by Merry Farmer
“That’s too bad.”
There was more to Chris’s reaction than sympathy. His face had gone all serious, and even though he kept his eyes on the road, there was a far-away look in his expression that she knew too well. Her glance drifted down to the mail sitting on the truck’s seat between them. She hadn’t given it much thought before, but the magazine that sat on top of the stack was the latest issue of Astronomy Today. A few things clicked into place in Chastity’s mind.
“So why did you become a science teacher?” she asked, uncertain how to form her suspicions into a direct question. “Looks like you’re a big fan of astronomy. Why not major in that?”
“I changed my major.” His answer was unusually sharp and quiet.
“Why?” She lowered her voice to a corresponding level of sympathy.
Chris pursed his lips, staring straight forward at the road for several long seconds. Chastity didn’t think he was going to give her an answer at all, until he said, “I got accepted to the astronomy program at MIT, but—”
“Holy crap, Chris! You were accepted to MIT?” Chastity interrupted.
He sent her a sidelong look that was full of regret and frustration. “Karlan said it was too expensive. Cooper said it was too far away. Kolby said they needed my help on the ranch—the only time he’s ever said that. So I went to Wyoming instead and double majored in General Sciences and Education.”
Chastity sat there staring at him, jaw dropped open. She’d figured out that Chris was the smart one of the brothers almost from the first day, but she’d had no idea how smart. MIT smart was about as smart as you could get. His brothers had snuffed out his dreams.
“There’s no guarantee that I would have been able to hack it even if I had gone,” Chris went on, as if he could read her mind. “A lot of those big schools have a high dropout rate for freshman.”
“Oh my gosh, Chris, you totally would have made it.” Chastity loosened her arms and leaned against the door, shaking her head. “It sucks when people convince you to do something other than what you wanted to do.”
“It’s not really anyone’s fault but my own,” he rushed to say. “I could have applied for a scholarship to cover costs. I could have moved to Massachusetts with or without my brothers’ approval. And my brothers’ never really let me do anything significant on the ranch anyhow.”
She sent him a doubtful look.
“No, really. I’ll be the first to admit that inertia is my biggest flaw.”
“Inertia?”
“You know. A body in motion tends to stay in motion, but a body at rest tends to, well, have a hard time getting its lazy ass going sometimes.”
They reached the ranch, and Chris turned off the road and up the drive to his house.
“I still think you should have gone,” Chastity argued. “That was the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“I don’t know.” Chris’s smile returned, now with a spark of something warm. “If I’d gone to MIT I’d probably be working for NASA now instead of here in Culpepper. And if that had happened, I never would have been around to meet you. You’re an opportunity of a lifetime.”
It felt as though someone had poured sugared-up butterflies into Chastity’s gut. “Aaw, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Then people have been remiss in saying sweet things to you.”
Chris pulled onto the side-drive in front of his house, parked, and cut his truck’s engine. He reached for the mail, but Chasity stopped him.
“I think a comment that sweet deserves a reward,” she said, mischief and heat popping through her. “You’re not driving anymore, after all.”
She reached for the fly of his jeans.
Chris jerked and laughed out loud, dropping the mail and catching her hands to hold them just out of reach. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what Denise would give her eye teeth to do,” Chastity answered. “Now, throw your leg up here and gimmie.”
With something halfway between a chuckle and a growl, Chris obeyed as best he could. He made sure the truck door was locked behind him, then swung his right leg up onto the seat. In the process, he came within inches of whacking Chastity with his too-clean cowboy boot.
“Whoa there, partner.” She dodged out of the way, then grabbed the boot and yanked it off his foot. “That’s better.” She tossed the boot down onto the passenger-side floor with the mail, then reached for two of the belt loops of Chris’s jeans. “Come here, big boy.”
She wasn’t really strong enough to push Chris around, but he didn’t expect her tug. He was already off-balance, and the quick motion thumped his back against the driver’s-side door. He flailed for something to hold onto, and hit the horn in the process.
“Whoops,” he choked out, cheeks growing redder and jeans tighter by the minute.
“Save the sound effects for when we really get going.” Chastity arched an eyebrow and launched into him.
There was no easy or comfortable way to jump a guy’s bones in a truck, but she managed to plant a clumsy, wet kiss on Chris’s mouth. He slipped farther down the door, which worked perfectly for putting important things at an easily accessible angle. But first, she slid her tongue along his and reached for the top of Chris’s button-down teacher shirt.
“I’m glad you dress at least a little fancy for work, Mr. Culpepper,” she said in a breathy, sultry voice. “It makes stuff like this so much more fun.”
She managed to undo the row of buttons easily, then bent forward to snag one side of the collar in her teeth. Of course, she couldn’t do much but turn her head to the side to spit it out. She’d have to try the whole teeth thing with something else. It didn’t help that Chris’s chest was shaking as he tried not to laugh at her over-the-top sexy act.
He stopped laughing with a gasp as she tugged the hem of his shirt out of his jeans, spread it wide to expose his chest, then licked her way down to one of his nipples.
“You sure you’ve never done this before?” Chris panted.
