Page 113 of When We Were Us
“Potato, po-tah-to.” She flicks her hand dismissively through the space between us, and I silently thank God she doesn’t put it back on my arm. I don’t know if I can handle that shit again. Weeks of little touches, close calls, and her being pressed against me for the last twenty minutes havemy restraint slipping like a motherfucker.
“You found it in your backpack two weeks later, if I remember right.” I turn down the dirt road to my place.
“And you climbed into the truck the next morning with that stupid, bushy, black mustache and called me senorita for the rest of the day.” Her eyes dance with laughter.
“That mustache wasnotstupid,” I say, feigning offense. “It made me look sophisticated. I was so pissed that I lost it when we took the dirt bikes out that day.”
“It made you look like a dork.” She gasps a laugh, flashing a huge grin. “Youwerea dork.”
“Well, you must have been into dorks back then because, if you recall, you drove us out to the woods later that night and let me get to second base right here on this seat.” I cut a quick glance her way as I downshift to take a curve.
Her smile slowly spreads, telling me she remembers that night just as vividly as I do. The way we couldn’t get close enough to one another, all tangled limbs, and clashing teeth. We’d made out for so long that we’d fogged up the windows and had to drive home with them down just so we could see where we were going.
I remember wanting to go all the damn way with her that night, but she hadn't been ready. She was only eighteen, and I hadn’t wanted to push her. So, I’d driven us back to the ranch. The night after, I’d watched her drive away from my house, and I knew there was never going to be anyone else but Wren. I was only twenty, but she’d been it for me. She still is.
I turn off the road and pull up into the space next to the cabin, slowing the truck to a stop.
“We’re, uh… We’re here,” I say, shutting off the ignition.
The action seems to pull Wren from her memories, and she peers out through the windshield at the small cabin set back in the trees.
“This is home?”
“Yep.” I bob my head up and down, not quite sure what to do or say next.
From her seat on the bench next to me, she looks around at the darkness surrounding us. She seems nervous all of a sudden, and for some reason, that calms my own nerves just a bit.
Two quick, muffled barks and then a howl sound from inside the cabin.
“You have a dog?” she asks, and I wonder how I haven’t mentioned him before. Probably because I can’t even seem to think straight around this woman.
“Yep. Tucker. I found him on the side of the road on my way back from Billings a few years back. He was skinny as hell and skittish at first, but he’s a great dog. Hard worker, too.” There goes that head bob again.
God. So much for playing it cool.
She nods and lets out a long breath, puffing out her cheeks as she does.
At a loss for what to say, and feeling like I am completely out of my element, I blurt too loudly, “Want to meet him?”
She cracks a wide grin. “I’d love that.”
We get out of the truck and head up the short set of steps to the covered porch.
Cracking the door slightly, I give Tuck the command to sit and stay. When I’m sure he’ll do what I ask, I push the door the rest of the way open and step inside. Wren steps in, too, and immediately crouches down in front of Tucker with her palm outstretched.
He waits, just like I knew he would, but his tail is in a constant swish back and forth. A high-pitched whine emits from his throat.
“It’s ok,” I say, and he immediately jumps up and crosses the distance to Wren. Licking her face from chin to forehead, he pushes at her until she falls back on her butt with a thump.
“Tuck!” I step forward, ready to save her from being tackled further.
But Wren just lets out a hearty laugh and buries her hands in his fur, eagerly welcoming all the slobber he’s slathering on her cheeks with his tongue.
“Hey there, buddy. You're a good boy, aren't you?” she croons and plants a kiss on his wet, black nose.
“You need to go out, Tuck?” I say when he finally lets up on his assault of her. I hold out a hand and she takes it, climbing to her feet. Tucker trots out of the cabin and down the stairs.
“Thank you.” She dusts her hands on the seat of her shorts and looks around.
