by Carly Bloom
“Oh, how nice!” Miss Mills said. “We don’t read enough of those.”
“Why is that nice?” Alice asked. “Honestly, I find the trope a bit problematic.”
“Really?” Claire asked. “I think virgin stories are fun. Especially the historical ones.”
“Well, they’d have to be historical, wouldn’t they?” Anna asked. “Are there any modern-day virgins walking around?”
Maggie cleared her throat and dramatically nodded her head in Miss Mills’s direction. “There might be a few—”
“I said there were no modern-day virgins walking around,” Anna said, thereby indicating Miss Mills was historical.
Carmen looked at the back cover of Brittany’s book. “This sounds really cute. I’m definitely going to read it.”
Alice crossed her legs. “Again, I find the trope somewhat problematic.”
“Why?” Anna asked.
“Because virginity is a social construct. It doesn’t actually exist.”
Maggie jerked her head in Miss Mills’s direction again. “Oh, it exists all right.”
Miss Mills, not noticing that she was the subject of interest, daintily bit into a lemon bar.
“I remember the night I lost mine,” Trista said. “It was after graduation in the back of Bubba’s pickup truck. We were all at the dam, remember?”
No, they hadn’t all been at the dam. Alice hadn’t been there.
“Oh my God,” Claire said. “That’s where it happened for me, too! Only it was after the homecoming dance with Bobby Flores. At least you technically made it out of high school still a virgin.”
“Again,” Alice said, “virginity is not a physical state. You don’t make it out of high school with it intact or not intact.”
Everyone looked at her like she was nuts. She clearly wasn’t getting through to them.
“What about you, Anna? Who took your virginity?” Brittany asked.
Alice sighed. “Nobody takes—”
“My husband,” Maggie said. “I’m pretty sure the first guy Anna banged was Travis.”
“Goodness!” Miss Mills said.
Anna daintily crossed her legs and pretended to brush lint off her slacks while the room erupted in gasps.
“It was a very long time ago,” Anna said. “In high school. And for Maggie’s sake, I hope he’s gotten better at it.”
Everyone erupted in laughter, even though Alice didn’t think there was anything humorous about it. “As I was saying, virginity is a social construct. It isn’t something that can be given or taken, any more than you can give or take someone’s experience of anything.”
“You can give someone an experience,” Maggie said.
Claire nodded. “Maggie gave me a gift certificate for a massage.”
Frustration crept up Alice’s spine. By the time it arrived at her throat, there was no holding back. “But the state of virginity isn’t a thing. It’s just someone walking around who hasn’t had sexual intercourse. There are people who’ve never jumped out of an airplane. Is there a word for that?”
“Yes,” Maggie said. “Smart.”
Claire snorted. “I’ve jumped out of a plane.”
“I know,” Maggie said with a wink.
Alice squirmed on the couch. “I’m serious though. There are countless things any one of us or all of us have never done. We’re not given freaking titles for it. If you have intercourse—”
“I really wish you’d stop being so profane,” Miss Mills said.
“That’s also a social construct,” Alice said. “What’s profane to one group is not necessarily profane to another. But as I was saying, you don’t lose anything when you have intercourse for the first time—”
“Actually, I lost a bracelet the first time I did it,” Anna said.
Everyone started laughing again, but Alice felt tears welling. It was so frustrating to know something was true and not be able to properly convince others. But she wasn’t giving up. “We are not defined by our sexual experiences. After having intercourse for the first time, neither person leaves with anything—”
“Oh, I for sure did,” Trista said. “And her name is Sammie.”
Alice stood and stomped her foot. “There is no such thing as virginity! And furthermore, we don’t need men in order to learn how to pleasure our own bodies. We’re perfectly capable of pleasuring ourselves. Most women require clitoral stimulation—”
“Goodness,” Miss Mills said. “The only thing worse than premarital relations is a woman ringing the devil’s doorbell.”
