The Country Duet

by HJ Bellus

  Food is everywhere. Meals on Wheels has been giving him more than he can handle if the trash canss are any indicator. But convincing him to throw anything away before layers of mold cover it, is damn near impossible. I scrub my face, then go about tidying up the trash and hauling it out to burn. I’ve made a barrel for compost and then burn the rest of the trash.

  Dave has his protein shake, sipping on it in his recliner when I walk back in. He chose that over some of the home cooked food from Meals on Wheels. I slam down the trash canss harder than normal, catching Dave’s attention.

  “What’s got your feathers all ruffled, b…”

  “I’m not your boy. My name is Hunter.”

  Oh, yes, my stubbornness and pride have had enough of his shit.

  “Okay.” He sits up a bit taller. “Then what has you all pissed off?”

  “The way you treated those men. That wasn’t right at all. And you wonder why people don’t like to be around you?” I take three more steps closer to him. “You have so many stories to tell, Dave, but you choose to be a sealed off miserable asshole.”

  Shit, I even wince at my words, but it’s the goddamn truth, and I’m exhausted.

  “You got a woman?” he asks, then takes a drink of his shake with half of it missing his mouth and running down his chin onto his black shirt.

  “Yeah.” The answer flows out without any thought, even though Teale isn’t my girlfriend. In fact, she’s gone right back to work and school mode after our one magical night. Hell, some nights I think it was all a dream.

  “She got a nice set of tits?” He hammers me with his next question.

  Just like out in the shop, I’m stunned speechless. It doesn’t stop Dave.

  “Maybe if you played with them a little,” he sets down his shake and raises both hands, mimicking the motion of titty play, “then you’d be in a lot better mood. I have eighty-four years of experience, so listen to me.”

  Watching an eighty-four-year-old man pretend to molest a set of boobs is more disturbing than dumping his piss bottles.

  “I’ll remember that, Dave. Did you get your hundred pills down?”

  “Fourteen pills. Yep, have my hydrocodone down and ready to go for the night.”

  I shake my head at his reality and realize the stench of his house doesn’t bother me like it used to. “See you next week.”

  I turn to walk out of the living room and to my truck, but Dave stops me.

  “Hunter, if you like that girl take her dancing. It always wins over the women. Back in the day, I used to be the quickest jitterbug dancer in Juliette. The men would bring their woman to the bar, and I’d leave with them. Dancing is the quickest route to a lady’s heart.”

  Jesus. Now he’s giving me dating advice. Does the mystery of this man ever end?

  “I did take her dancing,” I growl.

  “You must suck at it. Here.” He slowly rises from his chair. “Get your ass over here.”

  “Dave, I’m not in the mood.”

  “Get the fuck on with it and get over here.” He gestures wildly with an arm.

  I step in closer with a smirk on my face at this nonsense.

  “You gotta smooth her over. Remember you’re the king when you walk into that bar. You wear your best shirt and always a cowboy hat.”

  He grabs my hands. “I’m not as good as I used to be.”

  “Dave, I’m not dancing with you.”

  He slaps my shoulder to shut me up. “Now you gotta get the rhythm.”

  He shocks the shit out of me when he begins moving slowly, yet there’s patterned moves to him. “You practice this shit, and you’ll be down her pants in no time.”

  “Don’t think she’s interested,” I reply, following his lead in the dance.

  “Because your dancing sucks.”

  The curse of Dave breaks my shitty mood. I laugh hard at the sight of us dancing in the middle of his living room with no music.

  The drive back to my apartment is lonely in more ways than I can explain. Most of the lonely feelings are coming from the cold shoulder Teale has been serving me up with. It’s like our night never even happened. Her skinny jeans, baggy sweater, and trendy boots, the mask she hides behind, are all firmly back in place.

  My phone begins ringing, and I’m in no mood to hear my mom chewing my ass for working two jobs, or to hear Frank asking me to come in. I’m in the mood to just keep driving, not stopping until a new beginning and town come into view.

