Keys
"OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DARLIN'."
I obeyed and licked the sweet, slightly salty white cream that Will held out for me.
And then I let out a loud moan of pleasure.
Oh yummmmmmm.
Sea Salt Cream & Cookies flavor ice cream.
Three years of no ice cream, that is, no real ice cream, made McConnell's taste even more exceptional. If I went non-vegan, Will was right, this was an excellent way to do it. It was tasty and it met my ecopolitical objectives—a family-owned business since the 1940s that used local, high-quality ingredients, and didn't have the bad shit in it.
And it was a date, with my boyfriend, buying me an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Thinking about the word boyfriend made me feel all squishy in my belly. I wasn’t used to calling him that, but if we were together, wasn't he my boyfriend?
My boyfriend, Will Thrash.
I needed to think about that sometime. I needed to talk to Amelia about that too. Now wasn't the time, though. Now was the time to enjoy my treat.
"What do you think?" he asked, pulling the cone away from my lips.
"Itsogood," I groaned and I grabbed the cone from him. He had bought his own chocolate cone to eat.
As I licked my ice cream, Will watched me, paying attention. I played it up, giving my ice cream cone lots of tongue action, moaning and dribbling cream on my face. What can I say, as usual, it was fun to goad him. A patron or two noticed. But all he did in response was to narrow his eyes and ask me quietly, leaning over, cool lips brushing against my ear, "How much more of our two weeks do we have until I can get you naked and fuck you?"
My response was to lean back in my chair, grin at him, lick my ice cream all the way around the tip, and then slurp it up loudly, never losing eye contact with him.
He groaned and went back to his own ice cream cone.
I'd driven Will to Santa Barbara in my biodiesel Mercedes Benz, windows down, hair blowing, sunglasses on both of us. He dutifully sat in the passenger seat, but he didn't belong there. As a feminist, I didn't want to admit that, but he was not used to being driven; he was used to driving and he was used to driving in his big ol' truck. It was funny how much that little thing pushed his boundaries. He made no comment, but I could tell that he was uncomfortable. I did, however, let him befoul my radio with country music.
As we drove, we talked about the ranch and about the Headlands Program and the fact that there had been no major aftershocks from the earthquake. While Will was still Will, meaning not a chatterbox, he answered my questions, most of the time with more than one word, and asked me plenty of questions about where I lived in Santa Barbara and where we were going.
The clock hit lunchtime once we got there and I drove him to a vegan cafe. He looked especially pained when he reviewed the menu, but he ordered pasta with vegetables and ate it.
Then we went to the ice cream shop.
Once I finished my cone, I needed to go run a few errands.
The first place we went was my apartment. I had a tiny studio downtown, with not much in it. Even though it ate into my paycheck to pay the rent all summer, I didn't want to let it go because it was in such a great location. I packed a bag of more clothes, checked my mail, and grabbed a few other things that I had forgotten.
As I did this, Will looked around my apartment. I decorated in early stereotypical hippie, with tie-dyes, tapestries, paisley prints, candles, scarves, and incense everywhere. I had photographs of my friends, especially Amelia, crammed on every surface, and my refrigerator covered with art from the preschool where I had worked. Will walked around slowly, looking at all of it and not saying a word. Once I packed up, he carried down the heavy case and I carried a box and a bag of stuff. We put them in my trunk, and headed to Tri-County Produce, my favorite grocery store, which was supplied by local farms.
As we walked in, I immediately saw an ex-boyfriend, Jeremy, who Amelia called Man Bun, working there.
Oh shit.
Awkward.
Well, he was one of the many guys before Will. There were lots and lots of them, and they just didn't do it for me. Not like Will. Man Bun, while cute, was boring. Not an ounce of originality or enthusiasm about anything. He’d probably smoked out all of his brain cells anyway.
Still, I couldn't ignore him.
"Hi, Jeremy, how are you?" I asked, as we walked down the bulk aisle.
"Marie. Hi," he said, enthusiastically, and then he did a doubletake when he saw Will, who looked like a Burning Man god in that shirt. Man Bun recovered and asked, "So where have you been? I haven't seen you around in a while."
"I'm working up near Buellton," I said, "at Will's ranch. This is my boyfriend, Will Thrash."
Will's eyes shifted to me for a second at the word "boyfriend," but then he leaned forward to shake poor Man Bun's hand with what I was sure was a burly man death grip. Oh dear. Man Bun didn't wrestle bears in his spare time the way Will did.
"Will Thrash of Headlands Ranch?" asked Jeremy. "I think we're stocking some of your berries right now. Want me to show you?"
I nodded and we walked over to the fresh produce, which took up half of the floor space of the place and, sure enough, there were Headlands Ranch berries there. "I don't think we need to buy them, do we Will?" I asked.
"We've got plenty at home."
I thanked Jeremy, stocked up my vegan supplies, and got the hell out of there.
We filled up my gas at the lone biodiesel fuel station, Will looking at first repulsed and then slightly interested, and then we drove back to the ranch.
Home.
I let Will drive.
When we got back to the ranch, he parked, got out, went into his house without saying a word, and as I was taking things out of the trunk, he came back with something small, and put it in my hand.
"A car key?"
"Key to my truck. I'm not fucking riding in that again."
"Thanks," I said and kissed him. He helped me carry the bags to the bunkhouse bedroom and then left, whistling for Trixie, so that he could go and check on the fields. I dropped my groceries in the kitchen, and then went into the bunk room, where both Janine and Stephanie were sitting on their bunks, chatting.
I threw my keys and Will's key on the bed and my purse down, and then turned to unpack my new things.
Janine, noticing the extra truck key, asked, "Did you get another car?"
"No. Will gave me the key to his truck."
She looked shocked. "Did he really? Wow."
I looked at her questioningly.
She continued, with a knowing glance at Stephanie. "Well, it's kind of a joke saying, but if a cowboy gives you the keys to his truck, you know he's serious. It's almost more than an engagement ring."
Ohmigod.