Chapter 16 Veda
sixteen
Veda
What do they mean by my scent?
I carefully smell my armpits, scared I’m going to realize I was smelling bad the whole time. No one told me that the postpartum sweats were worse than when I was actually pregnant, but I thought I was handling it well.
They finish their secret meeting and walk away, but I remain crouched beside the window, as if I could understand the situation better by just staring at the spot they just left.
It was Major’s laugh that made me look. I’m here, angry at him, while he's out there laughing and carefree. Before I thought better of it, I crouched by the window to eavesdrop.
Something about the way I smell doesn’t let them think, which is the most horrifying thing I’ve heard in my life.
I stand up from my crouch, checking my armpits once again just to be sure.
When I’m convinced that I don’t need another shower, I drag myself to bed, but it takes me a while to fall asleep.
Damn, those cowboys and their sensitive noses.
I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life.
When I finally fall asleep, I keep having dreams that they have to tell me to wash myself.
The dream is vivid when I’m up, so I hop in the shower before they actually have to tell me. It’s not enough to scrub my armpits and between my breasts, the spots I sweat the most, ten times. I still make my way to the kitchen with warm cheeks, scared that they can scent me.
It doesn’t help that Jesse turns to look at me before I make myself known.
“Oh, good morning, sweetheart.”
The warmth in his tone relaxes my shoulders a little, but it’s short-lived when I see Major’s eyes on me.
They are all here. Major sits at the end of the table, with Derrick by his side.
The brothers look so alike, yet the differences overtake their similarities.
Major is brooding and quiet, and his eyes follow my movements as if he wants to punish me.
Derrick is easygoing, with eyes full of mischief and a smirk that could melt my panties.
Not that I’m allowing that to happen. Absolutely not.
Not when I’m fucking rancid.
“Good morning,” I say quietly as I find a place to sit across the table from the confusing brothers.
“Here you go.” Jesse places a plate with toast and butter, along with a cup of coffee.
It’s a simple breakfast, but Jesse managed to use every pot and utensil in the house. I don’t say anything. I’m always grateful for food.
“Thank you.” I take a bite from the toast before I realize what this means. The delicious taste hits my tongue, but the implication sours it all. “You went to Willow Ridge this morning?”
He smiles easily and starts plating the bacon. “I wanted to make sure you had something first thing in the morning.”
It’s a cute gesture, but I’m not fooled by it. It means that Major got his wish, and I can’t go anywhere without their say. I grew up with a controlling father figure, and this feels like home in a way I don’t like one bit. I swallow the hurt with my toast. I learned to mask it all a long time ago.
“Come on a trip with us.”
The coffee is halfway to my lips when Major speaks. It’s not a question, but his eyes shine as he waits for me to say something. I drink a sip to buy time, and all the way, his eyes don’t leave me.
“What kind of trip?”
Jesse loads my plate with bacon without even asking. I chuckle, but I don’t refuse it.
“To our folks’ home.”
Alarm bells ring inside my head as I remember their conversation last night about telling their parents.
I was so insulted by the smell remark that I forgot about everything else.
I move the bacon around on my plate, keeping my eyes down.
I’m scared he can tell I was eavesdropping just by looking at me.
“Is it far?”
“An hour. We can go this afternoon and come back tomorrow.”
I forgot that I’m keeping my eyes away from him at the mention of an overnight. “What about the animals?”
Major’s lips curve, and I hate that butterflies flutter their wings inside my belly. It’s not fair that he’s this handsome when his attitude is a pile of shit.
“I’ll get someone to take care of the ranch. Don’t worry.”
The three cowboys smile at my concern. I don't know what kind of people they are used to having around, but this girl can’t feed the chickens for a few days without catching some feelings. I need to know my girls will be okay.
“Eat up, darlin’.” Derrick smirks. He knows how the pet name makes me warm from the inside out.
I flush thinking about his hands on me, the gentle caress while he held the blow dryer, careful with every strand of hair. It brought tears to my eyes. It’s pathetic to realize that no one has ever given me that type of attention since Grammie died.
