by M. Mabie
“No, I want to see this place.”
As we followed the deck to the far side of the cabin, where the other door was unlocked, his hand touched the small of my back, and I swear I almost tripped over my clumsy feet.
I had to find a way to say, “Hi, I’m available, if you’re interested,” without actually saying it.
He was just out of a relationship, from what I knew, and he probably wasn’t ready to jump into another this fast. But, hopefully, while I was being patient, he’d pick up what I was putting down.
As I took pleasure in the feeling of his hand on me, I knew I could be patient. I’d let him take the lead.
Or I’d attack him and look like a wanton whore, but I was going to do my best to avoid that and pray he jumped me between now and then.
I opened the screen door, and then the inside one, and I propped it open with the door stopper.
“So this is the living room and the kitchen is right over there.” I pointed to the opposite side. There was the other large sliding door, the one that faced the water where we’d just been.
“I like it.” He grinned as he passed me, taking it upon himself to look around. Which really shouldn’t have surprised me since I knew my way around his house from helping him the past week.
“Did you catch all of these?” He was looking at my fish mounted on the wall.
Nobody had ever asked me about my fish. Ever. And there had been some guys inside that cabin. I supposed they didn’t give a shit.
Did that mean he did?
“Most of them. Some are my dad’s; some were my grandpa’s. That largemouth bass is mine, though. You said you fished a little when you were younger, what did you guys fish for?”
He chuckled before answering, looking embarrassed. “Whatever my Snoopy pole would catch. I think they were sunfish, but I did pretty well and I remember catching quite a few.”
“I had one of those too. That didn’t last me very long, though. I think I broke it after a week and Dad got me a real pole.”
“You fish a lot then, huh?”
“When I can. I do a lot in the summer when I’m out here by myself. It’s calming. I like the game of it. What can I do to make them want my line? You know? I think that’s why I make lures and flies. They’re both relaxing.”
“I think I need a relaxing hobby.”
“I saw some clubs in your garage. You golf?” I asked as I turned on a lamp in the living room and walked over to one of the windows on the far side to get a breeze moving through the cabin. Since I used mine a little more than most it never got that musty smell, but it always smelled better with fresh air in it.
“I did. I mean, I do. Dr. Carver said there was a small course here?”
“Yeah, it’s actually pretty nice, I think. We get a lot of people from around the area for tournaments and stuff. There’s a nice clubhouse and restaurant out there. I don’t go out very often. Special occasions. Weddings. Stuff like that.”
I walked over to the bathroom and flipped the switch. “Excuse me. Make yourself at home. Poke around.”
When I saw myself in the mirror, I was pleasantly surprised I didn’t look as bad as I’d imagined. I opened a drawer where I had a few things and ran a comb through my hair. I’d had it up in a ponytail, so it was going back up because I had that lovely ring that the holder left, but at least it would look nicer. I rummaged a little more and found a tube of mascara and threw a coat on my lashes, pinched my cheeks. Then I debated brushing my teeth, but I hated the way toothpaste made beer taste, so instead I swished a little mouthwash and water in there. I applied some Chapstick, and although I wasn’t a supermodel, and I never would be, I decided it was a significant improvement.
I quickly peed and washed my hands, then rubbed some sweet smelling lotion on my arms, noting that I wouldn’t be catching anything if I touched my line after that, but I didn’t really give a shit either—if he liked it.
I didn’t want to smell fishy. And even though I hadn’t been keeping any of my catches, I had in fact touched a few. Fish and romance weren’t really a match made in heaven.
I rubbed the jasmine lotion in. Then added a little smear to my neck, and, even though I knew nobody would ever reap the benefit of it, I rubbed some through my cleavage.
I had to be prepared for anything. You know, like me forgetting my patience and throwing myself at him like a wanton whore.
Although what I’d changed was subtle, the look he gave me when I came out of the bathroom was not.
“O’Fallon, you look pretty tonight,” he said, almost like he hadn’t even thought about the words. Like they just fell out. And I had to admit he looked pretty damn good too, standing there in my cabin.
I hadn’t been looking for compliments, but there I was smack dab in the middle of one—and I wasn’t used to it at all. Nobody called me pretty except my dad, but he was my dad.
Hearing I looked pretty from Vaughn’s mouth was something completely different.
Different in how I reacted, which was to nervously look around and pretend like he hadn’t knocked the wind out of me.
Different in how I felt. I almost believed him, and I would have, had I not just seen myself.
But, mostly, different in how I didn’t know how to respond. I had no sassy comeback.
I’d been told I was hot before, in a bar, by drunk guys who were looking for a little companionship. And, to be honest, when I actually went to the bar, I was also looking for companionship.
Girls get horny, too.
Girls want intimacy and closeness, too.
And sometimes the quickest relief for that longing was a roll in the sheets with someone just passing through, or someone from out of town.
I made sure to never get with anyone in town because I knew it would spread like wildfire, and I didn’t want my dad hearing about it over coffee with the town’s men.