  I let my phone go to voicemail then, miraculously, it begins ringing again.

  “Hello,” I growl into the phone.

  Jesus, now I’m even beginning to sound like Dave.

  “Hunter, it’s Thad.”

  “Hey, man.”

  Since Dave and the work at Frank’s, I’ve neglected my friends. Burton was the main go to since kindergarten, but I’ve made a decent amount of friends since being at the University of Idaho. They also know I have all my tools in the bed of my truck and the hands to fix shit.

  “Broke down on the side of the road, man, thinking it’s the starter.” He pauses for a beat. “Happen to be around?”

  “Where ya at?” I ask, scrubbing my face.

  “Just on the outskirts of town, was heading down to Lewiston.”

  “Be there in a few.”

  I hang up not in any better of a mood. Sometimes it sucks ass to be the friend everyone knows they can call and rely on. It would be nice, just for once, if the tables were turned. Cranking up the music, I let the momentary pity party fly out of the window and sing along with Jason Aldean.

  “Burnin’ It Down” is exactly what I’m doing right now, struggling to forget it all. Thad’s easy to spot in his damn fancy ass Range Rover on the side of the road. The damn barely dressed women and frat boys surrounding him are like beacons.

  “Really,” I say to myself.

  How do these grown ass men not know one thing about a car? Just another blessing of Sweetwater Ranch and the way my dad raised me.

  After asking several questions and checking under the hood, it’s definitely not the starter. I begin thinking it’s the fuel pump, ready to tear the fucker apart when it dawns on me. Before I have the chance to ask my question, another car zips off the road joining our off-road party. There’s no way I’d mistake the zippy attitude of that car.

  Teale.

  The door to her piece of shit opens, then her long legs come into view. Red skinny jeans today and a hooded sweatshirt. She stomps her way over to me like she has all the answers in the world.

  “Hunter.”

  “Jeff Gordon.” I twirl the wrench in my hand.

  “Princess.” Teale crosses her arms over her chest, and pops a hip, along with one of her eyebrows in a synchronized motion.

  “I’ll show you, my princess,” I mutter, then turn back to the problem at hand. “Thad, before I pull out this damn fuel pump, when was the last time you filled up on gas?”

  Yep, just took his motherfucking man card from him in front of the bimbos and his fellow frat brothers. Remorse? Not at all. Hungry, tired, and frustrated? Absolutely!

  Teale saves his ass. “Toss one of those bimbos in the car, and we’ll go get gas.”

  Thad doesn’t hesitate to grab one of the girls. Teale speeds away like she thundered right into my life. Watching her taillights disappear does more to me than I’d like to admit. I’m in the mood to just drive until static fills my cab with nothing else bothering me.

  Thad and his boys do their best to coax me into their wild night as payment for coming to their rescue.

  “Naw, have an early class and need to get some grub.”

  One of the cocky asses pipes up. “You can have any girl. Hell, we’ll even throw your little friend in the mix. You could have a full combo tonight.”

  My fists clench, eager to go for his jugular, but Jeff Gordon decides to screech in at that particular moment. I never thought I’d be so thankful for her reckless driving as I am now. A jail cell doesn’t sound great
tonight, but then again it might get a warm meal.

  Teale marches right up to us with the gas can in her hand. She shoves it into Thad’s chest then steps back, not giving him time to catch it. I’m shocked he captures the red can before it tumbles to the ground.

  “Thad,” the brunette who rode with Teale squeals. “It was like magic on those superhero shows. She just whipped that can out of her trunk. I mean it was awesome!”

  I find it almost comical that Teale is feeling my level of frustration.

  “Yeah, Thad, think you can locate the hole to pour that liquid in?” Teale asks.

  The thing is she turns on him, marching back to her piece of a shit car before he can respond. Jeff Gordon’s engine doesn’t roar to life, nor does gravel fly, so I know she is watching what happens next.

