Soup
I'D NEVER PICKED UP a guy on a first date before, I realized, as I headed up the steps to Will's farmhouse, wearing a sleeveless, long, navy blue sundress that reached my ankles, and rope espadrilles. Sure, I’d picked up guys before, I’d asked out guys before, I’d initiated sex with guys before, but this felt different and more intimate—to walk up to his home from my room and get him for dinner. This wasn't a normal date.
Although I bet he asked me to come over because it was more convenient than him hanging around the bunkhouse, I thought that it reflected the strange balance of our relationship. I mean, I met him when he was naked and angry and then he immediately saw me almost-naked. He made the first move on me by making it clear what he wanted to do to me, but I made the actual first move by kissing him. There was a teeter-totter aspect to our new relationship, whatever it was—he didn't have all of the power and neither did I. I wasn’t the type of woman who wanted him to be in charge of everything, make all the arrangements, and come to my door with flowers, sweeping me off of my feet.
He’d already given me candy, though.
And was taking me out to some unknown place where he’d made the arrangements.
Hmmm.
Not gonna think about the feminist thing right now.
Having learned my lesson to not barge in on the first day, I lifted up my fist to pound on the door, but it opened and Will stood there, looking down at me. Fuck me, handsome boy. He was wearing a dark blue, plaid, western-style shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, but on him the clothes looked like they belonged, rather than a costume. His biceps and shoulders filled out the shirt, and he smelled fresh out of the shower.
Setting aside the politics, I was so amused to be dating a cowboy. I wondered where his hat was.
Before I could do anything, he grasped my wrist firmly, but gently, pulled me in the house, closed the door, pressed me to the wall, and kissed me, the whole length of his body pressing into mine. Naturally, I kissed him back and it was yummy.
"Hello to you, too," I laughed, when I could breathe again. He smiled and kissed my forehead and then took an evaluating look at my face.
"Did this hurt?" he asked, tracing my eyebrow piercing.
"A little," I said, "but it was also a total rush. I understand why people get all sorts of things pierced, because it feels like a high."
"I get the idea of pleasure mixed with pain, darlin'" he responded, looking at me closely.
I shivered at his words.
He traced his finger along the tattoo down the inside of my arm, and then continued, "Let's go get dinner before we don't make it out of here."
We walked over to his truck, which was now clean. I felt honored that he'd washed it for me. He opened my door and helped me up, Gentleman Will on display. Trixie came bounding up to go with us, and he let her up into the truck bed. To add to the list of new experiences that I was compiling this evening, I could now add that I'd never been on a first date with a guy and his dog before.
As we drove down the bumpy dirt road to the freeway, I filled him in on the parts that he'd missed with the kids from last week. He especially wanted to know how Clarissa liked everything and he seemed to really care that they all had a good time.
I didn't notice where we were going until we pulled up to a restaurant in Buellton, a small town near the ranch.
"Pea Soup Andersen's?" I asked, incredulously. A kitschy traveler's mecca, it had been here for decades, and advertised by signs with a couple of cartoon mascots who were splitting peas for split pea soup. Will gave Trixie water from a bottle and tied her to the side so she wouldn't go anywhere while we were eating.
"The soup's vegan.” And he gave me a look, kind of triumphant for having already thought of it himself.
Ohmigod. He could really be sweet.
We walked through the tacky tourist shop and made our way to the old school diner in the back.
Consistent with the theme, the hostess was attired in a pseudo-traditional, Danish outfit. She seated us at a dark, naugahyde booth, old fashioned water glasses were placed on our fake wood table, and we ordered—me, soup and beer, him, pot roast and beer.
While Will was not a chatterbox by any stretch of the imagination, he was interactive, attentive, and polite, and I relaxed into a fun date. We ate, we talked, we laughed. Will paid, and we left the restaurant, giving Trixie attention before we headed back to the ranch in the truck.
Well, it was a fun date until he made an asinine comment, as we pulled in the compound, about the upcoming Presidential election, showing that he liked what a potential candidate—and coincidentally, a complete idiot—was saying.
And then he revealed that he voted for Bush. Twice.
Excuse me? How could he?
There was no way that anyone sane would agree with this candidate and no way that I could be with someone who voted for Bush.
It was a litmus test and Will failed.
What was I doing with this guy?
I was letting down the cause. I was an idiot for thinking that I could do this.
Had I been blinded by his body?
Clearly. We were such polar opposites. This wasn't going to work.
"I can't believe you would listen to anything that moron says," I snapped. "He's the worst thing ever for our country," and I stalked out of the truck. He let Trixie out and walked over to me and looked at me. "You believe in all the wrong things."
"I could say the same thing about you," he said sharply, with amusement under the edge in his voice.
I looked up at him, masculine and beautiful in the moonlight. And I was pissed. We had such a good date. But now I’d come back to reality and he was still the guy who called me names with whom I'd never see eye to eye. Finally, I spoke. "I don't know what we're doing. We shouldn't date. We don't have anything in common." Even though I knew it was true, saying it hurt for some reason.
"Oh no? I think we do—" he started to say, but I interrupted.
"Just don't talk to me," I snapped, and started to walk back to my room. "I don't want this to go any further. We're never going to get past it. I'm never going to agree with you on basic stuff that matters to me and that matters to you, so why should we bother?"
He hustled in front of me and stood there, blocking me, stopping my progress, holding up his hand, eyes on mine.
"We talked about this, Marie," he said in his low voice. "You're not gonna agree with me on a lot of things, and I'm not gonna agree with you. So what? Take it out on me," he invited, lifting his chin with his half-grin.
I paused, exasperated. "I'm not going to hit you, Will, even though you deserve it for voting for that imbecile and thinking the way you do. I'm a nonviolent tree hugger, remember?"
"That's not what I'm talking about," he rumbled, his eyes boring into me, his burly presence overshadowing me. He paused. Then he continued. "This is the part where we have angry sex."