“You’re over cookin’ the corn,” Mama fusses at me. “The grill can handle it without your assistance.”
I pull my attention away from where Oliver and Ollie are engaged in an in-depth conversation I know I have no interest in, but feel I should be over there at least attempting.
When my eyes meet Mama’s she snickers, “Will you quit your huffin’ already? She’s not over there plottin’ the best way to trade you in for him.”
The idea furrows my eyebrows. “Why would you even say that?”
She laughs again at my expense, rotates the corn, and states, “Because it’s too much fun not to.”
“Mama.”
“Runt,” Pop joins in at the same time he offers me a cold beer. “That woman over there loves you. Nothin’, and I mean nothin’, is going to change that.”
With a heavy sigh, I take the beer, and give the situation one more glare.
I know he’s right, but something feels off about this weekend. It shouldn’t yet it does. We’ve had an amazing time so far. A little too amazing. The kind of amazing that only happens right before God throws you a curveball you don’t appreciate. Yesterday she came in earlier than anticipated. We had just finished the press photos and needless to say we celebrated privately in my office. Twice. Afterwards we toured the facility, let Princess Pinky enjoy some fun in the mud, and then engaged in a bubble bath all our own. Family time started first this morning with a walk around my parent’s personal property and hasn’t let up since. Ollie’s constant wheezing from being overexerted has kept us all laughing in good spirits. She snickers, pokes fun at herself, and just keeps going. My whole family has been nothing but welcoming to her. Approval at its finest by the comments on marrying her they keep making. This is what deepens the anxiety in my gut. Things with Ollie have always been easy. Easier than either of us could’ve ever imagined. Maybe that’s why I’m on edge. Every couple has to fight through something…at some point. It’s how you know you want to be in the relationship together.
“Runt.” Pop flicks me in the ear.
“Ou!” I wince and give him a roiled look.
“That’s what you get for not listenin’,” he chuckles. “Now open your beer and stop worrying about that woman.”
“She’s fine,” Mama repeats, now removing the corn. “She wouldn’t keep shooting you naughty smirks over here if she wasn’t.”
I groan and guiltily grip the back of my neck.
“That’s right Ford Bradley, I know a dirty look when I see one.” She turns around and offers me the container. “I’ve been giving them longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Mama.”
“And damn good at ‘em too,” Pop says, his free hand grabbing her ass.
“Pop!” Blake snaps as he approaches the situation. “Tell me I didn’t just see that!”
“You did,” our father states proudly. “Complain about it and you’ll see it again.”
“You take that,” I instruct to my brother, “and I’m going to rescue my girlfriend.”
“You mean run interference?”
Blake’s comment catches a glare from me.
“Oliver is laying it on pretty thick over there. Think I heard him mention something about having her come over and touch his joy stick?”
Pop gives him a hard hit to the stomach with the back of his hand. “Behave.”
Nope. Not funny. Not even remotely funny. Doesn’t matter if I’ve had her, what matters is I keep her. And nothing and no one is going to get in my way of that.
I arrive at the picnic table my parents bought specifically for outdoor gatherings like this. The two of them toss their head back in unison over something hilarious, and I have to stifle down my desire to growl in jealousy.
“What’s uh…what’s so funny?” I casually ask and use the edge of the table to take the top off my beer.
Ollie tries to calm her laughter as she peers up at me, big brown eyes filled with mirth.
As much I am grateful to see it, a tiny portion of me hates how I wasn’t the one to put it there. It’s wild. I was never this jealous over Carol Ann. Not once. She had men lined up around the corner, in her back pocket all the time, not to mention ‘go to’ guys she would drop by to see the minute we broke up, and I never gave a damn. I used to think it was because I knew eventually she would wander back home to me like she always did, but now? Now I know it’s because I never loved her the way I do Ollie. If at all.
“We were just talking about looting in Hyrda,” she begins. “Your brother’s one of those people I hate in the game.” Her giggling begins again deepening my concern. “He’s a total loot stalker. Always waiting for someone’s deed to collapse, so he can steal their shit.”
“They’ve got good shit,” Oliver argues.
I drop down on the seat beside her and drape my free arm around her shoulder.
“It’s fucked up to take someone’s horses.”
“That’s…community services.”
The two of them partake in another round of laughs.
