"The other thing I've been wondering is, why did you leave?" he says.
I straighten my body and try to move as far from him as I can in the small space he's giving me. "I don't pick up strangers, and I don't do… that… in parking lots, for god's sake!"
He leans down, his mouth just a few inches from mine. I smell fresh air, smoky bacon, and that same soap fragrance from last night mingled on his skin. “Last night you did.” The grin on his face makes me want to smack him. “If you don't like parking lots, I have a bedroom down the hall. We could pick up right where we left off."
"What is wrong with you?" I hiss. "We're going to be related!" This time I'm somehow angry enough that I manage to shove him out of my path. I make it into my room and attempt to slam the door, but he stops it before it closes.
"Related? Our parents getting married doesn’t make us related. And I don't think we should let that stop us, darlin'." He gives me one last naughty smile before he finally lets me close the door.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I collapse on the bed and wish it would just swallow me up whole. This is why I always try to do things right. To follow the rules. To think things through before I act. The one time I act on total impulse, this is the trouble I get in.
He lives at home. What is that about? A twenty-five-year-old man, still living in his dad's house. And he wears muddy boots out to a bar, and calls me darlin', and he's still coming on to me even though we're going to be stepbrother and sister. Everything about this is all wrong!
At least, thank goodness, I didn't sleep with him, but my god, he's going to be my stepbrother, and last night he was making me moan. I need to make sure my mom and George never find out anything about that.
My mom. She's just told me wonderful news. I'm so happy for her, but it occurs to me that because I left the kitchen so quickly to escape from Billy, she might think I'm upset. I need to go back down there, but what if he's still in the hallway? Argh! So much for having a relaxing weekend in the country.
I spend a few more minutes wallowing in my frustration, and hope that Billy has gone back outside for more work in the barn. The upstairs seems quiet, but I don't know if that's a good sign, or if he's lying in wait in his bedroom down the hall.
I briefly consider making some kind of excuse so that I can head back to the city today rather than tomorrow, but I just can't do that to my mom. She had looked so pleased when George made his announcement, and she's been alone for so long. She didn't even date when I was in school. I know she made sacrifices for me, and I don't want to do anything to take away from her happiness.
I look out the window, but don't see signs of anyone outside. I move quietly over to the door, and open it very slowly. I peek my head out, and then I realize I'm being ridiculous. I'm a full grown woman, and Billy is just a man. He seems to enjoy antagonizing me, but if I don't let him know he bothers me, then maybe he'll just leave me alone.
The worst thing that could happen would be Billy telling our parents about last night, but I really doubt he'll do that. It's in his best interest to keep it a secret too.
Feeling much calmer, I take a deep breath and head downstairs. No one pounces on me or traps me against the wall. Against the wall. That thought brings up another memory of last night, when we were against the wall of the building. I do regret last night — a lot — but not entirely. He made me feel things I've never felt, and we hadn't even gotten very far. How would he have made me feel if we'd gone further?
I shake my head, trying to clear it. My mind is betraying me! I should probably bang my head against the wall instead. Why am I thinking thoughts like that about him?
My mom is alone in the living room, sitting on the couch, tidying papers on the coffee table. I sit next to her and give her a side hug.
"Congratulations, bride-to-be."
She laughs lightly and returns my hug. "I hope that wasn't too much of a shock. Maybe I should've talked to you about it before George made his announcement."
"No, it's wonderful. I'm so happy for you, mom." I give her another squeeze and then sit back on the couch. "What are your plans? I assume you're going to move in here?"
"Yes, George loves this place, and I do too." She must see a funny expression on my face that prompts her to justify her feelings. "I know, I'll bet you never thought I'd live in the country. It was an adjustment at first, when I started visiting here, but I love it now. Wait—you haven't even seen the farm yet, have you? Get your shoes. I'll show you around."
I run upstairs to retrieve my shoes, and am relieved there's still no sign of Billy. When I'm back downstairs, my mom leads me into the kitchen and out the way George and Billy had entered this morning. There's a large laundry room, with part of it functioning as a mud room; and in this case, the mud is literal.
I notice that most of the footwear by the door, just like Billy's boots, is dirty, and the carpet is streaked with mud.
My mom notices my gaze and says, "It's impossible to keep this area clean. At least the guys are good about taking their boots off out here and not tracking dirt into the house."
Then she looks down at my feet. "Did you bring shoes you don't mind getting dirty?"
I'd brought the most casual pair of shoes I own, but they probably won’t hold up to mud. "These are old. It's okay," I fib.
She slips on a pair of boots and I'm again struck by how different my mom seems. Different, and happy.
As we walk toward the barn I take in deep breaths of the cool, fresh air. The ground is soft, but not as bad as I'd feared. It looks like my shoes might survive. When we approach the building, two big dogs trot out to greet us.
"These filthy beasts are Milo and Charlie," my mom says with a smile, gesturing first to the retriever, and then the hound.
"Aww, sweet." I stop to let the dogs sniff me, and then I rub their heads. I'd always wanted a dog when I was growing up, but wasn't allowed. And now I don't have the space or the lifestyle to give a dog a good home.
We continue on and find George in the barn grooming a horse with a big, round brush. "Oh, I didn’t realize you had horses," I say, stopping a few feet away from him. I look around and see two others from where I stand.
"Yep, sure do," George says. "Maybe you'd like to go riding later?"
"That sounds like fun," I say. And a little scary, I think. I have vague memories of being on a horse when I was little, but it was probably at a carnival or a fair. Horseback riding has always looked like fun, but now that I'm this close to one of the huge animals, I'm intimidated. I hadn't remembered them being so large.
We watch George care for the big, brown horse for a few minutes, and then we continue our tour. We don't walk far from the house; instead we make a big circle around it as my mom gestures to far flung areas of the property, telling me about distant, unseen neighbors, and about plans she has for planting flowers and vegetables later in the spring.
I want to ask her what they do for fun out here with nothing around, and whether she really thinks she'll be happy living here full time, but I can't think how to word my questions without sounding negative.
Like me — well, like the me I typically am, not the me who was in the bar last night — my mother isn't a person who rushes into things, so I'm sure she's thought it all through.
"When do you and George plan to get married?" I ask.