20. Marley
TWENTY
MARLEY
The sun has dipped behind the clouds, and the lighting is about as perfect as I could hope for as the Hores line up their cows. We opt to place the girls one at a time at the entrance to the barn so the light hits their front but their backends disappear into the darkness behind. I have a surprisingly good time working with the girls and the Hores. Maybe when conflict has thoroughly kicked every trace of passion out of me, I’ll make the switch. Marley Cunningham, acclaimed conflict photographer turned livestock photographer. It would be a weird transition, but I think one I’d consider, although I’m not sure how much work there would actually be in this field, or quite literally, any field. I’ve never really thought about what I’d do if I quit conflicts. I had gotten stuck on the question of “Can I keep doing this job?” and hadn’t gotten to “What would I do instead?”
I let the Hores know that I’ll edit and send the photos when I get home, and they assure me I don’t need to rush. But the fair is in a week and a half, and from what Karl said about the town and road management, it may take that long just for them to come to deal with it. I could actually be better by then and end up just walking back to where my car is parked, assuming no one has stolen it by now. There is a piece of me that secretly hopes the road stays as is for the foreseeable future. I’m enjoying the pace of life at Bennett’s.
After the girls are let back into the field, Sophie and I sit and chat on the porch. She tells me about school and how she’d felt a bit guilty for wanting to pursue something other than taking over the farm. About how Karl cried when she got into the master of social work program and she had thought it was because he was upset.
“I remember thinking, so this is what it looks like to break someone’s heart in real-time. And then he whooped.”
I don’t need to have been there to imagine what that looked like. Watching the three of them together has been entertaining, and Karl seems like an incredibly proud dad.
I’m about to ask Sophie why she picked social work when she cuts in.
“Sooo…” I know exactly what kind of “so” that is; it’s the type that starts an intrusive question. “My mom mentioned that you and Bennett have gotten close.” I look over at her, half expecting her to be angry, but she’s blushing and looking hopeful.
“Um… I mean I guess we’ve had to get to know each other really quickly. He spent two days carrying me around, after all.”
“What I wouldn’t give to be carried around by Bennett Morgan,” she whispers dreamily.
“I bet if you sprain your ankle around him you could find out.” Sophie laughs. “Seriously, he will absolutely refuse to let you walk or hop or slide around on your butt.” I think about how he has let me hop. “Okay, so he will let you hop, but not for more than about ten steps. It’s like a three-legged race, and he’s two of the legs.”
She throws her head back and laughs harder. “Oh, I believe it. About…hmmm…” She thinks for a minute. “I was like thirteen, so ten-ish years ago, he would come home from school to help take care of his grandmother. I mean, how many other med school people are going to use their weekends and breaks to drive five hours home to spoon-feed someone?” I try not to look shocked because I don’t want her to stop talking.
“Yeah.” I pretend to be in the know. “Certainly not what the average person is going to do.”
“Nope. Add to that how his grandfather treated him for giving up football and the fact he was dealing with his own health issues, I’m not convinced he’s not an actual resurrected saint.”
I knew he and his grandfather hadn’t been on good terms, but I didn’t know the rest of it, and I technically don’t know much about that. Now I want to know all of it.
“Shit, you didn’t know about any of that, did you?” There my face goes giving me away again. “Crap, please don’t mention anything. I had no right to tell you any of that.” Sophie sounds like she’s spiraling so I put my hand on her arm and give it a little squeeze.
“I knew about some of it, and the rest I was probably going to get out of him tonight. Now I just know how to approach it.” She doesn’t look quite as freaked out so I let go and sit back. “And I won’t let on that I know more than I already did, don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” she breathes out.
I change the subject back to her life and goals and learn that she’s seeing someone but hasn’t told her parents because they likely wouldn’t approve. Before I can dig more into why, Nancy appears carrying a giant blue Ikea bag and tells me she’ll give me a ride back home. Even though I know she means Bennett’s home and not mine, I feel a tiny zing of excitement to have it referred to that way. I thank Sophie for the chat and climb back on the ATV, Yogurt wrapped in my arms. The drive back feels twice as long, and I assume it’s because I’m anxious to make sure Bennett is okay.
I have nothing to worry about, though. When we pull up to the house, he’s out throwing sticks for the dogs. He waves and heads our way as Nancy cuts the engine. Before I can swing off, he’s there holding the crutches and offering me his hand. I take it and instantly feel the anxiety drain away. Who knew someone’s touch could be as powerful as a drug? Once I’m off and I’ve got the crutches back, Nancy hands Bennett the bag. He takes it from her, but his eyes stay on me, probably watching the blush creep across my face.
“You’ve got a bottle of milk, a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, a pumpkin loaf, tomato soup, and a couple of onions since I noticed yours have sprouted. And I tossed some feta in as well. Sophie is texting you a recipe for eggs in purgatory. You’ve still got some jars of tomatoes to use up before I bring the next batch.” Then Nancy looks at me and smiles. “I put some of Sophie’s clothes in here for you so you don’t have to rotate between various loungewear of Bennett’s.” She smirks at me. “We really enjoyed having you over today, Marley.” Then she pulls me in for a gentle hug. When she backs away, she points at Bennett, who has finally looked at her. “If that road isn’t fixed by Sunday, you two better come by for dinner.”
