Chapter Thirteen #2
I almost lost it. This coming from the lad who kicked like a bucking bronco all night long. I looked at Ollie, who was battling not to laugh out loud. “Can I sleep with you tonight since my sweaty body grosses out my son?”
“Sure. We’ll put a towel down under your sweaty, disgusting form to soak up all the perspiration you ooze over the sheets.”
I pinched his thigh. That made the man snort loudly in amusement.
“I do not ooze,” I feebly argued. In all honesty, sometimes a certain part of me oozed, but that was not being discussed here as we cruised along the highway with the windows down.
“Cool,” Dahn said in the back and fell sound asleep. Like in the space it took to blink. How grand it must be to drop off that quickly.
I wiggled back to face front, my cheeks warm, and peeked at Ollie smiling widely. “Do I really sweat all that much?”
“Only when you’re exerting yourself,” he naughtily whispered.
With a pillow between my teeth, I not only slept in Ollie’s bed that night, but I sweated profusely in it after we exerted ourselves in doggie and missionary position. The man had no complaints about any of my bodily emissions. Just saying.
***
On Saturday we went to a minor league baseball game with my mom and aunt and left with sunburn and high spirits.
The home team had won—Go Comets—and so when we cruised into the ranch in the late afternoon to attend a Labor Day picnic, we were ready to feast. Sure, we’d all had some hot dogs and chips at the Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark, but there was always room for a burger, some potato salad, and peach pie.
We were exiting my SUV when Bella came bouncing down the stairs, her platinum locks in a thick ponytail as her sunny little dress flowed around her. In her hand, she had a small basket and a hardcover book. She always reminded me of a dandelion blow. Light and airy…dancing on the winds.
“Hi!” she greeted us with a smile. “Oh, ouch, you all look like you need some aloe on your pink noses.”
“Where are you off to?” I asked while offering my aunt a hand down from the back seat.
“I’m going over to Winnie’s house to read her the first chapter of Anne of Green Gables. She loved it as a child and phoned over just a bit ago to ask if I could come visit and read it to her.”
I threw a fast look at Ollie who also seemed worried. Then I glanced back at Bella ruffling my son’s damp hair.
“You’re going to the Owens ranch alone?” I enquired just as the screen door opened and Lincoln stepped out, his eyes darting to Bella then us.
“She’s not going alone. I’m escorting her,” Linc announced with a tone that brooked no interference or confusion. Okay then. Bella’s big bear of an admirer was at her side. “We’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Bella rolled her pretty green eyes and then made her way to the ranch truck. I had to wonder where her other protector was but didn’t ask. Ford never left her side for long.
“If you need backup…” I said in a low tone meant only for Linc to hear.
“Thanks. They don’t want to even breathe the wrong way at her,” Lincoln replied, slammed his favorite hat on his head, and stalked off to open the door for Bella. Once they were off, we made our way inside to find Ford and Baker fiddling about on my laptop in the kitchen.
“Hey, you didn’t want to go with Bella?” I asked, dropping down into a chair next to Baker.
Ollie went over to peck Granny on the cheek and tried to steal a cube of cooked potato from the bowl she was adding mayo to.
She slapped playfully at his hand but let him snag a tater.
Mom and Aunt Joey sat down as my aunt dug in her huge purse and produced a bottle of aloe vera gel.
She and Mom began slathering their arms.
“I was told that too many Bastians rolling up to the Owens ranch would only result in a showdown like in Tombstone.” Ford tapped the edge of the laptop. “I didn’t know what that meant, so Baker was educating me.”
“Imagine saying you’re a cowboy and not knowing Tombstone,” Baker muttered as the screen blinked to life.
After the short little lesson on films starring Val Kilmer, Kurt Russell, and Sam Elliott—what a trio—I wrestled the Dell from them to show off the nearly completed website I’d been working on in my spare time.
Not that I’d had much of that this past week, but that was good.
Mental health and falling in love were important.
Love. Shit. That was such a big word, but it fit the big feelings I had for Ollie Ahoka.
