Dewey Belong Together

by Smartypants Romance

  "I'm so sorry the saddle wasn't cinched tight. My boy did up yours, and he normally can do it perfectly with his eyes closed. I don't know what got into him today." Rick shook his head and clapped me on the shoulder. A puff of dust rose from where he hit me, and I coughed again. My back was aching, particularly between my shoulders, and I was torn between wanting to get back on Buttercup to prove I could and heading to Knoxville or wherever for X-rays. If Dr. Google was correct, there was nothing they could do for a broken rib and I didn’t have the searing pain that would indicate a disc had been dislodged.

  "It's okay, sir," I replied. Max had hopped off Prancer and handed the reins to Rick's boy.

  "May I?" she asked, then started rubbing my back, and suddenly all I wanted to do was kiss wayward Buttercup and the slippery saddle because the fall had gotten Max's hands on me. And God, her hands felt good, rubbing over my flannel shirt, digging into my shoulders, massaging the area around my neck and then down the center of my back. I let out an involuntary groan, and she froze.

  I made to apologize when she said, “You feel a little tight, but not too bad. Do you want to go home, and I can put some anti-inflammatory gel on it? You could rest up, maybe read a book before the jam at the community center tonight.”

  The thought of lying on the bed, shirtless, while Max rubbed gel into my back was almost enough to override all sense of decency. But Max had planned these events hoping to show us a good time. I couldn’t take that away from her, just because I was an idiot and hadn’t tested my weight in the stirrup before going all in.

  “Nope, as soon as Rick here can retrieve my lady Buttercup and saddle her properly, I’ll be ready for the trail ride. I really want to go, Max. Honest.” It was a total lie of course, but I wanted to make Max happy and not be a killjoy in the face of all the plans she had made.

  Rick materialized when I said his name and had apparently caught our conversation. “Son, I hate to break it to you, but I can’t let you go out there after kissin’ the dirt like that. Your shoulders are going to be awfully sore as it is. You don’t need upwards of two hours of bouncing around on horseback to make them feel better. I’ll tell you what, how about I hitch up the wagon for a hayride, just the two of you. You can even bring your picnic with you, and I can stop near the falls if you’re up for that. Would still be a nice day.”

  “Picnic?” I asked.

  “Uh yeah, something I made up for us last night after the peep show,” Max explained. “Rick, I think that sounds like a lovely solution to our problem. I appreciate it. I’m sorry the original group couldn’t make it here. I sure was eager to show off our gorgeous countryside with your even more beautiful horses.”

  “Heck, Maxine, you know there’s an extra fee for renting out the whole hay wagon, don’t you?” Max smiled broadly and shrugged. “Well, that obviously won’t apply today. I’m just glad you’re not big city folks with talk of suing us because of your friend’s tumble.”

  “Why, Rick! What kind of hostess would that make me? Not one my mother would be proud of, I’m sure.” Ah, we were coming around to an understanding. There was a strange rhythm to small town negotiations. It was impolite to come right out and ask about money, but in their roundabout way, the result was oddly efficient. No one was getting sued, and we’d get a ride on the hay wagon.

  It turned out that Rick owned a comfortable wagon for hayrides. And Max had indeed packed a picnic in her backpack; it materialized as though conjured once the wagon was hitched up. We were going to a place called the Loop Road and, if I felt up to it, we would walk for an hour and a half to a waterfall, where we would eat.

  I had already been impressed by the beauty of the Great Smoky Mountains, but riding in a bed of hay underneath the multicolored glory of the trees, Max mere feet away from me and as excited as a kid over the ride and the animals we might see, made me view the area differently. It was as though a bubble of magic had been placed over the farmland and forest we rode through, the constant smile on Max’s face contagious. I felt myself smile too, even if we were being hauled around by a horse.

  I only regretted that I was seated so damn far away from her in the back of the wagon. Not wanting to shout to Rick to stop and potentially scare away any of the animals Max was scouting for, I got on my hands and knees and crawled over the hay toward her. Just then, we hit a dip in the road, and I lurched forward, my arms giving out and my head colliding with something soft. I heard an “Oomph!” and tried to push myself up but was instantly shoved away.

