The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2)

by Leslie McAdam

  He smiled again and my fucking panties got wet. "And you're a commie pinko. What else you got?"

  Seriously? "Commie pinko? What is this, 1969?"

  A wicked look came over his face and he dropped his voice so low I felt it in my groin. "What's that about sixty-nine?"

  Walked into that one. And then the idea of my mouth on Will with his mouth on me made me wetter.

  No.

  I couldn’t.

  Or I could.

  Gah.

  "How old are you?" I finally asked, changing the subject.

  "Thirty-four. You?"

  "I'm thirty-two."

  None of this was helping me to make a decision of whether to go after him. I needed to press him about his backwards thinking. But I also wanted his body pressing into mine.

  He let me off the hook by saying, "Tell you what. I'll show you some more of the ranch and you can decide whether you want arguing or arguing plus benefits."

  I didn't know if I could stay focused on the tour of the ranch, and judging by the way he had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, neither could he.

  Still, I knew that I couldn't take him up on it yet. I wanted to, badly, but no.

  Maybe.

  Hay

  SOMETHING FLIP-FLOPPED DURING THE ride in the gas-guzzling, mega truck back to the Headlands Ranch compound. Instead of me asking Will questions and receiving one-word answers from him in response, he started asking me questions: about my family (my older brother, responsible, my younger sister, not), my school, my work, and my friends. And me being me, of course I talked a lot. Aside from his obvious good looks, there was something so attractive about this strong, mostly silent guy, taking an active interest in me, seeming to really listen, and asking follow up questions. This was probably because we were talking about safe topics, not politics or country music, which would have put us both into our default positions of protecting our belief systems. It was much better when we were being ourselves, without the political designations.

  As we drove, I became acutely aware of the distance between us in the truck cab. He was so close, but not, since he wasn't touching me. I kept watching him—the muscles on his powerful thighs flexing as he moved his leg from the gas to the brake and back; his meaty biceps and forearms clenching as he shifted the car into drive and back into park; his flat belly moving as he spoke or took a breath; his dark eyes looking at me during the times that he tore his gaze away from the dirt road; his hewn jaw jerking if he found something I said amusing.

  He drove me to a few other places on the ranch, which, size-wise was ridiculously large. I had no idea how many acres we saw. It seemed like his family owned half of California. He told me his dad had retired and left the operations to him. He employed office staff and a lot of workers, both seasonal and full-time. I saw the rangeland for the cattle, more of the orchards, and some of the fields of row crops. He also drove me to a section that had vineyards, and then to the Headlands Ranch winery. Apparently nearer to the highway, there was a small tasting room for the winery and he told me that he'd take me there to try the wine.

  Could I potentially go there on a date there with Will? I liked that idea. A lot.

  When we arrived at the compound, he parked the truck and Trixie jumped out. I leaped out of the high truck cab, and Will came around and walked me up to the bunkhouse. So, apparently for every Asshole Will, there was a Gentleman Will, too. When we got to the bunkhouse, he looked down at me, ran his hand through his longish, wavy dark hair, gave me a half-smile, and took off.

  I watched him saunter back to his house, Trixie prancing at his side.

  I’d left my phone in the bunkhouse and when I got to my room, I picked it up.

  How was your second day of work?

  This was Amelia. I texted her back.

  I found out the hot guy who I thought is my boss is not actually my boss and he wants to do the nasty with me.

  I thought this was summer camp, not a swinger's club.

  We are complete political opposites and he is an asshole . . . sometimes.

  How much of an asshole?

  So far, less than fifty percent.

  How hot?

  Scale of 1 to 10?

  Yes.

  57.

  Do the politics matter that much?

  I don't know. I mean, yes, of course they do. This is me we're talking about. I live my beliefs. I’d be a moral failure if I slept with the enemy.

  Girl . . .

  I know. He's sexy as fuck, Amelia. I want to lick him. What do I do?

  Lick him first. Ask questions later. If he's an asshole to you, dump him. It’s not a moral failure to have sex with a handsome man you like.

  That's the strangest advice I've ever been given.

  But I just might take it.

  I'm here to serve. Speaking of serving, Ryan's at the door. Gotta go.

  Fuck it. I was jumping Will's bones as soon as I could. I needed to get laid and I felt so attracted to him, obsessively so. There was no privacy around here, but I'd find a way.

  In the evening, after dinner, I drank beer with Janine, Stephanie, and Cookie, sitting on the porch of the bunkhouse, watching the sunset, but Will was nowhere to be seen.

  The next morning, Sunday, was my last day of prep before the kids got there. Officially, I had the day to myself, but I wanted to ride the horses again. After the motherfucking metal triangle woke me up way too early, again, I got up. I put on jeans, a white tank top, and boots, and fortified myself with coffee and cereal made with soy milk. Then I went to the stables with Janine and Stephanie.

