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Authors: Ashley Christine

Meadowlarks (9 page)

BOOK: Meadowlarks
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We finish our conversation, she gave me a few items to check off a list before their arrival later tonight. I have to mow the side lawn for extra parking, even set up sticks with bright orange ribbon (if I have it), setting a parameter for the cars, and move the barbeque from the porch to the front of the house.

             
Jer rides the mower behind the house, and I go back to find him, letting him know he needs to pay extra attention to the side lawn, per Kelsey's orders.

             
At 5:00 I take a look around, and I think we're done.

             
“Thank you for everything today; the place really looks good,” I say to Jeremiah.

             
“Anytime, man. It'll be fun. Your old man will be pissed, no doubt, but after a while, he’ll probably have a good time.”

             
He knows my dad almost as well as I do. He was scolded and sent home numerous times when we were kids, getting into things we shouldn't have. One time my dad caught us shooting squirrels out of the trees in the field with slingshots, and I thought he was going to turn them on us, shooting rocks at our heels while we bolted back up to the house with our tails between our legs.

             
Nick and Owen were already teenagers when I was born, so having a youngster again, and doing it alone without his wife, changed him, I guess. He was moody, had very little patience, and by the time I turned eighteen, he had enough of the farm life and left me here.

I rarely talk about things that happened when I was growing up; I try and push them down into the dark part of my mind—but every now and then, they rear their ugly heads, and I go back.

*              *              *

             
“Blaine Blackstock! Get back in this house right now!” His voice was barrelling through the door frame. “Boy, do not make me come out and get you!”

             
I'm hiding in a big tree, thankful when I see Owen come outside and not my daddy.

             
“Blaine? Where are you?” He's looking for me. It takes him all of three seconds to find my secret spot, and I giggle at him. “Get down here. Dad's mad. Come inside, please.”

             
He reaches his hands up to me, and without hesitation, I jump down into his arms. I love my big brothers; I feel safe when they're around, like they really love me.

             
I'm five, and my daddy is mad that I wet my bed. He rips the sheets off, throws them in a pile and stomps back downstairs. Standing in my room, I really don't know what to do. I pick up the paper air plane off the floor. Nicky made it for me, and it can really fly!

             
I frown, crumple the air plane up and throw it in the garbage. Why is daddy always mad at me? He doesn't yell at Nicky or Owen like he does at me.

             
In the hallway there is a closet full of sheets and blankets and pillow cases. I want to climb in where no one can find me. But knowing it would make my daddy angry, I don't dare.

Instead I find a sheet, a blue one with little moons on it, and a quilt—Mommy's quilt.
              Making a bed is harder than it looks. The springy corners on the sheet are hard to figure out, but I make it okay, I guess.

             
I lay down and over myself in the quilt. I can hear my daddy downstairs snoring with the TV on some sports channel.

             
“Blaine? Buddy, are you asleep?” Nicky is at the side of my bed. “Are you okay? I saw the sheets. Don't worry about it, little guy.” He scruffs my hair with his hand.

             
“Thanks, Nicky.” I pout, turn on my side, and fall fast asleep.

*
              *              *

             
At this moment, I just want Addison here in my arms. Instead, Kelsey and Maria show up, not alone but with a small entourage of other women who completely go into party-mode and decorate my farm. A giant canvas banner is tied and draped over the front of the garage.               It has “Happy 70
th
Bennett!” in big blue letters on it. Maria hands me a big shopping bag full of streamers and balloons to put inside until tomorrow morning.

             
“Blaine, the place really looks great!” she beams.

             
“Yep,” I say looking around. “And I hope the weather stays this nice, too.”

             
They party crew doesn't leave until almost nine o'clock. Once inside, I sprawl on the couch, place my hat over my face and drift off briefly until my phone starts buzzing.

             
Guess what?
Addison’s text message reads.
              I wanted to wait until I heard back before I told you, but I applied for that nursing job. They called today and I got it!

             
I call her; I need to hear her voice.

             
“Hey! I just sent you a text.” I can hear in her voice that she must be smiling.

             
“Yeah, I got it. Congratulations; I'm so happy for you.” And of course, happy for myself, too.

             
“Thanks! I start training next week. I'll be shadowing another RN.” She's so excited, and I smile because I'm thrilled now that she's really staying.

             
“I want to see you...
badly
,” I say in a husky voice.

             
“Oh, really?
How
badly
?” She teases, and with just her words, I start to harden.

Instinctively I rub my hand over the zipper of my jeans but quickly stop, knowing I will get too carried away if I continue.
              “Can I come over?” I ask.

             
“You better.”

             
Town is quiet, so I make it to her house quicker than expected and pull into a space in the visitor's parking section of her complex. A small stone walkway leads up to her door, and she has flowers of all kinds planted in small gardens on either side of the path.

             
There's a ceramic malamute, about a foot tall, with a little “Welcome” sign dangling from its mouth by the entrance. As I reach the door to knock, she flings it open.