I look over at Bennett in time to see him give a quick nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Then Nancy is back on the ATV and flying down the laneway.
“How was—” comes out of his mouth as “How are you—” comes out of mine. This time he tells me to carry on so I do. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks. How was your day?”
“Good. Felt really good to be a bit busy again.” It’s weird to call having lunch with people and taking some pictures of cows busy, but compared to my last week, it has been.
We start walking up the path to the house, Yogurt practically attached to Bennett’s left leg, and things feel like they had before our walk ended so abruptly. Almost. There’s a new tension now, like being apart for a few hours has us both on edge. Bennett opens the door, and just before I cross the threshold he stops me. I watch as his hand reaches for my hair and feel his touch in a way that seems to cause every cell in my body to tighten. When he pulls his hand back, there’s a ladybug on the tip of his finger.
“A stowaway,” he says before blowing gently towards the tiny red and black insect, and then watching it fly away.
The house smells amazing, and even though I’m not hungry yet I want whatever that smell is.
“Figured we could have chili for dinner,” Bennett says as he starts putting away the food Nancy sent. “My god, that woman must think I can’t cook or grocery shop,” he mutters.
“I haven’t had chili in eons,” I say, leaning against the counter and watching as he moves around the space. I was going to wait until after dinner to chat, but now feels right. As he’s walking past me, I reach out and wrap my hand around his forearm, stopping him mid-stride. He looks down at me, his brow furrowed, and I’m reminded of how I thought about licking it when he did that the other day. That same urge is not quite there, but I wouldn’t mind kissing those frown lines away. So I tug, and he moves a bit closer. When he’s finally close enough, I release his arm and raise my hands to his face. I watch the lines deepen even more, and so I use each of my thumbs and run them from the middle of his forehead to his temples, applying just a little bit of pressure. I keep doing it until his hands are bracing him on either side of my body and he’s tipped his head forward so that it’s nearly touching mine. I can feel him relax under my touch, and when his eyes are no longer squeezed shut, when I see his eyelids relax slightly, I lean forward and press my lips to where the deepest line lives. I feel his warm breath caress my neck and shiver.
“Marley.” It comes out even more gravely than his voice was earlier, and a split second later I feel his hands closing around my waist and lifting me up onto the island. Every look we have shared before now feels like an appetizer that has only fueled my appetite. His eyes are searching mine, a mixture of confusion and need swimming in their depths. I want to say something flirty, something that lets him know I’m totally on board with whatever he wants to do to me, with me. To hell with boundaries—future Marley can re-establish those later. Bennett’s hands are still on my waist, branding me, his eyes are now pleading with me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as the want he’s conveying. It’s almost too much for me to comprehend that this man, this too-good-for-this-world man, wants someone like me. I don’t think I can even form words right now so I give a small, desperate nod, hoping he’s not going to tell me that he needs a verbal confirmation. Thankfully, whatever he reads on my face has him pulling me to the edge of the counter, our bodies and lips finally meeting.
Air? Who needs it? Equilibrium? Overrated. Any sense of decorum? Hell no. We both seem to have one goal and one goal only, and that is to make up for what feels like years of lost time. Three days have felt like years in the best and worst ways imaginable. Somehow Bennett is touching me too much but not enough. Every cell in my body is being suffocated while new life is being breathed into me. Can kissing someone completely remake a person? I try to turn my brain off, try not to analyze the way his left hand trails down to my neck and pulls me closer. Try to ignore the way his right is gripping my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist. His other tangles in my hair and tips my head back just so. I’m overwhelmed in the most delicious way as his tongue slides along my own and he somehow pulls me even closer.
I’ve experienced rushed, desperate kisses before, but never like this. I’ve never once thought I’d never get enough. But right now that’s how it feels, that we’ve crashed through some invisible barrier, and I’ll be cursed to keep wanting this, needing it.
I manage to slow our pace, our grips easing slightly but still strong where we are connected. I snag his bottom lip between my teeth and gently pull away, letting them slide over and off of it. We are both breathing hard, and it takes a minute for our gazes to meet again. I don’t know what I expected to see in Bennett’s eyes, but it wasn’t fear. He seems to come back to himself all at once, and in one fluid movement, he puts my leg down and loosens his grip on me.
“What?” I pull back to look at him.
He blinks a couple of times and then wrinkles his nose. “You smell like you were around cows all day.”
Mortified, I immediately try to pull out of his grip, but he doesn’t let me. “Sophie said I smelled fine.”
“Sophie has gone completely nose-blind to farm smells. Her nose cannot be trusted.”
I groan and drop my head to his shoulder. “Will you carry my smelly ass upstairs so I can take a shower?”
“With pleasure,” he laughs as he turns his back to me so I can climb on before he practically runs up the stairs.