Chapter 4
A Short Time Later
Let’s Take a Little Ride . . .
Minnow made good money with me, so I understood her desire to stay.
She made thirty dollars an hour at sometimes sixty hours a week.
With that amount of overtime, her weekly checks were nice.
On top of all that, she worked hard and happily.
She tried hard to hide her smile when others looked, but we caught her often.
Especially when she dealt with the horses.
We spent most of last week teaching her how to ride a horse.
That was an adventure within itself. She was so beautiful when she was up there on Choppa, the horse that had taken a heavy liking to her.
Minnow Winters was beautiful period. The other day, my mother got her ass up on her horse and went riding with her. That was amazing to see.
“This apartment is nice, Minnow,” I complimented as I watched her move around. “You said that it came fully furnished?”
She nodded. “Yes, it did. I’ve never been good with the whole putting a house or apartment together. I went from living in foster care, straight into the military. I’ve always lived on base, then here after I medically retired.”
Ah, she grew up in foster care. That let me know that some of the mannerisms that I attributed to the military probably came from her experience as a foster child. The military probably just honed them. “Is that why you rather stay at the Rosebuds instead of finding an apartment in town?”
She shrugged. “I guess, yeah. As you can see, I don’t really buy too many belongings so that I can get up and go. If all I own can’t fit in my SUV, then I own too much stuff.”
That made my brow arch. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
A few days ago, she asked me if I would go with her to Atlanta to get her things out of her apartment.
When I told her that she could keep whatever she needed in one of our garages, she told me that she didn’t need to, because she didn’t have that much stuff. As I looked around, I understood.
“Well, you’re a nice addition to have in Plasters and on the farm. I hope you plan to stick around long-term. I know that I would be happy if you did.” I spoke.
Her body was angled so I was able to see her cheeks brighten. She picked up the box that she just taped up. I held my hand out for her to place it there. “I think I would be happy if I did too. You never know what could happen if I stayed longer. I might meet someone that I actually like.”
I tittered. “Or continue to chill with someone you already like. Hey, I don’t have a crystal ball, but at forty-two, I know a lil bit.”
“Oh, do you now?” she asked with a low titter of her own. Let’s see if that lil bit that you think you know is right. That’s all we can really do, I suppose.”
She moved to grab the last box. Thank God her apartment complex had a dolly to help her move. It sped up the move. “Ready to go?”
“Yep! Oh, and to celebrate this move, I’m having you over for steaks. Is that cool?” I asked her.
She hesitated, then displayed a faint smile. “Yeah, that’s cool. How else will I find out if your steaks are truly the best and if you can cook?”
When her brow arched before she walked away, I laughed while my eyes stayed glued to her ass.
She was dressed casually in leggings and a tank top T-shirt.
Her figure was athletic but still soft. Her ass still had that jiggle that turned heads.
Mrs. Cook’s badass sons had a reason to look.
They still needed to be punched in their faces though. I guess steak was on the menu tonight.
Steak Is on The Menu . . .
“Why do you keep looking at me?” Minnow asked from where she stood at my kitchen island counter. She didn’t look over her shoulder. It was clear that she felt my eyes.
I snickered before I slowly walked toward her. I deliberately made my footsteps heavy so that she could hear them. I wanted to stand next to her, but I thought better of it. I stood across the island from her. “I can’t look at you? You’re nice to look at. I’m just surprised that you can cook.”
On our way back from Atlanta, we stopped at the grocery store so that I could buy sides for the steaks tonight.
Color me surprised when Minnow offered to cook the sides.
I shouldn’t have been surprised because she proved a long time ago that she thrived from teamwork.
In her mind, she labeled most things as missions.
When there was one that needed a squad, she often wanted to be a part of that squad. I loved that quality about her.
When we were in the store, I pushed the cart while she put items in it. The only question that she asked me was what my allergies were. I thanked God that I didn’t have any.
She stopped mixing the bowl of macaroni that was prepared to go into the pan next to it. Her head tilted. “Why would you think that I couldn’t cook, Dawson? I’ve had to pretty much take care of myself my entire life.”
She had yet to refer to me by my first name in a casual setting.
At work, we both referred to each other by our surnames.
I wanted her to feel comfortable calling me Vic, but I wouldn’t rush her.
It would happen when she was ready for it to happen.
“Why would that make me assume that you can cook, Minnow? It’s just a pleasant surprise. I can’t wait to taste it all.”
I didn’t plan to cook the steaks until about twenty minutes before everything was done.
We both liked our steaks at medium rare, so that wouldn’t take long.
She said that the macaroni would take an hour.
The steaks were ready to go on the grill.
I let her know that I would be on my porch when she finished with the macaroni.
This was a part of my evening routine. I sat on my porch with a cup of coffee. I loved coffee and had mine imported from Ethiopia. That was where I fell in love with it. There was a coffee club that I was a member of that shipped me different coffees from around the world once a month.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard the screen door open. Seconds later, I had company next to me on the steps of my porch. This was my favorite time of the day, dusk. Our butcher shop closed an hour and a half before so that I never missed it.
