In the morning, I woke up feeling like I couldn’t tell where real life dropped off and my dream began.

Had last night been real?

Had I really enjoyed incredible sex with a guy I only barely knew?

A man who haunted my ranch like a ghost and appeared out of nowhere when the occasion suited him?

Was I really that stupid, and yet still that romantic?

There would be time to think about those questions later. Right now, I had laundry to wash and bed linens to clean.

I was thrilled to have fully functional running water. It wasn’t hot water, thanks to the lack of a water heater, but at least it was water. I went out to the back porch where a variety of pots and washtubs hung on hooks from the wall of the house.

One tub, leaning up against the side of the house, was so large that it could only have served as a semi-bathtub, so I dragged it up onto the smaller back porch and began filling it with buckets of water from my tap.

After a solid thirty minutes of filling, I began gathering up my clothes, dirty from the days with little to no water. I began pushing them under the water, adding generous sprinkles of soap powder and stirring the whole thing with a large wooden paddle.

There was still room enough and no need to waste water, so I added the blankets and sheets from the bed and threw in a few towels.

There was a knock on the door, which both surprised and scared the shit out of me. When I opened it, Mustang stood at the foot of the porch.

I smiled awkwardly at him. I didn't really know what to say to him now.

Were we a couple?

“Morning, Leah,” he said simply with a polite nod and a tip of his cowboy hat.

“Morning,” I repeated.

“Do you have a minute?”

“I was going to wash some clothes, but I’ve got a minute, sure,” I said as I stepped out onto the porch. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m not really sure how to answer that question.”

“And why is that?”

“I can see by your expression that you’re just as confused as me.”

“About last night?”

“About what happened between us.”

“Tell me about it,” I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. “Is it supposed to feel this awkward the morning after?”

“Do you feel awkward?” he asked.

“Do you?”

He looked at me and narrowed his eyes slightly.

“I asked you first.”

I opened my mouth to answer but hesitated. What if I gave the wrong answer? What if I told him the truth and he left again? What if I lie and he leaves as well?

He raised his eyebrows expectantly and studied my expression.

“It’s weird,” I finally said. “I don’t know how to act or what to say to you.”

His shoulders drooped slightly, and I didn't think he wanted me to notice, so he shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“Why is that? Is that normal?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Probably because we don’t really know each other that well?”

He studied my face a moment and nodded.

“We never really got to the part where you told me about yourself. Maybe we should’ve done that first before…you know.”

I smiled slightly.

“We weren’t thinking straight.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away from me.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” I exclaimed. “Last night was great. It was incredible actually.”

“But?” he asked.

“But what?”

“There’s always a but,” he muttered.

“No buts this time.”

“Is it okay with you, what we did?” he asked.

“It was more than okay, like I said,” I answered.

“No, I meant you and me.”

“There’s no law to say that we’re not allowed to do whatever we want,” I said.

“And what exactly are we?”

“We’re two adults who need to talk about this. I’m glad you came here this morning.”

“I suppose.”

“Maybe over dinner we can talk some more?” I suggested.

“I can’t,” he said. “I have some things to do.”

“Well, then I’ll come with you.”

“No,” he said suddenly and looked at me with wide eyes. “You can't come with me.”

“Why not?” I asked and crossed my arms.

“Because you have all that washing to do. It’ will take you most of the day to wring it all out and hang it up on a line.”

I sighed.

“You saw all that, huh?”

“If I can give you a bit of advice, next time don't wash it all at once.”

“But it’s all dirty,” I said, throwing up my hands. “Why not?”

He shrugged and looked at me for a short while. He was clearly reluctant to leave, which was a good sign.

Damn! This man was hard to read.

“Are we okay, Mustang?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, not understanding my question.

“Are we okay?” I asked and motioned to the space between us.

“I suppose we are.”

“It’s a yes or no answer.”

“Then yes.”

“Okay, great,” I said with a smile, feeling a lot more hopeful than I had a few minutes ago.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Later today?” I asked. “Tonight? We could sit outside again.”

“Maybe,” he answered and started to walk away.

“Hey,” I called out and he looked at me over his shoulder. “Will I ever know where you go when you disappear? Will you ever tell me?”

“Maybe one day,” was his answer.

He smiled briefly before he turned away and disappeared, the way he always did.

It baffled me as to where the man disappeared to, but at least he was willing to consider telling me where he went one day, even if his answer was frustratingly vague.

I wondered if he had a big tent set up somewhere. No, that wouldn’t make sense either. A tent would be more claustrophobic than a building.

I went back into the house and closed the door, hoping that everything was indeed okay between us, and carried on with my washing, completely ignoring Mustang’s advice.

