Love Under Construction (The Love Under Series Book 1) (8 page)

Max wasn’t kidding: the white gravy was creamy but loaded with little chunks of sausage in a puddle around two big fluffy biscuits with a mass of bright-yellow scrambled eggs. 

“Well, dig in,” Max said before shoveling a forkful of cheesy eggs into his mouth.

Watching Max eat, I was mesmerized. Where he had great manners, he mixed all his food together without care and shoveled it into his mouth. I liked to taste my food separately, so I could appreciate it. His carefree spirit made me smile.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Huh?”

“What are you smiling about?” Max said as some gravy dipped down his chin.

“Thank you for breakfast.” I wiped the errant gravy from his chin with my thumb, and I felt a shock, like an electrical current passed from him to me. I must have built up static electricity. The compulsion to lick my thumb almost overcame me, but I caught myself and wiped it on my napkin. 

I devoured my breakfast, and after Max paid the tab, we walked off our meals for a bit while he pointed out the shops in town. It was nice in town, and everything was on just a couple major roads. As I looked around at the small apartment complexes off Sheridan Road, living in town was doable even without a car. 

I needed something to do to pass the quiet time at home, so we stopped in at the craft store next to the supermarket. I didn’t want anything bulky to carry around so I decided on a small cross stitch pattern. I picked up a small ring that fit neatly in my purse. 

“What’s that?” Max asked.

“Cross stitch rings to hold the fabric tight.”

“You don’t look the type to do cross stitch”

“What is ‘the type’?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just picture old ladies doing that kind of stuff.”

“Well, an old lady taught me how. My grandmother used to do it while she watched TV. It’s relaxing.”

“It looks tedious.”

“I guess, but when I’m stressed, I have to focus on the stitches, and everything else just goes away for a little while.”

“I can understand that. That’s how it is riding my motorcycle. What are you going to make?”

“I thought I would make this horse pattern for Kelli,” I said as I showed him the pattern.

“I'm sure she will love it. I would like to see how it turns out.”

We made our way to the counter to check out. The short brunette clerk was flipping through the week’s celebrity gossip magazine at her register. Her apron was covered with crafty handmade flair, and her name was cross stitched directly onto the center panel. Mandy looked up from the week’s gossip magazine, and her face lit up as she picked up the horse pattern. 

“Oh, this is a good one. I saw this one, but I am still working on a Batman one,” she said with zeal. 

“I’m going to give it a whirl.”

“Well, if you don’t see what you want, we can order it. Not too many people stitch these days, but I think we have a pretty decent selection. That will be $6.58.”

I handed her the exact change as she placed my items in a small paper tote bag. 

“Thanks, Mandy,” I said as she handed me my new project. 

“See you soon!” she yelled from her register as Max and I walked out the store. 

“I think you made her day,” Max said as he grabbed the bag from my hand and replaced it with his own. 

“You think? I guess not much happens around here.”

“That’s about exciting as it gets on a Tuesday.” Max chuckled as he opened the door to his work truck. I climbed in and he closed the door behind me before coming around to the driver’s side, taking his place behind the wheel to drive me back to the ranch.

Brewer’s Taps apparently was the place to be social. I figured I might get to know some of the people in town, besides Mike and Kelli, if I headed out there. Thursday was ladies’ night as far as I knew in bars across the nation. I doubted Centerville would be any different, but we would soon find out.

I didn't have much clothes, so I just put on my nicest V-neck T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and my sandals. It wasn't exactly going out attire, but it was the best I had. The nice part about Oklahoma was even in the summer it was cool in the evenings. I didn't mind the walk into town whereas back home I would've been sweaty and gross by the time I arrived at a bar of a similar distance walking.

The only thing that wasn't ideal? Long walks weren't meant for sandals. When I arrived at the Brewer’s Taps, I made a beeline for the bar. I ordered a draft beer and took my seat at an available stool in the middle of the bar. It was surprising there actually was a seat at the bar considering how busy it was in there. I sat facing outward with my back to the bar so I could see the happenings. The crowd was gathered by the pool tables.
There must be some sort of competition
, I thought to myself. Whoever wasn't gathered around watching, mingled on the small dance floor near the jukebox.

Loud hoots and hollers rang through the air, drowning out the jukebox as the victor dropped the eight-ball into the called pocket. The crowd quickly shifted from the tables to the bar as I found myself surrounded by bodies.

As I attempted to swivel back around to face the bar, I was met face-to-face with a tall, burly, blonde cowboy. He smelled like he bathed in manure, and his breath reeked of whiskey.

“Hey, pretty lady, I haven't seen you around here before,” he crooned, leaning over me too close in my personal space for comfort.

“It's my first time here,” I said in a raised voice over the music so I wouldn't have to be any closer than necessary.

“Well, in that case, let me buy you a drink. What's in the glass?”

“It's honey wheat ale.”

“If I'm buying, we’re drinking whiskey.” He whistled loudly to grab the barmaid’s attention and yelled his order of two shots.

“I'm not much of a whiskey drinker.”

“Well, tonight is a good day to start.”

This guy obviously wasn't getting the hint, so I would just have a drink and entertain him. When the waitress delivered our shots, he handed me mine and said, “To orgasms and broken headboards” and threw his shot back.

