Page 75 of Stick Break
The afternoon sun pours through the open kitchen window, casting golden slats across the worn wood floors and catching in the soap bubbles I swirl lazily with a dishcloth. Charley made us chicken salad for lunch, so it’s my turn to clean up.
Outside, the world hums. Kids laughing in the distance, a lawn mower droning somewhere, the kind of sleepy summer background noise that makes you want to lie in bed and nap with your limbs tangled around someone you never expected to find sleeping in your bed.
I reach for a mug too quickly. A few weeks ago, that rookie mistake would have set off fireworks of pain. But now, with Charley’s militant ‘RICE’ (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) it’s manageable. Hell, under her care I have no doubt I’ll be all ready for camp next month.
The sound of her bare feet on the hardwood makes the back of my neck heat. She’s sneaky like that, appearing when I least expect it, usually when I’ve just regained control of my very male urges. She leans in beside me to slide a plate into the sink, her body brushing mine. If she gets one inch closer, I’m going to lose all sense of decency and bend her over this counter in broad daylight—kids playing, sun shining, my soul leaving my body kind of sex.
I groan and turn to her and she has a mischievous little grin on her face. She loves toying with me, and dammit, I love it too.
“You’ve got a little...” Her finger grazes the corner of my mouth, wiping away—what? Mayo? Lust? Dignity? Doesn’t matter. Her touch lingers, teasing, soft. Sweet torture.
I grab her waist, tug her in, and kiss the living hell out of her. A little gasp catches in her throat as I slide my tongue in and tangle my hands in her soft hair. She wraps her arms around me, giving in to my touches…my kisses.
Honest to God, everything about her, this moment, is perfect. Easy. Right.
Until…
The screen door creaks open.
We both stiffen. Well, that’s not entirely true. I was already stiff. Knowing this, Charley positions herself in front of me, but no one is fooling ol’ Betsy.
“I brought muffins!” Betsy announces, crashing through the door like a hurricane in orthopedic sneakers. She stops when she sees us. Her gaze moves over our faces which are no doubt flushed. “Again?” she asks, eyebrows climbing so high they’re practically on her crown. “Lord, have mercy.”
I open my mouth to say God’ knows what, but she cuts me off with a judgemental finger. “I’ll be glad when you make my sweet Charley an honest woman.”
Honest woman. What century are we in?
But I simply nod and play along.
“Soon enough,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to Charley’s temple, playing her adoring fiancé. I sign. “I wish we didn’t have to wait until next summer. But there’s so much planning to do.”
Charley slides one hand behind her back and gives my side a sneaky pinch as we both bite back laughter. I kind of like having secrets with her. But we both have other secrets too, that’s we’re not sharing.
“Well, it’s a good thing I brought all these muffins,” Betsy declares, marching past us like a woman with purpose and baked goods. “You two need your strength. You burned a lot of calories last night.”
Oh no she didn’t.
I sputter. “We uh…didn’t?—”
She waves off my weak defense like she’s batting away a mosquito. “Oh, come on, Ripley. These cabin walls aren’t that thick.”
Charley makes a strangled sound, and folds against me like she wants the floor to open up and swallow us whole. “Oh God,” she groans.
“Yes, I heard that too.” Betsy says, before grabbing Charley’s hand. “Where’s your ring?” she demands, suspiciously. “Did you lose it?”
Charley blinks like a deer caught mid-lie, but recovers fast. She pastes on a sweet smile. “Oh. I… I never brought it. It’s back home. Getting sized.” She gazes dreamily into the distance, like she’s smack dab in the middle of a fairy tale. “You should see it though. It’s lab grown, naturally. I’m not into mined diamonds,” she says with a frown. But then she casts me a quick smile. “It’s not big or flashy. I never wanted or needed that. But it’s everything.”
And damn. She’s definitely spinning a fairy tale here, but her words punch me square in the chest. Not because she’s convincing Betsy, but because her words are real and tell me so much about her.
“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed,” Betsy huffs, scandalized. “We can’t have people in the community thinking you two are just…” She lowers her voice, her words for our ears only. “Well, we all know what you’re doing. But we tolerate it because you’re engaged.”
She sets the muffins down, her brow furrowed like she’s deep in thought. Then she brightens and raises a finger. “I’ll be right back.”
She spins on her heel like a woman on a mission and charges out the front door. Charley turns to me, and I pull her me, eyebrows raised. “Should we be worried?”
She mock shivers. “Very. What if she comes back with a… ring?”
I scrub a hand over my face, grim. “Yeah, I’m thinking that’s exactly what she’s up to.”
