Page 43 of Butter You Up
Her throat works as she swallows, and her lower lip trembles slightly.
Aw, hell.
Her eyes still closed, she whispers, “Alex?”
“Yeah?”
She sniffles. “It’s in my underwear.”
I grab her hand, clasping it in mine. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. Come on. Let’s get you home so you can get cleaned up.”
She pouts, and not the cute pout when she wants to get her way, but the pout of someone whoreallyjust wants to make her day disappear. “I don’t want to bike home with cow shit in my underwear.”
“That’s fair,” I say. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Then I’ll just get your car all dirty.”
“Believe me”—I wiggle her hand so her entire arm moves, hoping she’ll open her eyes and shake it off—“I’ve had worse in my car.”
That lip trembles again. Fuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkk.
“Or,” I say. “You can shower up at my house.”
That gets her eyes open. “But my clothes.”
“We’ll wash them.”
She sighs, but they're clear when she opens her eyes again. Molly wiggles and braces herself against my hand, and Perry and I help her stand. I bend over, looking at her backside, and use the broad side of my hand to knock the worst of the mess off.
“Ew, don’t touch that! You’re getting all dirty.”
“Molly,” I say as patiently as I can. “I’ve had my arm up a cow’s ass today. I can handle a little more shit. See if you can shake out your hair a little.” I was wearing a glove, obviously, but I don’t mention that.
Molly grimaces but does some magic to release her hair from her bun to shake it out. It’s not much help, truth be told, but she stands a little straighter, so at least it got better in her mind.
We bid Perry goodbye. He gets back to work welding, trying to finish the job before he goes home, and with my hand under Molly’s elbow, I help her climb back up the hill toward my house.
At my back porch, Trixie greets us, her sniffer going wild, her tail even wilder. Molly and I toe off our shoes in the mudroom.
Molly stands, arms slightly held out, and looks around. “Should I just strip here so I don’t track shit throughout your house?”
I grunt. “No. You’re not leaving a trail behind, so I think it’s best if you just go directly into the shower.” I lead the way through my bedroom and into the bathroom, grabbing my hamper as I go. “Put your clothes in the basket. Once I hear the water running, I’ll come in and grab the dirty clothes and put some clean ones for you to borrow on the counter.” I wave vaguely at the shower stall. “Help yourself to whatever you want. Towels are in that cabinet there.” I glance at her. “Need anything?”
She shakes her head.
“I’ll be back, and good news: you’ll be feeling a hundred percent better.”
CHAPTER26
MOLLY
More like a thousand percent better.Stripping off my clothes was disquieting. Yes, the cow shit had made it in my underwear. When I slid, my shirt must have ridden up and exposed the back of my pants. The small of my back and the waistband of both my jeans and underwear were filthy.
But after stepping under Alex’s shower head, I don’t have a care in the world. The water pressure beats down on me, the temperature near scalding—just how I like it, even though it’s not good for my skin—and I squirt another glob of shampoo into my palm so I can wash my hair a second time.
There’s a knock at the door, and I hear Alex’s voice. “Can I grab the clothes?”
“Yeah,” I call back. It’s kind of comforting to hear Alex move around on the other side of the shower curtain, and I smile to myself when I hear him tell Trixie to “back up.”
