Page 64 of Rough Cowboy
I jump.
Silver jumps.
The dog yelps and then bares his teeth at us.
“Alright, boy.” Silver sets him on the floor, and I hear his paws patter away.
“Since Sammy is missing the ultrasound, we brought ourselves.”
“You all are not coming to my ultrasound.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Faye’s Kentucky derby hat is a large mass of pink and blue feathers. “We brought you breakfast.”
I’m ridiculous? Should I point out they’ve barged into the house, without being invited, to watch us sleep?
“I told y’all not to stand around and stare at them.” Lillian shoos them out to the living room before she faces us. “I held them off as long as I could.”
Silver digs his fingertips into his eyes. “A phone call or text would’ve been nice.”
“I did both. To you both.” She slaps her son’s feet. “Up and at ‘em. It’s almost lunch, and Elsie, your appointment is at two.”
“Ma, go away.” Silver rolls over top of me and snuggles into my neck. “They’ve ruined our morning.”
I laugh and kiss the side of his head. “I have to shower and get dressed.”
“I was going to make sweet love to you this morning.” His husky morning voice is sexy as hell. “I was going to shower with you and then tumble around in your bed for hours. No interruptions.”
I feel something touch my toes. I wiggle to glance around his toes and see Faye slicing small scissors into our blanket.
“Faye!”
“I just need one piece.”
Silver groans, rolling off me. “Let us get out of it first.”
I sit up and yank the quilt out of the older woman’s hands. “No. You’re not allowed it.”
“Elsie Thorpe.” Her stern look isn’t nearly as scary or threatening as Wilma’s. I gather the blanket in my arms and stomp out of the living room. Silver strolls behind me. We pass an entire kitchen of people who care, and my heart swells.
Lena and my childhood was the polar opposite of my child’s childhood. While we grew up in trashy apartments with no heat and needles in the hallway, my child will grow up in a town of people who will always stop whatever they’re doing for her or him. While my sister and I had to look over our shoulders on the streets, my child will happily greet everyone in Whiskey Ridge Creek.
“Shower?” I invite Silver, but we’re greeted by Thumbelina and Dart terrorizing my bedding. The white chihuahua has decided my pillow is hump-city.