  “You think I’m out of gas?” Thad asks.

  “Worth a fucking shot before I tear apart your car.”

  Thad has no problem flipping open the cover to his gas tank, but it’s when he struggles with the fucking gas can that I can’t handle this circus anymore. I tear the jug from him, twist off the cap knowing it has a safety protection system, and then dump the gas into his tank, emptying the entire can.

  “Go and try to start it,” I instruct him

  It takes him two tries before the engine is sputtering to life. I tap his hood then point directly at him.

  “Go fill up your damn tank, you crazy bastard, before you party the night away.”

  “Will do. Thanks, man. Breakfast on me next time.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I walk back to my car, pulling down my ball cap.

  I notice Teale is still sitting in her car, surveying the whole scene. The empty gas can is in my hand, the reminder of how she helped out tonight. I walk up to her trunk and tap on it. The lid pops open, and I place it back in, unable to control my smile. Her dad definitely has her set up for roadside emergencies. How I missed it when I changed her first flat tire is beyond me. Oh, yeah, it was that color red and legs for miles.

  “You owe me,” Teale chirps when I lean in on her window.

  “Excuse me?” I ask.

  “You owe me, Mr. Fix It. That was eighteen dollars worth of gas.”

  I straighten up and step back. “Well, shit. Thought you forgot I existed.”

  “Nope. Clearly, I recognized your truck, and now you owe me.”

  “You are impossible, Teale Wickett.” I scrub my face, knowing I need a shower and fucking food right now. “Follow me to my place, and I’ll pay you back in the form of dinner.”

  “Sounds good.” She winks. “Pedal to the metal, Grandpa!”

  Just like she always does, she makes me laugh and all of the stress of the day fades away. It's ironic because the majority of the stress stems from her. I make sure to obey the speed limit all the way back to my apartment and for good measure keep it five under. Teale’s piece of shit car is riding my ass all the way. Each time she honks I take it upon myself to slow down a bit, enjoying torturing her a bit too much.

  Having the advantage over her feels fucking good, since Teale has had the upper hand since I met her. I gesture out the window to Burton’s old parking spot, then pull into mine. Teale has her engine cut off and hops from her car before I even get out. I watch her as she peers around the apartment complex, taking it all in. I could be mistaken, but I see a longing in her eyes. Just chalk it up to another thing I want to know about her, but I’m just as quickly reminded of how big of a closed book this woman is.

  “Nice digs,” she chirps when I walk beside her.

  “You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”

  She shrugs. “Looks nice on the outside.”

  “It’s a rundown college town apartment complex.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t judge things and people by looks.” She winks at me. “I take a deeper look into souls.”

  I place my palm on my door then flex my other arm in a cheesy move. “Are you saying I’m not pretty, Teale Wickett?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Bullshit?” she asks.

  “Yep, bullshit.”

  “Possibly bullshit,” she admits.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I’m not an arrogant man by any means, but also know God graced me kindly in the looks department. I don’t brag about it or use it to get into women’s pants like Burton. But right now, I’m not above doing anything with Teale.

  “And that’s exactly why I was never going to tell you that you were pretty.” Teale playfully smacks my ass.

  Her cheeks flush with a light shade of pink. I wink at her then unlock my door. As we step in, I know she’ll more than likely change her mind on the prettiness of the apartment. It's bachelor pad to the core. I have to say it’s less of a pigsty since Burton ran off into his own future.

  I study Teale as she takes in the apartment. It doesn’t take her long, as my theory when it comes to decorating is less is more. She stops in front of a family picture. It’s an older one where Abby was four years old, and I was barely stepping into manhood. Mom wanted to send me with a current one. I refused because it’s not necessarily the people in the pictures, but the fantastic shot of the valley of the ranch in the background. Lush green pasture speckled with black Angus cows and the Snake River running through it. Our old barn in the center surrounded by working corrals, and if you look hard enough you can spot my horse, Remi.