“Come on, sweet cheeks, drink up!” he said, grabbing my arm and lifting the glass to my face.

“Hands off my lady,” said the deep-throated voice from behind me. 

“Says who?” the drunken cowboy replied.

“Says me, now back off. Let's go, Suzie.” Max took the shot out of my hand, placing it on the bar before he helped me hop down from my stool. He escorted me to a corner table at the end of the bar. I scooted in the chair against the wall he held out for me.

“Thank you for saving me from that guy.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“That's an awful long walk for a beer. You must have been really thirsty.”

“Actually, I was really bored. What all is there to do around here?”

“You found it. But you really need to be more careful.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Promise you won't smack me?”

With a raised eyebrow and piqued interest, I nodded.

“If you're not here serving beer, you're serving ass.”

I felt my jaw drop open in disbelief. 

“If you don't believe me, go take a seat back at the bar and see how long it takes before you get your next drink.”

“I thought he was just being nice or drunk.”

“He was just pouring his way to your zipper.”

“So if that's all these guys want, what are you doing here?” He laughed at me and shook his head.

“You think I'm one of these guys? Look around, do I look like one of them?”

“Not exactly, you don't have cowboy boots on, so what are you doing here?”

“My dad owns the place.” 

“Oh.”

“So what are you drinking anyway?

“I had a honey wheat ale, it was pretty good, even though I only had like two sips.”

“I'll be right back.”

I went behind the bar, grabbed my bottle, two shot glasses, and got Suzie another beer. The crowd was in full swing, and it was just a matter of time before things got messy. Thursday nights were always the same. By midnight, those who paid for that pussy were gone before their money went to waste and they slept through it all. Those that remained ended up in a fight scrapping for the leftovers in their beer-colored goggles. I wasn't working nor did I have any desire to the break up any fights so it was going to be an early night. 

I got back to the table with our drinks and poured two shots. 

“Will you have a drink with me?”

“Oh, boy. Like I told that jerk, I’m not a whiskey drinker.”

“Just one, then you can nurse your beer. You’re not driving.”

She let out a long sigh as she resigned that I was right. 

“What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“Does there have to be a reason to have a drink with me?” She blushed and bowed her head a bit, biting her lip. 

“No, I suppose not, but shouldn’t we toast to something then?”

“If it makes you feel better, sure.”

She raised her glass. “To new beginnings!” She tossed her shot back. I shot mine back behind her and let the amber liquid’s warmth soothe my throat.
New beginnings.
I wondered what that meant for her, and it also gave me hope.
Suzie isn’t like these whores
, I thought as I looked around the bar. I wasn’t sure what her story was, but she was living in my aunt’s guest house; that’s all I knew for sure. 

“So, tell me about yourself, Suzie.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I dunno. Tell me something I don’t know.”

She weighed the question, rubbing her chin before answering, “My favorite color is green.”

“Really? That’s all you got. By the way, mine too, but seriously, that’s the best thing you could come up with?”

She shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her beer. “What about you? Tell me something.”

“I have my own business, and I like to make furniture from reclaimed wood.”

“What’s reclaimed wood?”

“It’s when nature gives it to me. I collect all the trees that get blown down or torn up after the storms. I also pull stumps and use those big trunks to make stuff.”

“Why not just buy wood?”

“Because I can shape the wood or use the natural shapes of the branches to make cool stuff. Anyone can make a square table or a chair.”

She thought about it and simply nodded.

“Your turn,” I prodded.

“I like cows,” she stated matter-of-factly.

I laughed. “Well, then you moved to the right town. We got plenty of them. They are good eating.”

She slapped me in the arm. “Not for food! Well, yeah, I like a good steak, but, no that’s not what I meant.”

I laughed even harder as she became increasingly flustered as she tried to elaborate on her statement.

She crossed her arms and pouted. She was so damn cute with her bottom lip sticking out. I wanted to suck on it. I tried to control my laughter before I pissed her off.

“I’m sorry. Go ahead. Please, explain.”

She let out a huff and gave me a sideways glance before she continued. “I just like them. I think they are the most peaceful animals. Sure, other animals are pretty too, but there is something about their eyes. They just stand there and stare. I don’t know, it’s like they can see inside your soul.”

“You got all that from a cow?”

“You got wood, I got cows.” She shrugged it off and changed the subject. “So where are your cowboy boots?”

“My boots? Nah, can’t work in cowboy boots.” I stuck out my foot, showing her my well-worn, steel-toe, construction boots. “Need steel-toes and good ankle support.”

“I thought everyone around here rode and wore boots?”

“I have’m, but it’s not my thing.”

“So what is your thing?”  The conversation felt heavy all of a sudden so I slammed the bottle on the table.

“Jameson! That’s my thing.” I poured two shots and handed her one. “To peaceful cows!” I didn’t give her an opportunity to say no and slammed my shot back. She looked down at her hand, debating before lifting the glass to her lips and quickly tilted it back. The grimace she made at the amber lava likely warming her throat was amusing. 

She coughed. “No more.” She waved her hands in front of her face trying to catch her breath.