Scared to death of those emotions, I recognized them and accepted them into my heart.
No point in lying to myself. I had fallen hard.
“Dodge, are you okay? Did the heat get to you?” Mom asked, trying to rub some aloe vera on Dahn’s nose. He waved it off at first but then learned that a determined grandmother with a bottle of gel for a pink nose was not easily dissuaded.
“I’m good. Just had to remember my password,” I fibbed as I brought up the webpage.
“Ollie, get out of my salad makings!” Granny scolded playfully. My lover rushed away from her wooden spoon with a hard-boiled egg in his hand and then plopped down beside me to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. “I ain’t never seen a lawman with such light fingers.”
“I’m in trouble,” Ollie whispered around his stolen egg.
“Scamp,” I replied and gave him a kiss on eggy lips. Mom giggled. “Right, so yes, this will be the new Bastian Acres Ranch website.”
“There was never an old one,” Baker mumbled, leaned back in his seat, arms folded, chair on its rear legs.
“Sit right,” Granny scolded. Baker’s chair thudded to the floor.
“Well, now there will be. I just need a few scenic shots from Hanley to pepper in among the photos of the cabins, horses, cattle, and goats.”
Mom scooted closer, looking intently at the image of the first cabin to come online. The Horny Hoot Owl. Someone, I think possibly Linc, had coined it, but I’d renamed it the Double H just because I thought it sounded poetically western. No one had to know what the two H’s stood for…
“This place is gorgeous, boys,” Mom said. Aunt Joey joined her in closely perusing the interior and exterior shots of the completed cabin. Mom’s gaze met mine. “We know at least a hundred people who would love to rent this place out for a week or two.”
“Helen, we could book it for a retreat. At Samhain!” Aunt Joey blurted out. Within seconds, the two of them were shoving credit cards at me to lock down the Double H for ten days.
“You do realize there are only two small bedrooms in that cabin, right?” I asked to ensure they weren’t just caught up in things.
“Oh yes, that’s fine. The others in our Pagan community will pitch tents. Book it!” they said as one, so I booked it. The joy was unfettered for the two redheads. Dahn just looked confused by it all.
“What’s Samhain?” he asked innocently enough.
I got a dirty look from my ginger relatives.
“Tsk, tsk, Dodge,” Aunt Joey mumbled under her breath.
The topic of discussion, other than how nice the website looked, fell into talk about differing religions, whether potato salad should have relish in it or not, and how many games of jacks my mother had won at the age of ten.
We then had to explain jacks to my son, who merely appeared befuddled before leaving us to go play a video game.
Ollie draped his arm over the back of my chair, the warmth of his big body seeping into my side as I leaned into him.
Baker and Ford got into a vibrant word battle over what to call the nearly completed second cabin.
Time sailed by pleasantly as the two bickered back and forth over truly goofy suggestions.
“Why not just keep with the bird theme? Randy Robin Cabin!” Granny tossed out as she and Mom worked on putting a peach pie together.
“Or the Wanton Warbler!” Mom chimed in with a titter.
“Oh! What about the Passionate Pigeon?” Aunt Joey asked. Ollie and I sat back, enjoying the silliness until Hanley entered with a camera, a cut on his cheek, and a satisfied look. Back from snapping images of antelope under a setting sun or a black bear crossing a log.
“Salacious Swallow,” the photographer said before kissing my brother on the mouth.
“That’s what I called Dodge the other night,” Ollie casually said. The others roared. I blushed to the tips of my cinnamon hair. A vote was made right then and there. After being outvoted, I sighed and typed “Rentals on the Double S cabin available in November” and closed the damn webpage.
I glanced over at Ollie. “You’re going to pay for that one, Sheriff.”
“You love it, and you know it.” He nipped at my earlobe.
Yeah, I did love it. And him. I loved him a whole lot. And maybe it was time to tell him, so I resolved to do that just as soon as the perfect time presented itself.
That time arrived about four hours later.