They make plans while I polish off my breakfast. If I think we are going to do the chores as always, I’m sorely mistaken.
Major sends everyone to pack for the night and tells us he’s organizing someone to take care of everything while we’re gone.
I wonder why it’s so important that we all go.
Not that I could handle the ranch on my own, but I shouldn’t meet their parents.
We are not dating. It’s actually the opposite of that, whatever that is.
I grab a few clothes that I hope are suitable, but I’m too nervous that they will hate me as much as my own family. Damn, if that’s not a horrible, depressing thought.
“Ready?” Jesse asks, knocking on my door even though it’s open.
“Just one night, right?” I verify, already taking my small backpack and swinging it over my shoulder.
“Let me take it,” he says, hands extended and fingers wiggling.
“You don’t have to carry it for me,” I say with a small smile.
“No. I just want to.”
Grandpa would be horrified, but I let Jesse take the bag.
It’s hard to resist being spoiled by Jesse and Derrick.
There’s a softness behind every act, as if it takes nothing for them to take care of me.
I’m ashamed to say that I’m eating that up.
I know it’s dangerous, but I can’t help but feel this is right.
I tell myself that tomorrow, I will carry my own bag.
Tomorrow, I will blow-dry my own hair.
Tomorrow.
Jesse leads me out of the house and by the two trucks waiting beyond the porch.
I remember too well when Major dragged me along with him, so I edge closer to Jesse, showing that I won’t let him manhandle me again.
Something in Major’s expressions shifts from guarded to hurt.
He looks so devastated by my small act that I almost feel bad.
But I don’t want to be stuck in a car for an hour listening to him list all the things I did wrong.
“Let’s go, sweetheart.” Jesse tugs on me, and I nod, getting into the truck.
I’m surprised when Derrick doesn’t follow us, but instead goes to his brother and taps his shoulder before climbing into the passenger seat. I hold my backpack against my breasts, hoping the lactating days are truly over and I don’t need to deal with leaking tits on top of smelly pits.
God help me.
“Do you want to pick the music?” Jesse asks as he peels off the property and follows Major’s truck down the hill and to the exit to Willow Ridge.
“You’re the musician. I want to listen to whatever you want to show me.”
He sighs wistfully. “I want to show you so much, sweetheart. But you’re not ready for that.”
Did he really say that?
His words make the temperature in the car climb several degrees.
I melt into the leather seat, knowing I have never felt this attracted to anyone in my life.
My mouth dries, and I squeeze my thighs together.
I don’t miss the sexual innuendo, but my reaction surprises me.
With anyone else, this would be my opening to let them know I’m not interested.
The words never make it past my lips. Would be an absolute lie. I’m nothing but interested. Everything these cowboys do goes straight to my core. I’m powerless. It’s like I’m having a whole new puberty right at twenty-one.
Soft guitar starts filtering through the speakers. It’s such a beautiful tune, and it softens the heat creeping up my neck.
“This is gorgeous.”
“It’s a Brazilian artist. You told me your mom was Brazilian.”
Not that I know much about it besides the occasional remark of my beauty as an example of the exotic Brazilian girls.
Comments like that always got me in trouble, as if they didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, too.
I always resented those moments; I don’t even know why I told Jesse about my mother. It’s not usually something I share.
The singer starts, and even though I don’t understand a word of what he’s saying, my heart flips around my chest. After a whole life of people objectifying me when they learn where my mother came from, this is more than a fresh start. This is something so beautiful, it makes my heart ache.
My tongue tastes the gratefulness I feel before I form them into words, but when I turn to Jesse, I don’t see a man enjoying the music. His eyes are hard on the road, his hands tense on the steering wheel. I’ve never seen him this serious.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he replies rather quickly.
“There’s something wrong?” I know there is, but I ask anyway. He shakes his head stiffly, and I feel like I did something wrong.
Oh no.
“It’s my smell, isn’t it?”