Page 44 of Bucked Hard

I grin as I tip my face and lean in. His lips taste like a brilliant mixture of the sweet Pepsi he drinks and a bit of the dust from the field.

“Mmm…” A moan escapes my lips as my quick kiss turns deeper and Chad’s hand snakes to the back of my neck, pressing me hard and full into his mouth.

He opens my lips with his warm tongue, pressing inside, seeking me out, finding me there waiting. My chest tightens both with desire and fear that Aunt Jessie will walk out at any moment.

I pull back, biting on my lip in an effort to restrain the rapidly building momentum in our kiss.

“Go!” I giggle. “Back to work, you slacker.”

Even as I say it, I want him to disobey. I want him to steal another kiss.

“Chad!” A voice from behind the cabins floats on the late summer breeze. I hear Enrique’s Toyota hum from behind the barn, the muffler no longer muffling.

His shoulders drop. “Yeah! I’m comin’!”

Chad’s blue eyes are still on mine as he leans in and steals another quick kiss, answering my silent prayer. “Very tasty.” He licks his lips, his chiseled hard jaw flexing as a full white smile crosses his face. “But I know something even tastier.” He bobs his eyebrows and the brim of his hat moves up and down.

God, he’s so beautiful. Heaven help me.

“Go on, he’s waiting.” I push his hips off the bench.

“I don’t want to go. I want to take you back to my cabin. And you didn’t answer about tonight.”

“I can’t tonight. I’m going to Tabitha’s. I forgot last night to tell you. She couldn’t come for my birthday last night so we’re celebrating tonight. We have a girls’ night and I sleep over every Thursday anyway, so it worked out. I’ll be home early tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I can live without you for a night. I didn’t get nearly enough of you.” He kisses me again, and I playfully push him away. “But it’s important to keep your word and your friends. So, I’ll suffer alone. But I want you to text me when you get there, and when you leave to come back here. I won’t sleep unless I know you’re safe. Sorry, I’ve got it bad, Dove.” He cracks those full lips into a crooked smile, his tongue tracing around, and I forget how to speak.

Butterflies flutter and brush all over my skin when he winks, then he leans back in and plants one last hard kiss against my lips. His hat, the color of the Sahara against his obsidian hair, falls off to one side, making me laugh. I’m not even sure why it’s funny, or even if it is, but I don’t care. I’m so happy.

He stands tall as he leaves me with my imaginary butterflies, ears of corn laying in my lap, shaking in time with the quivering of the muscles in my thighs.

My eyes are glued to Chad’s faded Levis as he runs across the back lawn, his worn leather boots kicking up dust as he moves across the gravel drive and toward Enrique waiting in the car. I still feel like I’m in a dream when I look at him; he’s tall, hard, dark and sweet at the same time. And, he wantsme.It still doesn’t seem real.

Ever since I left that tin can of a place my Mama called home, I battled with the demons inside me. The demons telling me I was fat, stupid, useless, worthless – that no one would ever want me. How a woman could raise a daughter and not protect her still haunts me. How anyone could let someone hurt their own child must be part of the devil himself.

Aunt Jessie is my savior. When the court took me out of my Mama’s house, she swooped in and captured me in mid-free fall. I spent three months in foster care; Jessie then battled to win me through the system against my mother. I testified in court against Leander Menfield, my Mama’s much younger boyfriend at the time.

It was a nightmare from which I couldn’t seem to wake. When a woman takes the word of a boyfriend over the word of her own daughter, it leaves deep, silver and black scars on a soul that never really heal. They grow thick, the color softens, but they are always there.

Leander planted himself inside our trailer when I was almost twelve and took root like a weed. His sheer size and his long, greasy hair made him into a nightmare for a scared little girl.

Mama’s idea of a good date ended with the man of the week moving in. Most of them moved out within a week or two, but not Leander.

I didn’t know any life other than that, but I did know I never felt safe, never felt like I had ahome,a soft place to run to when I was scared or hurt.

What made Leander truly evil is he told me he loved me. He wooed me and groomed me. In some sick way, I think he thought he did love me and if the letters he sent from prison the first month after he was sentenced were any indication, some sick twisted part of him still does. Somehow he found out where I lived, even though I changed my last name to Jessie’s family name, from Sweeting to Gordon.

He would always address the letters to some fictional name then put ‘in care of’ either Jessie’s name or even my uncle who’d passed. He wouldn’t be allowed to send them directly to me, but somehow he found a way around the rules.

Back when it was happening, finally I was strong enough to tell Mrs. Simpson, my art teacher, before it went too far. She noticed my drawings and paintings taking on a darker edge, struck up friendly conversations trying to find out if everything was okay at home. She knew my Mama. Knew where I lived. So, her concern wasn’t just lip service.

Finally, one afternoon, I handed in a painting of me with someone’s hand around my neck and another hand where it shouldn’t be. From there, it took on a life of its own.

The memory of the sick feel of his hand down the back of my pants just at the crack of where my ass started and the way he kissed me still makes me gasp for air and hold down my stomach.

After the first few letters got here that one month, either Jessie took care of reporting him or the prison caught on and stopped him from sending them. But two months ago after years of nothing the route carrier pulled into the driveway and honked while I was out working on getting Rooster to, at least, not rear and buck every time I tried to lead him out of the pasture.

When the route carriers pulled in and honked, that usually meant they had a package for us and that was true that day as well.

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