STRIP IT DOWN—LUKE BRYAN
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September 18th, 2015
High Valley Farm
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Morgan didn't get much sleep and had tossed and turned for much of the night. Her thoughts never stopped racing, knowingly tormenting her from the fall of dusk to the break of dawn.
With the early shafts of marigold throwing light on parts of her room, she knew that sleep would continue to be evasive and drug herself out of bed.
Plodding into the kitchen, she warmed up the brewer and covered a half yawn. She listened to its low thrum as it drowned out her father's wistful snoring in the other room.
Deciding to check-in on him while the coffee spurted into the carafe, she walked halfway into the living room before stopping in surprise.
Sprawled over her father's back were their two sheepdogs, both practically burying him underneath their shaggy fur. Huck lifted his head and gave her a blank stare before nestling his nose back under her father's armpit.
Shaking her head out of amusement, she went into the kitchen to grab her coffee and made her way back to her room. She quietly closed her door behind her and took a seat on her heirloom rocking chair, slurping from the chipped mug.
Morgan sat there for some time, thinking and contemplating her next step. She was never one to disobey her parents' wishes, but it seemed as though she had no other choice. They were backed between a rock and a hard place and there was only so much leeway.
She was set on her decision. She wasn't going to allow anyone to take their farm. Not now and not ever.
Putting her empty mug aside, she tugged her cell phone from off its charger and went to her recent call list. A couple of deep breaths later, she pressed the speaker against her ear and waited as it rang.
"Mr. Mackay? It's Morgan Blaire. I'm sorry for callin' ya so early."
"That's alright, Ms. Blaire." Though her call was impromptu, his voice was clear and collected on the other end. "I'm assuming you didn't just call to apologize."
She repressed a breath and went for it. "No, I'm-uhm, I'm acceptin' yer offer."
With an unarticulated grunt, there was some distant shuffling. "That's great to hear. I will have Wren draw up your paperwork. It will need a few of your signatures, but we can complete that and discuss any other legal formalities during the flight down."
Morgan's face changed into a confused rumple as she grew quiet on the line, her eyes staring out blankly to her collage of vintage Johnny Cash posters.
She could hear his drawn-out sigh before he spoke again. "I mentioned the fine print, Ms. Blaire."
Wedging her cellphone between her ear and shoulder, she hurriedly went about searching her room for the folder. The only sound that seemed to permeate their silence was the rumbling of her drawers as she sifted through the junk.
She eventually located it and flipped through the pages two at a time before finding the contract. Raking her eyes over it, they zeroed-in on italics at the footnote of the page.
"Las Vegas, Nevada," she whispered, wide-eyed.
Morgan hadn't meant to voice her words aloud and she would have forgotten of Atlas had he not deliberately cleared his throat.
"Does your decision still stand?"
Feeling disquieted, she wasn't so sure of her answer anymore.
A couple of days ago, she would have declined Atlas' offer from the outset. But, with the discovery of their dire financial problem, they were now in desperate times.
Morgan didn't want to leave her family. She didn't want to be far off on the other side of the country, alone and away from home. But she also couldn't stand the thought of losing her childhood home. She didn't want to watch her father suffer from a stroke because of the stresses of having the world on his back. Neither did she want it all to come in between her parent's marriage.
No. She would do anything to prevent that from coming into fruition. Anything.
"It does," she confirmed.
She gave a single nod, her way of trying to convince herself it would all be okay.
"Okay. Our flight leaves early Monday morning. I'll have a driver transport you to the hanger at six. Take the weekend to pack. Anything that you might see yourself needing later on can be bought once we land."
Morgan's stomach pretzeled into nervous knots at the thought of leaving everything and everyone behind. She had never been out on her own before and knew it would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do.
"Welcome to the team, Ms. Blaire," Atlas added before ending their call.
She collapsed her back onto her bed as the springs below jounced her up. Running both hands over her face, she let out a deep and gusty sigh.
Just the thought of leaving made her want to cry, but she swallowed down the swell of tears.