At the mention of the devil’s doorbell, the room dissolved into mayhem. Maggie laughed so hard that she slid off the couch, while Claire howled into a pillow. Anna giggled uncontrollably, and Trista and Brittany grabbed their phones, presumably to Google devil’s doorbell.
Miss Mills just sat quietly, fanning herself frantically with a copy of Ladies’ Daily Devotions.
Alice had lost control of herself and of the meeting.
“I just think this conversation is making people uncomfortable, is all,” Alice said. “Particularly Miss Mills. How do you think she feels with all this talk of virginity? Miss Mills, I apologize if we’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“No apology necessary. All is right with me and the Lord. He has forgiven me for my past transgressions, including the one in the church fellowship hall with the son of a Bible salesman in 1965.”
Everyone gasped, and then Trista squealed as Alice covered her mouth with her hand.
“Miss Mills!” Trista said. “I just assumed—”
“The good Lord says that when you assume you make an a-s-s out of u and me,” she said.
Alice didn’t think that was anywhere in the Bible.
“And anyway,” Miss Mills continued. “I was tricked by Satan. And I doubt very seriously, especially in this day and age, that there is a grown woman walking around who hasn’t been. The devil is a rascal, and only the good Lord himself is perfect. The rest of us are sinners.”
Everyone in the room had their mouths hanging open, and Alice was no exception. She snapped it shut.
Oh my God, was it possible that she was literally the only thirty-two-year-old virgin on the planet?
She squared her shoulders, crossed her arms, and harrumphed quietly to herself.
“I think it’s time to change the subject,” Alice said. “I have plans tonight, so we’d better discuss this book and be done with it.”
Everyone went completely silent, as if what Alice had just said was even more shocking than Miss Mills’s revelation.
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay, Alice?”
Alice was almost never rude. And by almost, she meant never. Never ever. What had gotten into her? “I’m so sorry. Please excuse my manners. It’s just that—”
Claire raised the other eyebrow.
“I’m seeing Beau later, and I’m looking forward to it,” Alice finished.
Claire couldn’t raise her eyebrows any farther without surgical assistance, so she switched course by narrowing her eyes. Everyone else nodded in understanding, as if it was perfectly reasonable for Alice to be so excited and anxious to see Beau that she’d let her manners slip.
But not Claire. She was still eyeing Alice suspiciously. Had she just figured out that Alice wasn’t really dating Beau, and that on top of it, she was a virgin?
Not that virgins existed.
Chapter
Seventeen
Beau sat on the porch with his feet propped up on the railing. He’d had to drive all the way to Fort Worth to pick up a new bull, a purebred Angus named Abiding Dude. Gerome said he didn’t think anyone ever named a bull while sober.
In the nearly eight hours Beau had spent on the road, he’d finished listening to the third book. Now he was looking closely at the paperback Alice had given him. And he was doing more than simply picking out recognizable words on the pages. He was actually decoding the ones he didn’t know, and it was getting easier and easier. Allie had told him that if he kep
t using the reading program, something would click. And it definitely had. You build words like you build anything. With parts. And the parts go in a certain order. And for some reason, they were now going in the same order every time.
Beau was feeling more and more confident by the day. Bryce had been at the Rockin’ H nearly all week, and Beau had handled everything himself. By the time his contract with Alice was up, everything was going to be working out just fine.
His gut clenched. At exactly midnight on the night of the wedding, everything would go back to the way it was before where he and Alice were concerned. Which was to say, back to the occasional howdy in the library or the Corner Café. Unless maybe . . .
Nah. She wouldn’t be interested in continuing their friendship. That’s why she’d gone to the trouble of typing up a fucking contract. The woman wanted a definite end date for their arrangement. And why wouldn’t she? They had absolutely nothing in common. She had her lady friends in Austin who were busy smashing the patriarchy and whatnot. Allie wasn’t going to want to go fishing or skinny-dipping or stargazing with a cowboy.
