by S. Cook
Back in the house, I got to work on the dirty floors, not wasting any of the soapy water that had sloshed during my laundry chore. I worked on all fours, laughing at the mental image of a naked woman on my hands and knees and grateful that I didn’t have this kind of wild streak back when I lived in the city. My neighbors in Seattle could clearly see straight into my windows.
The more I scrubbed, the more water droplets I seemed to find. Sitting up on my knees in frustration, I jerked when a drop of water landed on the back of my neck and rolled quickly down my spine.
I looked around in confusion, then looked up just as another drop came from above, splashing right on my forehead.
All around me, drops of water fell from the ceiling.
“Oh, shit,” I sighed as I realized that another rain storm was almost overhead.
I got up and began pulling out the pots and pans I’d used for the previous storm, placing them as best I could under the holes and trying to line up the containers with the splashing water. When I went out to retrieve one of the larger tubs to dump the collected water in, my eyes immediately went to my wet laundry, still hanging on the clothesline.
“Oh, shit no!”
I started to step off the porch to retrieve them. When I realized they were still so wet that the rain wouldn’t make them any wetter, I let it go, watching all my clothes hang limply in the increasingly heavy rain.
The bed quilt in the front yard was not only soaked, but getting muddy now too. Hoping to remedy that, I ran out front and retrieved the quilt. Flipping it over, I tossed it over the burnt-out tree that still stood in the front yard, letting the rain wash the spots of rust-colored mud out of the blanket.
Dejected, I went back in the house to dry off but realized I didn’t have so much as a tiny dish towel to dry off with.
Every stitch of my clothes and every bit of linen was outside in the rain.
Fuck!
I swore not to let something as silly as screwing up my laundry get me down.
I should have listened to Mustang.
He must’ve sensed the storm was rolling in earlier.
Instead of crawling into a corner and crying, again, I pulled the giant tub that I’d washed the clothes in inside the house, positioning it near enough to the sink and stove to fill it with heated water. I grabbed the remaining tubs off the back porch and filled them, setting them on the stove to heat.
It took long enough, but I finally had enough boiling water and enough tap water combined in the large tub to take a decent bath. I lowered myself into the tub and immediately felt myself relax.
I soaped myself in slow, smooth circles, letting my mind wander to the way Mustang had touched me last night, remembering the delicious way he had physically and emotionally connected with me.
With the hot water moving around my skin and the rain drumming against the roof, I drifted off to sleep only to wake some time later with a painful crick in my neck from leaning against the metal edge of the tub.
I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but the water had turned ice cold, as had the rest of my house.
Looking around frantically for something to dry off with, my eyes rested on the burlap curtain that covered the closet. Stepping out of the tub and tiptoeing carefully across the floor, I took the curtain off the nails that held it in place and shook it out the best that I could, dismayed when clouds of dust flew up into the air.
Gross.
So much for my bath.
I wrapped the dusty curtain around my body, rubbing my arms to get warm. I went back over to the stove and turned on both stove eyes, grateful that the previous owner had gone with electric as I held my wrinkled hands over the heat coming off it.
As I stepped outside to grab some firewood from the covered back porch, I looked at the sky and saw no signs of the rain letting up.
It took me several tries, but I was finally able to get a fire going in the small fireplace and soon curled up next to it to try to get warm.
Where the hell was my big, strong Army man when I needed him?
By bed time, the rain was still coming down with a vengeance. I’d eaten my dinner still huddled by my fireplace, wrapped in my sad little curtain. All that was left was to make up a bed near the fireplace and try to stay warm.
I pushed the small couch over closer to the heat, as close as I dared without fear that it would go up in flames and arranged the couch cushions on the floor to try to funnel more heat in my direction. I stacked more wood on the hearth next to the fireplace and cried myself to sleep.
By morning, the rain had lightened somewhat to a hazy drizzle, and I kept looking out the windows for any sign of a sun that could come out and dry my clothes. I thought about running out and grabbing something off the line to wear still wet, hoping my body heat would dry it eventually, but the distance between the porch and the clothes was practically a lake of red clay mud.
Instead, I busied myself cleaning the inside of the house while still wrapped in my curtain.
By nightfall, the rain that had come and gone throughout the day finally left, leaving a delicious, fresh smell behind. If I hadn’t been so forlorn and cold, I would have loved to wrap up in heavy blankets and sit on my porch, maybe even sleep out there all night, breathing in the pure air. Instead, I spent another sad night on the floor by the fireplace, waking every hour or so to add more wood.
At some time during the night I thought I heard a noise, and my heart leapt with the possibility that Mustang had finally come to check on me. I pushed that thought away when I remembered that he would never come inside anyway and began to hope instead that it wasn’t another squirrel.
In the morning, I felt my eyes fill as I cried real tears of relief at the sight of the blazing sun coming up over the rocky walls that ringed the valley. I ran outside naked and felt the clothing on the line, relieved that most of it was only very damp and not still completely soaked.