“I love the sky here. It’s so iridescent,” she cooed over it. She glanced at me. “Um, can I tell you something?” She didn’t continue until I nodded. “Some nights I go up to the roof of Rosebuds and sleep on the roof.”
Her eyes didn’t waver from mine. She sought judgment or acceptance. There was no judgment. “That could be peaceful, I assume. The elevation and being under the stars.”
She nodded to my acceptance of an unspoken understanding.
Based on the short conversations that we’d had about our service, I knew that she was infantry.
Women were rarely put in direct combat, so I could conclude that overwatch was her main function.
With overwatch, they were always at an elevated vantage point.
Her feeling comfortable on the roof of Rosebuds made sense.
“After dinner, I want to show you something.”
A Lil Nightcap . . .
Dinner was amazing all around. She was overly impressed with my steaks, and I was overly impressed with her sides. She made macaroni and cheese, green beans, and cornbread. All of it was amazing. Our conversation over dinner was lively. It was refreshing to know that she had a sense of humor.
After dinner, I decided to take her to a little hideaway of mine. Since she loved elevation and the sky, I knew that she would love it. Sometimes it was the simple things.
On the top floor of our secondary barn, on top of a haystack, I had a little setup where I could lie under a skylight that I had specially built into the barn ceiling.
During my time in the military, I never trained as a sniper.
That was not a desire of mine, although I did have my Ranger tab.
I didn’t have the desire for elevation like Minnow, but I loved the night sky.
Our shoulders touched as we lay next to each other. “This is so peaceful. Thank you for sharing it with me, Vic.”
My head slowly turned to gaze at her. Vic. “You’re worth sharing it with, beautiful. This is my peace in the middle of my peace.”
She already knew that my peace was this farm. It was my place away from the chaos. I liked to be in places where I could control as much as I could.
Her body turned toward me, and her hand held her head up. “Why aren’t you married? Based off of the time that we’ve spent together, I can’t find anything wrong with you.”
I stared at her for a beat before I chortled.
“I guess I should say thank you. Me not being married was intentional. I didn’t want to be married while I was active duty because the thought of something happening to me on a deployment and leaving that wake of heartache behind was too heavy to bear.
I’ve dated and been in relationships, but I made it clear that it would not lead to love or marriage. It was for sexual gratification only.”
People would be surprised how many women were fine with those kinds of arrangements, especially in the military. I never had an issue getting pussy. Women loved men in uniform. There was also that subset of women who thought that they could use me.
“You’re forty-two. You don’t want children?” she asked. Her face was scrunched.
I chuckled again. “Why would you assume that I didn’t want children? Minnow, my nut still works, love. Do you want children, marriage, the white picket fence, and all that shit?”
She took a heavy breath. “I mean, I do, but I’m not sure if it will ever happen. I know that I’m a lot to deal with.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think I want a white picket fence though. Maybe like a farm.” She mumbled the last part.
Our gaze at each other was intense. I removed one of my hands from behind my head, then slowly moved it behind hers. My movement was intentional and slow, like all my movements. She allowed me to lower her lips to mine.
The kiss started soft and sensual. I allowed her to take the lead, and I was happy that I did. When she deepened the kiss and straddled my body, my hands went to her ass. Like I thought, it was soft as hell.
My dick hardened, and she moaned. We kissed for another moment before she pulled back. “Um, I . . . I have to go. It’s getting late.”
She abruptly climbed off my lap. I watched her gather herself, climb down the ladder, then leave the barn. I wouldn’t stop her. The day would come when she wanted to stay.
A Short Time Later
In the Trenches . . .
Since Minnow’s and my kiss, there had been a few more kisses and nights in my little hideaway. It always ended the same way. It’s getting late. I got to go. I never stopped her and would never stop her.
Today, something was off. When you’d been in infantry and after so many deployments, the study of human behavior became a serious study. You had to understand to know if a person was a hostile or a friendly when you were in enemy territory.
The first indicator that something was off today was that she was late. Her report time when we needed to cut was 0700. Today she arrived at 0701. It sounded insignificant to others, but it alarmed me. This was the girl who believed that she was late if she was on time.
When I said something to her about it, she responded sharply. I chose to ignore it because I knew enough to know that her response was the symptom of the problem, not the problem. I had never been an argumentative man.
We stood next to each other as I taught her a new cut. I loved to see her in the apron when she was in her cutting zone. Her movement was slow, controlled, and precise. Her cut inspections always gave the same results . . . clean and smooth.
“That looks really good, beautiful,” I praised her work.
She didn’t take her eyes off of her cut as she finished, but she did give me a smile. “Thank you. I have a great teacher.”
She grabbed another piece of meat, prepared to make a cut. Before she could, a truck outside backfired. Pow! It was very loud, so that meant it was more than likely in the parking lot. My brother was across the shop toward the front. Pow! There it went again.
My eyes shifted to Minnow when I heard the knife hit the floor. My brother started to move toward us, but I held my hand up to halt him. Her shoulders squared, and her breath was gone. When her body moved back and her stance lowered, I knew that she was no longer in the butcher shop with me.