I breathe in the fresh clean air flowing gently through the open kitchen window. The sun shines brightly through the pretty blue and white checked curtains leaving a dappled pattern on the scarred but lovingly polished heart of pine floor. Tucking a few paper napkins and a well worn paperback copy of McCammon's "Swan Song" into the big picnic basket, I smile to myself. I have been working hard for weeks and finally I have a few days off to have some fun and relax.
Not bothering to lock the door behind me, I carry my basket and a striped woven Indian blanket out to the truck. My plans for the day include nothing more than a good book, a nice lunch, and maybe a little sunbathing. With the basket beside me, I turn the key and the big V8 growls to life. The radio is playing quietly so I turn it up to hear the mournful strains of a Beau Soleil love song. I don't know French, much less Cajun French but the meaning is clear anyway and pulls at the strings of my heart.
Several songs later, I turn onto a secluded, rutted trail into the trees. This property belongs to my neighbor, Betty and she has often told me I can come here to fish or swim whenever I want. She has lived alone in the big farmhouse on the far side of the property ever since her son left to find better job prospects. Now that guy is a fantasy worth enjoying for a while, I think to myself with a naughty little grin.
When the trees clear a bit, the hard soil of the creek bank is revealed. I turn the truck around, backing into a patch of warm sunlight at the water's edge and cut the engine. With basket and blanket in tow, I drop the tailgate. I spread out the blanket on the tailgate and partway in the bed of the truck, making a comfortable place to rest against the curve of the wheel bump. Spreading the skirt of my knee length pale green sundress modestly over my thighs, and clipping my coppery curls on top of my head, I eagerly reach into the basket for my book.
I have read it several times already but the story never fails to suck me in and make me think about the true nature of people. Maybe that is why I didn't hear any approaching footsteps. Suddenly, a shadow falls across the page and I jump a bit as I realize someone has invaded my little haven. He walks around the side of the truck to cock one hip lazily against the open tailgate. I force my gaze up from the prominent bulge in his snug jeans to his ruggedly handsome face, ignoring the liquid heat rushing to my lower regions.
"Hey Tony. I didn't know you were back in town." I look him over with interest, noting the heavy silver earrings and starkly two-tone dyed goatee shaded by the familiar ivory straw Stetson. His lazy grin makes my pulse race a little but I do my best to ignore it because this is Tony. I've had a thing for him for years but he has never showed me the slightest hint that he was interested in me while plowing his way through every other female between the ages of 18 and 80 who would hold still long enough. Mentally shaking my head, I tuck my book back into the basket and pull out a mason jar of sweet tea. "Thirsty?"
"Sure. Thanks. I came back to see Mom this week while I'm on vacation." I smile at that. He always was good to his mother. A single drop of condensation drips from the chilled jar of tea to land on the tanned skin of his upper chest, bared by the open buttons of his short sleeved western style work shirt. I resist the urge to lick that little bit of moisture from his skin and clasp my hands tightly behind my back to remind myself not to touch. The motion causes the buttons down the front of my dress to strain across my generous breasts.
Seeming to have exhausted all relevant topics, we lapse into a strained silence, neither one sure what to say next but both realizing that something was different between us. I stare at my hands in my lap and pick absently at a cuticle wondering what is running through your mind. You don't make me wait long. I look up in mild surprise when you climb up onto the blanket with me, your dusty boots hanging down toward the ground. Figuring that I'm just crazy and you still think of me as that weird neighbor girl, I take a drink and lean back with my eyes closed to enjoy the warm sun.
You scoot closer and put your arm over my bare shoulders to pull me closer. I lean my cheek against your shoulder, loving the faint clean scent of your aftershave and the stronger sexier scent that is just you. My nipples are hard and I know you will see them if you look but I don't care. I have no illusions about a relationship but I know I have wanted you desperately for a long time and this may be my only opportunity. Lifting a slightly shaky hand, I rest it softly over your heart, feeling your slow steady heartbeat.