  “You know, it’s normally considered polite to ask a girl before diving into her breasts!” Max hissed at me, obviously not wanting Rick to overhear—or maybe she was concerned about scaring the animals.

  “I didn’t mean to dive into your breasts,” I hissed back calmly, even though inwardly I was so embarrassed that I didn’t know where to look.

  “Look, bears!” Max whispered, grabbing my leg.

  Well, that would do. Rick pulled the wagon over as we watched three young bears playing in the trees right by the side of the road. I was enchanted by their climbing partway up the trees or turning over rocks on the ground, but noticed that Max, fiddling with her phone, was missing the show. I took the phone from her, indicating that she should watch the bears, and figured out how to get her camera to work. I took a few shots of the fuzzy bears and of her as well. Before she could protest, I moved right beside her and took a selfie of us. Realizing what I was doing, I expected her to put up a fuss, but she flashed the peace sign and smiled, so I took a few more. We could always share these on the guild forums, and all those other scrubs could see what a good time they’d missed. If Max ever came out as a girl, that is.

  I wondered what I should do with that information. I hadn’t considered before now that I possessed info that Max didn’t want the rest of the world to know. Though she had to have known that by hosting this weekend she would be outing herself. She had to be ready for all of that potential blowback coming her way. Right?

  Or I could keep her secret and let her be the one to tell everyone, when she was ready. That would be the decent thing to do. And where Max was concerned, I wanted to do the decent thing. I wanted to earn her trust, her friendship, and more. If she wanted me to, I would keep her secret. I would keep any secret for her, forever.

  I thought I already had her friendship, and part of me still thought that was true despite her saying that she hated me. I didn’t want to overanalyze the situation, but I’d known this girl for ten years. We’d had a lot of fun together, and yes, we’d fought. Pranked each other. Yet here she was, determined to show me a good time and even host me in her inner sanctum. I saw flashes of hope for us in all that, hope that the clouds would part and Max would see what I saw—the crazy chemistry between us that’s been there for years.

  By the time we stopped for the waterfall hike, her hand was still on my leg.

  After what ended up being a four-hour round-trip hike, during which I foolishly insisted on wearing the backpack, my shoulders and back were hurting. The payoff was the beauty of the verdant landscape leading up to Abrams Falls, and the majesty of the torrent of water coming down over the rocks. There was also the clear accomplishment Max felt for completing the hike so quickly, considering the difficulty of the trail.

  “I really did it,” she said, smiling huge, her sweater tied around her waist and her hair pulled up into a messy bun.

  She was a bit sweaty, and I suggested she finish off our water supply since Rick was returning—with a car this time—to take us back to the stables.

  “You know, I didn’t want to tell anyone in town that I was thinking of planning this waterfall hike because I figured they’d tell me I was too out of shape to do it. You know, because of my size.” She chewed on her bottom lip briefly, and then her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth for a moment.

  “You’re obviously not out of shape. We slayed that dragon.” I smiled at her, a bit sad that she felt she had to hide things to avoid judgment. “Ne
ver let anyone dictate what you can and can’t do based on your size. It’s not the only factor in someone’s health. You can be your size and be perfectly heart healthy, as we’ve seen here.”

  “Wow, are you a personal trainer on the side, Wrath?” she asked, wiping her brow. “That was very … motivational.”

  I paused for a beat, then decided to tell her about Elaine. If I wanted Max to open up to me, to trust me, then also I had to put myself out there, and nothing was more private to me than my family. I could trust Max with this. “My little sister is a curvy girl who got crapped on her whole life about her weight. I used to try to protect her from my daddy and his comments, but I couldn’t take on the whole school. I tried but, well, lots of little bastards. She didn’t deserve it. Anyway, she got out of there, went to college, then moved to Chicago. And she’s beautiful, Max, so damn beautiful. Like you.” Elaine had never seen herself as beautiful growing up, and there was no way I was letting Max have the same notion about herself now.

  Chapter 8

  Maxine

  “What do you think this is, a square dance? Get it together before you get us all killed.”