  "Hello, gorgeous," I cooed to Happy, as I combed him, gave him an apple, and helped the wranglers put on his pad, saddle, and other gear. After the horses were ready, Janine, Stephanie, and I set off down the trail, headed on a new-to-me trail. Our horses walked around the perimeter of a citrus orchard, out into rangeland, where there were cattle, up a road by grapevines, and then back down another dirt road to the compound. I loved being out on the horse in the morning. It was such a natural way to travel, feeling the warm, early summer air on our faces and skin, my eyes squinting at the sun. I thought about getting a cowboy hat to shade my eyes and giggled to myself about going country, instead of edgy hippie. But boots and hats were utilitarian out here.

  We returned to the stables well before lunch and I helped put away Happy's tack and groomed him. Janine chatted with Stephanie, and they left for the bunkhouse to clean up for lunch. As I headed out of the tack room, I saw Will go into one of the barns.

  Opportunity.

  Last night I’d made the decision. He was going to be my plaything for the summer and I was shoving the politics to the side. Either that or I was embracing the fact that he was a very enthralling boundary that I wanted to cross in the most sinful way.

  I’d picked arguing plus benefits. Hopefully with only minimal arguing.

  I walked into the barn through a small door on the side and stayed in the doorway, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim light and the dust that had settled everywhere. This storage barn had bales of hay, farm implements, and lots of unidentifiable grimy mechanical parts.

  Will stood by the hay bales, beginning to do something—no idea what—with some piece of equipment—couldn't tell you about that either. Because I was silhouetted in the doorway, I blocked the light and he noticed me. His face broke into a half-smile. "Need somethin'?"

  "Yeah."

  I strode slowly over to him, taking my time, making him wait, even though I didn't want to. I really wanted to run into his arms, to make him crash into the hay, taking my weight. I wanted to feel what his biceps felt like, gripping me, holding me.

  The look on his face was a combination of wary and interested. When I got to him, he looked down at me, but didn't say anything. At first, he didn't move, just kept his hands where they were, one on the greasy farm equipment, one out. Then he carefully wiped them on a rag.

  And then I decided to make the first move.


  I reached over to him, put my index finger out, and trailed it up from his belly button to his chin, again slowly, taking my time. His expression got less wary and more interested. I looked him in his lovely eyes, put both hands behind his neck, and brought his face to mine to kiss.

  Our lips touched, his soft lips on mine, and the kiss was sweet for all of about three seconds, and then, suddenly, Will Thrash was kissing me back like he meant it. Tongue engaged, devouring me. Hands in my hair, on my lower back pressing me to him, on my ass. My hands went crazy too, all over his strong back, his neck, his thick hair, his Wrangler-clad ass.

  Now I've been kissed a lot, but never like this. It was like he had this frenzy inside him that he'd kept bottled up by being quiet all the time, and he just let it out, on me. His lips nibbled mine, his tongue chased mine, and after a really long time, he broke away and then was back, making his way down my neck, nuzzling me and sucking on my neck. I gasped, I couldn't help it, it felt so good.

  I pushed on his shoulders, walking him back to the hay bales, and even though he had this rock solid body, he let me. In another instant, we were down on top of the hay bales, me straddling him, kissing him with all my might, an activity in which he fully cooperated. The poky hay stuck into the knees of my jeans, and poor Will probably had it pressing into his back, but he didn't act like he cared. In fact, I was pretty sure he didn’t because he hardened under me, and I felt it between my legs. Having been given a preview attraction upon arrival, I couldn't wait to meet his cock in person. I reached down between my legs and felt his length under his jeans, and he groaned. With steady, gentle pressure, I stroked him over his jeans as I kissed him, and his eyes went wild.

  Boy. Stepping over a boundary was a fucking turn-on.

  And then we heard a loud male voice call, "Will?"

  We both jumped up, startled and disheveled. It was Jimmy, the older wrangler, who appeared in the doorway. I brushed off my knees as fast as I could, and straightened my hair, while Will adjusted his pants. I reached behind him and dusted off his back, trying to get the hay off of his black t-shirt, but I wasn't fast enough because Jimmy walked in the barn, shielded his eyes to get used to the light, sized us up, and smiled.

  "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

  Will didn't answer, but he was breathing hard and gave me a look I couldn’t read.

  "I'll just be going," I said. "See you later."

  I resisted the urge to pick a straw out of his hair and left him to explain himself, if he wanted to, to Jimmy, who'd clearly figured everything out already.

  Senses

  THE FIRST KIDS OF the summer are coming tomorrow!!!! I texted Amelia.

  That's not all that's going to come this summer, I imagine.

  I laughed, called Amelia, and updated her on the new parts of Will that I had experienced, including the physical part, meaning, obviously, my kiss with him in the barn. I told her that I'd made the decision to get busy with him at the first opportunity as my summer fling. She heartily approved. I knew you didn't need a girlfriend to agree with you about a guy, but it sure felt soothing when one supported you like that.

  I mean, this was the right decision, right?

  Right?

  Normally, when I kissed a man, if I liked him, I wanted to kiss him again, and perhaps go further. Since my fumbling high school days, I really hadn't had any bad kisses, although there had been some that had felt kinda meh. Still, though, I had a good and active sex life, even if no one had thrilled me in a long time.