I have a sip of beer to wash away the building bitterness. “Why’s stealing funny?”
“It’s not stealing,” Oliver corrects. “The shit’s abandoned. Like I said, I’m just doing a service cleaning it up.”
Ollie snickers again. “You’re so full of shit. You just want the best horses you get the most money for.”
“And the fastest,” Oliver adds with a sly smirk. “If I’m going to travel, might as well make it quickly.”
Their shared laughter has me adjusting myself closer to her again.
Stupid. Ridiculous. Childish. And I can’t stop myself. Lord help me.
“You hate horses,” I try to join the conversation I’m obviously lost in.
“Real horses,” my brother agrees. “They’re big, smell like shit, and have an uppity attitude.”
“Then why would you want them in a game?”
“They serve me well there, not to mention they’re not real, Runt.” He turns his attention back to my girlfriend. “He doesn’t get it.”
“He doesn’t.”
My glower returns, but only momentarily.
Ollie gives my thigh a gentle rub and lovingly looks up at me. “But that’s okay. I teach him cool shit like how to snipe zoom with the mouse while he teaches me things like how to put a worm on a hook.”
“Which is completely different than how you assumed it would be after a Google search.”
“Not completely different. But I did actually learn how to do it from lessons with you.”
“And you still hate to do it.”
“They’re slimy,” she gags and shudders.
“I don’t like ‘em either,” Oliver admits.
Hearing how they have something else in common continues the building dread.
Okay, so Ollie was right. Maybe I didn’t want them to meet because I was afraid of this exact scenario. Being the third wheel. Being the one PBS children would easily point out not being like the other. But I try! For her, I try to get into some of the games she not only helps design for but that she likes to fiddle with while I watch football or am cooking dinner. I try to play them when she’s cooking as a fun way to keep us connected. I will always make the effort for Ollie. She should know that. Hell, she’s gotta by this point or I really am a shitty boyfriend.
“I do like making out on the dock.”
Ollie’s confession curves my smile upward victoriously. “I like that too.”
Oliver shakes his head at the sight yet keeps his mouth shut, which is definitely for the better.
All of a sudden my seven nephews come flying to the table informing us in a jumble of mutters dinner is ready. The three of us relocate to the other two tables where the adults are settling and immediately grab seats to partake in the passing of the plates. During dinner the conversation is littered with laughs, adolescent tales, and more sexual innuendoes than predicted. Between my parents and my brothers, the conversation never stays away from the gutter for too long. The ten of us shovel back ribs, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, and asparagus, though Ollie avoids the vegetable swords as she jokingly calls them. For dessert, we gobble down cherry pie, vanilla ice cream, and Sienna’s famous cheesecake. After everyone has finished and the boys have returned to terrorizing each other, Pop insists we handle the dishes since the women handled so much of the cooking. When Mama promptly agrees, I notice the suspicious gleam in her eyes. Without warning, she along with my sisters-in-law, kidnap Ollie and claim they’re just slipping away to change before we all go dancing.
About an hour and a half later, Pop has the boys and Princess Pinky wrangled in front of the television watching as well as reenacting a western movie while my brothers and I are sitting around the front porch of my house waiting to get going. Wally’s Wild West doesn’t typically get crowded for another hour, but it’s nice to get there and have a round of beers before the wait gets insane.
“This is exactly why we never go out,” Eddie complains, putting out his cigarette. “It takes her half the fucking night to get ready, and I’m stuck talking to the airhead babysitter about some Shadowhunter’s thing she’s fired up over. I don’t even know what the fuck that is!”
“It’s a T.V. show dumbass,” Blake informs from where he’s sitting on the step across from me.
“Why the hell should I know that?” Eddie argues.
“Yeah. He’s not bangin’ his babysitter. He’s not required to know the most relevant television shows or Taylor Swift songs,” Big Foot pokes the situation. “Both of which I am sure as shit you know.”
“That’s what happens when you stick your dick in between a pair of legs that just graduated from high school,” Oliver adds with a wide grin. “At least you waited until she was officially a college freshman this time.”
“At least I’ve had sex since I was in college.”
“I’ve had sex!”
“With someone other than yourself.”
Big Foot chuckles as he rests his arm against the pillar. “And here we go…”
I shake my head and look up at him, their squabbling continuing. “You’re just gonna let ‘em go at it?”
