28. Molly
Alex shuffling aroundin the dark wakes me up.
“Wha time?” I ask, my face pressed into the pillow and my groggy brain not able to fully form words yet.
A hand cups my head, warm and solid. “Early. Go back to sleep. Anna might be in the kitchen when you wake up.”
I fall back asleep.
When I wake up again, the sky outside the window is a soft blue, and noises come from the kitchen. It takes me a moment to remember Alex’s words.
I get up and see my clothes from yesterday loosely folded on the dresser. The house is a little chilly, so I forego my tank top. A flannel sounds too good to pass up. I slide my underwear and shorts on and then help myself to a flannel in Alex’s closet.
Avoiding the kitchen, I exit the house through the porch and walk toward the barn. There’s a slight mist hanging over the fields, and the sun should be up any minute now. One shed is open, a truck backed in, and there’s a soft and rhythmic thump of movement.
At the open door, I pause and take in the view. Alex has his back to me, picking up bales of hay and stacking them. The truck bed is half-full, so he’s got more work to do…but he’s whistling.
It’s jaunty and upbeat and I can’t help but smile.
“Morning,” he says over his shoulder, and my heart melts when I hear the smile in his voice.
“Up for a roll in the hay?”
He picks up another bale. “It’s barley.”
I laugh and shake my head just as an actual cowbell rings out from the house. Behind me, I hear a door shut.
“I’ll be up for breakfast in a minute,” Alex says.
“Okay. See you then.”
I walk back to the house and take the front door this time, toeing my shoes off and adding them to the collection. Turning the corner, I spot Jesús already at the table and a short, heavy-set woman who must be Anna.
Her mouth rounds when she spots me.
“Hi, Anna.” I offer her my hand. “I’m Molly.”
Her gaze darts over my face and behind her, Jesús coughs. Anna bats my hand away and pulls me in for a hug. “Dios mio. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Your food is so good. I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Anna’s gaze darts to the top of my head before meeting my eyes again. She blinks like she’s trying to remember what I said. Something feels weird.
The door opens behind me, and Alex stomps in. I turn to greet him, and his eyes flicker upward, too. What the hell?
Alex flushes and steps up to me, whispering in my ear. “You may want to fix your hair.”
“My—” Reaching up, I feel for the giant bun I usually keep my hair in at the farm…and realize that I did not redo it this morning. My mouth drops in horror when my hand meets an absolute rat”s nest of hair.
I dart to the half bath that’s by the front door and the view in the mirror makes me gasp. This is beyond rat’s nest, beyond fresh-out-of-bed hair. We’ve hit freshly fucked territory. God, I can practically see the furrows Alex’s fingers left in it.
Flipping my head over and snapping the band out, I finger-comb it the best I can and re-do the bun.
Okay. I survey myself in the mirror. Not so bad.
There’s a knock on the door and when I crack it, Alex pokes his head in. “You okay?”
“Aside from looking like a hot mess this morning? Sure.”
“A beautiful hot mess,” he amends, and my insides melt again. Alex steps all the way inside the room and bends down, gently pressing a kiss to my lips. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
And what do you know, my outsides melt, too. I’m just a puddle of feelings inside this tiny bathroom with a man who smells like sweat, morning dew, and barley.
* * *
The balance in my bank account grows, and the days keep warming up. I spend less and less time in Vaniel, to the point that Alex picks me up and drops me off with the milk every Saturday and Sunday for the strawberry pickings.
I bring my white eczema gloves and ointment with me to his house for our sleepovers. When I put them on at night and make Mickey Mouse jokes, Alex casts me a bemused look and kisses me.
We don’t outright say anything to the Bedds, but we spend Sunday night dinner with Alex’s hand on my thigh under the table and knowing looks from everyone else.
The clock is ticking, though. I only have a few more weeks left committed to the farm shop, and while we haven’t talked about the end of us, he mentioned that one of his former shop managers who is home from college for the summer could pick up some shifts when I leave.
Other changes come, too. Someone named Diane moves into the house with Ethel. She’s a friend of Colleen’s, and she and Ethel talk about seeds and plot out Ethel’s new raised bed. Over the next week, another van and an RV are parked near Vaniel, but they leave by the weekend. The late-season strawberries dwindle, replaced by blueberries and blueberry milk.
I decide that I’m missing Vaniel. We haven’t stayed the night in my van for size reasons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something in him.
Actually, thinking about having sex in Vaniel makes me regret ever personifying my van. I’m going to have sex with Alex inside Vaniel of the he/him pronouns? Ugh, what am I doing to myself? Not that having sex inside a female van is any better.
Or worse?
Whatever.
When Alex comes by Sunday morning, it’s the first time he’s setting up the calf pen for petting. He’s got a baby cow in his truck”s backseat, and let me tell you, watching him lift her out and set her on the ground is flipping adorable. He waits for Perry to hop out and take over with the calf before he finds me.
I’m still setting up the tables and buckets, but we meet in the shadows of the pole barn for our usual quick kiss.
“Wait,” I say, tugging on Alex’s sleeve before he can pull too far away. We’re tucked into a corner by the bathroom door, and Alex settles his back against the wall. I reach into the pocket of my shorts and pull out a condom.
Alex’s eyes go big when he sees it. “Here? Now?”
I laugh. “No.” I slip the condom into the pocket on his pec and pat it. “Just a little reminder for you today. Think of me and then we’ll slip away before dinner.”
Alex groans, rolling forward to press his forehead against mine. “You kill me, sweetheart.”
I smirk and flounce away, leaving Alex to deal with the erection I felt growing against my hip.
I keep an eye on Alex and Perry setting up. We didn’t advertise that we were bringing a calf today, hoping to keep expectations low in case it doesn’t go well. Eventually, Perry heads back to Udderly, leaving Alex to manage by himself.
We were worried about nothing. It’s a hit. They chose the calf, Mootilda, because she’s calm and sweet-tempered, and she delivers. Sometimes, she’s out of the pen, with Alex holding on to her halter, and sometimes she’s in the pen for a break, so the kids can look at her with wonder on their faces and the parents can take pictures when Mootilda sticks her tongue through the wire gaps.
At the end of the day, everyone’s in a good mood. Perry swings by to pick up Mootilda, and it’s easy for us to slip away to Vaniel.