She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy (12 page)

"More!” Jan shouted. “I can't believe we're all here together like this. It should be a Johnson family tradition from now on. Women only!"

"I can't believe you're drunk. Your husband is going to kill us,” Bethany slurred. “Has anyone seen my shoe?"

"Nope.” Emmy Johnson was in the bag herself. “But this isn't about shoes, child. This is about men, and I'm going to tell you girls a secret."

Chance made another batch but used a lot less alcohol this round. Being the sober woman at the party was definitely fun, but she had the feeling what Emmy Johnson was going to say next was best suited for inebriated ears.

"I have a boyfriend. Carl. He's a retired Navy pilot,” Emmy said and took another drink of her margarita.

"Mom!” Jan smiled and tried to hide it, but she was too drunk to hide her emotions. Through giggles, she said, “I can't believe it. A boyfriend?"

Then, she broke down in laughter. The giggles were contagious, and Emmy and Bethany laughed, too.

"What? I'm your mother. I'm not dead. And thanks to that little pill named Viagra, he ain't either.” Emmy toasted herself.

"That's great, Jack's mom.” Bethany toasted her, “Here's to men and their wicked ways."

"Here, here!” Jan lifted her glass. “To men and their tantalizing tongues."

"To men,” Emmy said, “and their sexy smiles."

It was her turn. She looked at the wild women at the kitchen table. “To men. For being ... well, for being men."

"That doesn't rhyme.” Bethany laughed.

Then, the other two joined her. Chance laughed at the women. Her mother-in-law, whom she always saw as very proper and rarely happy, was snorting and laughing like a young girl. Her sister-in-law, Jan, under age and in the bag, would have some explaining to do to the deputy when he got home. Then, Bethany, Jack's wife, nothing like she expected, the woman had class and character. This was her family now, and though they revealed way more information over the last two hours than she cared to remember, she was having fun.

A knock rapped on the kitchen door, and it opened. Jack stepped inside.

The women collectively burst out laughing at him. He didn't get it at all. Poor thing looked behind himself, twice. “Sweetheart, I need to sleep."

"So, go to bed.” Bethany stood, wobbled toward him.

"Are you drunk?” he asked.

"I,” she said with great passion and pointed to herself. “I am drunk. Yes. But you may sleep, King Jack. You may return to your chambers and..."

"All right, let's go home. Where are your shoes?” Jack spoke as if she were a child. Chance had to admit it was a little weird her calling him King Jack and all.

"I have no clue, sire.” Bethany made a great display of lifting her jeans off the tops of her feet and staring at them as if shoes would appear. “You may punish me for losing them..."

Now, they had everyone's attention. Chance looked at Jack who covered his wife's mouth with his hand. His face was beet red. “Where are her shoes?"

"I have no clue either, sire.” Chance laughed. Oh boy, being in on their little game was a little creepy, but if it tortured Jack like this, she would be sure and tell Heath about it when he got home.

"Christ.” He looked at Bethany. “I think tequila makes her clothes fall off."

"I see.” Chance waited as Jan laughed behind her.

"So, if you're the king, what exactly is Bethany?” Jan asked.

"No, nothing, no,” he fumbled.

"I'm the slave girl. I'm a naughty little slave...” Jack bent over and lifted her onto his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"She's drunk. She doesn't know what she's sayin,'” he said and escaped out the back door.

"I didn't know he had it in him.” Emmy Johnson laughed. “He must have got that from me."

"This is way too much information.” Jan's face went serious. Then, it turned almost green. “Does anyone else feel a little..."

Jan ran off to the bathroom. Chance shook her head.

Emmy sighed. “Light weights."

"Well, Mom, what do you say we call it a night?” Chance gathered the glasses and started toward the sink.

"I think I'll stay here in the guest room if that's all right.” Emmy ran her finger around the rim of the margarita glass. “I was so happy to get out of this house, away from these memories. But now, I don't feel ashamed anymore. My sons knew all along I wasn't happy. I loved their father, but I wasn't happy. I was too stubborn, and he had too much pride."

Chance listened. She really wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm glad to see you have lost some of my qualities, and Heath has lost some of his father's. I worried about it. Felt a little responsible for you leaving to tell the truth. I guess I lived through you like everyone else around here. Your freedom was like my own.” Emmy sipped at the last bit of liquid. “But you weren't free, were you?"

"No,” Chance admitted. “I was never free. Except when I was here."

"Well. Buck will be along any minute for Jan. I'm going to go on and turn in.” Emmy walked over to the sink and sat her glass in it. She hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, child."

"Good night, Mom.” Chance held back the tears. Good grief. The night had gone from wild and hilarious to somber and sobering in no time.

Another tap sounded on the door. Buck opened it and stepped inside. “Hey there. Where's my woman?” He looked around the kitchen. He seemed tired. His young face had a welt on its right cheek.

"What happened to your face?” Chance asked and stepped closer.