It was too late for her to turn back now.
• • •
"Rhett," she called from the porch, a weary half-smile dressing her face.
He stepped out of his Bronco and pulled on his Crimson Tide cap before walking up the steps. His arms openly embraced her hips as he gave her an affectionate kiss on the temple.
"Everythin' alright, darlin'?" he asked, staring down into her eyes.
"Just had a restless night, that's all," she lied.
Morgan had made the conscious decision to keep her family's problems to herself. She didn't want to ruin his last day in Pelham before flying back out to the base. It would only distract and worry him, knowing he couldn't do anything to help. She just wanted one day to spend with her fiancé, away from her ramshackle life and responsibilities. Just a time of solitude with one another.
"Come on," she urged, taking his hand.
He chuckled softly but followed. "Whatcha doin'?"
She tossed back a playful smile and gave a wink, but didn't answer him.
Her pace hastened as she galloped with a new spurt of energy, dragging him along. Morgan was excited and nervous for him to see his going away surprise, part of it as much of a gift for him as it was for her.
Passing the barn, they walked to the backside where their grade mare and gelding stood tied to a hitching post.
"We're ridin'?" he asked, the corners of his eyes wrinkling from a stately smile.
He walked over to the male and put a hand to his muzzle, giving it a couple of soft pats.
"Sure are. Ya ready?" she asked, mounting her horse.
Rhett followed in behind her and settled into his saddle. Morgan gasped in joyous shock as he steered his horse too close to hers, teasing and briefly causing her to lose control of the mare.
"Now I'm ready." He nodded.
"Why ya—stop grinnin' over there like a possum."
He let out a hearty laugh as she gave him a feigned scowl.
Morgan tugged at the reins as the sound of the bit clanked against the horses' incisors and she glanced over her shoulder. She smirked at Rhett who was too busy showering the gelding with attention.
"Race ya," she blurted out, quickly spurring her horse in the direction of the grassy meadow.
She didn't need to look behind her to see if he was behind her or not, as she could easily overhear the clomping hooves trying to gain on her.
It felt good to ride. The breeze caressing her hair as she rode with the wind. The four-beat gait of the horse. The southern sun, bright and hot. She was going to miss it all.
She peeked back at Rhett who was close behind her, an infectious grin twisted his lips.
Morgan knew he wouldn't be able to beat her. She snickered to herself at the thought of purposely giving him their newest packhorse. He was strong but slow. Far from the speed compared to her own.
With the dip of the rolling hill came into view a lone, decrepit shed—it's vines twined around its shabby outer walls. Standing proudly beside it was an aged, white dogwood, a puddle of its blossoms spotting what was left of the roof.
"Beat ya," she said, sending back a gloating beam.
Rhett slowed his horse to a trot as he ran a hand over its mane. "We'll get 'em next time, Wotsit."
She cocked a quizzical eyebrow over at him.
"Ya can thank ma' girls for that one. If they can't remember the mount's name, it turns into a Wotsit."
Morgan chuckled at the silliness of it all, and inside, her heart warmed lovingly. It wasn't just from the joke and his carefree spirit, but from the way he spoke about his two nieces. It was almost paternal.
She was sure he would make a great father.
Both dismounting and tying their horses to the trunk, Rhett followed behind Morgan into the shed. A fleece blanket was laid out in the middle, casing over the split wooden boards with a matching picnic basket beside it. Above their heads hung the dogwood, it's branches and string lights woven through the sizable hole in the roof.
"Ya did this for me?" he asked, his eyes shimmering with astonishment as he glanced around.
Morgan nodded as she too admired its new finish. She had worked the entire afternoon scrubbing away as much grime and dirt as she could, once or twice getting her hair caught in a cobweb. She was happy to see that a few creepy-crawlers were well worth it.
"Come," she said, pulling him to the blanket.
After both sitting crisscross, Morgan smiled over at him as she brought out two bundles wrapped in butcher paper. It was his favorite baked good in the entire world and she was sure it was going to make his day.
"I know ya have been missin' this since ya left."
