Page 5 of The Rescue

“Rabbie is sensitive, he’s been through a lot. I’d hate to see him get hurt, because you only do casual situationships.”

This is true, I don’t do relationships and for good reasons, but Rabbie is too god-damn sexy to pass up on. Just the thought of my fingers running through his shaggy blonde hair makes me tingle in all the right places. And of course the first thing I noticed was the size of his hands, they were huge. He uses his hands every day to knead out dough, there’s no doubt in my mind that he could drive me crazy with his large, beautiful hands. My mind runs wild, and I rub my legs together to ease some of that tension that is building up inside me.

Dylan waves her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Crystal?”

My daydream of Rabbie doing dirty things to me suddenly squashed, and I’m back to reality.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt your precious Rabbie.” I roll my eyes at her.

“Just be careful, even if he is interested,” she warns me.

I ignore her jab at me.

We drop the topic of Rabbie and Dylan fills me in on who’s who in this hole of a town and warns me to try not to cause too much drama because everyone gossips. Dylan seems to forgetthat I grew up in a small town, I know nothing is sacred. Everyone likes to stick their noses in other people’s business, and I know better than to get caught up in small town drama.

“How is your Grannie Jo settling in?” I ask, changing the subject of small towns.

“She’s so happy to be back in Crossmackie. She is so grateful to Mrs. MacNee for letting her stay at her place, they have a lot of catching up to do. She is looking to buy a small house soon, but houses rarely come on the market here.”

“I’m glad she’s settling in, shame there aren’t enough rooms at Thistle Down Farm.”

“I know, I’m so sorry that you have to sleep in the tiny cottage with us.” She looks at me with sympathy.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, the website Rabbie wants me to make won’t take me long, and I’ll be out of here and back to Boston where they serve cocktails,” I raise my glass and take another sip of the dark, bitter liquid, it sends shivers through my whole body.

A loud laugh escapes Dylan’s mouth, and I can’t help but join in. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed her. Living in Boston without her doesn’t feel right, I’ve had multiple roommates since she officially moved out. All okay people, but no one worth keeping in contact with. We finish the rest of our disgusting beers, and decide to call it a night.

The drive back to Thistle Down Farm is terrifying. Dylan is still getting used to driving on the opposite side of the road, and the winding, narrow Scottish roads only heightens my anxiety, even more when a vehicle is coming towards us.

I try to snuggle up on the blow up air bed in the living room of the tiny cottage. Dylan insisted that I stay with them while I’m here, I would’ve been a lot more comfortable in the local B&B, but I didn’t want to upset Dylan. She’s missed me as a roomie and wants to see me as much as possible whilst I’m here.

I finally manage to get comfortable on the crappy airbed. I’m thinking about how gorgeous Rabbie is and I was just about to doze off to sleep when I hear soft moans coming from Dylan and Cam’s bedroom. Well, now I’m wide awake. My stomach warms from the inside as I lay staring up at the ceiling, listening to Dylan softly giggling in the bedroom. I groan, putting a pillow over my head, closing my eyes. I haven’t hooked up with a guy since I left Boston, which is over a week ago, and I’m starting to feel the pent-up frustration building.

I’m not ashamed of my sexuality, and I prefer casual hook-ups over serious relationships. Being from a traditional Christian family in the deep south, I had a standard to live up to, which I hated. It wasn’t until I moved to Boston that I could start expressing myself, by wearing the clothes I like or wearing more makeup and having casual relationships with other men. All of which my parents, especially my mother, do not like. They don’t know about the casual hooks-up, but she always has something to say about my appearance.

I hear Cam trying to shush Dylan, her soft moans bring on an all too familiar feeling. That feeling of teetering on the edge is my favourite just before you fall into pure bliss. I instantly envy her.Lucky bitch.

I picture Rabbie and his beautiful, large hands running all over my body. I imagine him between my legs going down on me, and I feel the heat creep up and pool in my lower belly like liquid honey. I keep the pillow over my head, and roll over on to my side and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to fall asleep.

3

Crystal

I wake early after an uncomfortable nighton the blow up air mattress.I miss my king sized bed, I miss my home comforts, and I definitely miss my peace and quiet.

It took forever for me to fall asleep last night after listening to Dylan and Cam’s late night shenanigans. I’m a little bit on the cranky side this morning probably due to the poor sleeping situation and partly because Dylan is getting laid and I’m not. Dylan is more on the conservative side when it comes to sex, but hearing her last night has got me thinking that Cam is bringing her out of her shell which is a good thing.

Good for her.

She would shy away from openly talking about anything sex related or even when a hot guy would walk in a bar. She always rolls her eyes at me when I openly talk about my casual hookups and the men I find attractive. I know she isn’t judging me, well not wholly anyways. I’m comfortable with my sexuality, I’mnot ashamed of the life I choose to lead. I come from a very conservative traditional family in the south. My mama would always tell me to act like a proper southern woman, and that meant no casually hooking up with men or talking about sex. Southern women have a certain standard to live up to.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mama without makeup on. She’s always made up, not a single hair out of place. She’s the typical southern woman always catering to the men in her life, which are my dad and her three wonderful sons, who can do no wrong in her eyes. I can just hear her now, “boys will be boys,” whenever my three older brothers do something stupid. To me, she’s squeaky clean, perfect, robotic, and cold.

I’m her only daughter and what a disappointment I turned out to be. She’s always lecturing me about something or other. I refuse to let my life turn out like hers, there’s not a single housewife bone in my body. I want my life to have more purpose than that. I like to think my lifedoeshave more purpose than that.

My mama’s life revolves around taking care of her boys and socialising with her friends in her “book club” which we all know is a front for them to get together and spread salacious rumours about people. I remember one time she went over to Mrs. Johnson’s house for sweet tea, and wasn’t served any food whilst she was there. Well that was the talk of the town for months about how poor Mrs. Johnson isn’t that good of a host that she’d talked herself up to be. I couldn’t wait to put as much distance between me, my mama and the small town as possible by picking the furthest college I could get into. I only ever go back to the ranch for the holidays, which I dread the closer it gets.

I stretch the stiffness out of my neck, and decide I need to run off the frustration of not getting a piece of the action like Dylan is. I quietly get dressed, making sure not to disturb the lovebirds and tiptoe out into the brisk morning air.

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