Keeping It In The Middle
Page 2
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The rain started that night just after two in the morning and didn't stop for three days. Everything was flooded: businesses, houses, barns, pastures, and most of the town's vehicles. Only the gigantic tractors were useable. The people who boarded their horses at Binny's Acres, worried and willing volunteers after the worst of the storm passed, had piled into the front loader of Mike's John Deere, their arms full of halters and lead lines, while Tyler drove. Van sat positioned over the left wheel well, her whole side pressed into his.
A college-aged daughter of one of the local patrons was positioned on his other side. She kept leaning down, whispering something into his ear, and making him laugh like she'd just told the funniest joke in the world.
Her name was Meghan -- with a pretentious 'h' in the middle of the word so people would know she was rich -- and she had just turned nineteen years old. Her gorgeous brown hair lay untangled and flat as a sheet even in the middle of a flood zone with humidity levels at one hundred percent. She kept it tucked carelessly into a cap that, instead of making her look frumpy, only seemed to frame her brilliant hazel eyes and accentuate her "girl next door" attitude. To make matters worse, Meghan graduated Valedictorian of her high school class, was regularly on the Honor's List at her university, volunteered at local animal shelters, and could ride like the devil. She regularly played with the 12-goal teams her father owned and her two older brothers were both members of Team USPA.
With her carefree personality, endless supply of money, and honest to God "goodness," Meghan had the world at her feet. Everybody loved her and, as of late, she showed every sign of pursuing Tyler. Van had known the girl for years, but only lately had she seemed so ... annoying. It wasn't that she kept leaning her chest into Ty's shoulder and laughing too close to his face or the fact that his cheeks colored once as if she'd embarrassed him, but it was the unspoken truth that Van felt ... if Meghan wanted Ty, she could probably have him.
Tyler glanced at Van from underneath his baseball cap. Its edges were grimy with years of sweat and the bill was bent crooked from always being taken off with his dominant right hand. He leaned into her to speak over the tractor's roaring diesel engine. "You all right?" he asked.
Van nodded.
"Your head okay?" he asked, flicking his chin up as he glanced to her still healing stitches. She'd covered them with a clean bandanna that made her look less like a hospital ward and more like a badass biker chic.
"Fine," Van answered curtly. She looked away from him, gazing out over the flooded pastures. Every ranch owner in town now had a lake front property.
She jumped when his arm snaked around her waist and his hand landed gently on her hip. His fingers squeezed ever so slightly as the tractor suddenly hopped, hitting a small ditch hidden under the surface of the water. The people in the bucket laughed loudly, looking back at Tyler with wide grins. He had his right hand on the wheel and his left still holding Van. "I knew the ditch was there," he said, looking up with a casual grin. "Didn't want you to fall off," he added as he removed his arm from around her. Van glanced over his head to see Meghan, who had both her hands gripped tightly to the tractor, staring at them with her eyes pinned. When Van caught her stare, the girl looked quickly away.
Later that day, at a barbeque organized by one of the ranch owners, Van spotted Meghan flirting with a boy her own age. He played on the city club's 4-goal team and went to a local college. As Tyler brought Van a plate of chicken and a soda, not once looking like he even noticed Meghan's lack of presence, and took his usual place at Van's side, she couldn't help but feel ... satisfied.