Billy
It was a rough night. There was not a lot of sleep. After Kat went upstairs, I lingered in the kitchen for a bit. I’d like to say that I was a gentleman and that her melancholy mood dampened my desire for her, but I’d be lying. Even if I was sure that there could be nothing between Kat and I, my dick was not receiving the message. I was the captain in command of a mutinous one-eyed pirate. No matter how many times I pointed out the stormy waters, he continued to search for the booty. I found myself hoping that she wouldn’t take a shower. I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing that her naked body was behind the bathroom door. Then I realized that no matter what door she was behind, she might be naked, and I considered sleeping on the couch to avoid temptation. I was in a state I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager: Grade A, non-stop boner of steel.
After an hour or so, I felt foolish. I didn’t want her to think I was avoiding my own room because she was in the house. Once I was in my room, I didn't know what to do and tried to go to bed. But there was the aforementioned Washington Monument in my boxers. The thing is, I’ve lived in Kat’s house with Wyatt for many years, and I know for a fact the walls are paper-thin. Wyatt does not respect that, so I’ve heard things I’d like to forget. It was unlikely that Kat would hear me trying to alleviate my situation, but I couldn’t risk it.
And then it got worse. Hours went by. I couldn’t sleep a wink. I stared at my ceiling, debating whether she fell asleep and if I could finally master debate myself, when I heard her. At first, there was a low moan that cut the silence. And then I heard her begging, “Please…”
When we were young, I used to drive Kat to school. Miriam worked the early shift at the Conway Cafe. Under the guise of having breakfast with Kat, I would leave my house at daybreak and let myself in. Kat did not eat breakfast. She would sleep until the last possible minute. So, I would sneak into her bedroom and have her for breakfast. I teased Kat, I lived to hear her beg for me. And that’s what I was hearing. Her voice begging for my tongue. Instantly, my hand was wrapped around my cock, and I followed the rhythm of the sounds she was making until I had a Grade A mess on my hands.
I still couldn’t sleep. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning, I figured it was best to just get up. I didn’t know what to make of Kat’s evening escapes. I didn’t know if she was dreaming or if she was just waiting for me to go to sleep like I’d been waiting for her to go to sleep. But I knew for sure I still enjoyed the sound of her. And wanting Kat was too much. I needed to do something physical to regain my composure.
So, I went out to the barn, to the woodpile to split logs. I was out there for an hour before Kat whistled at my ass. Any progress I had made in clearing my head of Kat disintegrated. The thing was, I liked Kat flirting with me. And Kat was flirting with me, hard.
When Kat headed into breakfast, so did I. And now, I was sitting at the breakfast table with Wyatt, Kat, and my father. That lazy bastard, Cody, hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Sarah was pouring coffee and slinging bacon and scrambled eggs like it was her job. It took Kat sitting at the table for me to realize that we just assumed that Sarah would cook for us. After mom passed away, Miriam and Kat had helped out. They shared in the responsibilities of feeding the Morgan boys, but now, it all fell on Sarah's shoulders, and it shouldn’t have. I needed to help her. We all needed to help her.
Kat and Sarah were talking about Sarah’s gig on Sunday. Sarah said, “If you’re still going to be here tomorrow, it would be amazing if you could come to Sadie’s.”
Kat taught Sarah to play the guitar. I am pretty sure that Sarah looked up to Kat her entire life. It was a pretty big deal when you were a kid from a small town to have grown up with an international superstar. For me, it was a nightmare because everyone felt like I missed out on the gravy train. Sarah, who was a musician, got to say that Kat Bennett helped her write her first song.
“We’re not leaving today. I already spoke to my people. So… how about we just say that I’ll be there,” Kat warmly said.
Sarah’s face exploded in a smile. So did mine.
Wyatt interjected, “Are you going to Sarah’s show, Bill?”
I never missed Sarah’s shows and Wyatt knew it, so he was just meddling. I rolled my eyes at him, “Of course I am, stupid.”
“Everyone have biscuits?” Sarah asked.
Kat answered, “No, but Wyatt can get his himself.” She was teasing him, but it was like she had read my mind.
Wyatt plastered a smart-ass grin to his face and quipped, “Don’t worry, Kat. I know how to butter my own biscuits.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I am perfectly happy to get your biscuit just so I don't have to hear about your biscuit. Thank you very much.”
Kat laughed. Sarah left the room to get the biscuit.
I turned to Wyatt. “We should get our own food.”
Wyatt had his mouth full of eggs when he answered, “You should.”
“You both should,” Kat said.
Wyatt continued to talk with his mouth full. “I do an awful lot around here. We all have a specific set of jobs. I think Sarah’s getting off easy scrambling eggs and carrying toast. I do the heavy lifting.”
“You do the heavy lifting?” I asked. “I can’t remember the last time you lifted anything.”
“Heavy lifting is a metaphor, you fool,” Wyatt retorted. “I didn’t mean that I carry boulders around the farm. I meant that working the ranch is a more grueling job than making lunch.”
“Oh, please,” Kat snapped. “Sarah absolutely does that too. I could do your job when I was fifteen. I mean, what do you have to do today, Wyatt? Tack a horse and go roam the ranch looking for felled fences? Women are certainly hearty enough to handle that.”
“Oh, yeah?” Wyatt questioned. “Do you honestly think you still have what it takes to work a ranch?” At first, it seemed odd that Wyatt was making this argument, but suddenly, I saw where he was heading, and I started to get nervous.
“Absolutely,” Kat threw at him without realizing she was falling right into his trap. In our house, a challenge taken had to be proved.
Wyatt smiled, a sneaky little smile. “Well then, I guess you’ll have to prove it.”
My father laughed out loud. He’d been quiet all through breakfast, as usual. And suddenly, he was sitting at the head of the table rolling out a tremendous belly laugh. “He got you, Kat.”
Wyatt brushed the crumbs from his hands onto his lap, stood, and said, “Well, Bill, looks like I got you a new ranch hand today. I’m gonna head back to bed.”