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I open my eyes.
“Goddamn it,” says Jensen.
“Give me five dollars, motherfucker,” I say, holding out my hand.
“Best I can do is a cigarette.”
“That works too.”
We fuck around for a while, shooting loose cans. Then, it gets too late, and I don’t want to keep anyone up, so we head back up the hill. I’m agitated, and nothing can get my mind off how much I need to see her again. It’s eating me up inside, burning me, making medesperate to get my mouth on her in the hopes she can quench my thirst.
It’s her birthday, and I said I’d go see her, but I didn’t.
What’s holding me back? My guilt over how young and unsuspecting she is?
Jensen and I sit on the porch, and we have another beer.
“I’m not sure what’s going on with you, gunslinger, but you seem agitated,” Jensen says.
I consider lying, but instead, I tell him what happened in the kitchen. He listens, quiet until I get to the end.
“Well why the fuck didn’t you go?” he says.
I shrug. “Twenty-one is pretty young.”
He nods. “But she’s a grown woman, and if it isn’t you, it’ll be somebody else. Judging by the ages of some of us out here, he’ll be a good bit older than she is.”
He has a point. Maybe that’s all I need. Just one excuse, and all my flimsy resistance comes tumbling down. I stare up at the moon, a pale silver disk overhead. She’s down the hill and a ways down the road, laying in her bed. Maybe she’s thinking about me.
Maybe her hand slips under the blankets.
I clear my throat. “I’ll go see her in the morning.”
Jensen shrugs. “Ain’t no harm in it.”
Those words turn over in my head as Jensen leaves and I go upstairs. If I’m being honest, I take a shower and jerk off to the memory of her in my dream. My body doesn’t want to rest, even after I finish, so I just lay against the headboard and count every second until I get to see her again.
CHAPTER FIVE
DIANE
The next morning, I roll out of bed and pull on some faded cut-offs. They’re too short to wear without getting bothered, but all the men are gone in the city until dinner. I can dress how I want.
My bare feet carry me over the floorboards. It’s a good day to get some cleaning done; the kitchen is cool and empty. I grab a muffin from the freezer, heat it up in the microwave, and have it with a cup of coffee.
Maybe I’ll take Sunshine out and ride the fence line. It’s going to be hot today, but right now, the sun is still buffered by the mountains. We could ride the northern border and be back before noon.
To hell with the chores. I can get them done by the time David gets back tonight.
I walk out onto the front porch, and my heart stops, jumping so far up my throat, I feel my ears roar. There’s a man sitting on the chair by the front door.
And he’s wearing a black cowboy hat.
“Good morning, Miss Carter,” he says.
“Mr. Quinn.”
He’s got his knees spread, his hat pulled low. All at once, I feel naked, and I wish I’d put on longer shorts. I glance down at my body, and it looks different today, somehow more feminine, even though my curves are small.