  I walk up behind her, placing my hands on her hips and pressing my chest into her back. I shouldn’t be this close with the filth of Dave’s place still covering me, but I can’t help myself. I reach up, pointing at the picture.

  “This is Abby aka Hell on Wheels, Quinn the middle child, my mom Blair, and my dad Bradley.” I pause, sensing Teale growing rapidly sad. “And this is Hunter the stud.”

  That gains a chuckle from her.

  I can’t help myself from whispering into the tender skin of her neck. “Going to shower. There are drinks in the fridge. I’ll be quick.”

  I make good on my promise of being fast, taking the quickest shower of my life. Hell, I didn’t even wait for the water to completely heat up. It had barely reached a hot temperature when I was jumping out. I need to shave, but don’t want to take the time, so scruff will have to do.

  When I make my way back out to the living room, I find Teale curled up on the couch reading one of my college textbooks. She appears tiny swallowed up in the cushions.

  “Weed Management intriguing?” I ask, leaning on the arm of the couch.

  “Kind of.”

  “Liar,” I accuse.

  “Seriously, I’ve always had a love for words, reading whatever I can get my hands on. Can’t find the charger to my e-reader or I’d be lost in it twenty-four seven.”

  Note to self: buy the damn woman a charger.

  “What do you like to read?”

  She shrugs. “Everything. Mystery, suspense, romance, and Harry Potter.”

  “Don’t know much about reading, Darlin’, but that sounds like a vast array.”

  “Yeah, seems I can only get my hands on my dad’s old magazines, but they’ll do and so will this.” She holds up the book.

  Her stomach growls loudly, reminding me how hungry I am, too. It seems I can’t take my gaze off Teale though, and seriously find myself rethinking the black gym shorts I slipped on. They conceal nothing.

  Teale follows me into the kitchen with the textbook in her hands. She settles at the table, opening it back up to the page she was reading, then peers up to me.

  “What the hell is that?” she asks, pointing.

  “Instapot. Mom sent it home with me.” I grab my MacBook, pulling up the Pinterest board she’s saved all the recipes on for me.

  “Like a crockpot?” she asks, standing, walking over to me.

  “Yes basically, but on steroids.”

  “Do you realize how weird it is to see the cowboy-iest man I’ve ever met manhandle that?” She points to the In
stapot on the counter.

  I shrug. “I like to think of it as being a man of many talents.”

  “You have a Pinterest account?” The amusement in her voice cannot be disguised.

  “Yeah.”

  “The sexiest cowboy on campus, who also knows his way around an engine, has a Pinterest account?”

  Her quirky question would typically leave me laughing, but I find myself hung up on two words…sexiest cowboy.

  “I miss my momma’s home cooked meals,” I offer.

  “Let me get this straight. You, Hunter Yates, are adding Betty Crocker to your already impressive list of talents.”

  I turn to her, pulling her close to me, making sure she feels the rest of my impressive assets. “Full of mysteries here, Darlin’.”

  Teale picks up on exactly what I’m hinting at, pressing her hips into mine for several long beats. “What exactly are you cooking me?”

  “Pork tenderloin, potatoes, and carrots.” I kiss her lips quickly. “Did I tell you that I raise pigs back home, too? Fresh, farm pork.”

  Tears well up in her eyes, and I watch as one slowly trickles down her face.

  “Why are you sad?” I whisper into her lips.

  “I want this, Hunter, all of it, but I can’t right now. You make me feel too much. It’s not fair how perfect you are.”

  “Why can’t you right now?” I ask.

  “It’s complicated.”

  I crook my neck, staring at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she never does, so I begin to talk.

  “I’m not perfect, Teale. I’m just a man who, right now, wants a woman who keeps giving me pieces of herself, then pulls back.”

  “Can we just be?” she asks.

  “We can, but know this. I want all of you. Remember, Teale, we all have our pasts and demons locked far away in dark closets that we battle daily. My closet right now is full, and it seems you are the only person who can bring light to it.”