Oh, shit—is she drunk?
I shoot Jeremiah a look to ask him what the hell he was thinking bringing her here like this.
He shrugs and mouths back, “Come on!”
“Blaine Blackstock.” Gwen looks up at me with a big and sloppy smile on her face. “Youuuuu...are an awful host! Why haven't you offered me a drink?”
One: you just got here.
Two: like you need any more to drink, sweetheart.
I frown. “What would you like, Gwen?”
She sits in a green lawn chair, crosses one leg over the other and calls Rex over to her side. He happily wags his tail and walks over to her, the limping almost gone.
“Gwen?” I repeat sharply.
“Oh, yes. Just a beer please,” She manages to speak without slurring, and I shoot Jer daggers with my eyes.
He follows me inside and as soon as the door closes behind him, I whip around. “Gwen? You really brought her here? And like that?” I point my finger out the door.
“Buddy, really? You like Gwen. What's the big deal?” he asks, and I realize he really doesn't see why I'm irritated.
“Jer, she's drunk. And it's only seven o'clock! Addison and her brother are coming.” I look over at the large clock on the wall. “And you better hope she doesn't make a fool out of herself.” I scold him like he's a child, and I instantly feel bad about it.
“Oh, well! Excuse me!” He puts his hands up defensively and then reaches to open the fridge door.
“I'm sorry, Jer. I really like this girl. I can't explain why. I'm just...” I trail off, not sure what exactly I am trying to say.
“I get it, Blaine. I do.” He smiles and pulls out a six-pack of beer cans. “She is sa-mokin' hot!”
I can't help but grin because of his expression—and also, I couldn't agree with him more. “Man, you have no idea.” I say, as I completely envision her naked body on top of mine, that wild red hair falling on my face and chest while she devours me.
He asks me what her story is, why she's in Wyoming and where she's staying. I tell him as much as she's told me, and that she plans on applying at the hospital for a nursing job. The thought makes me smile, and I wish she was here already.
Where is she anyway?
“We better get out to your...date.” I smirk, grabbing some bottles of water. He grabs the beer cans, and we head back outside.
Gwen's still sitting in the lawn chair; Rex is nowhere to be seen, and Toby Keith is playing loudly over the speakers. Gwen's singing to herself. She looks up happily at Jer and me, and I start to feel bad about reacting so poorly when she showed up.
“Here you go, missy!” he says and hands her a can of beer.
“Thank you, kind sir!” She nods her head at him and giggles as she cracks the seam of the can, beer spills out. She sucks the foam up quickly.
I pull my phone out of my pocket—no messages. Where is she? I send her a text. Hey you, just wondering when I'm going to get to see your beautiful face again :)
I hit send. Two, three, four, 10 minutes go by and still no response. Should I start to worry? I don't know how to go about these things. I don't know her brother's number, so it's not like I can text him. Wouldn't that be weird anyway?
An hour goes by since my text, and between Gwen, Jer and I we've finished the six-pack and are two cans into the next set.
Gwen tells us about the new plans her brother Jesse has for The Wolfbarrow, how he wants to expand to another town in Wyoming and possibly have her manage the new location. “I don't know if I want to leave home, though.” She smiles at the both of us and looks at me intently. “I'll miss everyone.”
Around 9:30, I feel my phone vibrating. I quickly pull it out of my jeans and see it's a message from Addison. Blaine, I'm so sorry. I had to go to Big Horn. I won't be able to make it tonight. I'll make it up to you ;)
Relieved she is okay, but disappointed I won't see her or spend the night with her, I type a response. :( How will you make it up to me? What's in Big Horn?
Jeremiah and Gwen are talking amongst themselves about what I think is her unrealistic choice of footwear. She's wearing strappy heels, not something you'd see on a farm, and he picks up her left foot to check out the shoe closer. She's laughing at him, and I look back at my phone, anticipating a salacious reply.
You'll just have to wait and see...My brother was there, I had to pick him up.
Can't wait ;) I hit send, lean back in my chair and grin up at the starry sky, then over to my tipsy company.
