Page 29 of Third and Ten

TENLEY

I wake on Sunday morning to a steady buzzing and the smell of fresh-cut grass. I peek through the curtains to find Ethan trimming around the edge of the house, and it sounds like a lawn mower is running in the distance.

I’ve slept in again after spending most of the night at the hospital, not making it to bed until the early-morning hours. Although it’s been busy and tiring, I’m starting to adapt to life here. Truth be told, the adjustment hasn’t been as difficult as I feared, and I’m enjoying all the rushing around with Ethan and becoming more comfortable at work.

My mom greets me as I pad into the kitchen, pointing to a fresh pot of coffee. I eye her curiously before I pour myself a cup and join her at her post in front of the window.

“What’s so interesting out there?” I ask, taking my first sip.

She says nothing but gestures toward her view of the backyard with her right brow cocked. I move closer and peer out the window, nearly choking on my coffee once I finally see what has her so entranced.

It must be the sweaty, toned, and shirtless football coach passing by on the riding lawn mower.

“Good Lord,” I accidentally blurt out between coughs, making my mom chuckle beside me.

“Yes, bless Him,” she adds, pulling me closer. “And all His creation.”

I inhale deeply before attempting another sip. “So, uh, why is JD Bourgeois riding around half-naked on Daddy’s lawn mower, anyway?”

“Who the heck cares?”

“Fair enough,” I allow, neither of us able to peel our eyes away. We stand together and watch intently as he glides back and forth, cutting neat rows across the yard, oblivious to his captive audience. It’s just like yesterday, when JD recruited me to help with their supply drive. He seemed blissfully ignorant as nearly every woman we passed in the supermarket checked him out, some of them even sizing me up and conveying their distaste. I imagine my mom and I look just as ridiculous now, our heads turning side to side as he passes, both of us mesmerized by his rugged build.

I allow myself a thorough perusal while I hide behind my coffee cup. JD’s workout regimen obviously prioritizes bulk over definition, and I am here for it. It’s too late to pretend this is the first time I’ve stared at his arms, but the uninhibited view only proves that I am indeed a fan of his giant biceps. My gaze roams over his torso, appreciating his broad shoulders and chest. I carefully regard his powerful form as it tapers down to a waist devoid of the sharply defined abs that societal standards deem attractive. Surely there are some women who prefer this look, solid and muscular for the sake of being strong and not simply for show, as if he spends more time working than working out.

Fine. It’s me. I’m some women.

“You know, this isn’t the first time he’s come over to help Ethan cut the grass,” my mom begins, reminding me that I’m not alone. “But it is the first time he’s done it without a shirt. Just sayin’.”

I nudge her gently and give her a side-eyed glare. “It’s still hot out.”

“It sure is.”

“Ma!”

She shrugs. “Unlike you, I have no problem admitting that JD is a fine piece of—”

“MA!”

“Work. I was going to say work. And that he’s apparently very sweet on you.”

I roll my eyes, knowing that if I don’t somewhat concede, she’ll only make it worse. “Okay, so I’m not blind. But we’ve been through this before. I also have a lot going on, and dating is the last thing on my mind.”

She waves her hand flippantly, as if my very legitimate reasons for putting my social life on the back burner aren’t valid. “Or maybe you’re just scared to pile on another reason to stick around?”

I furrow my brow. “No.” But it’s a lie, and we both know it.

“Do you really think yourself too grand for little old Camellia?”

“Of course not,” I huff. “If anything, it’s the opposite,” I add quietly.

“So, you think he’s too good for you?”

I bite my lip and stare down at my mug. “JD shouldn’t have to settle for something complicated or for someone who can’t give him the time and attention he deserves.”

“Hmm. Well, I happen to think you’re selling yourself short, and that you’d be surprised at how easy things could be with the right guy. I’d also venture to say that JD deserves the chance to decide for himself what he wants.”

I’m not usually one to let my mom have the last word, but I can’t come up with any more defensive plays. We continue to sip our coffee in silence, neither of us willing to continue the conversation or to walk away from the view.

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