He closed his book at the sound of tires crunching on the gravel road. Bryce was home—for now. He waved, and Beau headed down the steps to greet his brother. He was anxious to tell him how well everything had gone. “Howdy. It’s good to have you ba—”
“I just drove through the pasture at Glen Oaks. We had some mighty thirsty cows penned up there. I let them out and they followed me over to Oak Springs. I’ve trapped them in there for now. But I thought we’d agreed to keep them out of that quadrant during the drought.”
“We did. And I told Worth to keep them out—”
“How did you tell him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Were you talking? Or texting?”
“Ford sent me a text about moving that specific herd, and I told Worth—”
Bryce held out his hand. “Let me see.”
“You don’t need to look through my text messages. I’m telling you what happened, and—”
“And you have a problem with text messages. Give me your phone so I can see exactly what was said.”
Fine. If Bryce wanted proof that Beau hadn’t told Worth to pen the cattle up in a dry pasture during a drought, then he’d give him proof. He yanked out his phone, found the conversation thread, and slammed it into his brother’s palm.
Bryce looked at it. “You told Worth to pen them up at Glen Oaks.”
Beau yanked the phone back. “No way.” His eyes went straight to Worth’s message. Do we want that side herd over in Glen Oaks?
And then he saw his response. Yes.
“Dammit.” He’d obviously mistaken Glen Oaks for Oak Springs. It seemed like the word oak was part of every damn name of every damn location on the ranch. He could read it clearly now, but earlier, he’d obviously been confused. He sighed and shook his head, feeling like shit. “I’m glad you caught it. Were they too terribly thirsty?”
“They seemed okay. And it was just a simple mistake, but Beau, you always need to seek clarification. Just call and ask—”
“I don’t want to bother people with phone calls while they’re busy.”
“No. You just don’t want anyone to know that you struggle with reading. And that fragile ego could have killed some heifers and calves. Get over yourself. Because I might not be here to save your ass the next time.”
Beau hung his head, feeling stupid. As usual. And Bryce was right. He was absolutely embarrassed for anyone to know what his struggles were. But the necessity to hide it was so ingrained that he didn’t know if he could shake it. How could he earn folks’ respect if they thought he couldn’t read? There was just so much fucking shame associated with the inability to perform that particular life skill.
At least he could own up to his mistakes. God knew he’d had plenty of practice at that. “As I said, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want an apology,” Bryce said. “We just need to keep it from happening again.”
Beau held up the book Alice had given him. “I’m getting a handle on it.”
“You’re reading that book?”
“Yeah.” Maybe he wasn’t reading it very fast. And he was skipping a word here or there. But like Alice said, he was good at context clues.
“Well, that’s awesome. I told you that Alice would be able to help you.”
They walked up the steps and entered the cabin. Bryce inhaled deeply. “Do I smell Mom’s special baked beans?” He sniffed. “And peach cobbler?”
“Yep.”
Bryce looked around stupidly. “Is Mom here?”
Beau laughed. “No. I called her. She talked me through it. And I’ve got two steaks ready to hit the grill.”
“I know you missed me, but you sure didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”
“Actually, Bryce, don’t take your hat off. You’re not staying. Alice is coming over for tutoring.”
“It looks like a little more than tutoring. It looks like dinner. In fact, it might look like a date.”
“I just wanted to show my appreciation.”
“We’ve talked about this. Just don’t appreciate Alice too hard, if you get my drift.”
“Believe me, Alice is not at all interested in any tutoring appreciation activities.”
Although, the memory of her warm, wet body pressed against his completely naked one popped up . . . The way she’d stared at his lips.
She’d seemed at least a little interested.
Alice helped Brittany into Anna’s car and headed back inside. Trista and Miss Mills had left earlier, so it was down to Claire, Maggie, and Carmen. Hopefully they’d leave soon, too, because she needed a little quiet time to recover from her embarrassing outburst.
