“Just like your granddaughter.”
The two of them stood chatting, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak quite yet. Numbly, I sat on the wooden bench in the entryway to pull my boots off my feet. The spot on my arm sizzled from his touch, through the layers, as if I had been marked somehow. But why? It had been a pointed touch. He had given it for a reason. There was meaning behind it. As if he was telling me it was okay. I didn’t need to be worried about him thinking badly of me. I didn’t need to be embarrassed. It was probably my over-analyzing mind again. The one that always got me into trouble with men. The one that made me call them after a date to make sure they hadn’t taken some obscure comment the wrong way because my mind had rehashed something to the point that I couldn’t function until I made the call. The kind that asked for clarification when a man spoke vaguely about going out again sometime. The kind of analysis that never lets my mind rest. Never lets me just be me or get comfortable. But in that one second, Dusty let me know that he was here and that he was confident enough in himself and in me that I didn’t need to over-think or worry.
Or perhaps it was just a light squeeze to get me to move out of his way.
Ugh.
Even my mind talking me OUT of my head was an over-analyzer. The talking and hugging stilled and I realized Dusty and my grandma were both looking at me expectantly.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re dripping wet, dear. Why don’t you dry off and I’ll pour y'all a bowl of cereal.” She motioned Dusty to follow her toward the kitchen. “It’s just about killing me to not be able to cook you up a fancy spread. With all your hard work this morning.”
“I’m just Lucy’s assistant. She calls the shots. You got yourself a good girl out there,” I heard him say, obviously gaining more brownie points, even though it was a lie. Of course, he also called me a good girl like I was five.
I finished stripping out of my layers and made my way into the kitchen. If anything I at least needed to be aware of what Grandma was saying about me.
“How’s Grandpa doing?” I asked.
“I’m doin’ just fine!” a hoarse voice yelled from the stairway. We all glanced over to see Grandpa in his worn out work jeans, buttoning his long-sleeved plaid work shirt, a white tank top underneath it all. By all accounts, it looked as if he was planning to head outside to work. The stairs creaked as he thundered his way down them. “I don’t need you all coddling me. And if I hear you put something in my drink to make me sleep, Susan, I swear I’ll paddle yer behind. Nine in the morning? I have never slept that long in my life.” He was interrupted by his lungs, gasping and coughing as he descended the last step.
Dusty and I exchanged a glance.
Grandma made her way toward him. “Pish, Bob. You needed the sleep and you will stop being a stubborn mule in front of our guests. Dusty and Lou have already taken care of the chores this morning, so you can just march your stubborn fanny back up those stairs because your cough is getting worse.”
Grandpa’s ears perked up and his eyes shot around the room, taking in the cowboy sitting on a barstool nursing back a glass of cold milk. “Is that Dusty Bennett?” He looked out the window theatrically as he said, “Well there is a storm outside, so I guess it’s about time you showed up.”
Dusty grinned and stood up, walking over to Grandpa, shaking his hand affectionately. “Howdy, Bob. It was almost déjà vu last night with the road closure and me being close to your place. I scared the daylights out of Lucy, but she took pity on me and gave me a room.”
“He had to earn it though,” I piped in. “In exchange for working like a dog for us this morning, he could stay in the cold motel room and have some cereal with us.”
“You forgot pancakes.” He smiled at me.
“What’s left to do out there?” Grandpa pulled at his suspenders, looking toward the windows showing swirling snow.
“The cows have been fed. We strawed the corral,” Dusty said. “Lucy busted open the water trough. They should be good until tonight. The only thing we’re worried about is the water pipe being frozen. They’ve got enough to last until evening, but we were going to ride out this afternoon and haul in some water from the creek.”
Grandpa rubbed his chin thoughtfully, peering at us both. “I can do that.”
“Actually,” Dusty began, glancing at me, “Lucy wanted to show me a few places we used to play when we were kids. We were going to take the snowmobile and some empty buckets. So if you don’t mind…”
Grandpa stood watching us for a long while until a boisterous laugh broke free. Which turned into another coughing spell. Grandma brought him a glass of water, which he guzzled.
“Thank you, my dear.” Looking toward us, he smiled. “‘Getting water for the cows’ isn’t what we called it back in my day, but I get yer drift, Dust. I’ll allow you all to do my chores. I’ll be out there tomorrow morning though and don’t try to stop me.”
My stomach clenched at Grandpa’s insinuation but immediately relaxed when Dusty flicked his laughing eyes my way.
“I knew I could count on you, Bob.”
Breakfast passed by with soft chatter and four spoons clanking against four bowls of Cheerios. Grandpa had decided he might as well have a quick nap since he was off the hook today, and Grandma puttered around the kitchen, leaving Dusty and me alone at the table.
“So about that kiss.” Dusty’s voice was low, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.
My eyes widened and shot over to my grandma. She appeared not to have heard anything in the kitchen. My heart relaxed. If Grandma heard the word kiss she would be all over me like a bad rash. And something told me Dusty understood that.
“I’ve got some dirt on you too, don’t forget that.” I didn’t have any dirt, but I was sure I could call Julia and she could think of something I was forgetting. Mostly, I was being reminded of how much I had always loved being around Dusty Bennett.
He looked intrigued. “Really? Do tell.”
