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Rusty
This was the firsttime in years that Rusty was looking forward to Sunday lunch. He hummed a tune as he bustled around the kitchen. The chicken was roasted to golden perfection. The table was set with Janice’s favorite dishes he remembered from a decade ago—sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, buttery cornbread, and tender green beans.
As the heavenly aroma of a homemade apple pie wafted through the air, Rusty glanced around the cabin with a sense of pride. The walls were adorned with mementos of his life, showcasing his love for western movies and worn leather saddles that had seen many a cattle drive. A well-used fireplace crackled in the corner. He hoped Janice would find it as cozy as he did.
It still seemed crazy to him that Janice was at Littlecreek Ranch. And any minute, she’d arrive at his door and walk into the cabin he’d spent so many days thinking about her in. Thisis where he’d moped, reliving memories of when they were together, daydreaming about what it had been like to kiss her.
And now, he was going to kiss her in his cabin.
It was just a shame that kissing was all they could do.
Rusty sighed. Life without Janice had been hard, but lifewithJanice while not being able to be with her fully was just as tough. Every second he spent with her was testing his willpower to the absolute limits.
Obviously, even kissing her was wrong. He knew that. Rusty had made her father a promise, all those years ago, that he would stay away from her. But it had hardly been Rusty’s fault that she had shown up at Littlecreek Ranch, had it? And there was abigdifference between kissing and fucking. At least if they drew the line at no sex it meant that a line existed. The line would protect them. Stop them both from falling so deeply into a hole that they could never climb out of.
There was this devilish part of Rusty, though, that wanted to say to hell with it. Who cared about Angus Jameson? He had already let Janice down beyond words. He had ruined her life so badly she’d ended up running away from him. So, what did Rusty owe Angus Jameson? Not a damn thing. But still, there was that irritating part of him holding him back. His word was his bond, and that felt like all he had sometimes.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“Showtime,” muttered Rusty. He glanced at himself in the antique oak mirror near his front door before he opened it. “No sex,” he whispered to his reflection. His reflection glowered back at him.
He opened up the door, and Janice was standing there, looking absolutely stunning in a cute Little outfit—a lemondrop yellow dress with a white lace trim, paired with knee-high socks and shiny black shoes. Her red hair was pulled back in pigtails, framing her freckled cheeks.
"Hey there, darlin'," Rusty greeted her with a warm smile, leaning in for a gentle kiss on the cheek. His heart fluttered as he briefly remembered how good it had felt to spank Janice and make her come in the Maple Cabin the other day. "You're right on time. Lunch is just about ready."
"It smells amazing in here!" Janice exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "I can't wait to taste your cooking again."
"Aw, shucks," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to suppress his grin. "I hope it's as good as you remember. Haven’t cooked Sunday lunch since you and I were last together, so I’m a little . . . well, rusty."
Janice giggled. “Rusty Rusty is how I like you.”
Rusty pulled out the chair for Janice, her face glowing with anticipation. She flashed him a bright smile as she took her seat, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the cabin windows, casting a warm glow on her red hair.
"Shall we dig in?" Rusty asked as he brought out the chicken and then took his seat across from Janice.
"Absolutely!" she replied enthusiastically, her fork already poised over her plate.
As they sat down to eat, Rusty couldn't help but steal glances at Janice, her laughter and joy filling the cabin with life. He silently vowed to cherish every moment spent with her, even if their time together was limited.
"Rusty, I just have to say," Janice began, pausing to savor another bite of the mouthwatering meal. "You really outdid yourself. This is incredible." Her eyes sparkled with gratitude as she added, "And you remembered all my favorites. Including sweet potatoes with marshmallow. You know what I always say. That dish is—”
“—not just for Thanksgiving!” finished Rusty, chuckling. “I remember.”
“Thank you," said Janice, smiling.
"It’s my pleasure, little one," he replied softly, his hazel eyes meeting hers. "I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I am."
"I can't believe how much I've missed your cooking," Janice said with a sigh.
"Thank you, Janice," he replied, feeling a swell of pride in his work. "I put my heart into it, just like the old times."
“Steak, boiled potatoes, and a slice of bread. That’s all my father wanted every single night. I swear if I never eat steak again, I’ll be happy.”
Rusty smiled. “Steak has its place. But variety is the spice of life.”
“Amen to that, Sir,” said Janice, and they clinked water glasses together.
As they finished their meal, the shadows grew longer outside the cabin, and Rusty couldn't help but feel the weight of the impending night. He wanted to hold onto the warmth of the day, and the best way he knew how was by suggesting they sit near the fire.