He shrugs. “They’re fucking grown ass men, Runt. It’s not my place to step in anymore.”
Growing up? Always right in the middle. Like a mini Pop. Usually it only took a couple words in a loud volume to cease their fighting, even when we got older. In a way we all look up to Big Foot for the same advice and support Pop gives us. He may not be his junior in size, but he is in mind. Even the way he’s raising his boys is similar to how we were brought up. The rest of us might screw up future Shaw generations, but Big Foot gives my parents hope that their legacy and business will live on.
His eyes cut the two of them a side glance. “At least not until fists are thrown.”
Casually, I state, “I give it four minutes before that happens.”
“You are such a pain in the ass!” Oliver shouts, causing Blake to rise to his feet.
“You get on my last goddamn nerve,” Blake bites back now too close to Oliver’s face for my own comfort.
“Knock it off,” I command.
Before the situation can intensifier further, the front door to my two-story gray brick house, swings open, releasing Mama.
“If the two of you don’t quit hollerin’ like you were raised in the back barn instead of the house, I will make sure that’s exactly where you sleep when you come home tonight.”
Both of my brothers shut their mouths tight.
Doesn’t matter how old you are. When your mother basically tells you to shut the hell up, that’s exactly what you do.
“Now everyone have fun tonight,” she says on her way past me. “Stay out late. But drive safe. And if anyone needs a ride after midnight you better call Uber and pray they wanna drive out this far because my ass ain’t comin’.”
We all laugh loudly.
“You ready?” Sienna’s voice asks, drawing our attention back to the front door.
“Waitin’ on you,” Eddie tries his best not to snip.
She plops a hand onto her jean shorts covered hip. “Edward Shaw please do not ruin this night before it even gets started.”
He surrenders his hands, but looks down at me and mouths, “Don’t get married.”
I hide my chuckle behind my hand at the same time she pops him in the arm. While I’m expecting an argument to ensue, she gives her dark brown hair a ruffle, and coos, “Why don’t I remind you why you did…”
Her slow stroll backwards grabs a faint groan out of him. Like a dog desperate for a bone, he follows her, saying he’ll save us a table if they get there first.
“Who am I ridin’ with?” Blake questions promptly.
“Damn sure not me,” Oliver mutters.
“Of course not. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to understand the importance of a vehicle with more than two seats. You’ve never been invited to the back before.”
“You can ride with us,” Dawn chimes in, “but I swear we will leave you there to fend for yourself if your ass isn’t ready to go when we are.”
Big Foot gives a short chortle yet states, “You heard my wife. She makes the rules.”
“Pussy whipped,” Blake tisks.
His large hands pull her against him so her back is flushed to his front. “Every happily married man is pussy whipped to a healthy degree as you just witnessed thirty seconds ago. Unlike Eddie however, I completely understand when it’s time to be lead and when it’s time to…” Big Foot grabs her butt. “Take charge.”
She squeaks. “Let’s get goin’…I worry Mama is going to change her mind about watching the boys when she realizes Will and Wy’s bed time routine now consists of begging for a spoonful of peanut butter because Dad thinks it’s okay to treat the children the same way he does the dogs.”
Rather than argue he nudges her forward.
I stand to my feet and ask, “Where’s Ollie?”
“Here,” my girlfriend’s voice pipes up.
The moment my attention lands on her my body melts against the railing. Completely speechless, I allow my eyes to drink in the celestial sight of her curly hair dangling from underneath one of my cowboy hats, her plump chest squeezed into a tight white t-shirt, and her ass tucked into a pair of cut off blue jeans I know don’t belong to her.
“Damn,” Oliver comments under his breath, yet loud enough to still be heard.
My jealousy from earlier increases exponentially. With one toss of my head, I firmly command, “Go.”
He doesn’t hesitate to walk away.
As irresistible as Ollie looks right now I wouldn’t hesitate to put a hurt on him so bad calling it an ass whooping would’ve been selling it short.
Once Oliver’s a safe distance away, I turn back towards her, still floored by the look.
Ollie’s eyes try not to fill with nervousness from my lack of response. “Do I look okay? I’ve never been to a country bar before. Or…really many bars before.”
“You look like a dream come true, Darlin’,” I whisper out and close the distance between us. “But not the mother of my hog.”
