by Joanne Ganci
I am one lucky fucking bitch.
He turns around and holy shit, the front looks even better. “Mornin’, gorgeous. I’m almost done here. It’s not 10 yet, is it?”
“What? Uh...no. Yeah, no. Not ten. Maggie, um...breakfast. Breakfast is ready.”
“Want me to take my shirt off and shake my ass for you too? I feel so objectified.”
“Uh...yes? What kind of question is that?” I scoff. Pointing to myself, I remind him, “Girlfriend, here. I have every right to objectify as I see fit.”
“That so?” He chuckles, aiming those pearly whites at me in a blinding smile. Letting the pitchfork fall up against the side of the stall, he approaches me. “Well then, be my guest, girlfriend. But I have every right to do this, then.” His left hand cups the side of my face, tilting my head to the side as he leans in for a fiery kiss. I feel his right hand slide down my back to my ass. When he’s done taking my breath away, he gives a sharp smack to my ass. “Now get out of here, woman. I’ll be done in a few minutes and if you stay here looking like that, I’ll never get done.”
“L-like what?”
“Pretty. Gorgeous. Sexy.” He reaches down to adjust his bulge. “Fuckable. Take your pick?”
Backing away slowly, I tell him, “Mmm. You better hurry your sexy ass up then…” Just before I reach the barn doors I add, “Or I’m eating all your bacon.” I wink and swiftly turn around, but not before I see the challenge on his face.
Fuck, I love it.
Max
40
“Be good for Aunt Lydia, Mr. Max, and Mrs. Maggie, okay girls?”
Cassidee is bouncing with excitement from where she sits on Lydia’s hip, looking around at all the farm has to offer.
“They usually nap right around noon. Belle will tell you she’s tired, but Cassidee tends to put up a fight,” Denise tells Lydia. She’s biting her lip and looking at the girls like she’s afraid she’ll never see them again.
Brody wraps his arm around her, pushing aside her raven hair to kiss her on the cheek. “Babe, Lydia knows all of this. They’re going to have a great time. And so will we...if we get out of here.”
With a slightly hysterical laugh, Denise turns her head to her husband. They lock eyes for a moment, before her whole body noticeably relaxes. “Okay, you’re right.” She swings her head back over to us. “Sorry, I’m such a spaz. It never gets easier leaving them.”
“D, you’re fine. Go have fun. You deserve it,” Lydia says with a bright smile, trying to ease her mind.
“Thanks. Alright, my babies. I love you. Be good.” She swoops in to give the girls kisses. Brody comes in right behind her, ruffling their hair and making them giggle.
As soon as the doors on their SUV shut, Mama squats down, so she’s eye level with Annabelle. “Do you girls like blueberries?” Her eyes light up and she nods her head enthusiastically. Mama straightens up and holds out her hand, Annabelle slips her tiny one in it, and they start walking off toward the house—well, technically Annabelle skips. She really does move to the beat of her own drum, that one.
“C’mon, Mr. Max. There are blueberries to be had!” Lydia shouts triumphantly, and Cassidee squeals before they charge inside.
This is gonna be fun.
∞∞∞
Right after the girls gobbled down some blueberries and a blueberry pancake each, we took them to see all the animals. Annabelle wasn’t a big fan of the chickens, but she was enamored by the horses. Just like Lydia, she was immediately drawn to Mandy. Lydia brought her into the pasture and held her up, so she could pet her. We learned our lesson with Cassidee real quick, she’s a little too grabby for petting, so I held her on the other side of the fence, so she could still see them without spooking them. Watching Lydia with the girls, I found myself imagining how she would be with kids of our own. She’s so gentle, patient, and good with them, it really wasn’t a far stretch. One day. When Lydia brought Annabelle in from their visit with Mandy, she announced that she was tired.
