Battle

With certainty, I do want more, and knowing that terrifies me.

The morning sunshine warms my bare skin. Oh Shit! My bare skin. My eyes pop open as I reach for my pounding head. Memories from last night filter through my garbled thoughts. I glance around the car and to the black down blanket on the floor, remembering how Battle retrieved it from the trunk last night to cover us up. I had nestled in close to him and fell asleep in his arms after we … Oh, God … We…

I’m naked in the back seat of my car with all the doors open. I hear Battle chuckle before he pops his head in and says, “You might wanna cover up.”

He nods toward the front window. I quickly grab the blanket and cover myself as I inch up in the seat. When I brave a glance out the window, I see Old Man Parson tucked inside of an enormous John Deere combine. His giant smile only increases my humiliation. I shrivel back into the seat. As Battle walks around the car closing the doors, I hear him say, “Yes, sir, we’ll be on our way now. Have a nice day.”

He climbs into the driver’s seat, laughing at me over his shoulder before starting the car. Once he’s put a little distance between us and Old Man Parson, I sit up and Battle hands me my clothes.

“That was so embarrassin’,” I say, getting dressed. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’ll be fine. He found me takin’ a piss bare-ass naked, and I survived.”

I laugh, half at Battle, and half looking at my demolished blouse in my hands. There’s no way I’m putting it back on. I reach into the gym bag I keep on the floor, pull out a t-shirt, and slip it over my head. It doesn’t smell great after spending a week in my hot car, sharing space with my sneakers, but at least it’s in one piece.

“Easy for you not to be shamed, but I have to see him in church every Sunday.” Which apparently I’m not going to attend today. I’m going to crawl into bed and sleep until I have to get up for work tomorrow.

“You live in Ridgeway?” he asks.

I climb into the passenger seat and slip on my boots. “Burlingame. Mr. Parson’s sister runs the church choir.”

“Oh.” He tips his head back on a silent laugh. “Well, I bet he didn’t even recognize you.”

I nod and look away, a blush creeping over my cheeks. We’re over an hour from Kansas City, and I have to take Battle back to Dakota’s. How’d we end up this close to home? Everything that transpired after the dance floor lingers in the fog of my throbbing head.

“How’d we end up in Ridgeway?” I ask.

“It’s close to home. I figured whether you decided to get rid of me last night or this mornin’, I didn’t want you to have to drive back to the city.”

“So you live in Ridgeway?” I ask.

“On the lake.”

“Oh. What about your car?”

“Austin drove.”

Battle McCoy lives a stone’s throw away. I can’t decide how I feel about his close proximity to me. I’m not certain what last night meant to him. He hasn’t brought up what happened. I’m not even sure how I feel about last night. I know I don’t regret it. I’d always assumed a night like ours would be dirty, but I don’t feel shame.

He glances out the window with a sprig of wheat dangling from his delectable mouth. I remember him chewing on a piece last night and the toothpick from the bar, and figure it’s a nervous habit. I tried to chew a sprig once and it was disgusting.

“How can you chew on that?”

He cocks his head, thinking briefly. “Keeps me from smokin’.”

“Oh, yeah, you shouldn’t smoke.”

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He pulls the wheat from between his lips. “Tryin’,” he says, inserting it back into his mouth. I stare at his lips, realizing I’ll never look at a wheat field again without blushing.

It dawns on me how every day on my drive to work through the dense wheat-lands of small town Kansas, I’ll be reminded of Battle McCoy—his lips, his touch, his words coaxing me to climax. The most amazing climax of my life. Will my memories be as painful as this goodbye? Is this goodbye, or is there a chance he wants to see me again? I’m afraid to ask.

As if he read my thoughts, Battle says, “Someday, Faye, you’ll meet a guy who deserves you.”

“I guess you don’t want more.” He doesn’t answer—my intended question taken as a statement, or he doesn’t wish to tell me he’s uninterested in me. I swallow, the ache in my chest sharp and confining, but I will not cry. Despite my slightly intoxicated state last night, I knew what I was getting into with Battle.

He turns down a long gravel driveway. The sun sparkles off the lake in the distance. Cattle fencing stretches around each side of us, corralling horses and cows. A quaint ranch-style home comes into view made from cedar and stone. Battle stops the car in front of the house and shuts off the engine.