  But with Will? That kiss had me reenacting it in my head the whole day. I couldn't think of anything else. It was like kissing him was the key to opening him up. In the short period that I had known him, he had been quite reserved, and, well, an asshole. Now I knew that there was more to him. He had something passionate under that quiet surface that I wanted to experience again, and in full detail. He sure flared up immediately when I gave him the opportunity. Like a spark in the dry California chaparral. I'd never experienced anything like that, being with someone so ardent.

  It was fucking hot and I wanted more. Now.

  Instead of going back to find him in the barn, however, I spent the rest of the day attempting to work in the office, which in reality meant that I was daydreaming about Will's body and its various parts, until it was time for dinner, when I packed up and walked to the chow hall.

  Part of me was apprehensive about seeing him at meal times. How do you act in public with a guy that you work with when you were almost in his pants a few hours earlier? But mostly, I was simply curious to see to how he would react. At least that’s what I’d told myself.

  He was already seated when I got there, so, like the other meals, I sat next to him. But this time, when I brushed up against him as I sat down, instead of flinching, he pressed his thigh into mine and kept it there for the entire meal. I liked this. I could feel his body and smell his clean smell. He kept sneaking glances at me and giving me half-smiles as I talked. Let's just say that I was distracted throughout the entire meal. Despite my lack of interest in my dinner, conversation surged, especially involving plans for the visually impaired students coming the next day.

  "We're going to be focusing on tactile sensations for the participants," I told the table. Staff members before me had properly set up the Headlands Program for assisting with all sorts of disabilities. Besides various games, CDs, and training materials, the ranch even had a three-dimensional map of the horse arena so that the students could explore it with their hands before they got on the horses. That way they'd know what to expect. After I talked about the different things the students were going to do this week, I concluded, "This is going to be a week of waking up all of our senses."

  Will stifled a smile and put his hand over his mouth, his nostrils flaring.

  Dirty birdie.

  Damn, if I didn't like it. A lot.

  At the end of the meal, as everyone else picked up their dishes and went to bus them to the kitchen, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'll wake up your senses this week if you wake up mine."

  He looked me in the eyes, intently, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Deal."

  Janine and Stephanie came back over to me and the three of us walked back to the bunkhouse, leaving Will to go to his. I felt like he watched me as we walked away, but I didn’t spin around to look. Finally, as we headed up the steps, I turned and watched Will go up to his ranch house, alone, and suppressed the urge to chase him down and tackle him.

  My dreams that night were spicy, to say the least, and starred him.

  The following morning, I woke up before the triangle, because I was so excited to meet the kids. A surge of adrenaline propelled me out of bed and got me to breakfast early. I took my coffee to go and set up for the kids while I anxiously waited for their arrival. When the vans pulled up, followed by a pickup truck with their luggage, I ran out to meet them.

  "Hello, and welcome to the Headlands Program," I said, as the six participants and their parents or adult leaders made their way out of the vehicles. "I'm Marie and I'm here to make sure you all have a wonderful time. I'm so glad you're here. Now, my first question when I got here was, is there somewhere to pee?"

  There were a few laughs.

  I walked up to each of the six participants individually, who ranged in ages from nine to eighteen, and shook their hands and talked with them, and let them touch me, if they wanted to. One participant in particular, a seventeen-year-old girl named Clarissa, had long, dark blonde hair plaited into dozens of braids, going down her head into rows with beads on the end, kind of like Bo Derek. When I met her, she turned towards me, held out her hand, and said, "Hair sings to me. Let me feel your hair and I will tell you what it sounds like." I bent and put my head in her hands and she trilled a clear, high, note. Then she told me, "Oh, your hair is fun. We are going to have a good time."

  With these kids, the pace slowed down from my enthusiasm that morning. We made our way, with care, to the bunkhouse, and took our time s
etting everyone up. I was impressed once I realized that there was braille on all the signs in the compound. This place was set up for helping people.

  After lunch, we headed over to the horses, and Stephanie took over.

  None of them had ever ridden a horse before, and I was impressed by their bravery. Fear of horses is common. Horses are big animals, and they can feel overwhelming. Being around them, without being able to see them, had to be a disconcerting experience. After each participant had a chance to meet his or her horse, running their hands over their noses, feeling their manes, and touching the flicking muscles on their necks, we headed back to the bunkhouse for free time before dinner. As I walked with the group back to the bunkhouse, I saw Will off to the side, sweaty, take off his shirt and wipe off his face, his muscular torso on display, basically just for me. He saw me and grinned, and I knew the show was on purpose. He even flexed a bicep.

  I'd have to think of a way to get him back.

  Compromise

  THE EXPERIENCE OF ASSISTING visually impaired kids to ride horses would stay with me forever.

  Once the kids were up on their horses using a special ramp, the looks on their faces seared into my memory. Sure, they were scared at first, to be that high up off of the ground on an unfamiliar and huge animal. Then, the looks turned to unadulterated terror once the horses started walking. A horse has a sway to its gait that you have to get used to. If you were blind, your body was often hunched over, since you relied on canes, guide animals, or caregivers to get around. But on a horse, sitting up engaged other muscles and other senses, which was so healthy. The wranglers held the ropes and guided each horse and rider slowly around the corral. And after a while, the faces of the children turned to delight.