Page 45 of Dodge
“Oh yes, that’s fine. The others in our Pagan community will pitch tents. Book it!” they said as one, so I booked it. The joy was unfettered for the two redheads. Dahn just looked confused by it all.
“What’s Samhain?” he asked innocently enough.
I got a dirty look from my ginger relatives. “Tsk, tsk, Dodge,” Aunt Joey mumbled under her breath. The topic of discussion, other than how nice the website looked, fell into talk about differing religions, whether potato salad should have relish in it or not, and how many games of jacks my mother had won at the age of ten. We then had to explain jacks to my son, who merely appeared befuddled before leaving us to go play a video game.
Ollie draped his arm over the back of my chair, the warmth of his big body seeping into my side as I leaned into him. Baker and Ford got into a vibrant word battle over what to call the nearly completed second cabin. Time sailed by pleasantly as the two bickered back and forth over truly goofy suggestions.
“Why not just keep with the bird theme? Randy Robin Cabin!” Granny tossed out as she and Mom worked on putting a peach pie together.
“Or the Wanton Warbler!” Mom chimed in with a titter.
“Oh! What about the Passionate Pigeon?” Aunt Joey asked. Ollie and I sat back, enjoying the silliness until Hanley entered with a camera, a cut on his cheek, and a satisfied look. Back from snapping images of antelope under a setting sun or a black bear crossing a log.
“Salacious Swallow,” the photographer said before kissing my brother on the mouth.
“That’s what I called Dodge the other night,” Ollie casually said. The others roared. I blushed to the tips of my cinnamon hair. A vote was made right then and there. After being outvoted, I sighed and typed “Rentals on the Double S cabin available in November” and closed the damn webpage.
I glanced over at Ollie. “You’re going to pay for that one, Sheriff.”
“You love it, and you know it.” He nipped at my earlobe.
Yeah, I did love it. And him. I loved him a whole lot. And maybe it was time to tell him, so I resolved to do that just as soon as the perfect time presented itself.
That time arrived about four hours later. The night was coolish. Some of the tight grip of summer was loosening just a bit as autumn began to wiggle in. We were all out in the yard, sipping cold lemonade as Dahn and Bella entertained us with sparklers tied onto the ends of their batons. I was hoping he would now pick up a baton and twirl once more. He had so enjoyed it before he fell in with the wrong crowd. Perhaps with some new friends at his side, he could embrace who he was fully. A beautiful young man who loved goats and spinning sparkly batons.
Ollie and I were resting our weary backs on the windshield of his Jeep. The stars were bright, the moon a slim sliver, and the Bastian clan well fed and happy as clams. Granny, Mom, and Aunt Joey were on the porch, two on the swing and one in the old creaky rocker, clapping on the baton twirlers. Linc and Ford were seated on the top step of the porch. Baker and Hanley had drifted back inside to get some cold drinks about half an hour ago and had not emerged since.
I pointed that out to Ollie, who had his arm behind my head as a firm, sexy pillow.
“We’re playing poker next week. I will bring up how rude it is to sneak off to get a piece when you have guests,” he replied with a trace of the imp in his deep voice. I chuckled at the thought and then sighed out in utter contentment. “Was that a contented sigh or a bored sigh?”
“A contented sigh.” I glanced up at his face, shadowed slightly in the soft yellow from the porch light. Handsome, proud. “I cannot think of one place I would rather be than right here and right now.”
“I don’t know. A padded bench would be a lot easier on my ass,” he pointed out with a slight wiggle of his backside. He brought his attention from Bella and Dahn running about the yard like two giddy pixies. “All kidding about my rump aside, this is just about perfect. It’s been great having you and Dahn at my place for the week. I almost wish your mother would stretch out her visit so you could stay longer.”
“Mm, yeah, I feel that way too.”
He cupped my chin to tip my head back more. Just a little. “Do you really? Would you like to do it again sometime? Maybe for the weekends, or perhaps consider making the move something permanent in the near future?”
My mouth got dry. I wet my lips. “Are you asking me to move in with you? You do know I bring a ten-year-old boy who never picks up his dirty underwear and has no concept of what covering your mouth when you sneeze means, right?”
“I know all that. And I am still putting the offer on the table. Think on it. Don’t answer right now. Just let it simmer on the back burner like a nice venison stew. Soften up the meat and all that.”
“I generally prefer my meat hard and not soft.” I stretched the few inches needed to place my mouth on his. The kiss was tender, filled with the warm touch of a fading summer and the sweet and sour taste of the lemonade he’d just had. When itbroke, I ran my fingers along his smooth, angular jaw. “I will surely think on it, Ollie. I love you.”
He drew in a shaky breath, his fingers cradling my cheek as the rest of the night melted away, leaving just him and me atop his Jeep with the bronze star.
“I love you too. You and Dahn both are so special,” he confessed, his words soft and heartfelt, before capturing my mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the first one a moment ago. This one was thrumming with desire and love, and it swept me upward into the clear, dark Sooner sky where I could touch a star.
“Dad, are you two making out?” Dahn shouted to shatter the moment. The Jeep shook as my son climbed up over the hood, his baton in hand, a few sparks fizzing off it as he held it aloft. “Oh yeah, you were. Sorry. Is it too late to have a banana split?”
My son sat there on his heels, hair stuck to his cheeks—it desperately needed to be cut before school started on Tuesday—and waited.
I looked over at Ollie. “What do you think, Sheriff?”
“I think there is no bad time to have a banana split,” he said, reaching out to rap knuckles with my son. Dahn skittered off the hood to race over to Granny on the porch, no doubt saying that Ollie gave his permission for ice cream and fudge topping.
“You’re a soft touch, Ollie Ahoka.” I tried to sound mad, but there was no real ire in my voice. How could there be? This evening had been as perfect a night as a man could wish for.
“Only for the people I love.”
And how damn happy was I that my son and I were in that elite category?
THE END
