Page 51 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
Wes. Petty bastard.
All afternoon he's been matching me sound for sound as though mimicking me, probably to get a rise out of me. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of another confrontation.
That last fight was dumb and I hate that I was part of it. I’ve never liked violence not even when I was in the military. I hate senseless violence even more and I especially hate that Patty was there to witness it.
She probably thinks I'm even more of a Neanderthal caveman than she originally assumed.And I wouldn't blame her for her concern, given my height and my propensity to talk in mostly grunts. I sensed straight away how skittish she was, as if hyper-sensitized to the least sign of violence or aggression, so throughout her stay, I've been careful to tread softly and keep from startling or scaring her.
Once, I happened upon her in the kitchen while she washumming and frying something that smelled good. She didn’t hear me until I walked up and tried to peek at the frying pan over her shoulder. When I got close, she spun around, screamed and threw her hands up to block her face.
God, that look of terror in her eyes shattered something inside me. I felt like the lowest piece of shit in the world for scaring her. Even though the whole thing was cleared up in seconds–I apologized profusely, and she did too for her reaction–I haven’t quite gotten over her looking at me in fear.
“God Patty, I’m so sorry,” I said, remorse making my voice gravelly. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. Sometimes, I forget my own size, but I swear I would never hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” she said, with a tremulous smile as I mumbled out more apologies. “It’s not you, it’s…me. I guess I have a thing with people sneaking up on me.”
“Someone hurt you before?” I asked and she shook her head.
“It’s just the way I am.”
I watched as she folded her arms in front of her, almost defensively. I could tell there was more to the story, but she probably wasn’t going to share it now.
“What else don’t you like?” I asked. “So I know for next time.” I never wanted to see that look in her eyes again.
She seemed surprised by my question, and then she tentatively admitted, “Loud sounds. Yelling. Violence.” At my searching look she added, “I think it’s probably because I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I don’t like things that remind me of it.”
“Ah,” I said, “I’ll make sure I never remind you of it again.”
And throughout her stay, I've kept to that promise. I’ve been careful to tread lightly around her but also ensure mysteps are loud enough for her to hear coming. I’ve never raised my voice, or even sworn in her presence.
Slowly, I was getting her to relax around me, to no longer see me as a threat.
All that is now meaningless, due to one stupid, heat-of-the-moment action.
And as much as I blame Wes for provoking it, I blame myself too.
I feel a pang of guilt for what I did with Patty even though I shouldn’t. I'm not sure what Patty feels for Wes, but for Wes, I doubt it's more than a passing fascination. My younger brother has never been the serious connection type. All his life he’s been a ‘player’, only ever interested in brief hookups, never long-term relationships, so I assume that’s how it is with Patty too.
So why did he get so upset that I was with her? Since when does Wes get this worked up about someone he hooked up with?
Wes has never been the jealous type. He’s even offered on multiple occasions to set me up with some of his flings. Once when he was dating this cute high school teacher, he offered to stop seeing her because he thought I liked her.
So why had he flown into a rage at the thought of me with Patty?
Maybe he has deeper feelings for her than I thought.
This thought accompanies a sinking feeling. That would be the worst possible conclusion. Because I'm pretty sure I have feelings for Patty too.
Even with that, I wasn't that upset when he’d hooked up with Patty. I was fucking jealous, but not upset enough to fight my brother even though Wes probably knew I had a thing for her first. The way I saw it, if she wanted him, if he was theone who made her smile, then who was I to stand in the way of her happiness? It wouldn’t be pleasant, but I could let go of my feelings and let her be with him if that’s the way she felt.
But now that I've spent time with her, talked to her, made love with her, tasted her, heard her moans, seen her come apart as she flooded my mouth with her sweet nectar... shit, I'm not sure I can let her go again.
Twigs crunch under heavy workbooks behind me and I turn to find Mitch approaching him with a stern look on his face.
“We need to talk,” he says
I have a feeling I know what's coming. I keep working, stacking up logs to be tied. Mitch crosses his hand over his chest.
“This cold war between you and Wes,” he starts. “Is it because of Patty?”