I didn’t sleep around a lot, but every now and again over the years, I found myself over or under one in a bed. Usually, the bed in this cabin.
I nervously tucked my head; the feeling of his appraisal was unlike other men giving me attention.
“Thanks,” I think I mumbled.
He took a few steps closer to me, and my body was screaming get out of here and jump him at the same time.
Not knowing what to do with myself, I just froze—which was totally not like me.
I’m Mutt, for fuck’s sake.
He stepped up to me and I could smell his cologne, or deodorant—hell, I wasn’t sure—but whatever it was, it added volume to my lungs and I wished I could inhale it forever.
“The other night,” he began softly, and then he tenderly took ahold of the hand I had by my side, “I had a lot of fun.”
“I did, too.” I couldn’t help myself from staring right into his eyes. They looked back and forth in mine, like he was testing the waters.
“The water is fine. Come on in,” I heard some wanton whore say in the back of my head.
“The ice cream was good,” I added.
“Yeah, it was, but more than that I’d like to get to know you more. Spend time with you. And not just because you helped me with my house, and have been so nice, but because I’m attracted to you.”
And there went my stomach.
Who says things like that? Do men really say that kind of thing outside of Wynne? Because how do women walk around with clean underwear knowing there are real live men wandering around out there talking like that?
A rush of air left my chest and it collapsed like it was going to cave in.
“You are?”
I couldn’t misunderstand that, right? Attracted to you means the same thing everywhere, right?
“I am. Since the moment we met, I’ve wanted to talk to you. Know about you. There’s something about you that stays with me when you’re not around. I think about you a lot.”
His thumb was circling mine and it was nice, comforting. I was nervous as hell, and, in this small way, he was soothing me.
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br /> “I think I like you a little, too,” I admitted.
His eyebrow teased me, rising on the end. “A little?”
“I said, I think.”
Why was I so embarrassed? We were adults. He was attracted to me, by the grace of God himself. And I was attracted to him, a lot. We weren’t the first humans to encounter such a thing, but, for the life of me, I didn’t know what the hell to do about it. I didn’t want to make a wrong move and have him realize he’d just been lonely or sad or on the mend.
“Well, it’s a good start. I hope you’ll be a little more certain after tonight. How about I start a fire? I saw you have a pit. That’s actually something I’m pretty good at. Then we’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help you officially like me.”
If he only knew that he’d already done it. I just needed to figure out if I was purely attracted to him, or if this was something else.
I have no clue where any of that came from, but I didn’t regret saying it. It was all true. I am attracted to her and I’m so damn curious about her.
When she came out of the bathroom, I could tell she’d fussed with her hair. Her lips were shiny. Then when I got closer I smelled something sweet that hadn’t been around her before. I knew it was all right to tell her, in plain words, no pretenses, no expectations, what I was thinking.
That was one of the things about her that was growing on me. She was easy to talk to, easy to be honest with, because she was. She was authentically her and I was drawn to it.
What came with that honesty was this fleeting flash of vulnerability she had around me. I’d seen her with other people, but with me she was quite different. A little more calm. A little softer. A little less on guard. A little less protected.
If she was willing to do that for me, then so could I.
O’Fallon had wood piled in neat rows under the cabin, only a few steps away from a really great fire pit. I wondered if she chopped all the wood herself. I didn’t think I knew a single woman who did stuff like that. The fire pit looked a little worn, but I wondered if she built that too.
She was so capable. And something about that challenged me. Made me think about what I could do to impress her. What I could do for her that she couldn’t do for herself. What she would need me for.
I knew one thing—I was going to do my best to find out what that might be tonight.
I built a fire, remembering I’d seen a lighter in the console of the Astro. When she came down, a few minutes after the flames really took off, she pulled her chair over to the fire and then found another in the back of her truck. She set them close to each other near the flames and placed the cooler in between them.
There wasn’t a single aspect to the situation that I was familiar with. All of it was new to me. The cabin. The river. It was a Tuesday. I was with a fascinating woman.
She was even more beautiful in her element. That fact alone was exhilarating.
We both sat, opened new beers, and then she asked me, “So how do you like Wynne so far?”
I was glad she asked me a question, because then it opened up an opportunity for me to ask a few of my own.
“I like it. It’s always a little strange in a new place, but so far I’m glad I took a chance on it.” It was my turn. I decided to start small. “Have you dated anyone in town?”
Subtle, Vaughn. Real subtle. But I had to know what I was strolling into. I’d, obviously, had a recent relationship. It was only natural to wonder if she’d had one, too.
She laughed and said, “Back to this?” Then she kicked my foot on purpose as she crossed her legs.
“No. Not really. I mean in high school I dated a few town guys, but nothing serious. I’ve never been a real relationship kind of person.” She took a drink, and I watched her face in the firelight, the sun having completely disappeared. “Not that I wouldn’t, I’ve just never been in one. You know? It’s just kind of worked out that way.”
“I get that.”
