Silas

I should wait for Ebie in the truck, but I wait in the hallway. She needs to leave. I haven’t slept a full night since she showed up. I’m fucking tired and when I get tired like this I fuck up. I’ve already dropped a crate of peaches this morning and I accidentally stepped on Emma, our alpaca’s toes, while I was trying to get her back in her pen. I know she needs somewhere to stay. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want her here.

I look down at Joe Namath and Morty crowded around my feet and I know that’s a lie. I want her here and that’s the problem. I like having her here. There are two reasons to keep busy: ’cause you have a lot of shit to do and because you don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone for a long time and now that she’s here, I see how much I really hate it.

Scott’s the real problem. I think Ebie hates me, but for some reason she also seems to get me. After last night I think she gets me more than most people. In the short time she’s been here, she’s tried harder than most people to understand me. I still can’t get beyond her connection to my worthless brother. I hate that he brought her into my life to fuck up my schedule and give me a mouth to feed and someone to protect.

And I hate that he got to know her first. I hate that he knows more about her than I do and I really hate knowing that if she hadn’t found herself in this shitty situation, I never would have met her. I hate even more that I have to keep whatever is happening between us a secret. My mind stops the shittiest thoughts in their tracks. Thoughts I know I shouldn’t have, because it’s not about getting even with my brother. It’s about the way she makes me feel. And like always, there’s not shit I can do about it.

I look up when I hear my bedroom door open. I want to tell her how beautiful she is. She looks like a model in the new rainboots and raincoat she’s wearing. She looks like a model all the time. Next time we’re alone in my bed, I want to take more time touching her hair, kissing her face. Yeah, but there shouldn’t be a next time, I have to remind myself. There won’t be a next time.

“Everything fits. Thanks,” she says as she reaches down and scratches Joe Namath on the head.

“Good. You ready?”

She straightens up and puts her hands on her hips. “Listen. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No. Just didn’t sleep well last night. I’ve been dropping the ball all morning.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she says, and then she cracks this little smile that’s sexy as fuck. I’m not looking directly at her, but I can see it out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes are like a truth serum and I don’t want to tell her how late I stayed up looking at her face while she curled up against my chest. “You want to skip the movies tonight then? So you can sleep? I could probably use some more sleep too.”

“No!” I say a little too quickly. We make eye contact, and I immediately look away. “No. I really like to get off of the farm at least once a week and three trips to Target don’t count. Besides, I force myself to take Sundays off for this exact reason. I need to reset.”

“Okay…” she says, like she’s afraid to make any sudden moves around me. I think about grabbing her and kissing her again, but that will probably make things harder when I get up the strength to tell her we won’t be having sex again.

“Let’s go.” I head out the front door and hold the screen open for her to duck under my arm, then quickly move it when I remember she’s taller than most women around here. I need some fucking sleep. I need her to leave. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Excuse me.” She squeezes by me and pulls the front door shut behind her. I let the screen slam shut and march off to the truck. I almost don’t open the passenger door for her, but I rethink that, walk over and open it so she can climb inside.

I think she wants to talk as I drive her over to the cafe, but I’m not in the mood. So I fill the silence with useless information about the farm.

“The cafe and the mercantile are still open when it rains, so we still do okay business.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” she says, her tone light, like she’s trying to be gentle with me. It won’t work.

“If it clears up tomorrow, Mason will come out at sunset and play the bagpipes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Wait here.” I slam my truck into park and climb out before she can say anything else or ask questions. I run inside and grab the breakfast burrito and hot chocolate I ordered for her from Shelby, who has it waiting for me at the hostess stand. My acceptance of Ebie’s thanks when I hand the stuff to her is more like a grunt than an actual “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll drop you at the cannery. There are no tours on rainy days so you can have the place to yourselves.” I tell her as I’m already backing out. It’s less than a fifty yard walk, but for some reason I want to take her myself.

I lead her in through the side door and immediately shudder at the cold blast of AC that keeps the bugs out. She follows me to the kitchen.

“Hey!” Ginny and Maya both yell when we walk in.

“Hi,” Ebie says with a smile. “Is it okay if I eat this in here?”

“Absolutely! Come on in. Gimme your coat,” Ginny says.

“Morning, boss,” Maya says to me.

“What’s up?”

“What climbed up your ass?”

“Me,” Ebie said.

“Oh no. Trouble in paradise already?”

“No, I think he just wants his bed back. I toss and turn like crazy and I’m driving him nuts,” Ebie says. I don’t know why, but her version of events irritates the fuck out of me until she winks in my direction. She’s getting me back. If she has to play this game, so do I.

“I’m leaving,” I say.

“Oh come on!”

