by Aria Ford
He shrugged. “Guess I thought you might need help. Silly, I guess.”
“No,” I shook my head. “No. I would appreciate the help,” I added quickly. “It’s just Grandpa…I don’t know what’s wrong with him yet. I’d rather have time alone first, try to find out what he needs from me. Could be anything from needing to go in for a check-up to needing help fill in tax returns. You know, grandfathers.” I shrugged.
He frowned. “I don’t, really.”
“Oh?” I took another mouthful of the fish, then drank more water. “Why not?”
“Well,” he sighed. “My mom’s dad died when I was a boy. Dad’s father was dead long before.”
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He grinned. “Don’t be. Not like I really knew them, anyway.”
“Even so,” I said. “It’s nice to have had a grandpa.”
“I can imagine it must be. I loved my grandma.”
“Grandmas are wonderful.”
“Yeah.”
We sat quietly for a while. I was in my childhood memories and from the look on his face, wistful and a bit downcast, so was he. The day was cooling a little, a breeze slowly ruffling the leaves of a willow near where we sat. I sighed, enjoying the coolness on my skin.
“What if we exchange numbers?” he offered. “Then when you know your grand-dad’s problems, you can call me if there’s any heavy lifting needing doing.”
“Okay,” I said easily. In truth, my heart was thumping. I had been disappointed with the idea of never seeing Reese again. He was nice and funny. And stunning. I wanted to stay in touch with him.
“Great,” he smiled. He gave me his number and I gave him mine.
“Well, then,” I said as I finished my lunch and set the plate aside. “We seem to be ready for whatever comes next.”
He nodded. Then he had a thought. “Say, did you hear anything from the car-repair people?”
I laughed. “Sorry. I forgot you didn’t have your phone with you. Shall I call them?”
He looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t want to ask for my help. I sighed. “Here, you can call them if you want.”
“Thanks,” he said. I had already found the number, and he called. As he spoke on the phone I watched him. He was so handsome I couldn’t really look anywhere else. My eye strayed down toward his chest, where I could see the outline of his bulky muscle through the thin shirt he wore. I felt a pulse jump in my throat just thinking of how smoking hot he must be when he wasn’t wearing anything.
“Okay. Okay. Great. Thanks so much.”
I frowned as he hung up. “What’d they say?”
“They said it’s done.”
“Oh,” I smiled. “Well, that was quick.”
“Very,” he agreed as he finished his drink. “Well? Are we ready to go get it?”
I nodded. “Okay. Let me just pay for this…” I reached down for my wallet, searching it for spare change.
“No,” he said. “Let me.”
I was surprised. “Thanks a lot,” I said.
“Not at all,” he said mildly. “Now, let’s get going.”
“Yeah.”
As I followed him out of the restaurant and to the street, I found myself, lightheaded and happy, wondering what just happened.
CHAPTER FOUR
Reese
I followed Kelly out of the restaurant and into her car. I couldn’t help the fact that my eyes were drawn to her butt as she sauntered in front of me. I watched the twin hills of her butt cheeks oscillating in front of me and felt my poor cock throb.
Hell, I realized as I walked behind her. It has been months since I dated someone.
Sure, I’d had my fair share of skirt in my years in the military. But I hadn’t had a proper girlfriend since I got back. Which was almost a year now. I was really attracted to this woman. I wanted her. But she was a funny mix—at once really sassy and nice, and on the other hand, standoffish and hard to understand.
She sat down behind the wheel and I sat down in the passenger seat. “You know where the garage is, right?” I asked as we pulled off.
“It’s near the gas-station?” she asked as we pulled out of the parking and into the street.
“Opposite it.”
“Great.”
We headed back the way we’d come and then, all too soon, I was thanking her and getting into my own pickup again.
“I’ll lead the way,” I said, waving at her out of the window.
“Great!” she shouted.
We headed off. I felt strangely lonely as we drove back. I liked her company. It was weird but she was the first person with whom I hadn’t felt my usual rage after a few sentences of conversation.
And that body! I grinned, feeling a pleasurable ache in my loins just thinking about it.
My pickup was running great, too, I noticed, as we headed out into the surrounding landscape. It wasn’t exactly like a regular engine—it still roared and fumed—but it was going, which was good. I think they replaced the spark plugs too. It had been a pricey repair but it was worth it.
“Here we are,” I said to myself, as we neared my ranch. Her grandfather’s place—Orangehill—was the next ranch from mine. I drove up the long drive, aware all the time of her following me. I was tempted to show off, but thought better of it. The pickup probably wouldn’t manage many tricks.
We stopped and I got out, slamming the door behind me. She hopped out too. Again I felt that irresistible desire. She came over. Looked up at me.
“Thanks,” she said. I shrugged.
“It was nothing.”
“Well, then,” she said. “I guess here I am.”
“I guess.”