Maybe once the sun rose all the way up and dried things off, I’d have something to put on by bed time, and be able to sleep in an actual bed with real sheets and everything.
“Why in the living hell are you standing in your yard stark naked and crying?” a booming voice called from beside the house.
I shouldn't have been surprised that he had once again appeared out of nowhere but I still I jumped at the sound of his voice and ducked under the clothes line, hiding myself behind the laundry.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “And why do you keep sneaking up on me?”
He didn’t reply, obviously waiting for his question to be answered since he had asked his first.
“If you must know, I’m crying because I’m happy that it’s stopped raining, and I’m naked because all my clothes are wet,” I said in a huff while sniffling and wiping my nose in an unladylike way on the back of my hand. “Are you happy now, Mustang?”
I could see him trying to suppress the grin playing around the corners of his mouth. Was he going to laugh at my mess?
“Didn't I tell you not to wash all your clothes at once?” he asked sternly. “I tried to warn you.”
“You did.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I never listen,” I said. “And because it takes me a long time to learn a lesson apparently.”
“Why would you wash all of your clothes at once? What would you do if it rained?” he asked, apparently still not taking in the situation.
“Well, duh, as a matter of fact that’s exactly what happened. I washed all of my clothes two days ago and have been freezing to death ever since.”
“You shouldn’t do that again,” he replied flatly, eyeing the quilt where it hung over the dead tree. “You might catch pneumonia or something. It can get cold out here at night. Your delivery is almost here.”
“What delivery?” I asked, confused.
“The roofing supplies. I can hear the truck.”
“Oh crap! I forgot about that! I got so upset over the rain and the laundry that I forg
ot I told them to bring them. Ugh!”
I dashed from the laundry line to the backdoor, hoping to sprint fast enough that Mustang wouldn’t get much of a view, only to find that it was still locked from the inside. I rested my head against the closed door and shut my eyes, opening and closing my fists.
It was a coping mechanism I’d taught myself during my years working at my job when I was feeling particularly stressed out. I’d relied on it several times a day when working in the pressure cooker of my job.
Since being out here, I hadn’t needed the small gesture once, not even while chasing bats, rats, and snakes out of my house.
Holding my head up high and squaring my shoulders, I walked proudly naked around the side of the house, right past Mustang’s gaze.
When I stepped up on the porch, I heard the strangest, most amazing sound, a sound that stopped me in my tracks. I stopped to listen, not certain I was really hearing it.
Mustang was laughing.
An honest, real laugh bellowed out from deep inside his chest. I looked at him over my shoulder and shook my head at him in disapproval, which only made him laugh harder.
His face was lit up in amusement and his eyes were sparkling.
I was completely blown away.
If I hadn't been completely naked at that moment, I would’ve walked right up to him and kissed him.
Right then and there.
Not even caring if the delivery man saw us.
Chapter 12: Leah
Ted Porter, the owner of the hardware store in Leakey, came with his delivery truck that was almost big enough to fit a car inside. He delivered all the supplies that Mustang had me order for the roof repairs.
“How are you holding up down here?” Ted asked.
“Besides a few minor hiccups, everything's going well,” I answered.
“This place used to be so nice,” he pointed out, but when I looked at him with a frown, he corrected himself. “No offense, of course, ma’am. The McCawley’s loved this place.”
“Did you know them well?” I asked.
“Ever since they moved in here. Mrs. McCawley loved to bake, and she’d bring breads and cakes to the store every week. It was because of her that I picked up nearly twenty pounds.”
Only twenty? I raised an eyebrow and briefly glanced at his round stomach.
“After she died, he was heartbroken.”
“I can imagine. It must have been lonely for him here by himself.”
“Oh, he still had Mustang. The two of them were really close.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. They shared war stories, and the trauma that goes along with it.”
“I didn't know that.”
“How could you? It’s not like Mustang is the talkative type.”
“True, yeah,” I sighed.
“Well, I must be going, ma’am. It was nice to meet you, and just give me a call if there’s ever anything I can do for you.”
“Thank you, Ted. I appreciate that.”
“And good luck with the roof,” he said as he turned and walked back to his truck.
“You don’t need luck when you have me,” Mustang suddenly said beside me and I jumped.
“Holy crap! Could you please stop doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Just appearing out of nowhere.”
He looked at me with a confused look on his face and shrugged.
“I’m just walking around like a normal person,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
“No, you don’t. You slip around like a ghost and sneak up on me. I never hear you until you’re right on top of me. It’s creepy.”
“You should learn how to pay more attention to your surroundings then. It will keep you safer out here when I’m not around.”
“Like how?” I asked.
“Always be listening. Learn to recognize all the normal sounds, the birds, the sound the wind makes. Learn to hear a truck coming from way down the road. Watch the sky and look for thunderstorms coming. You can’t live life being oblivious to things going on around you.”