“Silas! No! Oh my God! Please stay, please!” Ginny and Maya say at the same time.

“Fuck you both.” I grab a few clean blueberries out of the large metal bowl on the counter and turn to leave.

“Don’t mind him,” Maya jokes. “You should meet his dad and his brother. All the McInroy men are moody.”

Ebie doesn’t say anything. She just laughs. She’s good at pretending to be polite.

I head back to my truck and as soon as I turn the key, my phone rings in my pocket. I fish it out and curse when I see MOM INTERNATIONAL on the screen. I have to answer.

“Hi, Ma,” I say.

“It’s Dad.” My father’s accent is always thicker when he spends time back home.

“Oh, hey.”

“She told me to ring you so she could talk to you and then she went into the other room. Iolana, do you want to talk to the lad or not?”

I hear my mom yell something in the background, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.

“She’s telling me to hold my horses. You’ve had a bit of rain that way?” Dad asks.

“Yes, sir, but we’re doing fine. Reggie and I scouted this morning and we didn’t lose too much product.”

“Right, good to hear. I should have brought some Family Jam over ‘ere. Can’t find anything like it. Yer mum misses you.” Seamus McInroy code for “I miss you too, but I’ve been letting your mother express emotions for us both since the day I met her.”

“Miss you guys too,” I reply. “And I’ll send you some jam. Just ask.”

“Talk to yer mum. I’m sure she has a whole shipping crate worth of things she’ll want ya to send over, as if she won’t be back to sort it all for herself in a few months.”

“Are you guys still coming back for Christmas?”

“Ya—here’s yer mum. Keep yer head dry,” he says. Before I can respond, my mom’s on the phone.

“Silas Domhnall McInroy.”

“Shit,” I let slip out under my breath.

“Oh shit is right. You have a girlfriend and she’s staying in my house.”

“It’s his house, Iolana. Back off the boy,” I hear my dad say.

“His house, my foot. Okay, out with it,” she says, even though she’s not done mumble-ranting. “Have to hear it from the boy’s cousin.”

“Wait. Mason told you?”

“He was the first person to tell me. We were with your uncle when Mason was doing the

right thing and calling his parents first. And then I got an email from Lucy this morning.”

“Lucy Pringle emailed you to tell you about Ebie?”

“Are you going to tell me about her?! Where did you meet this girl? It sounds serious if she’s

coming to visit the farm like this.”

“Mom. Mom. Hold on. Why are you pissed right now?” I ask her.

“Because!” Holy fuck. She’s crying. I sigh and pull off my baseball hat, then rub my forehead. I don’t need this right now. I don’t need the reminder that my parents could trust me with our family business, their home, or land, but somehow I’m so fucked up on a personal level that the fact that I have a girlfriend—,a fake fucking girlfriend who isn’t even mine— sends her over an emotional ledge.

“Mom.”

“Give me the phone,” I hear my dad say, but my mom hushes him.

“I’m fine. This is your first girlfriend, and—”

“I know how old I am, mom, and I know how pathetic this all sounds.”

“Honey, no one is calling you pathetic. I’m just—”

“Scott’s never had a girlfriend either,” I say. The girls he’s fucked on the way up don’t count.

“Scott’s—different.”

“Right. It’s always different with Scott.”

“Her name’s Ebie?”

“Yes. It’s a nickname. It’s short for Elizabeth,” I say. I have to give her some bit of truth.

“And you met her online?”

“Yeah. I signed up on a dating site last year, but it took me a while to link up with her.” Another half truth. I did try a few dating apps, but nothing panned out.

“How much longer is she staying in town?”

“A few more days. She’s on vacation and we left it open just in case she decided she didn’t like me when she met me in person.”

“Of course she likes you. You’re wonderful. I want to talk to her.”

“She’s at the cannery right now. Maya and Ginny are teaching her how to make blueberry jam.”

“Oh that’s great. Tomorrow then. I want to talk to her. I want to see her. You two FaceTime me as soon you get up.”

“We will.” My head starts to throb.

We talk a little longer. She wants to know about what’s going on with everyone and everything who didn’t call or email her about Ebie. She wants to make sure Honeycrisp knows she misses her. I get an earful about how they should have been able to bring her to Edinburgh with them. She tells me to call Scott. We hang up after that. I don’t call Scott, but I text him.

I consider throwing my phone through my windshield and head back to the barn.

* * *

I give up trying to make anything of this bullshit day and head over to get Ebie at the cannery around five thirty. I’m busy thinking about how I left Art to deal with the mothers who showed up with nine kids between them, determined to get access to our petting zoo animals even though it says the petting zoo is closed due to weather right on the front page of our website.

