CHAPTER 4
Laura
The cool water washes over my naked body in the shower. It feels good to finally get cleaned up after that long bus ride. I’m actually surprised how nice the Greyhound was. I was expecting worse, but it was okay…just no shower.
I squirt some shampoo into my hands and lather it, before laughing. It has a very masculine scent and I know there’s no point in turning off the water and looking around for something for a women. He’s not going to have it.
He’s just a man out here on his own with his baby girl. He’s living a Spartan existence and I see plenty of areas where I think I can improve their lives. I like that I’m going to feel useful and helpful right away.
But what would help me is to know a little more about Mandy Sue. He said he couldn’t take credit for her looks. Is that because he’s saying they all came from her mother? That would make sense, if he was trying to make a bit of a self-deprecating joke, but I didn’t get that impression from him. It was almost as if he was saying Mandy Sue wasn’t his child.
Maybe she’s adopted? I can’t help but wonder now, but there’s no way I’m going to come right out and ask.
I feel a breeze and turn my head to the wall in the shower, noticing a small open window.
What in the world? I step over towards it and get my bearings, realizing no one can see in. And by no one I mean him. It’s not like there’s really anybody else out here. I think the bus was driving about a mile or more in-between houses. In some cases it was a lot more.
But I do see him. What is that he’s…oh no he’s not.
He’s got boards lying across two sawhorses and he’s sawing them. It’s already warm today and if he does what it looks like he’s about to do it’s about to get a lot hotter.
He reaches for the bottom of his white T-shirt and pulls it up and over his head and throws it across the sawhorses.
“Oh my,” I say.
He’s got on his blue jeans, his boots, and a big ol’ belt buckle attached to the brown leather belt around his waist.
And from the waste up all he’s got on is a bunch of rock hard muscles covered in beads of sweat.
“Double oh my,” I say. I slowly count his abdominal muscles, making sure I didn’t make a mistake. “A dozen oh my’s!” I say.
His abs are hard and defined, but that’s only the beginning. I follow the beads of sweat up his body to his chest. His big, wide, thick chest that looks as solid as the oak tree he has growing in his front yard. Oh how I want to get my hands on his chest.
And subconsciously my hand drifts a little lower from my scalp down to my midsection.
His shoulders flex as he saws the board, making quick work of the thick lumber.
He takes the two pieces and then reaches for what appears to be sandpaper, moving it in a clockwise and then a counterclockwise position over the board.
I make the same motions with my fingers over my clit, and then stop.
What in the world am I doing?
Pull yourself together, Laura. You just got here and you’re already masturbating to the guy you’re supposed to be babysitting for? Terrible idea.
It’s terrible partially because I’m not really sure if I’m going to be his babysitter or his nanny. He’s letting me stay here rent free the first week while I look for a place and get settled in, assuming everything went well with our first meeting.
My backup plan was to backtrack to Dallas or continue on to Tucson if not, but it’s apparent that both Plan B’s have been firmly removed from the table, in part to the firmness I saw him sporting at the top of the driveway this morning and the firm muscles he seems to have covering every single inch of his body.
But I can’t help but notice the irony. In my relationship with my ex I was never really that turned on. Maybe that was subconsciously one of the reasons I wanted to wait to be with him. Now here I am and all I can think about is jumping this cowboy’s bones, even though I have no idea what I’d be doing.
Maybe I’m just emotional from the break-up and wanting to show I’m worthy of sex too. Maybe it’s some sort of weird revenge thing, even though my ex and my ex-bff would never know. That’s a psychological rabbit hole that only a psychiatrist would be able to help me out with, and I have no plans on seeing one anytime soon.
And I’m not about to take my eyes off him right now, even if I’m not going to see this current fantasy through to the end.
But what is this fantasy actually?
He said something about making a deck now that he has a family so that he can have barbecues. Now that he has a family? What exactly does that mean? I mean he’s not planning on feeding his baby spicy ribs and chicken wings anytime soon is he?
I sure hope not, and that’s probably part of the reason I’m here in the first place. I’m guessing part of my responsibilities will include making home cooked meals and keeping this cowboy satisfied.
I just wonder how much he’s going to be open to satisfying me.