             
There isn't even a second to open my mouth to speak before her arms are around my neck. I pull her against my body and we kiss deeply. An onlooker would think I was just released from jail or back from overseas by the way we are mauling one another.

             
We've only been apart for a day, and I'm like a junkie who finally got his fix; she's my morphine. What is it about her that has me so high? Is it crazy that I would do almost anything for this girl that I haven't even known for a week? Most likely, but I don't care—not right now, anyway.

             
Her condo is just as small inside as it looks outside. A little kitchen, with enough room for the basics and a small round tables with two chairs.

             
“Want something to drink? I have coffee, tea, milk, juice…” Opening the fridge, she stands back displaying its contents like a model on
The Price is Right
.

             
“I'd love a coffee, thank you.”

             
She places a steaming mug on the dark wooden coffee table in front of me. It's black; she remembered, and I smile.

             
“So, beautiful...” I reach over and trail my finger on her shoulder. “We only have a few days before you start work. We will have to make good use of that time.”

She drops her jaw like I've said something offensive.
              “You are insatiable!”

             
“No,
you
are irresistible,” I say, leaning in to kiss her neck.               My stubble must tickle her because she recoils but giggles.

             
“My girlfriends back in Maine would die if they saw the sexy cowboy I've got on my couch. You sir, are the irresistible one.”

             
The compliment makes me smile.
              Let's see how far I can play this
.               I unbutton my shirt a little and sit back so it opens up, showing some of my chest. I take a sip of coffee and adjust myself so I'm leaning into the couch in a seductive position.

She looks away, pretending she doesn't notice and smiles a little before taking a sip from her glass of water.
              “What exactly are you doing over there?” She doesn't look over but points her finger at me and twirls it around in a circle.

             
I don't respond, just unbutton my shirt completely and pull it to the side so my abs, belly button and the small trail of hair down into my jeans is showing.

She mouths the words,
              “Oh, shit.” Smiles and covers her face with her hands.

             
“Anything wrong, baby?” I quietly ask with a smirk, and then take another sip of my coffee.

             
“Oh, no. Everything is great!” She smiles sarcastically, quickly glances at me and opens the small drawer in the coffee table.               Pulling out a white bottle, she puts her long beautiful legs up on the table and squirts pink lotion into her hands.

             
You're kidding me. You don't know what you're getting yourself into, baby.

             
Slowly and sensually she rubs it into her skin, and I know at that moment I'm the cliché weak male; I've lost the battle. I sit and watch her for a good two or three minutes; she's really drawing this out, massaging her thighs and calves.

             
When she starts to travel up her legs even higher, she lifts the hem of her skirt, and I can't take it anymore. I take the bottle from her hands, toss it on the floor and pull her on top of me. She laughs a truly beautiful laugh, and I do too.

             
“You totally caved!” she says, very much pleased with herself. She looks so happy in this moment, so young and carefree, so beautiful. I don't think she knows how amazing she really is.

             
“Why are you here?” I ask, and she looks bewildered.

             
“What? What do you mean?” She sits back.

             
“I mean, why are you in my arms and not with someone else? How are you not taken, or married, or whatever by now. You are...” Suddenly, I don't have the words to express myself. “I just feel so lucky to have you in my arms.”

             
She looks totally surprised, as if no one has ever told her how wonderful she is.

             
“Blaine, I...” She blushes. “I’m happy to be in them. You came along at the perfect moment. I really didn't think I was going to feel like this about someone—ever.”

             
My shirt is still open, and she runs her hands inside of it, my body reacting to her soft touch.

             
“You are a great guy, Blaine. And so dashing!” She smirks and squeezes each of my cheeks like an over-affectionate grandmother.

             
I suddenly realize Alex isn't there, and I'm not about to get naked if he's upstairs or something.               “Where’s your brother?”

             
“Oh, he's out. And better be behaving himself,” she says, rolling her eyes.

             
“Good.” I smile and raise an eyebrow. “Now, where's your bedroom?”

*
              *              *

             
Catching my breath in her bed, I look around at her walls. There are a few photos of who I assume are family members or friends, and a big framed piece by the mirror with the words “To the world you may just be one person, but to one person you may be the world” hand-painted on it. How very true; in this moment she's the only thing in my world.

             
“Did you make that?” I ask, pointing at the quote.

             
“I took some art classes after I finished nursing school. It was either hang that piece or the one with the naked male model I painted.” She grins, and I can't tell if she's joking or not.

             
“My dad's birthday tomorrow...do you still want to come?” I turn so I'm facing her.

             
“Yeah, of course. If it's still okay. Can I bring anything?”

             
“I think they've got it all covered.” I remember I need to pick up from stuff from Maria's list tomorrow morning.

             
We stop talking, and I hear her quietly breathing; she must have fallen asleep.

             
“Addison?” I ask softly, pushing her hair off her face.

BOOK: Meadowlarks
5.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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