I’m not in the mood to deal with Ginny and Maya’s shit, but when I walk through the kitchen doors all I see is the smile on Ebie’s face. Too bad I can’t share her enthusiasm.

“There he is,” Maya says. She’s wiping down the center countertop. They must have finished a while ago because the place is spotless.

“Hey,” Ebie says cheerfully. “I made. So. Much. Jam.” She gestures to the jars and jars of blueberry and Family Jam lining the rear counter with a dramatic sweep of her arm.

“Screw being a lawyer. Your girl has a future in jam,” Maya says.

“Do you want to take any of it with you?” I ask.

“Oh, uh sure. Can I?” she asks Ginny.

“Of course. Take as many as you like.”

“Thanks!”

“Where’s her coat?” I ask as Ginny helps her pile a few jars into one of our McInroy paper bags.

“Where we usually keep our coats?” she says, giving me a look like she knows I can’t be that stupid.

I walk into the small office space off the back of the kitchen and find her raincoat on the rack. I head back into the kitchen and wait by the door while they keep talking about how Ebie should come hang out again and how Ebie is welcome in their kitchen anytime. I don’t bother telling them that she’ll be gone in a few days. I’ll wait a few weeks until I tell them she’s never coming back.

“Ready?” she asks me with this bright smile on her face like I haven’t been standing there with her coat in my hand for ten minutes.

“Here.” I take the paper bag from her and hand her the coat.

“Yikes, girl. He’s still in a mood. Have fun with that shit tonight,” Maya says before she sticks her tongue out at me. I give her the finger, then usher Ebie out of the door. Once we’re back in the truck, she turns to me.

“Hold on.”

I take my hand off the gear shift and turn to her. “What?”

“I had a great fucking time with Maya and Ginny. Are you still tired or are you in a shitty mood? Do I need to settle in for a night of you being cranky as fuck? ‘’Cause I’d rather skip the movies if that’s the case.”

“I’m in a shitty mood because you’re here, but not for the reasons you think.”

She lets out a sigh. “Okay.”

“I want to take you to the movies. I want to take you on a real date. I wanted to spend the whole day with you.”

“Okay…”

“I like you.”

I look forward at the rain hitting the windshield. It’s nearly dinner time and it’s still full daylight out. I need this day to end.

Ebie doesn’t say anything for a while. When I glance back over at her, she’s facing forward. I wonder how long the two of us can sit there pretending I didn’t just tell her I have real feelings for her like some stupid kid who just confessed his undying love to the first girl he kissed.

Five minutes. We sit there in complete silence for five minutes. Five minutes is a long damn time.

Finally I feel Ebie turn to me. “You’re tired. So let’s not go out.”

“I said—”

“Wait. Just hear me out. Where’s your favorite place to eat around here? That’s not that cafe. Where would you take me and do they deliver?”

“I would take you to this Italian place I like called Andeloni’s.”

“Okay and what do you like to get there?”

“I usually get a family calzone.”

“And I bet you can eat the whole family sized thing yourself. They deliver?”

“Yes.

“Okay. Let’s go back to the house. You take a hot shower. Wash this long day off. We’ll get in our jammies, order takeout and watch a movie. I’m pretty sure I saw a television in the family room. That is a perfectly good date night in. There’s no point in going into town if you’re actually tired. Neither of us will enjoy that.”

She has a good point. I don’t really want to go anywhere. I just want to be with her. “I felt bad making you hang around the farm the last few days.”

“Well you said you take Sundays off right? So I’ll Yelp us a little brunch spot and you can show me around town. There is a town, right?”

“Yeah there’s a town.”

“Sorry, I’m city people. This is all very confusing to me. But how does that plan sound? Two dates for the price of one.”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” Decision made, I back out of the lot and head back to my place.

“I’m gonna pull up this Andeloni’s place and look at the menu,” she says.

“The calzone is all you’re gonna want.”

“Why? Is the rest of the food gross?” she asks.

“No, ’cause you can get basically everything on their menu in calzone form. Why not add bread?”

“No, no, you’re right. I enjoy a quality calzone. You never go down to the city, do you?”

“No.”

“Right. Scott. Well if you ever do, I’ll take you to my favorite Italian spot.”

I don’t say anything. We both know that’s not going to happen. Ebie seems to get it. She keeps her eyes on her phone. After a few seconds, though, she says my name.

“Silas?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too.”

* * *

The second I step into the shower, I realize Ebie’s plan has merit. I work out the knots in my shoulder in the hot water and I know there's no chance I'm going anywhere tonight. I'm too tired to be polite to a waitress. I'm too tired to drive safely in this rain. We’ll eat. I’ll try not to say anything too stupid or offensive.