I didn’t know what to do now. I knew what I wanted to do. She was standing an inch or two away and I could smell the scent of her skin. I reached forward and took her shoulders in my hands. Pulled her to me. My mouth came down hard on hers.
She struggled a little, then went still. Her lips parted. I tasted the sweetness of that red mouth. My cock throbbed as my tongue penetrated between her lips. I put my arms around her and drew her against me.
I couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt.
Her breasts were firm like crab apples, and they pressed against my chest. I crushed her against me, devouring her mouth as I held her. She had softened against me, and I could feel no more resistance. I was growling as I kissed her, my body aching to possess that sweet softness that was her.
After a moment she tensed, and I sensed she wanted to stop. I stood back, releasing her mouth. She looked up at me, eyes half-blind with longing. My cock was throbbing in my pants, and I wanted her so much. With her lips bruised from my kiss, she was mine and made for playfulness.
“Oh, baby,” I growled.
She looked up at me, vision clearing. “What was that for?” She sounded slightly cross, slightly confused. I wasn’t much better.
She turned then and walked away toward the front door. I looked after her, completely lost.
“Hey!” I called back. “What’d I do?”
She was a few meters away and she must have heard, but she didn’t look back. I shrugged.
Some women.
I swore under my breath all the way to the pickup. Then I drove next door.
What in hell was this about anyway?
I shook my head as I stormed inside and sat down heavily on the couch. If I looked back on the morning’s events, none of it made sense. I looked at the clock. It was one thirty. The whole episode had taken maybe three hours. And I was more confused and hopelessly stimulated than ever before.
I reached for my phone as it made a noise. I was surprised by my level of disappointment when I discovered it wasn’t Kelly. It was Jackson, my ex-army pal. I rolled my eyes as I read the text.
Hey, Bradford! How’s things? Just got back to Cheyenne. Wanna meet sometime?
I had been more or less keeping to myself since I returned. After a month trying to reconnect with my old pals I had decided it
was all hopeless and given up. Now here out of the blue was a chance to socialize. I hadn’t wanted to see anyone for months. I typed a reply, messaged it.
Maybe.
His reply was instant. Great. You in Sheridan still? I’m heading up next week Saturday.
The thought was actually a pleasant one. I hadn’t seen Jackson Tate in a year. We’d become good friends—He was with the seven eight two regiment, me with the fourth. He was a nice, regular guy. We’d become close friends. If anyone could navigate a path through my craziness it was him.
Great.
I went to the kitchen and made coffee. All the while I kept on wondering about what was going on next door. I decided I couldn’t contain my interest. I was going to go and find out.
***
I stood on the step, waiting for Grandpa to answer. When I had rung the bell three times I was starting to get scared. What if something was wrong with him in there? I hammered on the door. No answer.
In desperation, my heart still thumping from the insolent, amazing kiss, I tiptoed round the back of the house.
Grandpa was on the porch. He was sleeping.
“Whew!” I felt my tension drain out in relief. He was okay and he wasn’t worried for me. Everything was fine and no one would be asking awkward questions about why I had turned up so late.
I tiptoed up and coughed. He was lying back, eyes closed, face at peace. He didn’t react when I coughed. His chest rose and fell regularly. I coughed louder.
His eyes flew open and he jumped.
“What in hell?” He was on his feet, hand on his chest. His face was almost purple and I felt a sudden horror. What if I had scared him so badly that he had a coronary? That would be great. I come all that way just to frighten him to death.
“Grandpa,” I said softly. “It’s me. Kelly. I said I’d come visit. Remember?”
He breathed out, relieved. “Kelly.” He looked at me properly, eyes focused now. “It is you. My, but you’ve grown.”
I grinned. “Thanks, Grandpa. It had to happen sometime, I guess.”
He chuckled. The chuckle went all wheezy, and he coughed. “Come inside,” he said. “We’ll have coffee.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
In the house, I started getting misgivings about my role here. The place was a mess. Unwashed dishes were piled up in the kitchen, the cord to the light in the sitting room had gone, torn out of the socket in the roof. The floor was covered with boxes of things, standing around. In the kitchen, one window was jammed open and flies buzzed in and out.
I held my breath, not wanting to disturb the coating of dust I could see on the top of the fridge, the shelves, the window.
“Um, Grandpa?” I asked cautiously as he filled the kettle.
“Mm?” He looked up at me with big unfocused eyes.
“How long since anyone visited?”
“Oh,” He scratched his head. “About four months. Why?”
“Oh.”
I felt a growing sense of despair. I suspected it had been longer than that since anyone had actually been inside the house—surely no one would have left him in such a state? He was thinner than I remembered too, I thought as I watched him reach for a box on the shelf, his shoulder blades sticking out and his face sunken.
“Here we go,” he wheezed as the kettle started to sing. “Can you reach the sugar?” he asked, pointing at a shelf in the cupboard.
