5. Maisie
maisie
. . .
FIVE
“Stupid fucking trees all look the same!” I swat a branch that jumps out of nowhere and attacks me. I swear, these things have a vendetta against me. So much for my phone flashlight helping lead the way. This thing is pointless out here.
I may have overestimated my directional awareness from memory.
It’s been many years since I was last here.
Add on the fact that you could probably find my name in the Guinness World Record Book under the title ‘most directionally challenged human’.
So yeah, maybe this wasn’t my brightest idea to date.
It’s a goal of mine to be more independent, and I’m learning, but maybe this wasn’t the exact moment to be balls to the walls with these newfound goals.
As long as there are no snakes out here, I should be fine...
mostly. I’m sure if I keep walking long enough, I’m bound to run into The Den.
It’s like physics or something. I was never great at science, so I could totally be pulling that from my ass.
On cue, another branch jumps from the shadows, this time catching me right in my left tit.
Fucking bitch tits hurt more than my face.
I stop for a breather, tipping my head to the sky.
“If there’s a god out there listening, next time, can you please avoid hitting the girls?
They are small enough, and I really don’t need them to deflate any further.
I’ll beg if I need to; it’s that serious.
And if you could point me in the right direction, I would be forever indebted to you. ”
“Are you done talking to the trees, ma'am'?" a rugged, southern accent rasps from behind me.
I jump so high, one of my boots flies right off, my phone along with it.
“For the love of all things evil, give a girl a warning next time.” My palm clutches my racing heart, like it could do anything to slow its rapid ascent.
I drop to my knees, wet soil seeping through my jeans, and pat around for my lost shoe.
I’m sure I look straight out of an episode of Scooby Doo, crawling around like Velma for her lost glasses.
“A little to your left, no, slightly right…almost,” the mystery man barks orders from behind me. His chuckle reaches me next, all rich and deep, and now I’ve gone blind for other reasons. I think my eyes may have crossed from the noises coming out of this man. My thighs definitely did.
My palm connects with my boot, my phone next to it, flashlight still on, muted by the dirt. I glare over my shoulder at him. “Something funny, ma’am?” I seethe after pulling my shit together, because damn it, this man is laughing at me, not with me.
He throws his hands up in surrender, but he keeps the smirk softly etched into his perfect face.
Because of course the man would be the mystery man from the window.
The perfectly chiseled, macho muscle man cowboy of my wet dreams, popping up exactly when I prayed for help.
It's too dark to make out all his features, but what I can’t see, I can fill in with my imagination, and I’m sure it’s close enough.
He has to be over eight inches taller than me, and I’m not short by girl standards. Maybe around 6’4”? That, paired with his slutty mustache and long brown hair that curls at the nape of his neck, would have any saint sinning.
You couldn’t have sent anyone else, really?
“Nope, definitely not,” he says, attempting a straight face but failing miserably. “Though I’m sure it’s going to be a real bitch to get those stains out of your pants.” He points to my knees.
After securing my shoe on, I assess the damage, and, would you look at that?
He’s not wrong. Why I thought it was a good idea to crawl around in the dirt wearing white jeans is beyond what my brain can process right now.
Brand new white jeans, to be exact. This is why I never wear white.
Teaches me to ever veer from the beaten path again.
That path is beaten for a reason, and I’ll gladly live out the rest of my days in that small box of comfort if it means I’ll never have another experience like this.
I brush my knees off, pretending to be one of those cool girls who doesn’t give a shit how they look.
Newsflash: I’m the complete opposite. Don’t get me wrong, I spend more days in oversized tees and no makeup, but I still have a few standards I like to stay above.
We won’t even broach the subject of wet clothes.
If I ever went to Disneyland as a child, I definitely would have been the one wearing a poncho on the water rides.
“Nothing a little Tide can’t fix,” I joke, wiping my dirty hands on my jeans like a nervous idiot. I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m just gonna get going now.” I turn, marching off into the darkness, praying a pit will open and swallow me whole.
He waits until I’m a good twenty feet away before hollering, “You’re going the wrong way, honey.”
I huff a laugh, spinning on my feet with all the confidence in the world now. “Pfft, I knew that. I was simply checking to make sure there were no deadly snakes over here first.” I brush past him, narrowly avoiding catching the same branch to my other boob.
He catches up to me quickly, never breaking a sweat. “You were heading to The Den, correct?”
I shoot him a side glare. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”
He gestures ahead of him, that smug smirk back on his face. “Fiery little one, aren’t ya? I was heading to The Den for dinner, but, by all means, keep heading wherever it was you were going.”
I actually hear my molars grind, my voice barely audible over the chirping insects. “And if I were heading to The Den, hypothetically, which direction should I be heading?”
He bites his lip and at least refrains from laughing at me this time. He points up ahead, and, just barely through the trees to the left, I finally spot lights peeking through. “Might be off in that direction, hypothetically, if you wanted the fastest route.”
I huff a nervous laugh. “Right, obviously I knew that. I’ve been trying to work on my cardio and decided on the scenic route.” My pace quickens, but his large strides eat up the distance in no time.
He quirks a brow at me. “In the opposite direction?”
“Mhhhm,” I mumble, my voice pitching and giving me away. I’m sure, up until this point, I had him fooled. “Long flight today. It’s good to stretch my legs.”
That seems to perk his attention, but he squashes it immediately. He leisurely slides his hands into his jean pockets, something white catching my attention. A bandage, maybe? “Well, I commend you for your dedication.”
I point to my muddied jeans and laugh. “That’s me, Miss Dedicated, down on her knees.”
“You dedicate a lot of time on your knees, honey?”
“Yup!” I say enthusiastically, popping the p.
That is, until his words actually register.
“I mean, no…” I hiss. “Just fucking take me now, I’m begging you,” I whisper, tilting my head to the sky again.
Whatever god is up there making a mockery of my life is on my shit list. This man was sent from hell to eat me alive.
“Begging for me already on our first date?” I swear, I almost drop dead on the spot. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “I’m not in the market of giving women bark rash on their backs this early in the relationship. Maybe next time, though.”
Mother have mercy on my soul.
“You’re awfully full of yourself, cowboy.” I grouch.
“I can fill other things if you want,” he supplies with a smirk.
Fucking cocky ass cowboys. “You’d have better luck hitting on a priest. Oh look, we’re here!
” I rush up the steps of Walter and Roxy’s house, better known as The Den, where everyone likes to gather for family events.
Mystery Man's deep chuckle follows me all the way through the door, and I realize I don’t even know his name.
What I do know is that my knees aren’t the only things wet, and that’s going to be a real problem for me and my research.
Now, I just need to survive my first family dinner.
Research notes: never show weakness in front of a cowboy. They will eat you for breakfast.