  ― Maximus_Damage

  What did he mean, beautiful like me? Wrath didn’t think I was beautiful, Wrath thought I was a pompous bag of dicks, as he so colorfully put it on a guild raid two weeks ago. We’d been all lined up, thirty of us, ready to take on the demon god Kt’hala, and Deathdrop had been refusing to turn off his music on the guild voice chat. I’d typed in that if he didn’t can it in two point four seconds, he would be booted from the raid party and blacklisted from joining any guild events for two weeks. Well. Guess who had to leap to his bestie’s defense? I almost booted them both, but cooler heads prevailed after a brief scrap in which I had called Wrath an irresponsible man-child whose disrespectful behavior was wearing my patience beyond thin.

  And now, here he was, telling me about his little sister and calling me beautiful. And staring at me like he was waiting to gauge my reaction. All I could do was stare back as I felt sweat bead on my forehead and run down my cleavage. My brain came back online after the shock of Wrath's words, and I ended the staring contest by gesturing with my chin toward Rick in his pickup, thanking the gods for his impeccable timing.

  By the time we got home, I would have given up my legendary sword to have a shower, but I knew Wrath's shoulders had to be aching, and the warmth from the water would help him. Then I could apply the anti-inflammatory gel to his back.

  "Okay, first shower is yours," I said as I reached out to take my bag from him.

  "You sure?" he asked, taking in my messy hair and what I'm sure were pit stains on my shirt.

  "Yup. I can get you settled in bed with some gel on your back before I take my shower."

  "That's probably not necessary," Wrath protested.

  I shook my head.

  "Hey, who's the patient and who's the nurse?" I said firmly, watching a tic form in Wrath's jaw and his mouth twitch. He was trying not to laugh at me! I rewound what I'd said in my mind, and my cheeks bloomed red as a half dozen naughty role-play scenarios marched through my brain.

  "Er, you know what I mean!" I said, pointing toward the bathroom door. "Now grab some fresh clothes and march."

  When I heard the shower start up, I flopped onto my sofa and let out a huge breath. Struck by inspiration, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and pulled up the photos from this morning. After about a dozen shots of Abrams Falls, I found the ones of Wrath and me in the hay wagon. We looked good together, our faces beaming, our expressions relaxed. We certainly didn't look like two people who hated each other. At least I'd never seen mortal enemies cozied up in a pile of hay before. Hmm. For the first time in ages, I allowed myself to entertain the idea that perhaps we weren't enemies. Rivals, sure, but enemies? I didn't know anymore. I texted the best photo to Lois and waited, feeling adrift. She texted me back immediately.

  Lois: Climb him like a tree!

  Me: Ew, no.

  I wrote back smiling, then heard the bathroom door give. I swallowed hard when he emerged shirtless, all that ink and his muscled body on display. I would, however, not stare. I wouldn't stare, I wouldn't, I told myself as I stared—and stared and stared—literally incapable of looking in any other direction. When had I last seen a man as handsome as this? I racked my brain, thinking back to my experimental college days and shook my head. Even the time I dated a pair of guys from the swim team, I had never seen anything as breathtaking as Wrath.

  He laughed but disguised it as a cough. The sexy spell now broken, I pointed to the game room. "Go in and lie down on your tummy. I need to get the gel and a glove from the bathroom, and I'll be right there. This will help you feel better, I promise. At least it never fails with me."

  "You fall off horses often?" he asked, grinning.

  "Only on Tuesdays."

  Wrath followed my instructions, and I headed into the steamy bathroom to gather supplies. The air was full of that sandalwood, grass, and sunshine smell, it must be his body wash and shampoo that smelled so divine.

  I had a well-stocked first aid cabinet based on my own clumsiness and the way I was raised. My mother was convinced that disaster was always around the bend, and it was our job to be prepared to meet it. I grabbed a latex glove and the tube of gel and made my way to Wrath.

  He was lying down, arms crossed under his head and eyes closed. Holy hell, he looked like every naughty thought I’d ever had. I made my way to the bed and gingerly sat beside him, putting on the glove and squirting a dollop of the cool gel into my palm.