There is no way I am letting these two drive home in their condition. Their condition? My condition, too. I'm drunk.
After Addison's texts I hammer back five more cans of beer, making my personal count ten…maybe eleven...or twelve; I can't remember.
Gwen passed out over half an hour ago, and Jer looks like's ready to follow suit.
“You guys are staying, bud,” I manage to say without slurring. I have four bedrooms, and these two are definitely not driving anywhere tonight.
“Yep. We are. Thanks, man.” He reaches over to Gwen's arm and shakes her hand. “Hey, baby. Let's get you in bed.”
I give him a raised eyebrow, and he shrugs his shoulders at my silent accusation. “What?”
Gwen doesn't wake up, and so he leans down to lift her into his arms.
I laugh at him as he can't even stand on his own two feet. “Let me.” I push him aside, and he falls back into his lawn chair laughing. Gwen smells like lavender and Budweiser. She's softly snoring, and I try not to drop her as I step up onto the porch.
Upstairs I put her in one of the spare bedrooms, cover her with a blanket and close the door behind me when I leave. Jeremiah is making his way up the stairs, holding on to the banister, and slowly placing one foot in front of the other.
“Where is she?” he asks me, looking down the hallway at each door.
“In there, but you're not going in, bro. Try to be a gentleman.” I point to the closed wooden door and then back at him.
“Okay, dad. Thanks for a good night. We gotta do this again.” He leans down to take off his shoes and stumbles in to the adjacent bedroom, leaving the door open. I see him fall onto the creaky wrought-iron bed and sigh loudly—then burp even louder.
“Night, sunshine,” I call back to him as I walk down the hall.
He laughs.
I make my way to my own bedroom, and take my clothes off. I set my phone on the night stand. No new texts. I curl my lip and pull on my pajama bottoms. My bed feels amazing. It must be the alcohol making my sense of touch more deep; the sheets are cool against my heated body.
My head sinks into my pillow, and I fall into a deep sleep. I dream of light blue dresses, flowing red hair, a beautiful body lying in a field, and long eyelashes against my chest. My dream feels so real. I can feel her heat beside me; I can touch her skin with my fingertips, and her lips are brushing my throat.
Mmm...yes, baby.
She surprises me, disappearing into the darkness and suddenly I feel her mouth around me. I am hard as a rock, and her long, slow licks are sending star bursts into my eyelids. They fly open. I'm not dreaming. I am not dreaming at all. I reach down to feel a head of hair bobbing between my legs. Pulling the blanket away, I am mortified.
“Gwen! What the fuck?!” I sit up as fast as I can, and she does too, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I growl loudly, then quickly lower my voice as I remember Jeremiah in the room two doors away.
“Don't act like you don't want it,” she says in a husky voice. “You've wanted this for years!” She trails her finger down her neck and between her breasts.
“Gwen. No, I don’t. You're drunk. Go back to your own bed.” I get out of my bed, hold my pants over my lower-half, and I open the door, praying she leaves.
“Are you kidding me, Blaine?” she says angrily. “Fine. I'll go sleep with Jeremiah; at least he wants me!”
She sounds like a whiny brat, and the guilt I felt
earlier tonight about not wanting her there is gone like the wind. I shut the door behind her, and I stand listening to make sure she actually walks away.
She does; I hear her whispering something to Jeremiah and then a creak of the old iron bed as she climbs in beside him. I turn the lock on my door and climb back into my bed. What the hell was that? I instinctively rub my hand over myself, my erection now gone.
Thank you. I whisper, looking up at the ceiling.
Ordinarily I would have been all over something like that. I would have grabbed that girl, thrown her down on the bed and kissed every inch of her, making her scream with anticipation before I drove myself in. She would have exploded around me, and in turn, I into her. Maybe not with Gwen Wolf, but another girl I found attractive.
But I don't want anyone but Addison. I don't want to run my tongue down the throat and chest of anyone else but her. My erection is back, and I bury my face into my pillow, letting out a long groan of frustration. Gwen...what am I going to do in the morning when I see you?
Act like it never happened probably. I'm not going down that road, and there's no way I'll let Jeremiah find out that the girl he brought to my house as his date just had my entire length in her mouth.
