“Sure. Just as soon as I get some IcyHot and we get back to the very comfortable bed.”
“Reasonable request, Old MacDonald.” I grab his shirt and wrap it around me like a robe. There’s no way I’m getting back into those leggings right now. I’m sticky with sweat, and the back of the truck, although larger than any other I’ve been in, hasn’t gotten any bigger in the last thirty seconds.
I get out and put my underwear back on, which gives Beau some more room to get in his pants. After collecting the rest of the clothes, he leads me out of the garage. I gasp when we get into the house but try to keep it down.
“What?” he asks, stopping to see what could have caused that reaction in me.
“Your neck is actually red. Like you have a red neck.” I point to the expanse of neck now visible since I’m wearing his shirt. “But how did it get red in the wintertime?”
“The sun is dangerous even if it’s not summer. And it was a sunny day.” Now his face is getting red too. “You know what, c’mere.”
Before I know what he’s doing, he bends low and then stands, with me dangling off his right shoulder after the move.
I laugh, then immediately think of his parents and try to stifle the sound. Instead I enjoy the new view of Beau’s butt, which continues walking up the stairs.
“Wheeee... I’m a sexy sack of potatoes,” I whisper to him, impressed all over again at whatever farm task gave him this strength.
“The sexiest,” he agrees, swatting at my butt as he goes up the stairs.
Back in the safety of the bedroom, Beau tosses me on his bed. I decide to keep his shirt, and crawl under the covers while watching Beau put on some pajama pants before he gets in bed too. I fall asleep curled into his side, his arm wrapped around me tight.
With zero thoughts about a pillow wall this time.
I wake up to someone telling mammas not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys. I wonder if this is the strangest sleep talking I’ve heard, but a turn of my head shows Beau’s still asleep with his mouth closed.
His phone, on the other hand, is awake and so very loud. And really insistent that cowboying is not a solid career choice for young people.
I shove at Beau, wanting him to tell the phone I get the point and I promise never to condone the cowboy lifestyle for any potential progeny. The phone stops by itself, which is good because Beau didn’t respond to my prodding, and I settle back into Beau’s warmth. But then the phone starts again and I shove at Beau harder.
Some of us were up very late and our bodies do not process alcohol as easily as they did a few years ago.
Beau rolls over and gets the phone, finally answering the call.
“Hello?” His voice is still rough from sleep and alcohol, and he rolls back over to pull me where I was before the rude person called.
“I’ll ask her.”
After a pause. Then some exasperation. “No, not right now. When she wakes up.”
Another pause. A longer pause. The person on the other end of the phone sure can talk. Beau interrupts whatever they’re saying, “I’ll call you back, Anna-Banana. After I talk to her. After we wake up whenever we want, because she’s on vacation.”
Call ended, he puts the phone back on his bedside table.
I try to go back to sleep, but curiosity won’t let me. “What’s up? It sounds serious.”
“Nah, it’s just Annabelle. She wants to know if you and I want to do something with her and Tucker today.”
I yawn. “Oh, sure. I should check email for a second but then I’ll be free for the day. What does she have planned?”
“She said it’s up to you. But she suggested that you get in some ‘red shit’ while you’re here.”
“Red? Like the proletariat controlling the means of production red?”
“What? No. Like redneck.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.”
“She suggested taking you hunting.”
