by HJ Bellus
Unknown: Hey! Made a Christmas card for your Long Dong Silver (Hope it’s long or this just got real awkward.)
A few seconds later a picture message comes through. I knew the text was from Teale before it even downloaded. A selfie of her holding up her book with the page open to a cowboy hat, where she’s drawn a perfect set of balls and dick on it. Her bright smile half covered by the book, but her gorgeous auburn hair wild on top of her head. With my finger, I press down on it, saving it to my phone.
Had no idea how much I’ve missed this girl over the last two weeks until she sent me a drawing of a dick. I finish my second beer before replying back to her. I’m not exactly sure how one replies to a dick picture.
Me: Kind of speechless here, Teale.
Me: And how did you get my number?
Teale: I know my drawing is damn good and from my Dad’s phone, duh!
Me: How was your Christmas?
Teale: Didn’t get the pony I’ve been asking for the last fifteen years.
God, this woman.
Me: Bummer. I have an extra pony here on the ranch looking for a beautiful red head.
Teale: HUNTER! Was that a dick joke?
Me: No…I really have a pony you could ride.
Teale: Smooth, real smooth, Hunter Yates. I bet you do.
Me: See I’m not going to win here. I’ll be back up on campus New Year’s Eve. Want to do dinner or something?
Teale: Yes, something for sure. Would even be up for a pony ride!
I toss my phone on the tailgate, excited about returning to campus. Life is changing rapidly with me in the passenger seat or rather on the tailgate of my truck. Just like the old saying goes, “The only thing that stays the same is everything changes.”
I crack open another beer, knowing I’ll be regretting it in the morning, but nothing right now could kill the high I’m riding. Not even the promise of a hangover in the early rays of the morning.
6
Hunter
“The foundation of family - that's where it all begins for me.” –Faith Hill
Abby had quite the dramatic show when I drove down the lane leaving for campus. Quinn waved like a lunatic because she got a new car for Christmas and has no time to miss her older brother.
The two weeks back home were just what my soul needed. I’m rejuvenated spending time on the ranch. I’m shocked how excited I am for my date tonight with Teale. I’ve never dreaded going back to campus, but also have never looked forward to it as I do now.
I fight to unscramble my brain on the long ass drive back. The hours and miles fade away in the rearview mirror. By the time I hit town, it’s already eight pm. I should go home and shower, but instead reach over for a spritz of cologne and pull into Frank’s.
Teale had texted letting me know she’d be at the shop working on an online course. The one thing I have learned about the mysterious woman is that she is busting her ass to get an LPN license, along with an associate’s degree, while working for her dad.
Just like so many times before, when I open the door, she’s at her desk with her face in her MacBook, intent on something. This time is a bit different, after tasting her and feeling her lips on mine. I want more in the worst way. To go fast in the slowest possible way with her. That one taste ignited more in me than any other kiss in my life.
Staring at her with my arms crossed, with the bunch of roses pressed against my chest is fast becoming my favorite past time. She nibbles on her lower lip deep in concentration. It takes everything in me to not go soothe that lip with my tongue.
“You staring again?” She pops up her head, nailing me with those blue irises.
It’s a sucker punch straight to the gut, a delicious fucking sucker punch at that.
“Yeah, I am, Darlin’.” Making my way to her, I hand her the roses.
“Damn, thought you were going to whip out your pony.” She smiles standing up.
My jaw drops, then once common sense kicks in, I slowly shut my gaping mouth. Teale has on a little, tight black dress. When she rounds from behind the desk, I notice her legs are bare until I spot her knee-high tan cowboy boots. Well, hot damn that pony may be trotting later tonight after all.
“A real life pony, jackass,” I smirk, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Sure, you do.” She reaches over, grabbing a piece of paper off her desk. “Here’s your Christmas present. It’s sorta, kind of, a re-gift, but it’s the thought that matters and all that jazz, right?”
Her checks flush a light pink as I unfold the paper. I don’t break our eye contact until I peer down at the drawing she’d texted me. A damn cowboy hat with cock and balls drawn around it.
Hunter,
Merry Christmas. Hope you had a “wank-licious” time. Dancing on me. That’s your gift, if you can keep up.
Teale
Profound Frank and Beans Author in Work
“Keep up. Dancing?” I peer up with a raised eyebrow to see that Teale is standing right in front of me.
Her sweet scent assaulting me, threatening to take me out. A combination of the sweetest honey with a hint of oranges, and I grow drunk on her.
“Want your second gift now or later?” She asks, pressing her palms into my chest.
“Had to out do me and get me two presents, yeah?” I smile inching my face to hers.
“Always.”
“Now,” I reply.
Her lips press into mine and I swear she’s sweeter than before. Our lips aren’t hesitant this time, moving like they want to. Teale opens her lips letting me explore her mouth. Our tongues dance to the perfect beat of life. No one walks in on us this time, giving us time to explore each other’s clothed bodies with our hands.
I’m an ass man and go straight for it. After several minutes, Teale is the one to pull back first. We never break eye contact or let go of each other.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Fix It.”
