Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 14

“Sally...” he began. “About last night...”

She sighed, gently set the hen she'd been cradling on the ground and offered him a subdued, soft expression that he had no name for. “I think it's best that we forget it even happened and move on,” she said. “We both did things that were inappropriate, and nothing good would have come of it, if we allowed it to go any further. Water under the bridge, Wilson. Let it go.”

Wilson. The rift separating boss and worker inched between them again with that one word. Deep inside, he yearned for the shortened version to roll off her tongue again. Uncertain as to whether she truly knew the reason he abandoned her last night, he finally decided to do just what she suggested. Let it go.

If she knew he came in his pants like a raw, too-eager teenager, he was glad she felt no inclination to relive that moment. And if she didn't have the foggiest idea what he'd done to himself, then he'd raise up his hands and bless the angels for her ignorance on that matter. Yeah, he'd have no problem letting it go.

Inhaling a breath of relief and filling his lungs with the foul odor of chickens, he grunted. “It stinks in here.”

“Yeah,” she said with a curious grin. “It clears my head sometimes.”

“So will a cup of coffee,” he muttered, scratching the side of his nose and scooting backward from a few curious beaks. Sally laughed.

“Yeah, that'll do it, too.” She stood up and faced him in such a non-attracted, friendly way that made him want to kiss her again, just to remind her how much she enjoyed last night. But that would be a stupid thing to do. They declared peace with each other. Life was back to normal.

“Have you had breakfast yet, Wilson?” she asked as they exited the hen house together.

“No, ma'am,” he replied in his usual, disconnected tone. Lately, separating his emotions from his existence had been near impossible. Something about Sally enticed a fever inside him. A burning desire to live again. To no longer watch the clock tick by, praying that nothing extraordinary occurred on his watch.

She tipped him an impish grin, telling him that nothing about today would be ordinary – not when she was around. “Well then. I'm starving. How does biscuits and gravy sound to you?”

Like he'd died and gone to Heaven. The thought brought a small smile to his lips. A part of himself did just that last night. Met an angel at the gates to Heaven. Too bad his body didn't handle the event with better finesse.

Sally chuckled at his expression. “Ah now, Wilson. Don't wear yourself out. A smile can take a lot out of a person. Save some of that unbridled joy for later.” She patted his shoulder with mocking comfort and hoofed it up to the house.

Wilson shook his head at her retreating figure, hating how her bulky camouflage get-up hid most of her feminine curves under layers of thick padding. With her wild curls pulled back into a ponytail and stuffed through the back of a hunter-orange ball cap, she looked every bit the tomboy most people thought her as. But Wilson knew better.

Pink lace, remember? Dainty furniture, flowery wallpaper, pretty, filigree curtains. A spoiled, black Yorkie that she named Toto after her favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz. She even painted her toenails this cute, glittery rose color. Now, what kind of tomboy took the time to give herself a pedicure?

He'd seen her work harder everyday than many other people in her profession, barely stopping until the sun kissed the western horizon. Even then, she put in a good four more hours in the evening, doing odd jobs inside her house or in one of the many barns or sheds. On the outside, she was every bit the hard-core, independent farmer. But the inner realms of her heart and soul were as girly and soft and disarming as anyone could humanly get. She boggled his mind.