Nobody was gathering their belongings when she walked into the house. Instead, all three women sat on the couch, quiet and subdued with their hands folded in their laps. Hopes of alone time dissipated into thin air. She’d already briefly apologized for her behavior. Were they expecting her to do it again?
Claire spoke up first. “Alice, we’re sorry.”
“For what?” Maybe they’d accidentally broken something, although nothing appeared amiss.
“For making you uncomfortable,” Maggie said.
“We just didn’t know,” Claire added.
“Know what?”
Carmen cleared her throat. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, Alice. Nothing at all. And if we said anything to make you feel self-conscious or embarrassed . . .”
Holy guacamole, this was not a conversation she wanted to have. “First of all, I’m not a virgin—”
“Whew!” Claire said. “We misunderstood.”
“Right?” Maggie said with a nervous giggle. “We should have known, since she’s dating Beau.”
“Yeah,” Carmen added. “And he’s not exactly beginner material. I mean, size alone—”
What? Had Carmen slept with Beau?
Alice’s head began to spin. Why hadn’t Carmen told her? But then again, why would she? People didn’t just go around reciting lists of who they’d slept with. And of course Carmen had slept with Beau. She was friendly and outgoing, and so was he. Also, he apparently slept with everybody. It actually made sense for them to have slept together. And that was fine, wasn’t it? They were all adults here. Yay! Carmen had slept with Beau. Wasn’t that awesome? She was so happy for Carmen!
“Why are you smiling like that?” Claire asked. “Are you okay?”
Alice’s stomach churned as if she’d just eaten a bad burrito. And tears stung the backs of her eyelids.
“Oh God,” Carmen said. “Alice, honey, sit down.”
Alice’s knees buckled and she collapsed inelegantly into the chair directly behind her. That was as close to sitting as she could come.
“I have never had sex with Beau,” Carmen said. “It was Bryce.”
Everyone gasped.
“Really?” Claire said. “Wow. Because, honestly, if we�
��re still talking virgins, I’d have pegged him as a possibility.”
“Believe me,” Carmen said. “Bryce is no virgin. And since he and Beau are twins, I figure they have identical . . .”
Maggie grinned and raised her eyebrows. “Dongs?”
Claire snorted.
Penis size didn’t interest Alice in the slightest. The way she’d nearly passed out thinking Carmen had slept with Beau, however, was something to ponder.
Maggie reached over and touched Alice’s hand. “Now that we’ve cleared All The Things up . . .” She smiled. “We’re sorry that while believing you weren’t a virgin, we said some insensitive things regarding virgins, only to figure out you were a virgin and that we were assholes—”
Claire nodded enthusiastically. “Only to discover we were wrong again, and you aren’t a virgin—”
“But just to be clear,” Maggie interrupted. “We’re still probably assholes.”
Carmen laughed. “And then I had to top it all off by insinuating I’d seen your boyfriend’s gigantic penis, when in fact, I have not.”
“So, I guess this means you really are dating Beau?” Claire said. “Like, for real?”
It was nearly impossible for Alice to tell a lie of any kind, and all of her feelings over the past three weeks rose up her throat and sat on her tongue, waiting to come out.
She might not have gone skinny-dipping with these women in high school. She didn’t get their inside jokes or understand what the heck they were laughing at half the time. But she trusted them.
Divulging Beau’s secret wasn’t a possibility, but she didn’t have to carry on the charade of their “relationship” in front of Maggie, Claire, and Carmen. She sighed loudly as Sultana wove in and out of her ankles, purring. “Y’all were right the first time—no wait—the second time.”
Claire stared at the ceiling while counting on her fingers. “So, you are a virgin?”
“No, because—”
“Virginity is a social construct,” Carmen finished.
“Correct. But I have never had sexual intercourse with a man.”
“Well, you’re going to soon, right?” Maggie said. “Because you’re dating Beau and he’s . . .”