I couldn’t see what difference it would make if I washed everything at once. I would rather get the job over and done with, rather than having to fill the tub again.

When every stitch of clothing or linen was in the tub, I began to stir feverishly, reaching in from time to time to scrub at a stain I remembered on a certain article of clothing.

Rather than go through the hassle of this lengthy chore again anytime soon, I added the last articles of clothing that needed a good washing, shimmying out of my jeans and stripping down to nothing to throw in my shirt, pants, and panties.

Nobody was here, and the only other person who was around had already seen everything I had. Of course, with my luck, the mailman would come out this way today for the weekly delivery.

After soaking all of the items under the water, I went inside for a snack while the soapy water worked its magic. Then I went out back to drain and rinse my laundry before hanging it up to dry on the clothes line that stretched from the house to the corner of the outhouse.

After I wrung out each piece one-by-one, I carried each item inside for a good rinse under the tap then carried it directly outside again to the clothesline. The drips of water splattering my floor would be helpful later, as my next chore was going to be to scrub the floors with a healthy dose of soap and elbow grease.

When everything except the heavy bed quilt was finally fluttering on the clothesline in the breeze that had picked up, I drained the water and set about rinsing the quilt.

When I finally felt like it was as soap-free as possible, I spread it out in the front yard across the stumps from the porch, hoping the sun would do its job in record time.

My eyes traveled to the spot near the ring of stones where my fire had been, a place where the grass was broken down and crushed from the night before.

There hadn’t been any doubt in my mind that me and Mustang had made love there, but seeing the flattened spot in the grass both amused me and made me feel a twinge of guilt.

I shook off the feeling as I spread my quilt out to dry.

Back in the house, I got to work on the dirty floors, not wasting any of the soapy water that had sloshed during my laundry chore. I worked on all fours, laughing at the mental image of a naked woman on my hands and knees and grateful that I didn’t have this kind of wild streak back when I lived in the city. My neighbors in Seattle could clearly see straight into my windows.

The more I scrubbed, the more water droplets I seemed to find. Sitting up on my knees in frustration, I jerked when a drop of water landed on the back of my neck and rolled quickly down my spine.

I looked around in confusion, then looked up just as another drop came from above, splashing right on my forehead.

All around me, drops of water fell from the ceiling.

“Oh, shit,” I sighed as I realized that another rain storm was almost overhead.

I got up and began pulling out the pots and pans I’d used for the previous storm, placing them as best I could under the holes and trying to line up the containers with the splashing water. When I went out to retrieve one of the larger tubs to dump the collected water in, my eyes immediately went to my wet laundry, still hanging on the clothesline.

“Oh, shit no!”

I started to step off the porch to retrieve them. When I realized they were still so wet that the rain wouldn’t make them any wetter, I let it go, watching all my clothes hang limply in the increasingly heavy rain.

The bed quilt in the front yard was not only soaked, but getting muddy now too. Hoping to remedy that, I ran out front and retrieved the quilt. Flipping it over, I tossed it over the burnt-out tree that still stood in the front yard, letting the rain wash the spots of rust-colored mud out of the blanket.

Dejected, I went back in the house to dry off but realized I didn’t have so much as a tiny dish towel to dry off with.

Every stitch of my clothes and every bit of linen was outside in the rain.

Fuck!

I swore not to let something as silly as screwing up my laundry get me down.

I should have listened to Mustang.

He must’ve sensed the storm was rolling in earlier.

Instead of crawling into a corner and crying, again, I pulled the giant tub that I’d washed the clothes in inside the house, positioning it near enough to the sink and stove to fill it with heated water. I grabbed the remaining tubs off the back porch and filled them, setting them on the stove to heat.

It took long enough, but I finally had enough boiling water and enough tap water combined in the large tub to take a decent bath. I lowered myself into the tub and immediately felt myself relax.

I soaped myself in slow, smooth circles, letting my mind wander to the way Mustang had touched me last night, remembering the delicious way he had physically and emotionally connected with me.

With the hot water moving around my skin and the rain drumming against the roof, I drifted off to sleep only to wake some time later with a painful crick in my neck from leaning against the metal edge of the tub.

I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but the water had turned ice cold, as had the rest of my house.

Looking around frantically for something to dry off with, my eyes rested on the burlap curtain that covered the closet. Stepping out of the tub and tiptoeing carefully across the floor, I took the curtain off the nails that held it in place and shook it out the best that I could, dismayed when clouds of dust flew up into the air.

Gross.

So much for my bath.

I wrapped the dusty curtain around my body, rubbing my arms to get warm. I went back over to the stove and turned on both stove eyes, grateful that the previous owner had gone with electric as I held my wrinkled hands over the heat coming off it.