* * *
Rex barking outside my bedroom window wakes me up. I look at the alarm clock; it’s 9:53 AM. I rub my hands on my face and sit up. I shouldn't drink like that. I'm only twenty-nine, but I'm not that young anymore. And hangovers have never appealed to me.
I toss my pajama bottoms into the hamper in the bathroom and turn the knob in the shower. Steam quickly fills the small room, and I breathe in deeply. Standing under the shower head, I adjust the setting to massage and enjoy the rapid motion pulsating down my neck and back. I just want to stand here all morning, wash this feeling out and the remainder of Gwen off. I close my eyes and wince at the memory of her wiping her mouth with her hand.
Stepping out, I wrap a towel around my waist and decide it's time to shave the scruff off of my face. I lather the cream and use my hands to apply it to my face.
When I'm dried off, I put on a pair of stained blue jeans and a black t-shirt. No point in dressing nicely today; there's a lot of work to do around the ranch, and I've been putting off painting the chicken coop for a few weeks.
Downstairs I hear the radio playing some hip hop music and a girl’s voice trying to quickly repeat the lyrics in the chorus of the song. Jeremiah is dancing like a fool in front of the range, trying to sing along with her and very obviously not knowing the words at all.
When the song ends, I speak up. “Encore!” I yell and clap my hands together.
They both turn, and Jer bows graciously at my applause.
Gwen gets off the stool. “Morning, Blaine. How are you today?”
I know what you're doing, young lady, and it's not going to happen!
“Hey ya, Gwen. I'm great, thank you. How did you two sleep?” I grab a piece of toast from a plate on the island and shove it into my mouth, chewing down obnoxiously at her.
Jeremiah wraps his arms around her waist and plants a kiss on her cheek. She smirks and shoves her behind into his lap and then breaks free from his grasp.
He winks at me, and I can't help but smile back.
You better not play games with him, Gwen. So help me.
“We have a lot to do today, eh?” he asks, noticing my grubby clothes.
“Yeah, gotta get that coop painted. I've slacked big time.” I slap my hands and rub them together quickly, hoping my insinuation gives Gwen the hint that we will be busy and she should probably go.
“I'm gonna drive Gwen back to her house, but I'll be back in twenty.”
He's a mind reader.
“Okay, see ya. Gwen, have a nice day.” I smile at them both, put my hat on my head and tip the brim down at her.
“Bye, Blaine.” She looks like she's going to pout, turns on her heel and follows Jer out the door. I wave at him as he closes the door behind them. Grabbing my work boots, I slap my hand on my thigh and call to Rex. “C'mon, boy!”
He gets up from his giant pillow, and we go outside.
* * *
I may be one hell of a rancher, but I'm a horrible painter. I think I have more red on my hands than I do on the coop. Thankful, that's why I have Jer around—for things like this. He takes pride in his work, and I am always satisfied with the tasks he completes.
My phone buzzes, and I grab a rag to wipe my hands before pulling it out of my pocket.
My truck kicked the bucket. It won't turn over. I'm by Lander's. Come get me?
I laugh. I knew this was going to happen someday. That old Chevy should have died years ago. It was older than we were; it belonged to Jer's dad, and I think that was the reason why he couldn't bring himself to part with it.
Sure enough, Jer is sitting on the tailgate waiting for me with a big frown on his face. I pull in behind his truck and turn off the ignition.
“Hey buddy! Do you need me to call triple A?” I joke, and he gives me the finger. “So, what happened?” I ask as I walk up to the front of the truck. The hood is already up, so I examine the engine, checking out the usual suspects.
“Don't know,” he says and scratches his head. “I dropped Gwen off, pulled on to the street, and it just died. I had no power at all.”
I laugh, as I doubt there's been any power in this old thing in a very long time.
“I hate to say it bud, but I think it's time for a new one.” I kick the bumper of his truck with the toe of my boot.
“Hey, now; I'm sure we can fix her!” he says, rubbing his hand over the spot I just kicked.