After a two-hour nap and some lunch, we’re out in the strawberry field. Lydia is walking ahead of me, corralling the girls with their buckets and giddy excitement. She squats down to talk to the girls. I can hear wisps of her gentle voice, but can’t quite make out what she’s saying. She leans toward one of the plants, carefully showing the girls how to pick their very own strawberries. They bounce up and down with glee, nodding along as she explains what to do. They hold up their buckets, and she drops one in each and nods her head once. Bolting around her, they saddle up to take on a section of their own. A longing smile on her face, she peeks up at me. She’s still smiling when she sees me staring down at her, but she carefully removes the longing in her eyes, trying to hide it from me. But I saw it. I’m sure she knows that, but I’ll put that piece of information away for now, wait until she’s ready to share it with me. I’ll wait until she’s ready to share everything with me. Forever, if I have to.
I reach my hand out to help her up. “They’re probably going to need some help, Blondie.” That’s confirmed when Cassidee huffs in frustration behind her.
“Princess or space cadet?”
Chuckling, I tell her, “I’ll take the huffing princess, you help the space cadet.”
“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Max.”
Two full buckets of strawberries, and a memory full of giggles and smiling faces, and we’re heading back up to the house.
“Go show Mrs. Maggie your spoils, girls,” Lydia tells them, pointing out Mama sitting on the rocking chair on the front porch with Luke at her feet. They bound off, leaving a trail of strawberries that bounce out of their buckets in their wake. Luke, the helpful dog that he is, comes running down the steps to clean up their trail.
“You’re good with them,” I point out. She turns up toward me, smiling.
“Yeah? They’re great kids. They make it easy.”
“Nah, I think it’s you.” Her cheeks turn that light shade of pink, I know not many people get to witness. Before she can sputter out some response, I swoop in and kiss her. Wrapping my arms around her as she sinks into me. Off in the distance, I hear Mama shuffling the girls inside, but I can’t take my focus off the woman in my arms.
My woman. My forever.
We stand there, tangled in each other, hardly taking the time to breathe in between kisses. I don’t care about oxygen though, who needs it when you’ve got the most beautiful woman in the entire world pressed against you, kissing you like her life depended on it? I sure as fuck don’t. When we reluctantly tear our lips away from each other, I pull her in against my chest. Kissing the top of her head and stroking her long, pretty blonde hair, I only have one thought running through my mind: this time, I’m not letting go.
Lydia
41
June 30th.
I’m in love with Maxwell Owen Weston.
Completely, irrevocably in love. He’s on my mind when I wake, before I fall asleep and most of the time in between. When we’re not together, I miss him so damn much. Since the day we spent with the girls, we’ve spent every possible moment of time together. He has Friday night dinner with my family, and I spend the night at the farm most weekends. During the week he comes to see me, still bringing me flowers. It’s been four weeks of pure bliss.
I’ve always known in my heart that I was in love with him. I know I never stopped loving him, but our love has grown and transformed into this...I don’t even have words to explain it. That man just fucking gets me. I’m a stubborn, snarky, piece of work. And he gets me, loving me not in spite of that, but because of it. I can only think of one man that loves more fiercely than Max does. Well, loved...Dale loved Maggie with his whole being, and even after all the years they were together, you could see it. When she walked into a room or her name was mentioned, he would light up with so much pride and adoration. It was always something I admired. And I thought Max and I had that when we were kids. In some ways, I think we did, but we weren’t ready. Our time apart broke us, of that I’m certai
n. But without that, I don’t think we would truly understand how important we are to each other.
The ticking of my blinker as I turn onto the long dirt driveway of the Weston farm, has my heart rate increasing.
I’m ready now.
I’m going to tell Max tonight. We both know that he knows, but I haven’t said it. I needed time. Time to heal and figure out if I was ready to hand my fragile heart back into the hands of the only man that’s ever owned it. The problem was, he was also the only man that’s ever broken it.
I made a promise to my mom that I wouldn’t dismiss my feelings. I refused to discount his actions from nearly a decade ago. But I’ve also kept in mind that I couldn’t discount my own. I was just as much to blame about how things turned out. I was just as young and dumb as my country singer with big dreams. Instead of supporting those dreams, like he would have done for me, I shut my eyes, kicking and screaming.