"Drunk. As I was cuffing his buddy, he swung and got a lucky shot before I could pull back out of the way.” Buck nodded. “I hate drunks."

As he said it, Jan stepped into the doorway.

Apparently, Jan caught the last of her husband's words and began to cry as she ran back toward the bathroom.

"What's wrong with her?” He looked concerned and started after her.

"She's drunk.” Chance shrugged. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize how much they drank before it was too late."

He laughed then headed to the bathroom. As he walked, he talked. “Awe, come on, baby. I didn't mean you. You're not a mean drunk, Sweetheart. Come on out here and let me take you home. My poor little angel, are you sick, too?"

Jan pouted on the other side of the door. Chance heard it in her voice as she said yes she was sick. Shaking her head, Chance left the two lovebirds to mend the misunderstanding. She loaded the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and put away the leftover food.

"Night, Chance.” Buck carried Jan, cradled in his arms like a little girl, unlike Jack who carried Bethany like a caveman. “See you tomorrow."

"Night, guys.” Chance sighed.

Well. Now, she was alone again. She headed off to find her own bed.

After an hour of tossing and turning, she got up. It was ridiculous that she slept a whole year without him, and now, after a few days, it was almost impossible. She went to his dresser. Maybe if she slipped into a t-shirt and his boxers, having something of his close and near would make her feel better.

When she opened the top drawer she noticed the box. Curiosity getting the best of her, she opened it and pulled out the letter. After reading it, she pulled out one of the letters from his grandmother to his grandfather.

My Love,

Each moment you are away is like a lifetime. I know you enjoy the ride. I wish I were able to come along. It would be a sight to see. You on that horse, chasing cattle into the sunset. My heart still skips a beat when I am lucky enough to see you ride up the driveway. You look amazing up there.

I made your favorite, roast beef in case tonight is the night you will return. If not, I'll add another layer to this letter tomorrow. Well my love, it is off to another sleepless night without you. Wake me if you come in. Your son will surely be glad to feel his father's hands around my belly. As I know I will be glad to feel your warm hands around me.

I love you now and always,

Mary Jane.

Chance held the paper to her chest and sighed. How sweet. She bit her lower lip in thought. In a flash, she was in his clothes and rummaging through his desk to find a piece of paper.

She wrote Heath a love letter. By the time she was through, her wrist hurt, her forearm burned, and six pages of letterhead had been used. She folded it neatly and stuffed it in an envelope. She wrote his name on the outside with little hearts. Silly, maybe even juvenile, but she didn't care. After kissing the envelope, she headed back to bed. Her own restless sleep was awaiting her.

"Sweetheart.” Heath shook her gently. He was dog tired and ready to crawl right in beside her, but he needed to shower first. “Chance."

She grumbled and swatted at his hand. It was then he realized she was wearing one of his t-shirts. His heart gave a heavy thump in his chest. Did she miss him so much? The letter on the counter looked tempting to read, but he needed sleep right now, and it was a thick envelope. He was afraid that it was a Dear John letter. He didn't drop that fear until he entered the bedroom and saw her under the covers. He sat the letter on the dresser and let out the breath he had been holding.

"Chance, Sweetheart, I'm home.” He leaned over and inhaled her scent. She smelled warm and womanly. He kissed her cheek. Giving up on trying to wake her, he headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

"Heath?” she called his name right as he flipped on the bathroom light. “You're home!"

Before he could say or do anything but turn around, she was on him. Climbing him like a tree. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, crushing him in a bear hug. “I stink. I need a shower."

"You don't stink.” She sniffed him. He watched her face scrunch up. “You do stink."

"Yes.” He smiled at her. “One of the cows foaled as we were bringing them back."

"What?” She looked at him like he just grew a second head.

"She gave birth, calf was stuck, had to reach in and pull it out.” She let go of him like a hot potato. He laughed and stripped his boxers off. “I already put the clothes in the wash, and I did clean up a little. Damn, I'm beat."

"Did you see my letter?” She seemed wide awake now. He started thinking waking her up to say he was home was a bad idea.

"I did, but I didn't get to read it. I will first thing in the morning though. I just want to sleep for a few hours first,” he reasoned and stepped into the shower.

She stood there and looked at him through the sliding glass door. “How's your horse? Is he tired, too?"

"Why would Romper be tired?” Heath slid the door, so he could see her. If someone took his horse out, he would be pissed. “Who rode him?"

"You,” she said and gave him another skeptical look. “Didn't you take him or did you ride Bobby John's horses? Did the cattle run from you? What was it like to help that cow give birth?"

Uh-oh. She was awake and curious. He would love to tell her, even show her what he did out there, but not tonight. “Sweetheart, can we cover this in the morning?"

"I guess.” She shrugged, and her bright eyes dulled right in front of him.

He let out an exhausted breath. “We didn't take horses. We rode the ATV's. No they didn't run from us. A few were pregnant and didn't move fast. As far as delivering, I was just glad we didn't need to do a C-section on her."

"You can't do surgery on a cow!” She gaped at him in shock.