I sigh and lower the hood, letting it fall it makes a loud bang. “Jer, if it's...” I trail off and look him in the eyes. “If it's about the money, I can help you out.”
I don't pay him with buttons and marbles, but I know how much he does make, and he can't really afford to buy a new truck.
“No, Blaine. You aren't giving me a loan. I can afford a payment...I think.”
After some pondering, he decides to take a look at a few new trucks. He surprises me when he asks me to pull into Moorehead's Dodge.
“Dodge? Really?” I snort. I've always been a Ford man, and I haven't really given a second glance to anything else. We slowly drive along a lineup of blues, reds, greys and blacks.
“Stop!” He puts his hand on the lever to get out. I stop, and he jumps down, briskly walking over to a white 2500 extended cab.
Not too bad. I can picture him flying down the dirt road in the truck with nothing behind him but a dust cloud.
“Well, howdy, fellas!” a deep voice from behind us says. “I see you are checking out this fine piece” A bald and burly man in a striped dress shirt pats the bed of the truck with his hand.
“Yes, sir; can you tell me about it?” Jeremiah quickly shakes his hand and goes back to eyeing up the truck.
The salesman, who mentions his name is Bruce, explains the mileage, horsepower, exhaust and the usual bells and whistles.
Jeremiah is like a kid at Christmas, and I can see he's sold already. “Can we take it for a spin?” He's beaming like he already owns it.
“You sure can, young fella. Just gotta ask your friend here to move that big black monstrosity parked behind us!” he jokes, pointing his thumb back at me and my Ford.
I snort. Okay, Dodge man...
I jump in and fire it up. His smile quickly fades, and I rev the engine while I drive away, parking in a spot close to the dealership entrance.
Bruce insists on coming along for the test drive, but since he made a joke at my Ford's expense, I ride shotgun and he sits in the back. I won't admit it front of him, but this Dodge is a nice ride.
It’s a diesel—sounds almost like mine, just with a quieter rumble. Jeremiah is still elated, and we drive down Walker Street, turning onto the interstate. It's time to let this baby fly.
I can see over my shoulder that Bruce is shifting in his seat, probably regretting coming for the ride.
>
“Well, how does it feel?” Our windows are down, and the wind is blowing in so loudly I need to yell so Jeremiah can hear me.
“Oh, baby!” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. “Bruce, buddy! Where do I sign?” He taps his hands on the steering wheel like they're a set of drums.
Bruce pales and forces a smile with a furrowed brow.
Back at the dealership, Bruce is going over the loan details with Jeremiah. I stand outside, leaning against my truck, and they go inside to wheel and deal.
I cross my arms on my chest and lift my head up letting the warm sun fill my face. A soft rumble catches my attention, and I look over to see a grey Mustang turning the corner, driving up the street.
I stand up. I'm excited to see the vision behind the wheel. It's her, but she's not alone. It looks like Alex in the passenger seat, and they look like they're arguing. I watch closely as they pass by the car lot, not noticing me at all. I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a text. Hey beautiful. How are you today? I missed you last night. My bed felt so empty.
Even thought it briefly wasn't, no thanks to Gwen. I wait for her response, but it doesn't come.
Jeremiah comes outside and jumps in the air like Rocky on top of the steps in Philadelphia. I lift my hand up to high-five and congratulate him on his new purchase.
I am so happy for him; he needs something more reliable and definitely something better looking than that old red Chevy.
He tells me how Bruce offered to upgrade his exhaust system and add a pair of chrome stacks to the bed for an additional charge. Jer of course agreed to it, telling me they would be installed in a few days. He has already called his insurance company to have the new truck put on his policy and the Chev taken off. We'll have to have it towed it back to his house.
I wonder what he's going to do with it. I doubt he will sell it, or crush it. He'll probably park it in the yard, and that's where it'll stay.
“Ready to get to work?” I smile and open the door of my truck.
“Yeah, buddy! Let's go!” He spins the key ring around his finger and punches the air like he's hit a home run.
On the drive back to the ranch, I have my phone in the cradle, and it rings. Without looking at the caller, I push the button my steering wheel to answer.
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