“At first, I thought all of the guys in town were scared of my dad. Then I thought maybe I was just too much of a tomboy to hit anybody’s radar. But eventually, I realized I really didn’t see anything I couldn’t live without walking around here either. Then I got used to it.”
However, she looked uncomfortable talking about it, not looking me in the face as she spoke, and that wasn’t my intention, so I changed the subject. “Do you have a boat?”
Immediately, she lit up.
“I do. I have a nice jon boat I troll around in—it’s at home in my shed—but last summer I bought a Rinker and I’m excited for it to warm up and take it out. It’s fun down here on the weekends. There are a few sandbars just south of here and people congregate there. Cook out. Socialize. Have a few drinks. It’s a good time. You’ll have to come out with me.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that.”
The conversation with her was great all night. She talked about how she’d always dreamed of opening her own bait and tackle shop with her own lures, which I thought was cool. In turn, I told her about how I got into dentistry because of my crazy awful childhood overbite.
The beers tasted good, but I wasn’t concerned with drinking much. I needed to remember what she was telling me and to say things the right way.
I wanted to kiss her, without any doubt in her mind it was because I’d had too much to drink. She’d slowed down too and the conversation, up until then, had been pretty light.
“So what does the town really think about what happened with Rachelle and me? I know they’re all talking because the ladies in the office keep looking at me like I’m some sad, lost puppy dog or something.”
“You’ll get used to that. Small towns are good for lots of things, but the flip side of that is having everyone know—or think they know—all of your business. Sometimes before you do.”
“So what do they think?”
She looked at me hesitantly, like she didn’t want to admit what they were saying. Like she wanted to spare my feelings, not knowing what was true and what was false.
I didn’t care what everyone else thought. I only cared that she knew the truth. I didn’t want her hearing something and thinking it was true, if it wasn’t.
“Out with it. How bad is it?”
“Okay,” she said and sat up to face me head on. “There are lots of people speculating, but what it boils down to is, you had a girlfriend who was planning on coming, and then she didn’t. But I’m not sure I’m buying all of that. I think something else happened. You don’t seem like you’re terribly heartbroken, or like you’re missing her or you know … upset. Sorry if that sounds bad. It’s not my business, but I’ve been around you, in your house. I just figured that when—or if—you wanted to talk to me—or anyone—you would.”
“Well, some of that is close.” Vague, but close. I think she was sparing my feelings not telling me all of the juiciest gossip.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she admitted.
Only we did.
I wanted her to know that she was right about a lot of what she said and I wanted her to know why.
“No. It’s fine. You’re right. I’m not that broken up about it. Not now. I was when everything first happened, but after some thinking, it was all for the best.
“Rachelle and I started dating about two years ago. It was fun because we hung out in the same circle. We got along great. About a year after we were dating, we went golfing with another couple, Brad and Cami. And as things sometimes go, Rachelle and Brad got along well. Too well.”
I ran a hand down the back of my neck and squeezed it, catching my breath and giving her time to let it all sink in before I went on.
“He left Cami about a month before I was moving, and that’s when Rachelle came clean and told me she had been seeing him.
“At first, I was pissed about being lied to, cheated on. Then I was frustrated because I felt like a fool, having been friends with Brad and introducing them. Then I realized, if she really loved him, and he
really loved her, it was best for Cami and me that they came clean before they got caught—or worse. Cami and Brad were already married.”
“You weren’t engaged?” she asked. “I mean, moving to the middle of nowhere with a guy is a big step.”
“We weren’t. Yet.”
I took a deep breath, ran my hands over my head, and reminded myself that I’d dodged a bullet. I didn’t want a woman who didn’t want me. I didn’t want someone I couldn’t trust. I didn’t want to be someone she’d resent later if she hated it there. And, in hindsight, she would have.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “You were going to?”
“Yeah, I planned on packing the ring in one of her boxes, the box you saw me with on Sunday, and then let her find it when we were moving in. She probably would have hated it. Not dramatic enough.” I hadn’t told anyone that. “But things didn’t work out anyway.”
“Well, for the record, it was a really sweet idea, but I think guys over think it. If you want my two cents, it shouldn’t be have to be staged or planned out so much.” She kicked my leg gently, pulling me out of my daze. Honestly, she was right.
The fire was starting to get low, so I got up to add a few more pieces of wood.
“Okay, now tell me something,” I said. And this little thing had been on my mind a lot. “Mutt?”
She shook her head, and I couldn’t be sure because it was dark, but I think she blushed. Her leg began to bounce slightly as I chucked logs into the pit.
“What?” she asked.
“Why? What’s with the nickname?” I knew she wasn’t embarrassed about the name. I’d heard everyone call her that. In fact, I didn’t even know what her real name was. Her damn file, in the small town dentist’s office, even said Mutt O’Fallon.
Of course, things were a little different than they were in the city. The files were all accurate, but not necessarily done in the most efficient way. I could change all of that, little by little, as needed when I took over. At the moment, I was focused on getting to know the patients, learning how things ran. Then I’d focus on improvements.