Bucked

“Maybe a picnic?” I write.

“Sounds good.”

“Pick you up at six.”

When she climbs into my truck, she looks radiantly beautiful. And goddamned sexy as hell. She isn’t done up like she had been in the restaurant, all legs and tits and ass and hair, but she looks more subtle. She’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a white blouse that falls off of one shoulder. And I can’t see a bra strap on that shoulder either. She has flats on, after those killer shoes in the pub, but her legs look as long as ever, and her ass as pert.

“Hi,” she says, shyly.

“Hey there, don’t you look pretty as a picture,” I say, and watch the pink blush creep up from her neck. She’s nervous, and I guess on some level so am I. It’s been years since I cared what a girl thought. Now I’m wondering if my old game is gonna work with this new player. Or will it turn her off? Aw, who cares. I just like her is all.

I put my hand out and grab hers which was resting on her denim-clad thigh. I pull it over to me and immediately it’s like her hand is made of electricity. I know they talk about sparks flying, but for us it was more like when my uncle used to weld. A nonstop stream of sparks that had no intention of stopping or slowing. Is she feeling it too?

“So you want to have a picnic?” I ask. It’ll be the second meal we’ve eaten today, but what the heck.

“I’m up for pretty much anything,” she says, and then suddenly covers her mouth as her eyes open wide. “I mean,” she starts, but doesn’t know how to finish.

“I think I know just what you mean, Canada,” I say smoothly. “Me too. But I had an idea of a place I wanted to take you, as long as you don’t mind it being out in the country.”

“Not at all,” she grins, relieved. “I haven’t seen much out of the city yet.”

“Let me tell ya, there ain’t much like the Texas sky when it’s filled with stars. It’s a beautiful sight.” I let go of her hand, reluctantly, but only after I draw it lightly against the stubble of my jawline. The touch of her skin makes me shiver inside. I can’t wait until I have her alone.

“So we’re going to eat something?” she asks.

“I had one of my staff make up a little picnic for us in case you were up for it,” I say, then suddenly I realize that I went a little too far. Too much information. Does Canada need to know that I have staff? Probably not at this point. I don’t want to give the impression she’s struck gold, though I can’t imagine at the same time she’s digging for it. She’s too good for that.

“Oh,” she says. “That sounds lovely.” Her hands go back into her lap, and she sits demurely, making me want nothing more than to slip my hand between her legs and rub that sweet little pussy of hers until she groans and throws her head back like she did in that restaurant. I’ve never been with a woman who looked at the same time like she didn’t need it but would enjoy it so much. “Should we turn the radio on?” she says.

“Yeah, I hope you like country music,” I say. “That’s pretty much all we get around here.”

“That sounds fine with me.” She turns her dark shining eyes my way. “My dad used to listen to it up north. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come to Texas, because it always somehow seemed like a magical place to be. Somehow a home away from home.”

“I guess it is. Sometimes,” I grin. But magical?

Apart from the vast starry sky and the millions of gallons of oil under the ground, I’m not sure there’s anything magical about this place. Unless it’s a kind of dark magic. Because the whole time I’ve been here, I’ve felt that we left the magic behind somewhere. Lost it in the drive for more and more money. Yeah, sure, I like my money, but do I chase it? Not one bit. What I want to find in this world can’t really be bought with money. Now don’t get me wrong, I know my money can do a lot of good, and that’s why I built the place for the kids, and staffed it with the best people that money could attract, but aside from that, money doesn’t buy happiness.

A few minutes with this incredibly beautiful woman on the other side of a bench seat, though, that could.

I pull onto the highway, and we’re plunged into the near sunset. I want to make sure that I show Canada the Texas sunset and the stars, and the rolling hills of the countryside. We drive along in silence apart from the sound of Hank Williams crooning on the crackly radio. It doesn’t feel one bit awkward to me at least. Canada’s checking out all the sights, just like I want her to, seeing the land that is part of me, even as it tried to eject me. Or its people did. Texas herself always seemed pretty kind to me, the dirt welcoming. Not prejudiced.

And that’s what I want to share with Chastity, that vision of this place, untainted by the rednecks and children of the rednecks who didn’t have time for me until we struck oil on my mother’s property just out of town.

Hard to explain to a girl from up north what things were like for me, and probably unnecessary. Just show her the good side, and keep her away from the bad. If that’s possible.

“Listen Kent,” says Andrea, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” I pull her close behind the bleachers, and kiss her red-lipsticked mouth. “You sure seem ready,” I say. She always had, ever since I laid eyes on her at the start of the year. The head cheerleader at all the football games, Andie was the girl all the boys beat it to, talked about, fantasized about taking to the prom.

“But I’m only seventeen,” she pouted. “And I shouldn’t be with someone like you anyway.”

I pulled away from her. She had to be kidding. “Someone like me?”

“You know what I mean, Kent,” she says, wheedling. “My papa would never allow it anyway, for us to be together.”

“Who says we need to be together?” I mutter. “You think you’re good enough for me?” My bravado was all I had, aside from my new good looks, and I intended to use it for all it was worth. “Really?” I laugh harshly.

“Don’t be like that,” she says, tickling the soft new chest hairs that sprout out from my plaid shirt. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”