand. We returned to the couch, sitting down beside each other, the TV set now playing soft ’80s songs. “So, how are things with Dahn?”
I took a sip, made a yummy sound, and lowered my drink to my thigh. The cold seeped through the worn denim. “Things are okay. He’s seen the error of his ways, I think, and seems to be genuinely sorry. You make a good cocktail.”
“Thanks. I worked at a bar for a few years during college.” He let his hand rest on my knee. We both placed our heels on his coffee table and let the music of Tracy Chapman singing about a fast car soothe us. “What’s his punishment?”
“He’s only allowed to show on Monday. No rides, no sleepovers at the barn, and once the shows are over, he has to come home.” I studied the ice cubes in my drink. “I think that’s fair. He’s also volunteered to paint over the pink penis as part of his punishment.”
“Do you want him to do that?”
“I think he would learn a valuable lesson.”
“He’ll probably be the only one doing so. The other boys’ parents were not happy with Easton or me calling them in from work to deal with, and I quote, ‘Boys just being boys,’ after whichKeith Sr. warned me to stop picking on white boys and go pay attention to the shit the kids on the rez were doing.”
My mouth fell open. Ollie rolled his stiff shoulder around. “Yeah, it was not a pleasant scene at all. They gathered their kids and took them home. Will they pay or make the boys clean up the mess? My guess is no followed by no. The town will have to bill them. Court costs, which will be unpaid until I have to go speak to them about paying for the cleanup or face more costs. They’ll pay it then at the last minute, but it will serve as more fodder for their hatred of me, and probably the Bastians since one of the boys let slip that his daddy said everyone at Bastian Acres was a pink dick lover, which was why they chose that paint, the penis, and the statue of your ancestor.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled, stunned to the core. Then, after a moment, the shock turned into sad resignation. Hate was taught. What a tragic legacy those people were forcing on their kids. “Okay, well, when he’s there painting, I’ll be there as well.”
“Let me know when he has a free day, and I’ll supervise. Could take a day this week. I took a week of PTO while you and he were here. I know it’s not a fun day exactly, but if he does his part, painting over the penis, that should count as community service served. Then we can go do something enjoyable.”
I clinked my glass against his. “That sounds perfect.” A few moments passed in that pleasant way time drifts when two people are just happy to share the same space with or without words. There was one thing poking at me mentally though. “I hope you’re not upset that I’m bunking with Dahn.”
He shook his head after he sipped his drink. “Absolutely not. Do I want you in my bed? Hell yes. Do I understand that you’re torn about sharing my bed when we’re not in a committed relationship in front of your son? Totally.” His gaze grabbed mine. “Just so you know, I’d be happy to call you my boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” I turned to stare at him, my feet falling to the floor with a thud.
“Yeah. I think we fit. I know you’re coming out of a bad divorce, so I’m not pushing, but just know that when or if you’re ready, I’m totally down with the boyfriend moniker.”
I buried my nose into the crook of his shoulder and just breathed him into my soul. “It will be a when for sure,” I murmured into his skin. He gave my knee a little squeeze. This right here was the stuff of dreams.Mydreams anyway…
13
Chapter Thirteen
The following week was filled with chaos and memories starting with the fair.
It was enjoyable for sure. So many animals, so many people, so many shows. Dahn did well in the meat goat show on Monday morning, placing a respectable second in the breeding doe kids class. Every Bastian in the stands, and that was all of them, cheered loudly. Dahn had done quite well for his first year, and the red ribbons were displayed proudly over the top of Petunia’s pen in the goat barn.
Ollie and I took Dahn to watch the dairy goat show the next day after we went to the fairgrounds to tend to the doeling. Phil did well, grabbing first place for a doeling and a best udder in show for one of his Lamancha does. I’d never seen a goat with such tiny ears, but she sure was cute. That night was the sleepover at the barn, and Dahn was obviously upset to miss it, but he knew why he was not allowed. Still, he was down when weleft the fair but cheered up when we pulled up to a crystal clear lake and Ollie pulled three fishing rods from the back of his Jeep.
“This is the Green Fish Lake. It’s on the very fringes of my peoples’ lands,” he explained to Dahn and me as we made our way through tall weeds to the edge of the lake. The spot was used by people as the shore was tamped down with muddy footprints scattered up and down the shoreline. “There are a lot of good catfish in here that we can have for dinner if we can get them to bite our worms.”
“Cool,” Dahn exclaimed, eagerly watching Ollie as he threaded a fat nightcrawler on a hook that had a big red bobber attached to it. “I’ve never had a catfish dinner. Is it like fish sticks?”
Ollie chuckled. “Sort of but not.”
