8. Montana
The short ride back to the farm is anything but quiet. Ellison tells me about her trip and how it made no sense to wait another day to make the drive. I’m not complaining, but my pep talk after my shower really didn’t prepare me for tonight.
Her long, tanned legs taunt me from the passenger seat, and all I want to do is rest my palm on her smooth skin and inch my way up to the hot slice of heaven between her thighs.
Kip Moore singin’ “Somethin’ Bout A Truck” is doing absolutely nothing to stop me from spiraling to things I have no business thinking about tonight when Ellison sighs. My head whips toward her as the truck rocks to a stop.
Her expression is wistful as she stares up at the light-blue farmhouse with the big wraparound porch and rocking chairs moving gently in the night breeze.
“It’s just like I remembered,” she says softly, and I wonder what she must be feeling. She’d cut herself off from not just me but this for so long.
“You ready to go inside?” I ask as I scan the partially darkened windows. Grandad isn’t usually in bed yet, but stranger things have happened.
Like catching Ellison skinny-dipping in her parents’ pool.
Oblivious to the visual I’ve conjured of her soaking wet, she nods and pushes her door open while I reach into the backseat and grab her bag.
Her body is vibrating as she waits for me to meet her on the porch, a smile spread wide across her pretty lips.
“You don’t have to knock.” I chuckle and she sticks her tongue out at me as I turn the handle and push the door open.
“Oh, it smells so good in here,” Ellison whispers as she kicks off her sandals and puts them next to my boots.
“Probably have some leftovers in the fridge.”
”Woulda been easier tryin’ to sneak in through the window,” a low voice says from the direction of the darkened living room. “Y’all used to be much better at it back then.”
Ellison startles and then throws her head back and laughs as I drop her bag and turn on the light.
“Hi Grandad,” Ellison says from behind me, just wearing my T-shirt and the cutoff shorts she’d put on. But I know her bra and panties are still gloriously—and now awkwardly—absent.
My grandfather eases out of his chair with a grunt and a groan as she practically shoves me out of the way to get to him.
“Hiya doin’, Dolly?” he says, his voice tired but still so full of life, the term of endearment he’s always reserved for her making my chest squeeze.
“Boy did I miss you,” Ellison says as she places a smacking kiss on his cheek then wraps her arms around him. She holds him tight, and I watch as they just stand there in the darkened room. This moment feels big—like she was coming home for us and not just herself.
Eddie had only asked me once to go to college with her. I’d declined and not because my grades were poor—they weren’t. I could have gone, but my life is here on this land. It’s not something most people understand but she did.
“See you still got that damn thing in your nose,” Grandad complains, but it’s teasing, and she grins as he taps his finger against the diamond stud.
“I just know how much you like it.”
“Some things never change,” he grumbles but puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her back into the kitchen. “Miss Celeste made cookies this afternoon.”
“The thumbprint ones?” I ask as I grab the tea kettle and fill it with water. I’d tried getting one of those electric kettles, but Grandad had pitched a fit so I’d put it in one of the rentals.
“With blackberry jam,” he confirms, and I barely suppress the moan that wants to escape.
“Is she in tomorrow?” Ellison asks as she swipes a cookie off the plate and takes a bite. “Oh my gosh, who is this baking angel from heaven?”
Grandad narrows his eyes at me as I pull mugs from the cabinet and shrug. He can be mad all he wants, but he knows she’s the only thing keepin’ him here full-time.
“My grandson thinks I need a babysitter,” he says pointedly, causing Ellison to freeze midbite as her gaze ping-pongs between us.
“Your grandson thinks he needs help keepin’ you outta trouble,” I reply and watch as he meets my gaze and shoves an entire cookie into his mouth. I don’t add that I need Celeste to help make sure Grandad takes his pills on time and listens to the doctor more than once in a blue moon.
I am barely keeping myself alive most days, and now I have the added responsibility of keeping Grandad alive too. It’s a lot of pressure, but I’m doin’ everything I can to make sure he sticks around. My grandfather easily could have passed away after Nan did. They’d been together almost their entire lives, and I wasn’t sure he knew how to live without her.
Selfishly, I wasn’t ready to let him go, and if suffocating him with love and attention and getting someone to tag team my efforts keeps him here, then so be it.
“I had my hip replaced, boy. Stop makin’ it like I’m old and frail.”
I snort because the man had been a menace postsurgery, insisting he help milk the cows and that he was fine to tinker around the farm. He smirks and shakes his head, but I’m thankful that it breaks the tension.
“So who is this mystery woman who keeps you boys in line?”
“Celeste Hadley,” I say as I pour hot water into each mug. “There were five or six traveling nurses before Celeste, but Grandad chased them off.”
He harumphs but doesn’t correct me. Celeste had been our last-ditch effort. She’d put him in his place before she’d even sat down and impressed the hell out of both of us.
“That sounds nothing like you, Grandad,” Ellison says with doe eyes and the fakest surprised expression you ever saw.
He looks at her with amusement dancing in his dark blue eyes and pats her hand.
“She lives in the cottage,” I continue. “When I need to go anywhere for the farm and whatnot she stays here in the guest room.”
Ellison eyes me for a moment before turning her attention to Grandad. “Well, I’m glad you have someone here who loves you enough to fuss over you because these cookies are life-changing.” Placing her hand over his, she squeezes it, her voice completely sincere as she says, “Don’t break my heart, okay?”
“Of course not, Dolly.” Leaning over, he places a kiss on her temple without releasing her hand. “When you’re old you get to complain—that’s all. Montana works hard so that I can stay on our land. I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Good,” Ellison says, and I know she’s swallowing down just as much emotion as I am. I know he means it but it’s nice—reassuring—to know he understands what’s at stake if I can’t keep him safe here. Accepting the mug of chamomile and lavender tea, she launches into story after story of her kindergartners’ shenanigans until we’re laughin’ so hard we’re crying.
How long has it been since I had a night like this?
Not for the first time tonight, this thought has played through my mind. So much of my childhood and teenage years were wrapped up in the gorgeous brunette sitting across from me at this very table. My grandparents had treated her like their own, and while my sisters were out chasing boys and spending days at the lake, Ellison was here with me on the farm.
Grandad had taken great pride in teaching her about the land and the animals. On the days we worked until the sunset, he’d be waiting on the porch with three glass bottles of cola. It was a special treat, and I’ll always remember the way that first sip felt when it passed my lips.
It’s a memory I haven’t thought about in years but one of my favorites.
We talk well into the morning hours, and when Grandad yawns again, I break up our little reunion party and help him to bed. He’s lighter—we both are—than we have been in a long time, and it’s all because of the girl currently walking toward my room.
The one with long tanned legs, no bra, and wearin’ my shirt.
The one about to be platonically sleeping in my bed.
Dammit all to hell.