She surrenders a small snicker at the same time her arms wrap around my neck. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” My hand tilts her chin up so our eyes can stay connected. “But I don’t want you to think for one goddamn minute you need to be anyone other than the woman I fell in love with and keep fallin’ in love with every day.”
Relief floods her expression. “You really do love me just the way I am, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
She grins sweetly. “Maybe a little more with these cowboy boots on?”
I give her a playful shrug. “Maybe a little…”
Ollie fakes offense, swats at my chest, and starts laughing again.
“Where’d you get those anyway?”
“Apparently Dawn and Sienna conspired this little ensemble for me when they heard I was finally coming out to dinner-”
“See-”
“And wanted me to have the whole ‘country experience’ down to the shorts and boots.”
I let my eyes graze over the outfit once more. “They really are the best sisters-in law a guy could ask for.” Ollie attempts to nudge me away, yet lets out a small whimper when I yank her against my growing cock. “What do you say we…are a little late?”
“Ford…”
I let my lips fall to the crook of her neck. “Keep sayin’ my name and we’ll be alotta late.”
Ollie’s girlish giggles melt away as we back up into the entryway of the house. With a small kick of my foot, the front door shuts, and we fumble around the corner into the living room. The two of us manage to stay tangled during our couch landing, but shortly after, she pulls back with a seductive smirk. While my plan was obviously to get her naked and those boots in the air, the look in her eyes lets me know she has something completely different in mind.
She adjusts her straddled position in my lap. “I know you wanted a quickie on the couch…”
I nod with a smile, loving the way her tiny fingers are now toying with the buttons on my shirt.
“But once these shorts come off, they aren’t coming back on.”
The joke successfully receives a laugh.
“Dawn basically had to hold me down while your mother and Sienna sewed them on.”
My hands firmly grip her ass to check for proof the shorts are tighter than they look.
“So I was thinking…” her words trail off as does her touch.
Entranced with every move she pulls, I follow it down to between her thighs where she gives my dick a good grab. My fingers flex in a preventative form and she moans in enjoyment of the coarse action. Carefully, Ollie crawls out of my lap, tits making sure to brush my body in the process. The moment she’s on her knees, hat tossed to the side, she wastes no time loosening my jeans and helping me shed them along with my boxers. I barely have time to catch my breath before her blazing mouth is bathing my cock. A raw rumble lurches from my lips at the same time my fingers wind themselves through her thick locks. I shut my eyes tightly. I make a strong attempt to steady my breathing. Ollie swallows me further, praising every inch of my dick with wet whirls determined to make me come on impact, regardless of all my efforts to do the opposite. I grip tighter as a precaution yet she interprets it as encouragement to slip me to the back of her throat. The tip of my cock begins to caress the unfamiliar territory with celerity.
I don’t need her to deep throat me for it to be a great blow job. It’s not a requirement she chokes on my dick for me to find satisfaction. I’m not that type of man. Never have been.
Prepared to remind her of the fact, I force my eyes open. However, the enticing vision I am being granted causes my balls to tighten in desperation to explode. Ollie’s beautiful head of bouncing curls is bobbing while her tight, round ass is not only peeking out from underneath her shorts, but slightly swaying side to side. Astounded with the visual stimulation on top of the physical one, my eyes fall closed again, this time clamping down as tight as they can go.
Knowing I’m not going to last much longer, I allow myself to completely submit to Ollie’s ceaseless efforts. An unusual intoxication fills my system from the licentious licks, long, lewd moans she’s leaking, and the loving efforts of trying to ‘conform’ with a lifestyle she never saw herself in.
I give Ollie’s hair one final, sharp pull to warn her of my breaking point. She sucks harder and it darts my eyes open to see her staring up at me with excitement. My balls clench to the point of pain and my cock erupts between her succulent lips. Ollie continues sucking, draining me of what feels like an endless orgasm. Groans wrestle with grumbles until my entire body gives way. The feeling of her tongue cleaning up every last drop left behind on my sensitive dick and balls sends shivers down my spine. When she finally releases me, I lifelessly slump down, and struggle for more air.
This weekend just keeps getting better and better…I pray to God I’m just being overly paranoid about something bad happening. Nothing can keep me from loving Ollie, but it doesn’t mean I want nor need that fact tested when things are this perfect.