I am not a very tall person—I come in at five foot five. I stood on tiptoe and reached up, wincing as my hand slid through a thick layer of dust on the shelf. A brief perusal of the cupboard told me Grandpa had been living on rice and porridge for the last few months at least—that was all that was up there.
“Grandpa?” I asked as he stirred the coffee and the dense, roasted aroma wafted up to my nose.
“Mm?”
“Are you okay?” I asked. “I mean…when you wrote me, it sounded like you were worried about something.”
“Oh?” He frowned. I wondered if he recalled having written the letter at all. I felt a deep concern. “Letter?”
“You sent it last month,” I prompted gently as I took the tray from him.
“Last month?” he looked worried. “Oh. Maybe I did.”
I sighed. “Yes, you did, but never mind. I want to know how you are.”
“Oh, fine. Fine. No need to worry about me, Kelly. Come, let’s go outside. It’s so nice out.”
I nodded and we took the coffee through from the fetid-smelling kitchen and into fresh air. I put the tray down on the old rusty table and we sat, looking as the landscape.
I wondered about Grandpa. He seemed well, but his thoughts were clearly a bit scattered and he seemed worried about something. I let out a slow breath, trying to relax. If I just waited peacefully for him to tell me, he probably would. I looked out across the hills and let my tumult of thoughts settle.
The farm was peaceful, like I remembered. The sky was hard cerulean over orange-tinted peaks and I heard somewhere the creak of a windmill. I felt my nerves finally uncoil and I relaxed properly—the first true relaxation I’d felt in ages.
“Grandpa,” I asked as he reached for his coffee, slurping noisily. “How are you? Really. The truth this time.”
“Oh, not bad,” he demurred. “Arm aches, sometimes. Dunno why. And my leg gives me trouble. You know—that leg?”
I nodded. It was an old war injury—he’d been in Cambodia during the seventies. I frowned over my drink. “You’ve seen the doctor about this stuff, right?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Well, you know how it is. I haven’t been out and about and Sheridan’s so far and…”
“Grandpa!” I exploded. “You mean to say you’ve been out here with an ache in your arm and trouble with your leg and you haven’t been into town?”
“Not for a month, no,” he admitted. “Last time I was there it was…um…sometime round April, maybe May, I reckon. Went to the post office, went to the store…” he scratched his head. His eyes unfocused abruptly and he seemed to go into another space.
It was mid-June. I was horrified. “How have you been living out here?”
“Oh, not so bad,” he demurred. “Parson Orwell came over, brought some things from his wife. Great family, they are.” he smiled, looking satisfied. His eyes had that same unfocused look and I sensed he was going to launch into some anecdote about the church.
“Grandpa!” I was furious. “Why have you been stuck out here for a month, eating porridge and nothing else, and not doing anything about it?”
He looked sheepish and I felt my temper dissolve. He was close to eighty. How could I be talking to him like he was a recalcitrant teenager?
“Sorry.” I sighed. “Is it your car?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “It just doesn’t start.”
Oh, for…I rolled my eyes to the roof. Looked down. “Well,” I began. As I sat there, I was making a plan of action. “First things first. I’m staying here tonight. I’m going into town and making you a real dinner. Then I’m taking you through tomorrow and you are going to the doctor. Then when we get back here, we’re getting the garage to come and tow your car and getting that car fixed. Right?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want other people up here poking their noses in my garage,” he said stiffly.
“Oh, for…” I closed my eyes. Then I counted to ten, drank my coffee and stood.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going to stretch my legs quickly. I’ll be back soon.”
My plan was to go and see what was going on with the car. I had this horrible feeling that it was parked in a garage that looked like a junk house. He didn’t want the repair guys coming up here because he was embarrassed about the state of it. I didn’t want Grandpa to know I was snooping. I walked briskly out to the front yard.
The garage stood just down from the house, a prefabricated thing with a flat roof and a single big door. I tried the front door. It wasn’t locked and slid up easil
y. I went inside it. As I had feared, the door was all but blocked with farm equipment. I swore.
“Oh, for crying in a…”
I bent over, gripping the tines of a wheelbarrow and pushing it out of the way. It wouldn’t take long for me to clear a path through to the battered old Transit that stood in the middle. I decided to be ruthless. Most of this rubbish was rubbish. I’d get someone to take it to the scrap dealers tomorrow. In the meanwhile, I was going to clear a path through to that van.
“How in the name of…” I swore under my breath as I hefted things. I was really worried about Grandpa, and I chose to express my worry as anger.
There was something badly wrong with him. That pain in his arm didn’t sound good at all. Adding it to the sleepiness and the slightly gray pallor of his skin, I had the sense there was something very wrong with Grandpa. And how could he have lived out here in this chaos for months? I was mad at him for neglecting himself. Mad for letting this junk pile up. It could have killed him!
I had worked up a good old righteous fury as I pushed things out of the way, and, ten minutes into the job, with a path cleared from the door to the back of the vehicle, my hair a mess and oil staining my hands, I walked out, stretching my back and breathing deeply.