“I practiced undressing a big teddy bear once.” She traced her fingers down the hard muscles of his abdomen to the fly of his jeans. “And I used to take my sweet, sweet time eating pickles.” She popped the button, then slowly worked the zipper down. “I think I gave Harry Finkleday a hard-on at a church picnic one year just by eating a pickle on the blanket next to him.”
“You don’t say.” Chris’s voice came out strangled. “Remind me to pick up some pickles next time I’m in town.”
“Who needs pickles when you’ve got a real, live cucumber at home?” She grabbed hold of the waist of his jeans and tugged.
Chris lifted his hips right on cue. “Mother of mercy,” he panted.
His tighty-whiteys tented so magnificently that Chastity had to rock back and admire the view for a second. It was such a shame that men had to wear underwear at all, considering how constraining it was. She cupped her hand around the soft cotton, licking her lips at the hardness it concealed. Could she really fit all that in her mouth? Part of her squirmed at the idea, but it wasn’t exactly a bad squirm. She liked the way he felt in her hand, so why not—
Her thought was cut short as she shifted the cotton to the side in her stroking, and the instrument in question slipped out of one leg-hole.
“Oh! It’s not all red and swollen anymore,” she pronounced in delight. “It’s kind of…kind of…” She tilted her head to the side, studying little Chris and searching for words to describe the big, bold, magnificence about a foot away from her hungry gaze.
“Pickle-icious?” Chris suggested.
Chastity snorted, nearly losing the mood. She glanced up into Chris’s passion-hooded eyes. “Definitely pickle-icious.”
It felt really good in her hand too—hot and stiff and tense, like it wanted to find a home. Well, who was she to argue with that. There was a first time for everything. She bent closer, opening her mouth, thinking of pickles, excitement zipping through her as she—
A lo
ud knock on the window, followed by Cooper’s voice asking, “Hey, why is the window all steamed up?” sent a jolt of shock through Chastity. She clamped her teeth closed in reaction.
Chris shouted loud enough to wake his Granddaddy from the dead.
“What’s going on in there?” Cooper demanded.
“Sorry!” Chastity yelped and rocked back on her haunches. “I only grazed it, I swear. It wasn’t even all the way in my mouth. My teeth aren’t that sharp.”
Chris groaned, reaching for his crotch.
“Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Cooper said, his voice fading as he left…fast.
“I’m really, really sorry.” Chastity slapped her hands to her mouth. “I didn’t even think it was past my lips yet. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, so I kept my mouth open more than I should I guess. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Chris squeaked out an unconvincing answer.
They both glanced down to the unfortunate member. Sure enough, there were two faint, red notches on top and two underneath. At least she hadn’t broken skin.
“Ooh.” Chastity moved her hands away from her mouth for a second, then clamped them back in place. “That doesn’t look great.”
“It doesn’t feel great either.” Chris gingerly tucked himself back into his underwear and pulled up his jeans. “Is Cooper gone? I don’t know if I’ll have an easy time walking back to the house.”
Chastity checked out the front windshield. Sure enough, through a faint haze of condensation, she saw Cooper jogging off in the direction of Linda’s house. “Yeah, he’s gone.”
“Good.” Chris took a few panting breaths. “Now, hand me my boot, then help me inside so I can find a pickle-shaped Band-Aid.”
6
As badly as Chastity wanted to play Hide the Sausage with Chris, it was becoming painfully apparent that, for the time being at least, she needed to put her energy into some other endeavor or there would be blood. It was time to be Zen about the horizontal hokey-pokey…or at least to give Chris a chance to heal. So Chastity turned her focus to the other battle on her hands.
“I’m just glad that I had so much yarn left over from a bunch of other projects,” she told Chris a few days later as she lifted a trash bag full of colorful skeins out of the back of his truck.
Chris hoisted his schoolbag higher on his shoulder and reached for the box that contained parts for the galaxy dioramas he planned to have his students make after they took a test that afternoon. “I’m glad because Hope let you out of daycare duty twice in one week.”
Chastity sent him a wicked grin over the truck bed. “Yeah, well, as soon as I explained Denise and Myrna and the shocking lack of knitting, she took my side.”
“Always a good idea to take your side,” Chris said as the two of them carried their various loads up to the front of the truck and on to the salon. “I have way too much first-hand experience of what happens to anyone who gets in your way.”
A hot blush formed on Chastity’s face. “I swear, none of that was on purpose. I’m hurting myself more than I’m hurting you.”
Chris barked a laugh. “Wanna bet?”
“Do you have any idea how horny I am?” Chastity answered. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to let all that horniness build up with no release?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
Their conversation was forced to stop as Destiny ran to the salon door to hold it open for them.
“Cool. Look at all that stuff,” she said, craning her neck to peek in Chris’s box. “What are we going to make, Mr. Culpepper?”
“Galaxies,” Chris answered with a wink.
“So what’s in the trash bag?”
“Ah, this is for your grandma,” Chastity said.
Myrna was in the front of the salon for a change, chatting with three other gray-haired ladies who looked like they were waiting to have their hair put up in rollers. She glanced up as Chastity made a bee-line straight for them.