  As soon as my palm made contact with his warm skin, he shrieked. "Yikes, warn a guy next time!"

  I smiled, then caught myself, wondering what it was about screwing around with Wrath that I enjoyed so much. Maybe there was some nugget of truth to his claim that I gave as good as I got. Or that he never intended to hurt me by being a jackass, that he was just having fun, under the mistaken belief that I was too. Could it be possible?

  "Wrath," I began, as I moved the gel around, rubbing it in well. "What did you mean when you said you weren't yourself all those years ago when you said that shit about me to the other officers?"

  "Different topic? I’d rather not go there right now. Ooh, that feels good. Can you rub a little harder?"

  Sighing, I acquiesced, digging my gloved fingers deeper into his muscles. "Okay, were you serious when you called me beautiful?"

  Silence. Then, softly, he replied, "Yes."

  I huffed. "Well, you're not too bad yourself. I love your hair, other than the fact that it keeps getting in my way here." I used my un-gooped up hand to move some errant strands off his back and continued to make circles on his shoulder blades, reveling in the warm feeling of his skin under my hands.

  "I hate to say this, because that feels good, but I'm getting a crick in my neck."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm finished." I took my hand off him and immediately missed the contact. There's a thing about being introverted and not dating or having a lot of family—you become touch-deprived. I know I have my cats, but it's not the same thing as real human contact. "I'm going to have my shower now. Let that seep in and rest in a comfortable position until I get back. Then we can decide what to do until the jam session at the community center tonight."

  "I'll admit, I've had my eye on your tubs of Lego."

  "I don't know how I feel about you eyeing up my tubs," I teased. Or at least I thought I was teasing. I wasn't flirting, was I? Oh, hell. Clearing my throat, I continued, "I haven't made anything new in a while. We can build when I’m out of the shower," I offered, hoping he'd say yes. I was surprised to find I had something else in common with Wrath. I loved playing with Lego. Though when I was feeling super serious, I didn't call it “playing,” I called it “constructing.”

  "Sounds like a plan, Max," he replied in an odd tone. Please gods, tell me that wasn't his sexy voice. I didn’t know if I could handle being the focus of Wrath’s sexual attention.

&nbs
p; I rose off the bed, almost falling in the process, and headed to my room to grab some fresh clothes and then off to the bathroom to breathe in more of that delicious scent.

  Wrath and I sat cross-legged on the carpet in the game room, bins and bins of Lego open around us. I had a system where I sorted them according to shape and function rather than color, and I was proud of my organizational skills. Wrath, however, was fixated on one piece out of the thousands and, as it happened, so was I.

  "For the last time, no. I only have two Rebel pilot helmets, and I need them both!" I snapped, holding the tiny Lego pieces like they were made of solid gold.

  "You're hogging them, and you know it! You don't want to admit that my spaceship puts yours to shame," Wrath boasted, holding aloft his ship and making it do circles in the air.

  "Maybe so, but it'll never be part of the Rebel Fleet," I said smugly, plunking the helmets onto the copilots in my own spacefaring ship.

  "Max," he practically whined, "can't you share? I am your guest."

  I recognized this for the devious ploy it was, and staunchly replied, "All's fair in love and Lego. I grabbed them first. Why don't you use the Stormtrooper heads and accept your fate?"

  "Because they're lame. They’re the worst shots in the galaxy. And besides, you were only able to get those Rebel helmets so quickly because you knew where they were stored."

  "Oh, boohoo," I said, smiling as I took the helmet off one of my pilots and plunked it in his hand. "There, happy?"

  "Ecstatic. This is awesome. Thanks." He affixed the helmet to his own pilot and looked at me. "You know, I never had this kind of stuff when I was a kid. This is my first time getting a chance to build something with Lego."

  Each time Wrath brought up his childhood, it sounded like something out of a Southern version of Dickens, and I wasn't quite sure how to respond. But it occurred to me that maybe he wasn't looking for a response. Maybe he just wanted someone to listen and give a damn.