When I get out of the shower, Ebie has already fixed up the T.V. room to look like I’ve used it more than once since last football season. The coffee table is cleaned off and there are lit candles in the center. She found my JETS beanbag chair and a few large pillows from upstairs and set them on either side of the table. She even found some of Mom’s candles. I have no clue where she found that box of matches, but the candlelight does set a certain mood. I look up at her. She’s in a small pair of plaid shorts and a tattered Miami Flames shirt that’s hanging off one shoulder. I like the way her hair looks, wavy and hanging right at her chin.

“You always look like a model,” I tell her.

“Is that your way of saying that you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful. I told you that when I first met you.”

“You did, but you know…” she gestures around us and I know she means that I can’t forget how and why we were together that first night.

“Yeah. For someone who isn’t a huge fan of dogs, they sure like you.” I gesture around the

room in the same way.

She looks around. Honeycrisp is curled up in my mom’s armchair. Morty and Gala are back on the dog beds by the fireplace, which I know they haven’t touched in months. Hank is on the floor next to Ebie’s feet and Joe Namath has half his body in the hallway and his other half in the room. He doesn’t lift his head when I look over at him, but he starts wagging his tail.

“They’re just bored. They think I’m going to put on a show for them.”

“They should be used to that kind of disappoint by now. I’m the shittiest dog owner. I don’t

even have time to play fetch with them. You want to me to order?”

“Oh.” She leans over the couch and grabs her laptop off the leather cushions. “Apparently you

can order online. I pulled it up already. Just add what you want and other important information, like your address.”

I take the laptop from her and check out what she ordered. Then I hand her back her laptop and go back to my bedroom to get my phone. I have Andeloni’s number saved in my favorites. My buddy Mark answers as I walk back into the TV room. I give him our order.

“If I placed an online order for this address, they’d think squatters had killed me. I always call in,” I tell her after I set my phone on the coffee table.

“Ah. Makes sense. Well I think our evening has officially started. Should we sit?”

“Yes. After you.” I wait for her to sit on the stack of pillows before I make myself comfort in the beanbag chair. “I haven’t sat in this thing in ages.”

“Yeah, the rooms upstairs look pretty untouched.”

I shrug and reach for the box of matches. “It’s just me and the dogs. Didn’t see much point in redecorating.”

“So,” she says folding her hands in her lap. I think this is the first time she’s actually smiled for me. “What would you like to talk about on our first date?”

“You,” I say.

“Me?”

“I've been talking all day. I want hear you talk.”

“Where should I start?”

“Wherever you want? All I know is that you’re a lawyer.”

“Right, so I’ve been an associate at Murrell, Dunne, Walmax and Wright for about three years. I specialize in Lanham act and false advertising suits, but currently I’m working on a labor dispute thing ’cause one of our partners is a fucking dick who always loves putting his favor files in my lap.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Sometimes I do. I’m good at it and I enjoy being good at things.”

“Okay. What else?”

“Oh, enough about the law. Let’s see. I have a little sister. Her name is Brooklyn. You want to see a picture?”

“Yeah.”

She reaches for her laptop and when she turns it back around, I see she’s pulled up a picture on her Facebook page. “That’s us.”

“She’s cute.” I can see where they look alike in their faces, but in the picture, Brooklyn is clearly shorter and a little heavier. She wears her hair long too.

“And fucking crazy, but I love her.”

“It’s just the two of you?”

“Yeah my parents died when I was nineteen. I had to get us both into adulthood.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a baby district attorney in the Bronx. That’s where we grew up. She’s great at it.”

“I want to know what happened in your apartment,” I say, turning the box of matches around in my hand. “Why would someone want to hurt you?”

“Uh—it’s more law stuff, really.”

“I hate my brother. I don’t hate lawyers. I went to law school too.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I went to Berkeley. Both of our parents are lawyers by trade. They met in law school.”

“But, wha—what are you doing here?”

“Running my family business. Back to you.”

“Uh, okay. Anyway. Do you know Belle’s Bee Cosmetics?”

“Yeah, we sell it in the mercantile.”

“Well David Dorrit Jr. wanted to throw something together for his faux hippie daughter so they started this company, Au Natural. They had some makeup and hair stuff that they were pushing using similar ad lines, saying that their products were made from real honey from these natural farms and shit. Well Belle’s sued because that’s their market and their stuff actually passes all of these federal regulations, so on and so forth. I did what I could, but we lost. I think it actually would have been fine, but his daughter Mackenzie got online with her two million Twitter followers and told people that Belle’s was full of shit. It was a mess.”

“So they blamed you, enough to want to kill you?”