She reaches up on her tiptoes again and proceeds to kiss the hell out of me. This time when she pulls back the smile lighting up her face is contagious.
“And Happy New Year.”
We walk hand and hand out to my truck after she locked up the shop. I take a chance flipping up my console. I’ll leave it up to Teale whether she decides to slide over to the middle or not. Being the honest man I am, I hope like hell she slides right on over.
The engine of my truck already rumbling, with the Zac Brown Band’s “Beautiful Drug” blaring from the speakers. I definitely have a death wish and am addicted to the most beautiful woman. Teale climbs up into the truck hoisting herself with the use of the running board like a well-mannered woman, not exposing any part of her.
She settles in the passenger seat and eyes the middle for half a second before she glides right over, trusting her rebel heart. I shift the truck into first gear, rev up the engine, place my hand on her exposed thigh, and drive right into the New Year.
“I really, really like gummy bears,” Teale announces when we pull into the bar.
“That was random.” I smile over at her.
“Just thought you should know something about me.” She places her hand on top of mine. “Tell me something about you.”
This one is fucking easy, not even taking me a second to think about. “I really, really like the color red.”
Her eyes shine with happiness. It’s a gorgeous look on her. She’d been chipper before, but nothing like this. Before our lips have the chance to connect, I hop from the truck and guide her out. If I didn’t force myself to move we’d be in the cab of my truck all night long, tangled up. I freeze, causing Teale to slam into my back.
“Jesus, a little warning next time cowboy.”
I turn slowly to her.
“What’s wrong?” She asks.
“Just had a thought.” I grab her hips and pull her into me.
“Something that involves your pony?”
A chuckle escapes me. “No, it’s back home on the ranch. We could stay in the truck you know.”
Teale bites down on her bottom lip. “We could, but I really want to dance.”
“Dancing will do,” I whisper, grazing her lips with mine.
The bar is packed with rowdy partygoers, mostly dolled up with cheesy-ass party hats on their head. Teale never once lets go of my hand, as we wind through the mass of people to find a booth in the corner. She doesn’t seem to notice all the stares her tanned legs are getting. Or if she does, she has perfected a poker face, ignoring them.
We slide into the same side of the booth and before either of us have a chance to say a word, a waitress is at our side.
“Hey cutie.” She smiles brightly at me. “What can I get you?”
Teale slaps the tabletop. “Yes, sweetie, what can she get you?”
I shake my head not wanting some damn catfight to ruin this night. “Mountain Dew and you, baby?”
I lay extra emphasis on the word baby, causing Teale to beam with pride.
“Shirley Temple.”
The waitress leaves as quickly as she raced over to us, defeated.
“No beer for you?” I turn to Teale, laying my arm around the top of her shoulders. “I can drive you home.”
“I don’t drink,” she blurts out.
“Ever?” I ask.
“Used to, but not now. What about you?”
I notice her fingers fidgeting and her whole body growing anxious.
“Don’t mind a cold beer every once in a while,” I admit.
“I really, really like Shirley Temples.” Her radiant smile lights her face up.
“Then, baby, you can get drunk on them tonight.”
“And drunk on you,” she whispers.
Our lips meet, knowing exactly what to do. I kiss the hell out of her, wrapping a hand in her hair and pulling her closer to me. I curse the damn table for being in our way, because I’d give anything for her to be straddling my lap right now.
Someone clears their throat and we both glance over to the waitress with our drinks. There’s no small talk or flirty smiles this time as she sets them down on the table, not impressed in the least.
An old Brooks & Dunn song comes blaring out of the speakers in the bar. Teale squeals and jumps up in her seat, knocking the tops of her knees underneath the table.
“We have to dance. This is my favorite song.”
“Never knew you were so country, Darlin’.”
“I’m not. Just want to be.” Teale reaches up, running the pad of her finger along the brim of my black Stetson cowboy hat.
“That hat turn you on, yeah?” I wink at her.
“Maybe.” She shrugs then pushes on my shoulder. “Move your ass and dance with me.”
The song “My Maria”, not slow enough to sway to and not quite a swinging song, so I grab her by the hip pulling our chests together and clutch her other hand. Teale’s eyes flare in amazement as I lead her in a two-step. Her body molds and moves right along with mine. My hand sneaks down with a mind of its own until it’s relaxing on the swell of her ass. We dance song after song with me swinging Teale around the floor, and her laughter floating around the bar. Several men try to cut in and I swear my inner Dave comes out when the urge to growl at them strikes. Teale’s always polite and shakes her head no.
“Bar at the End of the World” by Kenney Chesney begins jamming. Teale separates from me shaking her hips while smiling wide. She doesn’t stay gone too long before coming back to me. We move in unison getting a little more risky with our moves. Before I know what I’m doing, I take my Stetson off and plop it down on her head then wrap my arms low around Teale’s waist. The heavy crowd around us curtains us in, creating our own slice of privacy. My hands cup her ass until her front is grinding against mine.
“Yeehaw,” Teale hoots out over the crowd.