Eyes wide open and heart on my sleeve, I throw my purple mini cooper in park, staring out at the house that I’ve always felt at home at. Because in that house is my family, my future.
The front door opens, and Luke comes bounding down the stairs toward me. I bend over to give him some lovin’ then straighten up to see my cowboy leaning up against one of the columns that frame the porch. He’s got a crooked smile on his face, surrounded by sexy stubble, that’s never quite beard length, but always past the point of 5 o’clock shadow. My eyes sink down to the navy shirt with the Weston logo on it pulled tight over his taut upper body. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, pulling his shirt up, giving me a glimpse of that oh so fucking happy trail, leading down to the well-worn blue jeans. I don’t miss the bulge that lets me know he’s definitely happy to see me as my gaze trails down thick thighs, all the way to bare feet.
“You gonna stand there checkin’ me out all night or are ya gonna come up here and kiss me, woman?”
I let my eyes caress their way back up his body, to those gray eyes I love so much. “And if I did want to stand here all night? You got a problem with that, Cowboy?” Even as I say it, my feet start moving. My whole body humming with anticipation. I don’t just want to be closer to him. I need it.
“Not at all, Blondie. Just want to be prepared.”
When I reach the top step, he turns his body, so his back is pressed up against the column instead of his shoulder. Reaching my arms around him, I give his ass a tight squeeze. “How ‘bout that kiss?”
And kiss me he does. With his hands on either side of my face, he kisses me with so much passion, my toes curl. I gasp, melting into him, letting his tongue glide into my mouth. My hands trail up from his ass until I’m clutching his back.
Home. I’m fucking home. Here, in his arms, I know deep in my soul that’s where I belong.
I pull away from him slightly, staring up into his stormy eyes, noting the flecks of blue and silver. I almost say it then. Before I can he kisses me again, just a light brushing of lips. “Mama’s got dinner ready. As much as I’d rather stay here in your arms after being away from you all day, I’m starvin’,” he says, his lips ghosting over mine with each word.
“Me too.” Pulling away from him fully, he grabs my hand, and we head inside.
I can tell him later. I’ve got plenty of time.
∞∞∞
We’re curled up on the couch, the credits for some movie I didn’t pay a bit of attention to scrolling over the screen. Max pulls me into his lap and my heart flutters. I blink up at him, falling into his gaze. I’m gearing up to say it. Confess my love to the beautiful man sitting beneath me. His hands on my ass distract me and before I can say anything he starts to speak. “My manager called me last night to remind me about the festival in Nashville.”
My heart skips a beat. Not again… “Oh?” I don’t know how I push the word past my lips, but somehow it manages to work its way out.
“Yeah, it’s a four-day festival, starting on the 4th of July. Biggest one in country music. I already had it booked before Dad passed away. He wanted to make sure I was still coming. Tried to get me out on a flight today, but I told him to book one first thing on the 4th. I don’t need to be there until then and—”
I scramble off his lap. “Okay.”
“Where you goin’?”
I barely hear him over the pounding of my heart.
He’s leaving.
No. No, not again.
He said he wasn’t going anywhere. “I gotta go.” I’m not even sure if I say it out loud. All the freshly sealed cracks in my heart start pulling apart. How could I be so fucking stupid?
He grabs my arm, stopping me and coming to stand in front of me. I can’t look at him. “Blondie, look at me. What the fuck is going on?”
How could he act like he doesn’t know what’s going on? Does he really not remember what we went through? What we’ve spent the last few months trying to get past? The hurt coursing through me morphs into rage. I will not crumble and turn into that scared broken girl, like last time. No, fuck that. My head snaps up and I stare right into those eyes that I was admiring just a few short minutes ago. “You’re leaving. Again. You made plans without me, again! I can’t do this. As much as I love our push and pull, I can’t fucking do it if you’re going to take it this far. You gonna disappear for another nine years, Max?” I put my palms on his broad chest—hating myself for liking the way it feels—and shove him back. “Fuck you. I won’t be waiting.”
