Page 91 of I'm Not Yours
“It’s killing me.”
“Me, too.”
I hugged him as my need to rip off his kilt razzed me straight up.
He pulled away, breathing hard, and said, “I need to jump in that river and cool off.”
I took a shaky breath. “I’ll follow you in.”
We tiptoed, clothes and all, into that freezing water. I splashed him, he splashed back, we plunked ourselves down in the river, and he hugged me close, a deer watching us from twenty feet away, a crow cawing overhead in protest of our presence.
Later we snuck back into the house, or tried to.
My family laughed and chortled when they saw us, someone blared a bagpipe, another shook a tambourine. “A duet of love in the river!” my cousin Mimi shouted. Reece waved, I darted up the stairs to change. He winked at me.
I loved him. I knew it at that moment.
I loved Reece.
It scared me to death.
We ladies had our bachelorette party that night, which involved dancing outside in white dresses around the largest tree on my parents’ property (for eternal freedom), eating athree-tiered cake decorated in the Clan MacKenzie colors at midnight (Go, Mac-Kenzies!), and braiding a long, blue ribbon for August for “something blue” for her wedding.
The men had their bachelor party, which involved beer and football reruns.
There were no strippers, ever. Wasn’t even a consideration.
“The MacKenzie men respect women, we will never debase them,” my father said.
“The MacKenzie women respect men,” my mom said. “We will never debase them, unless theywantto get in their G-strings in front of us. Daughters, do you think that Hippie Chick should develop a G-string for men?”
I met Reece outside at one o’clock in the morning, the stars brilliant up in the blackness of the sky.
“June,” he drawled to me. “This feels like family.”
“Sure does, Reece, sure does.”
Oh, how I wanted to lead that man down through the woods . . .
“I dressed conservatively for Benjamin’s family,” my mom declared the day before the wedding, as the entire clan stood restlessly on the porch waiting for Ben’s family to arrive.
“Me, too,” said my father.
They were both in dressy Hippie Chick wear. My mom had sparkles on her white gown, which was tied at the waist with a dangling white rope, her blond hair up in a loose ball under her crown of wildflowers. My father had a matching crown of wildflowers and a Hippie Chick Man blue suit jacket with a peace sign on the back.
“I feel very proper,” my mom said.
“Me, too. Quite formal. But I do feel slick in the jacket.” He rolled his shoulders. “Comfortable, but it makes a peaceful statement. Let’s put on our tartans.”
Some members of the clan/family wore Hippie Chick clothes, many wore kilts and tartans, and still others had donned bikini tops and shorts. The twins were, indeed, in their monster outfits. They gnashed their vampire teeth. My sisters were in Hippie Chick, March had a tartan over his shoulder.
On the porch, Reece put an arm around me and drew me close, which, as usual, took my breath away and gave me butterflies.
“Good afternoon, June,” he murmured. “Good to see you’re out of bed.”
I laughed. “Dancing outside until the wee hours of the morning makes a woman sleepy.”
“I can think of a few things that a woman can do until the wee hours of the morning that would make her even more sleepy.” How I sizzled, how I heated way, way up.
