“Don’t get talkative about it,” he orders.“Am I gonna see you next year?”
I stand up, sensing that this is over.
“Hell yes,” I say.
“Good,” he says, and I leave.
ChapterThirty-Nine
Clementine
I’mon livestock duty at the Ponderosa Ranch.It’s mostly horses with a couple of goats and llamas thrown in.Or maybe they’re alpacas.I can never tell.
Anyway, I spend half the day telling people where their animals are.Then I spend the other half looking at animals and trying to figure out where their owners are.
The animals and the people are about equally helpful, to be honest.
When it’s over, it’s already evening.I wolf down a sandwich that the Red Cross gives me and head to Jane’s for a quick shower, because I smell like animals and B.O., and it’s gross.
Jane’s already there when I unlock her door with my key, standing at the counter and eating a bowl of cereal.She gives me a long look up and down, spoon in mouth, and looks irritated.
“You know you have an entire stash of yourownclothes here, right?”she says.
“Sorry,” I say, looking down at myself.Then I look back up.“Wait, I do?”
“Yeah, you leave something here practically every time you visit, dumbass,” she says, and walks out of the kitchen and into her bedroom.
Jane rummages through a couple of drawers before finally pulling out a couple of t-shirts, an old pair of corduroys I’d completely forgotten I had, a knee-length jersey skirt, and several pairs of socks.
“Pants-stealing jerk,” she says, and walks back into the living room.
“Thanks!”I call after her.“Can I use your shower?”
“Knock yourself out,” she calls.
I shower fast, and I’m pulling on the pants I found, wishing that my stash included underwear, when I have a thought.
It’s Hunter, pressing me against the sink this morning, me sucking on his thumb.
I pause for a second, heart pounding, heat gathering below.
Then I take the pants off, grab the skirt, and pull it on, sans underwear.
I hesitate again.
Really?I think.
An old memory: Hunter and I, eighteen, at the county fair.I’m saying something but he’s just staring at my chest, not hearing a word I say.
I skip a bra and pull on a t-shirt.My heart’s going a mile a minute.
This is trashy as hell, I think.Who the fuck waltzes into the hospital without panties so they can get laid easier?
Besides the hooker in that one episode of the Sopranos.It’s you and her, Clementine.
I stuff the rest of my clothes into a bag, then grab my jacket and put it on, hiding my nipples at least.I’m not going in therecompletelyslutty.
“I’m gonna go visit Hunter again before I head home,” I say, walking back into the kitchen.