The night was coolish. Some of the tight grip of summer was loosening just a bit as autumn began to wiggle in.
We were all out in the yard, sipping cold lemonade as Dahn and Bella entertained us with sparklers tied onto the ends of their batons.
I was hoping he would now pick up a baton and twirl once more.
He had so enjoyed it before he fell in with the wrong crowd.
Perhaps with some new friends at his side, he could embrace who he was fully.
A beautiful young man who loved goats and spinning sparkly batons.
Ollie and I were resting our weary backs on the windshield of his Jeep.
The stars were bright, the moon a slim sliver, and the Bastian clan well fed and happy as clams. Granny, Mom, and Aunt Joey were on the porch, two on the swing and one in the old creaky rocker, clapping on the baton twirlers.
Linc and Ford were seated on the top step of the porch.
Baker and Hanley had drifted back inside to get some cold drinks about half an hour ago and had not emerged since.
I pointed that out to Ollie, who had his arm behind my head as a firm, sexy pillow.
“We’re playing poker next week. I will bring up how rude it is to sneak off to get a piece when you have guests,” he replied with a trace of the imp in his deep voice. I chuckled at the thought and then sighed out in utter contentment. “Was that a contented sigh or a bored sigh?”
“A contented sigh.” I glanced up at his face, shadowed slightly in the soft yellow from the porch light. Handsome, proud. “I cannot think of one place I would rather be than right here and right now.”
“I don’t know. A padded bench would be a lot easier on my ass,” he pointed out with a slight wiggle of his backside.
He brought his attention from Bella and Dahn running about the yard like two giddy pixies.
“All kidding about my rump aside, this is just about perfect. It’s been great having you and Dahn at my place for the week.
I almost wish your mother would stretch out her visit so you could stay longer. ”
“Mm, yeah, I feel that way too.”
He cupped my chin to tip my head back more. Just a little. “Do you really? Would you like to do it again sometime? Maybe for the weekends, or perhaps consider making the move something permanent in the near future?”
My mouth got dry. I wet my lips. “Are you asking me to move in with you? You do know I bring a ten-year-old boy who never picks up his dirty underwear and has no concept of what covering your mouth when you sneeze means, right?”
“I know all that. And I am still putting the offer on the table. Think on it. Don’t answer right now. Just let it simmer on the back burner like a nice venison stew. Soften up the meat and all that.”
“I generally prefer my meat hard and not soft.” I stretched the few inches needed to place my mouth on his.
The kiss was tender, filled with the warm touch of a fading summer and the sweet and sour taste of the lemonade he’d just had.
When it broke, I ran my fingers along his smooth, angular jaw.
“I will surely think on it, Ollie. I love you.”
He drew in a shaky breath, his fingers cradling my cheek as the rest of the night melted away, leaving just him and me atop his Jeep with the bronze star.
“I love you too. You and Dahn both are so special,” he confessed, his words soft and heartfelt, before capturing my mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the first one a moment ago.
This one was thrumming with desire and love, and it swept me upward into the clear, dark Sooner sky where I could touch a star.
“Dad, are you two making out?” Dahn shouted to shatter the moment. The Jeep shook as my son climbed up over the hood, his baton in hand, a few sparks fizzing off it as he held it aloft. “Oh yeah, you were. Sorry. Is it too late to have a banana split?”
My son sat there on his heels, hair stuck to his cheeks—it desperately needed to be cut before school started on Tuesday—and waited.
I looked over at Ollie. “What do you think, Sheriff?”
“I think there is no bad time to have a banana split,” he said, reaching out to rap knuckles with my son. Dahn skittered off the hood to race over to Granny on the porch, no doubt saying that Ollie gave his permission for ice cream and fudge topping.
“You’re a soft touch, Ollie Ahoka.” I tried to sound mad, but there was no real ire in my voice. How could there be? This evening had been as perfect a night as a man could wish for.
“Only for the people I love.”
And how damn happy was I that my son and I were in that elite category?
THE END