"Sweetheart, I have
done
surgery on a cow. When I was eighteen, I did my first. I'm good at being a cowboy, but I'm better at loving you.” Maybe if he sugar coated things, she would let him sleep. He wanted nothing more than to collapse next to her and pull her in his arms and smell her hair. The thought of her soft body aligned with his was soothing.

"I never knew you did ... all that.” She looked thoughtfully at him as he dried off. “You must be exhausted."

Okay, so she was a little slow to catch on, but eventually she got there. “You can say that."

Chance took the towel and dried the rest of his back off. “Come on, Cowboy. I'll rub your back while you fall asleep."

He thought for a moment he heard her say she was going to rub his back. He watched her remove his boxers and t-shirt. She then climbed into their bed. His dick stirred, but sleep outweighed lust at the moment. He turned out the bathroom light, walked the short distance, and climbed in bed. He let out a nice groan of relief as his body found the mattress.

"Roll over,” she directed.

"I just want to hold you.” He reached for her, but she pulled at him trying to get him to roll onto his stomach. He really didn't have the energy to protest.

"Now, close your eyes and rest,” she said as she straddled his butt. Her hands started at the base of his spine, and by the time they reached his neck, he was floating off into oblivion.

Chance opened her eyes to find Heath staring at her. Startled, she snorted and blinked several times. “You scared me."

"You're drooling.” His smile widened. “You sleep like the dead. I wish I could sleep so sound."

Wiping her mouth, she found no trace of drool. He laughed and said, “I was kidding."

"Meanie.” She tried for a frown, but it flipped into a smile. She was so happy he was home again. “I missed you."

"Yeah?” He reached for her and pulled her into his strong arms. His warm chest was welcoming. “How much?"

"Oh, just a little bit,” she teased.

Heath wasted no time in flipping her onto her back. “I'm going to eat you up this morning."

"Really?” She could feel her heart as it began to pound against her ribs. Sex had become a new and exciting adventure for her. Each journey Heath took her on led to inexplicable pleasure. She was all set to be devoured by him this morning.

He didn't answer with words, more like a growl. Heath started kissing her. His lips were insistent and demanding against hers. Big callused hands gently caressed her body.

A knock sounded on the door.

He lifted his head and looked down at her. It took a couple seconds for things to register. She realized his mother was on the other side of that door as the knock sounded again.

"Who the hell is in this...” He pushed up as though he was going to nab an intruder.

"It's your mother,” Chance said quickly as his hand reached for the door. He was butt ass naked about to be shocked and possibly slapped if Emmy Johnson was faced with an angry naked Heath.

"My mother?” He removed his hand from the door knob as if it suddenly turned to fire. Chance tried to stifle a laugh but failed.

"Yes. She spent the night,” she said as the knob started to turn.

"Chance?” Emmy Johnson called out from the other side.

"Hold on, Mom.” Heath grabbed the door knob and held the door closed. “We'll be right out, just two minutes."

Chance smiled at his naked back. The muscles flexed, and his butt cheeks hollowed from the effort of holding the door closed so tightly. He definitely did not want his momma walking in right now.

"I think you can let go of the knob now.” She patted his butt cheek, ran her thumb across her name before opening her closet, then entered into the vast space. “What should I wear today?"

"What is my momma doing here?” He let go of the door and moved to lean against the doorjamb of her closet.

"You need to put some clothes on, Cowboy. I won't be able to concentrate if you don't.” She winked at him. Pulling out a peach bra and panty set, she began to get dressed.

"Chance, what is my momma doing here? She hasn't stayed here in ... are those silk?” His head tilted to study the panties she pulled on.

"We, uh, well, we sorta had a few drinks last night.” She fastened the bra, thankful the new undergarments made him somewhat distracted.

"You got her drunk?” he asked with less concern than she knew he intended. Did he like watching her dress? One look at his impressive hard on said he did. Then again, it was morning, and they were about to make love before the knock on the door.

"Of course not."

"I like the other one better,” he said as she reached for a pink t-shirt. Slowly, she moved her hand to the green one, watching him watch her. He nodded. She pulled it off the hanger and slowly pulled it on. When it passed over her head, he closed the distance between them.

Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he said, “I can't wait to watch you do this again in reverse, Sweetheart."

Heat pulsed throughout her core at those words.

"Get dressed.” She pushed at his chest. “Now. Or your momma will be waiting a while."

Laughing, Heath turned to leave her closet. She grabbed a pair of well worn jeans and slid them on. They felt a tad bit snug in the waist, but she hadn't worn them in a while. By the time she slid into the flip-flops and reentered the bedroom, Heath was dressed. “Not fair."

"What?"

"I wanted a show, too.” She tugged at his t-shirt, and he bent to kiss her.

"You'll get one later.” He kissed her lips once, twice, and then groaned as he put himself at arms length away from her. “Damn, this is not what I wanted to do this morning."

"Come on, Cowboy.” Chance opened the door.