As I stepped outside to grab some firewood from the covered back porch, I looked at the sky and saw no signs of the rain letting up.

It took me several tries, but I was finally able to get a fire going in the small fireplace and soon curled up next to it to try to get warm.

Where the hell was my big, strong Army man when I needed him?

By bed time, the rain was still coming down with a vengeance. I’d eaten my dinner still huddled by my fireplace, wrapped in my sad little curtain. All that was left was to make up a bed near the fireplace and try to stay warm.

I pushed the small couch over closer to the heat, as close as I dared without fear that it would go up in flames and arranged the couch cushions on the floor to try to funnel more heat in my direction. I stacked more wood on the hearth next to the fireplace and cried myself to sleep.

By morning, the rain had lightened somewhat to a hazy drizzle, and I kept looking out the windows for any sign of a sun that could come out and dry my clothes. I thought about running out and grabbing something off the line to wear still wet, hoping my body heat would dry it eventually, but the distance between the porch and the clothes was practically a lake of red clay mud.

Instead, I busied myself cleaning the inside of the house while still wrapped in my curtain.

By nightfall, the rain that had come and gone throughout the day finally left, leaving a delicious, fresh smell behind. If I hadn’t been so forlorn and cold, I would have loved to wrap up in heavy blankets and sit on my porch, maybe even sleep out there all night, breathing in the pure air. Instead, I spent another sad night on the floor by the fireplace, waking every hour or so to add more wood.

At some time during the night I thought I heard a noise, and my heart leapt with the possibility that Mustang had finally come to check on me. I pushed that thought away when I remembered that he would never come inside anyway and began to hope instead that it wasn’t another squirrel.

In the morning, I felt my eyes fill as I cried real tears of relief at the sight of the blazing sun coming up over the rocky walls that ringed the valley. I ran outside naked and felt the clothing on the line, relieved that most of it was only very damp and not still completely soaked.

Maybe once the sun rose all the way up and dried things off, I’d have something to put on by bed time, and be able to sleep in an actual bed with real sheets and everything.

“Why in the living hell are you standing in your yard stark naked and crying?” a booming voice called from beside the house.

I shouldn't have been surprised that he had once again appeared out of nowhere but I still I jumped at the sound of his voice and ducked under the clothes line, hiding myself behind the laundry.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “And why do you keep sneaking up on me?”

He didn’t reply, obviously waiting for his question to be answered since he had asked his first.

“If you must know, I’m crying because I’m happy that it’s stopped raining, and I’m naked because all my clothes are wet,” I said in a huff while sniffling and wiping my nose in an unladylike way on the back of my hand. “Are you happy now, Mustang?”

I could see him trying to suppress the grin playing around the corners of his mouth. Was he going to laugh at my mess?

“Didn't I tell you not to wash all your clothes at once?” he asked sternly. “I tried to warn you.”

“You did.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I never listen,” I said. “And because it takes me a long time to learn a lesson apparently.”

“Why would you wash all of your clothes at once? What would you do if it rained?” he asked, apparently still not taking in the situation.

“Well, duh, as a matter of fact that’s exactly what happened. I washed all of my clothes two days ago and have been freezing to death ever since.”

“You shouldn’t do that again,” he replied flatly, eyeing the quilt where it hung over the dead tree. “You might catch pneumonia or something. It can get cold out here at night. Your delivery is almost here.”

“What delivery?” I asked, confused.

“The roofing supplies. I can hear the truck.”

“Oh crap! I forgot about that! I got so upset over the rain and the laundry that I forgot I told them to bring them. Ugh!”

I dashed from the laundry line to the backdoor, hoping to sprint fast enough that Mustang wouldn’t get much of a view, only to find that it was still locked from the inside. I rested my head against the closed door and shut my eyes, opening and closing my fists.

It was a coping mechanism I’d taught myself during my years working at my job when I was feeling particularly stressed out. I’d relied on it several times a day when working in the pressure cooker of my job.

Since being out here, I hadn’t needed the small gesture once, not even while chasing bats, rats, and snakes out of my house.

Holding my head up high and squaring my shoulders, I walked proudly naked around the side of the house, right past Mustang’s gaze.

When I stepped up on the porch, I heard the strangest, most amazing sound, a sound that stopped me in my tracks. I stopped to listen, not certain I was really hearing it.

Mustang was laughing.

An honest, real laugh bellowed out from deep inside his chest. I looked at him over my shoulder and shook my head at him in disapproval, which only made him laugh harder.

His face was lit up in amusement and his eyes were sparkling.

I was completely blown away.

If I hadn't been completely naked at that moment, I would’ve walked right up to him and kissed him.

Right then and there.

Not even caring if the delivery man saw us.