“Apparently. My associate on the case left our firm shortly after. She could be dead too for all I know. Can we talk about something else?” she says. Her gaze drops to the table.

“Sure. Tell me about what you like to do in your free time.”

“I just run around the city with my sister and my friends. I’m not, like, a hobby gal. I work so much I just like to catch up with them when I’m free,” she says with her own shrug. “What should we watch tonight?”

“I haven’t really updated the DVD collection in a while.”

She gets up and grabs the remote to the cable box. I almost tell her it doesn’t work. I don’t pay the bill. I’m going to reup when the regular football season starts. She turns on the TV and to both our surprises, the cable is working. She starts going through the guide and turns to HBO. It works. I decide not to say anything.

“Oh perfect. Suicide Squad starts in ten minutes. I haven’t seen it yet. What do you think?”

“Sounds good to me.”

She sets down the remote and pulls one of the big pillows over beside the beanbag. It’s not exactly comfortable, but I don’t move when she puts her head in my lap. The delivery kid from Andeloni’s shows up a few minutes after the movie starts. Ebie manages to pause it while up, another feature I don’t tell her I was unaware of. We eat in silence. After we’re done, she tells me her ass is getting sore so we move to the couch. She pulls my arm over her shoulder and we’re cuddling on the couch. It’s not a first for me, but I don’t tell her how long it’s been since I’ve held anyone. She seems really into the movie so I don’t tell her how terrible I think it is. I fall asleep before it’s over.

* * *

I wake up and Ebie’s still in my arms. It’s her laughter that shakes me awake. I open my eyes and she’s watching that movie Clueless. I stay quiet for awhile and just enjoy the fact that she seems to be at ease.

She sits up suddenly and turns to look at me. “Hey,” I say. She doesn’t respond, but she licks her lips. “I want you again,” I tell her.

She swallows, then the tip of her tongue juts out again. I want to kiss those lips. “My rules still apply.”

“That’s fine.”

She stands and I watch her as she steps out of her shorts and then her underwear. “Slide down the couch, lay back.” I do as she says. “Now, put your hands at your sides. Keep them there. I mean it. No touching yet.”

“Why don’t you want me to touch you?” I ask.

“A decade of developing personal preferences.”

“I want to touch you.”

“And I want to feel like I’m in control of a man for once.”

“You think you don’t have complete control over me already?”

“Then show me. Keep your hands right where they are.”

“Fine.”

I let out a deep breath, then wait for her next order. This is some weird shit she’s into. It all seems so pointless, but if it’s what she likes I’ll do it. She lifts up her loose t-shirt and exposes her pussy to me. Now she looks like a porno model in the best possible way. She kept that stupid dress on all night the night before. How could she not understand how badly I just wanted to see her body? And when I was knuckle deep inside of her she wouldn’t let me look. She held me close as she rode my hand. She let me suck on her tits. It still wasn’t enough, but this is going to be much better. It already is.

She carefully climbs on the couch right over my head, her shins resting on my shoulders. I can’t see her face, but I can hear her voice just fine. I can smell her. She smells as good as she looks. Her pussy is amazing. Dark fat lips already slick with her wetness. I’m already hard, but my cock twitches in my jeans when I think about how her clit felt between my fingers. I almost reach up and wrap my hands around to spread her thighs a little more, but then I remember her rules. I leave my hands where they are.

“Kiss it,” she says. I lift my head and start licking at her wet slit. She jerks away, then leans over a little so I can see her face. “No, I said kiss it. With your lips. Kiss my pussy the same way you’d kiss my mouth. You wouldn’t go in tongue first.”

I try again, lift my head up and just press my lips to the top of her slit. I do it twice more before I turn my head a little. This time, when I press my lips to her wet skin, I use my tongue to part her open. She starts to move a little.

“Better,” she says and her voice sounds a little off. I must be doing something right. I try that again, pull my tongue back, use more of my lips and then my tongue again to find her clit. She seems to like that. She’s moaning. She tells me she wants more. So I give her more. I do what she tells me to do. I hold still when she starts to ride my face. I move my head when she tells me to fuck her hole with my tongue. I try not to come in my pants when she says my name and tells me how good it feels.

“Gimme. Gimme your hand,” she says suddenly. She’s starting to lose her breath. She lifts her thigh so I can get my right arm out from under her and then she takes my hand and shoves it up her t-shirt. She holds my hand to her tits, makes me massage her like she did the night before. She doesn’t say anything about pinching her nipple, but I do as she keeps moving her hips back and forth. She doesn’t stop me. She slides her fingers higher over mine and we pinch her nipple together. She says my name again and then she comes in my mouth.