“If I learn all that, will I hear you slinking up behind me?”
He grinned.
“Probably not.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“That’s what I thought. I’ll try to do better.”
He nodded wordlessly and walked to the stack of supplies on the ground.
“Okay, let’s fix your roof then, before it rains again. I’ll start carrying up the supplies. This might take a while to finish.”
“That would be great,” I muttered as I ran my fingers through my hair and stepped back into the house.
Hours later, my head was throbbing with a migraine headache.
I knew I wanted my roof to be fixed as soon as possible, but the nonstop banging of Mustang’s hammer against the roof over my head was about to drive me mad.
I couldn’t very well complain since he’d been at it since this morning. He stayed up there for hours at a time, working away, but every time the hammer hit its mark I wanted to scream.
I’d tried hanging around outside the house during the process, but the rock formations on every side of the house echoed the hammering, making me hear double the number of blows. Somehow, it seemed quieter inside the house.
I moved through the house, avoiding the little drifts of sawdust that fell as he worked.
Damn! I didn’t realize the roof was about to cave in on me. No wonder he didn’t want to step inside the house.
As I moved through the kitchen and into the living room, I heard a very distinct sound.
“Psst.”
I looked up and saw Mustang looking at me through the hole where a roof slat belonged. He stared at me for a minute, then slowly smiled for no reason.
He had to have known the effect it had on me, and I appreciated how much effort it took. I smiled back, then on a whim, I slid the fabric of my button-up shirt aside, flashing him a quick look at my breasts.
“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.
I noticed his eyes darkening in desire as he looked at me.
“Oh, nothing.”
He raised his eyebrows, watching me, so I grew bolder. I began to undo the buttons one at a time, looking up at him and biting my lip as I did so.
“Yeah, that sure looks like nothing,” he muttered and started hammering again.
Harder this time.
“I wish he’d hammer me like that,” I muttered under my breath.
The hammering stopped immediately.
“Did you say something to me?” he asked.
Well, that was one way to get the hammering to stop.
“No. I was talking to myself. I said it was getting hot and stuffy in here.”
He watched intently through the hole in the roof as I opened my shirt all the way, revealing my breasts before running my hands over them and tracing my nipples with my fingertips.
Mustang swallowed hard as he watched me move.
When I looked up and saw the need on his face, I smiled and started removing more of my clothes. I swayed slightly as I stepped out of my jeans, then slowly inched down the see-through fabric of my underwear before stepping out of them.
When I was naked, I stretched out on the floor beneath Mustang, giving him the best view.
I kept a hand on one of my large breasts, massaging it with an achingly slow rhythm and teasing my nipple into a hard point, while the other hand slid down my flat stomach and reached the soft hair above my mound.
I teasingly traced circles around my clit, watching Mustang’s face silently as I put on a show just for him. His breath caught when I dipped one long finger inside myself, sliding it in and out.
Finally, I beckoned to Mustang with one crooked finger, inviting him to take over where I’d left off.
I saw him struggle with what he wanted, the desire to feel me and taste me again, fighting with his primal need for safety above all else.
When I suddenly realized
with horror that I’d been hinting for him to come inside, my expression softened. I immediately jumped up to run to the door, snatching a blanket off the back of the couch on my way out.
Mustang met me halfway, coming down from the roof and grabbing me in his arms as I reached the edge of the porch.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a rush. “I didn’t mean for you to come inside the house.”
“I was coming for you one way or the other,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “Wild horses or a wooden door couldn’t keep me away.”
He pulled me to him, his hands feverish, moving down my back and over the swell of my ass. His skin smelled like sunshine and like a man.
Not like a man in a fancy business suit.
A real man.
My need for him eclipsed everything. I wanted him to drag me to the ground and fuck me with the intensity that I knew was simmering right below the surface.
His arm brushed the side of my breast and I leaned closer into the pressure.
I ran my hands along his back, pressing hard into the corded muscles on either side of his spine. I didn’t stop at his waistband. Instead I kept right on sliding until his firm ass filled my hands. I squeezed and pulled him closer.
He lifted me up so my legs were around his waist while all the while kissing me roughly and passionately.
“You make me want dirty, hard sex,” he whispered into my ear.
Whoa.
His simple, direct words set me on fire, sending an electrified pulse of lust through me. I could barely think. My want and need for Mustang overrode all sensibilities.
He traced the edge of my ear with his tongue, then buried his face in the curve of my neck.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he murmured, his beard scraping against my tender skin.
His words made me feel cherished, and sexy.
My legs quivered and I was glad his strong arms were holding me up. Reaching for his shirt buttons, I quickly undid them and pushed the shirt off one muscled, tattooed arm and then the other.
He placed my feet back on the ground, turned me around and braced me against the porch railing. My heart pounded. His fingers traveled down the sides of my ribs and over my hips. I jerked when I felt his bare chest press against my back.