The song is cut off, then the bar begins counting down the seconds to midnight. Teale joins in, pumping her arm up in the air with each shout. Her other hand securely on the top of my Stetson as she celebrates with the crowd, and I’m just mesmerized by her. I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s screwing up the shape of it and that shit is sacred to a cowboy. Actually, it’s the first law in the cowboy hand book. I’ll just re-shape it at home not wanting to ruin this memory.
After she shouts one and before she has the chance to bellow Happy New Year, I whirl her around in my arms. The three words she was ready to shout drown in my mouth as our tongues intertwine. Everyone in the bar disappears, the sound muting, just leaving us wrapped up in each other.
You never can tell what the New Year holds in store for you. It’s a silent promise of hope or a curse of doom and grief to ensue. If only I knew my entire life was going to be shattered in the matter of three hundred and sixty-five days.
7
Hunter
“I'm gonna be something one of these days.” –Patsy Cline
It took several minutes to coax Dave out of the house. It’s Saturday again and my day to work, but I’ve learned Dave doesn’t want to work if it’s too damn cold. Winter in northern Idaho is always fucking cold.
He has me getting parts ready to restore an old tractor, which I consider a big step up from sorting rusty nuts and bolts. I look up at the shelf where that messy stack lays that he had me put up there a while ago and just shake my head. Even though there may be shit strewn everywhere, the man has everything labeled. Not just marked with the words scrawled across the front, but everything is wrapped in tape, and then he labels it.
Right now, I’m staring at a can of yellow paint. It’s wrapped in tape all the way around, with no label showing.
Dave hasn’t stopped bitching about how cold it is in the shop, or quit looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m doing it his way. If I wasn’t still riding the high from my first date with Teale a few weeks ago, I may have up and quit. A man can only take so much nit picking before he blows. The thing Dave hasn’t understood or even began to comprehend yet, is that I’m just as hard headed as him. I have a feeling he’s soon going to learn this lesson.
“This is bullshit with how damn cold it is,” Dave leans in closer to inspect my work.
“The space heater is on. It’s good for you to get out of that damn house and blow some stink off, Dave.”
“Ain’t paying you to talk,” he quips right back.
I’d like to argue that he ain’t paying me much period, but know that will go nowhere. Every damn chance Dave gets he reminds that I’m making good money and wouldn’t be able to do that anywhere else. Four hundred dollars to put up with his grouchy ass, pick up his piss bottles, and burn his trash is hardly worth it. And that’s even with him paying me whenever he remembers. There’s just something about the cranky, old bastard that keeps me coming back.
“Excuse me?”
We both looked up to two men standing in the doorway of the shop with their hands tucked in their pockets.
“What the hell do you need?”
“Wondering if you'd be interested in selling any of your tractor parts off?"
The men are nice enough, showing interest in some of Dave’s stuff. Dave naturally relaxes back on his seat and goes about his business not looking at the visitors. The men look at each other and then to me. Awkward at best.
“We’re looking for some spare parts,” one of them offers.
I set the piece of metal in my hand down and peer over to Dave, expecting him to say something even if it’s to get lost. He says not a word, ignoring them with his face down. I wipe my dirty, sweaty palms off on my jeans and step toward them.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
The taller of the men rattles of the exact part, and I peer over to Dave who’s still not making eye contact. Uncertain of what to do, I turn back to the men.
“Uh, I’m sure there’s something around here.”
“Trying to restore our Granddad’s old tractor and finding it difficult to locate parts. This is like a gold mine for us.”
“Understand.” I peer back to Dave who is st
ill acting like we are the only two in the shop. “Sometimes it’s hard to find older parts.”
“Yeah, that people don’t want an arm and leg for…”
Before he has the chance to finish Dave begins to speak up.
“You two paying this boy? Didn’t think so.” He slowly stands, tossing a piece of metal to the shop floor. The sound echoes around the shop, startling everyone.
He then grits out each of his next words with precision. “Get the fuck lost.”
Stunned into silence. There are no other words at this moment. The men stand frozen in place.
“You assholes dead? Get the fuck lost.”
The men turn and leave the shop. I stare at Dave speechless.
“Ain’t paying you to stand there, boy.”
If I weren’t so fucking embarrassed and disgusted by his behavior, I’d be pissed that I’m once again referred to as the boy. The pieces slowly fall into place. It’s no wonder he doesn’t have anyone and back in the day did all of his shopping in bulk. Dave hates people. I should take it as a compliment he’s let me in this far.
I go to open my mouth at least ten times, but then promptly shut it. It’s clear there’s no sense in talking reason into him. He could’ve just told them he wasn’t interested.
“Need to take my insulin.” Dave stands and begins creeping to the door.
I follow him, listening to each snap, crackle, and pop of his bones. The grinding sound sending chills up my spine. The stubborn old bastard…
“Dave.”
I get his attention before picking him up and walking back up to his house. He doesn’t say a word as we walk in. I set him down, and he goes to the rows and rows of medicine bottles. Arthritis, sugar diabetes, high blood pressure, hydrocodone, the list goes on. At least he keeps up with his medicine if he doesn’t keep up with anything else around his house. He’s made it apparent that he sees no problem with the state of his house, claiming it’s lived in. It’s a fucking dump that’s on the verge of being condemned.
