Page 39 of Townshipped
A giggle starts to bubble up from behind the refrigerator door where Em is pulling out milk. Her head pops out from behind the door.
“A muskrat, huh? Okie dokie, MacIntyre.”
I clear my throat and pivot away from Em.Right?A muskrat? Really?
I look straight at Em, like facing the sun: dangerous, bright, central, warm, blinding. She’s all that and more. I wink and raise my eyebrows once, giving her a look I know affects her. I refuse to discuss the rodent-related outburst she drew out of me.Muskrat.
I couldn’t say something manly like panther, wolf, or anaconda? No. I went with muskrat—a tailless, web-footed rodent.
I picture Trevor getting wind of that moniker and the havoc he would wreak on my life. I would forever be taunted by inflatable muskrats, figurines of muskrats showing up randomly, and mumbled whispers of “muskrat” when I went into town. I can see him and Rob managing to locate muskrat costumes from some obscure online marketplace, and showing up in full muskrat form to chant a homespun muskrat rap in my driveway.
Nope. The muskrat dies today.
I grab my phone off the counter so I can send a text to my vet. It’s time to vaccinate the does who are due to deliver babies in three weeks. And I need to think about farming and tech, not this woman whose presence is upending my life.
“Who are you texting?” Em asks.
“My vet. I need to find out when he can come out. I have to run into town for some goat pellets and minerals for the pregnant does and I’ll work my trip into town around his schedule.”
“Such a farmer,” Em says with a coy look at me through her lashes.
Killing me. Kill-ing. Me.
“And that’s a good thing?” I bite the bait. And like any fish, I’m hooked.
“Oh. It’s a very good thing.”
She drags her pointer finger slowly across the counter and then brings it up to tap on her chin as though she’s thinking about something.
This woman could teach classes in flirting. I had no idea the can I opened with that kiss. Would I rewind time and go back to put the lid on?
No. No, I would not.
This is the most alive I’ve felt in years. Maybe ever. I’m not sure how much time we have. Maybe another few days. Maybe years. And I won’t cross the line with her again until we’ve confirmed she’s unattached, but there’s nothing wrong with having some fun in the meantime.
* * *
The rideinto town feels like an event with Em in my passenger seat. She did her hair and put on a little makeup. I can’t help glancing at her as we drive. She catches me and I look away.
“So, what’s town like?”
“Small, nondescript, some call it quaint. The buildings are older but well-kept for the most part. We have a typical Main Street, only it’s not on Main. It’s on State Street. Main has shops too, but it’s not the main street. And that right there should tell you a whole lot about our town.”
“The sign with the cow and the car driving over it told me a lot too.”
She gasps.
It’s a memory.
I smile over at her.
“You must have passed that on your way in. Before the crash.”
It’s only a mile from my house. Ridiculous sign.
“In high school we nearly tore it down—my friends Duke, Chris, and I—on a dare,” I tell Em. “We were going to take turns being the owner of it, hanging it on our bedroom walls like some holy grail we’d traveled to find.”
“Really?”