Grabbing my keys off the little table in the foyer, I storm out of the house. He’s right on my heels, shouting my name. He snags my wrist, but I tug it out of his hold. Unfortunately, it gives him the chance to come between me and my car. “Move, Weston.”
“Would you fucking calm down, Blondie?”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down. I want to just keep moving past him. Get in the car, drive away, and try to forget him. But I can’t. My feet won’t move. I stand there trembling, because I also want to stay. I want him to apologize and promise to never leave me. To take me in his arms. I want to tell him I love him and go off into the sunset and all that other cheesy bullshit. But this is real life, not a romance novel.
“Lydia. If you would have just been patient, I was trying to ask you to come with me. I told him I couldn’t go today because I had to talk to my girl. I want to bring you and can’t ask you to take that much time off of work last minute.”
“That’s fucking bullshit. You’ve known about this festival since before you came back to Midland. You always knew you were going, but you neglected to tell me. Over and over you told me you were here to stay. But you never fucking planned on staying, did you? You were always going to go back to Nashville. I get it, that’s your dream. And I don’t want to hold you back from it. But why promise me all these things again if you didn’t fucking mean them? Why?”
“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!” he roars, kicking the ground and letting out a string of curses. When he comes back over to me, his chest is heaving and I automatically take a step back. “You know what, Blondie? I said I would wait forever. And a part of me will. But it’s been months, and I have been open and honest with you the entire time. I am so fucking in love with you. I have never hidden that. I will always be in love with you. But you’ve made it really fucking clear you don’t trust me. You told me that when you look at me it’s not hurt that you feel. I chose to believe you, but I’m starting to think you were just lying to the both of us.” I open my mouth to defend myself, but he stops me, holding a hand up. “No. Don’t. I’m going to go back to Nashville for this festival. I’ll be back next week. This is my home. I meant it when I said I was fucking staying. Whether you choose to believe me or not is out of my control. You need to figure out what it is that you want. If it’s not me, just let me go. Please…” I can see the hurt and anguish in his eyes the moment our eyes lock, before he breaks the contact. He storms away, leaving me standing there. Stunned, hurt, and confused beyond all
belief.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but eventually I make my way over to my car. My hands shake as I fumble with the keys. When the key finally slips into the ignition, I turn it and the hum of the engine fills my ears. I make the same u-turn out of his driveway I’ve done countless amounts of times.
This time when I look up in to the rear-view mirror, he’s not there watching me leave. The view is as empty and crushing as my heart.
Swallowing the ball in my throat, I fix my eyes straight ahead. Turning on my blinker, my heart picks up, matching the beat of the rapid clicking sound. I close my eyes, willing the tears to remain unshed. When I open them, I let out a long breath and turn out of the driveway for possibly the last time ever.
Lydia
42
Parker rips my book from my hand and slams it down on the table next to me. “Why aren’t you pestering me?”
I lift a brow, glancing up at him, “You want me to pester you?” As I wait for his answer, I notice that the rock music isn’t blaring from the speakers anymore.
“No. Hell no. But it’s what you do. You come here, pester me, I bitch, then we laugh it off. It’s kind of our thing.”
My mouth ticks up at the side, just a little. “It is, isn’t it?”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize how fucking wishy-washy I sound. I’ve spent the last three days playing back Max’s words. I get up, go to work, come home, and the whole time I think about him. The hurt in his eyes, as he choked out, “If it’s not me, just let me go. Please…”
Do I want to let him go? Or better yet, can I?
“Lyd, what the fuck is going on? You haven’t looked like this since…” Parker’s hands ball into fists and his jaw clenches so hard, I worry he might crack a tooth. “What. The. Fuck. Did. He. Do?” he growls out.