“Mrs. Culpepper, welcome back.” With a big smile, Myrna pushed herself to stand. She shot a quick look to Denise, who was giving a middle-aged man a clipper cut. Denise watched them through the mirror, her eyes narrowed and her fuchsia lips pressed in a tight line. “What do you have there, dear?”
“Yarn,” Chastity announced as if declaring she had a winning lottery ticket.
She nodded to Chris—who continued on to the back hall and the classroom with Destiny at his side—then set the trash bag of yarn on the floor and opened the top. Myrna gasped, and her three friends oohed and aahed. They reached in and took out a few bright, soft skeins.
“Look at all that,” one of them said, grabbing two skeins of self-striping sock yarn. “I haven’t had a chance to get out my needles for ages now.”
“Chastity, I’d like you to meet my friends.” Myrna stepped to the side and gestured to each woman with the grace of a retired teacher explaining a lesson to eager children. “This is Birdie, Mary Lou, and Barbara.”
“Oh, are you the girl who came from Kentucky to marry Chris?” the one Myrna had pointed out as Mary Lou asked.
“Yep, that’s me.” Chastity gave the sweet older woman a wide smile. “My sisters married Chris’s brothers too.”
“You lot are the talk of the town,” Barbara said. “My grandson went online and found things about the Quinlan Quads.”
“Is that you?” Birdie interrupted.
“That’s us,” Chastity confirmed. Like her sisters, she kinda of hated all the press they’d gotten just for sharing a womb. “Are you a knitter too?” She steered the conversation back to the here and now.
“Oh, not for ages,” Birdie laughed.
“I would be, if there was any yarn to be had nearby,” Barbara said. “You either have to send away for it or go all the way over to the Craft Palace in Haskell for quality stock these days.”
“Now that this sweet young woman is here, we should reform the knitting club,” Mary Lou said. “We had so much fun back in those days, getting together for tea, working on projects.”
“Gossiping,” Myrna added.
All four of them giggled. Chastity’s heart warmed. She hoped she was exactly like these women when she got older.
At least she thought so until Mary Lou sighed and said, “It’s a shame my son took my driver’s license away last year. I suppose he was right, what with my eyesight lately.”
“My daughter made the same argument with me,” Barbara agreed. “Only with me it’s my reflexes. You tend to slow down a bit as you get older,” she told Chastity.
“You can’t be that old,” Chastity said. “I mean, Denise is Myrna’s daughter, and she’s just a little older than Chris, which means you, Myrna, can’t be that much older than, what, sixty?”
Myrna and the others laughed. “Bless you,” Myrna said, laying a hand on Chastity’s arm. “I’m pushing seventy, dear. I married late in life, you see, and I had Denise within two weeks of my fortieth birthday. Most of my friends have grandkids her age.”
“We used to tease her that she was a late-bloomer,” Birdie laughed.
“Yeah, and a cougar,” Mary Lou added.
“And I used to tell them that forty was the new twenty, long before that phrase became popular.”
The older women laughed, and Chastity laughed along with them, feeling right at home. She was far more likely to end up friends with these women than with Denise.
“Are you talking about me?” Denise marched up to the merry band, her hands on her apron-clad hips.
“Speak of the devil,” Barbara murmured.
Chastity struggled not to burst into giggles. She turned to smile at Denise. “Your mom was just telling me that she was a little older than most moms when she had you.”
Denise snorted and gave Myrna the hairy eyeball. “It was embarrassing.”
“Oh, come now, sweetheart.” Myrna shuffled to Denise’s side and gave her a sideways hug. “It meant you got the full attention of your father and I. You never had to share a room, you
never had to wear hand-me-downs.”
Denise wrinkled her nose, as if none of that mattered. “What is all this junk?” She pointed at the bag of yarn. “I want it out of my shop. It’s unhygienic.”
“I brought some yarn so your mom and her friends could do some knitting.” Chastity sent a smile to all four of the older women, making sure they knew they were included in her gift too. They hummed and cooed in surprise and thanks.
“No,” Denise said, point blank.
“No?” Mary Lou’s expression turned as dark as a thunderstorm, and just as suddenly. “What do you mean, no?”
“I said I’d get yarn for you, Mom, and I will.” She ignored Mary Lou. “We don’t take charity from anyone.”
“It’s not charity, it’s a gift,” Chastity argued.
“Well, we don’t want it.”
“Denise,” Myrna began in a reasonable voice. “Mrs. Culpepper is trying to be nice, to make friends because she’s new in town.”
As soon as Myrna said “Mrs. Culpepper,” Denise’s face went puce. “She can make friends somewhere else. Get that crap out of my salon.”
With that, she turned and marched back to her salon chair. She’d finished with her client, and he’d paid and gone, so she grabbed the broom from against the wall and attacked the hair on the floor like it was personally insulting her.
“Someone’s got some anger management issues,” Chastity muttered.
“You don’t have to live with her,” Myrna said.
“My daughter gets like that too,” Barbara sighed. “She’s unhappy with the choices she made, so she takes it all out on me.”
“And we can’t do a damned thing about it,” Birdie added, looking suddenly glum. “Stuck in the house, no way to get out except on salon days.”