His eyes widened as he gasped. "Yer kiddin' me. Big Mama's Tomato Pie!?"
She chuckled as he tore it open, practically seeing him salivate over it. He took a long, hard inhale, savoring the smell before digging right in.
As they finished eating their food, they began discussing their future plans for the wedding.
"What do ya think 'bout a military weddin'?" he asked.
Though Morgan had dreamt of a more traditional route, she was happy with just the thought of marriage.
"I don't mind. As long as we get to stick to the tradition of releasin' the doves after."
"Of course, darlin'." He paused in thought for a minute. "Are ya alright with postponin' the weddin' 'till ma' supervisor gives me the okay for additional leave?"
She was bummed to hear that their wedding would have to be put off, but she wasn't surprised. That was the price of having a spouse in the military. There was no guarantee of time.
Morgan tried to see the bright side of it. "Yee-ah, just means there's more time with plannin' the perfect weddin'."
He smiled and took her hand in his, thumbing circles around it. "Speakin' of plannin', who's in charge of that?"
She groaned as her face crumpled in pain. "Ma's plumb crazy. She pitched a hissy fit 'till I agreed to let Ella-Mae do it."
Rhett let out a belly laugh as he doubled over, obviously knowing her cousin way too well.
"She's gonna have us get married while bungee jumpin' off a canyon," he teased.
"It ain't funny," she chuckled, swatting his shoulder.
He grabbed her wrist and tackled her to the floor, both of their laughs overriding each others. With him on top of her, her free and easy-going expression turned serious.
Morgan slid out from underneath him and stood up.
On the contrary to what Rhett assumed this was, Morgan had another reason for their dinner in the shed. One that she was anxious to tell him.
"Everythin' alright?" he asked, looking up at her with worried blues.
He was clearly taken aback by her sudden shift in behavior.
"Rhett," she started, her fingers fidgeting with her raw hemmed shorts. "With ya leavin' tomorrow mornin' and the weddin' bein' put off." She opened her mouth but paused, peeking over at him timidly. "I don't want to wait no more."
Rhett seemed to be registering what she said, his focus trained out on her—unexpressive. She forced the nervous lump in her throat down as he stood up, easily over-towering her frame.
"I'm okay with waitin, Morg. It's supposed to be yer special night, I don't want ya to rush into it."
A soft smile reached her eyes as she nodded. "I know, but I want us to have pieces of each other before ya leave."
He dipped his head to search her browns. The longer he stared at her, the more she could see him musing over the idea.
He took a step forward as he trailed a hand up her arm and settled it against the nape of her neck.
"Okay. But are sure?"
"I'm sure," she affirmed.
She wasn't going to lie, it was a little awkward at first. They both just stood there and stared at each other, not sure where to begin. But the moment Rhett parted her lips with his own, everything changed.
Her stomach felt like it was suspended in the air as his hands went to lift her top, their callousness scraping against her skin. The chilled night air hit her bare chest with a breath of wind and she shivered.
Morgan had never been naked in front of someone other than herself and she couldn't help but feel self-conscious. It was a type of vulnerability she wasn't used to.
Rhett paused, noticing her discomfort. "I can stop, Morg. We can—"
She shook her head and closed the distance between them, shushing any more words that might have come out of his mouth.
Roaming her hands under his blue-tee, her fingers brushed over the flexing of his back muscles before they both fought to turn his belt loose.
Rhett laid her down on top of the blanket, his lips breaking from hers for a moment as he seared a heated trail of feathery kisses down her torso. His hands handled every inch of her bare body, never failing to show love and care to the parts most disliked by her. It was one of the many beautiful discoveries between them.
"Wait," she said, fishing in the pocket of her tossed shorts.
Morgan had come well-prepared.
She handed over protection and sheepishly averted her eyes while he tore it open.
In a mixture of nervousness and love, her heart hammered erratically against her rib cage as the beat of butterfly wings tickled her stomach. Morgan was much in love with Rhett and she couldn't imagine being with anyone else other than him.
She embraced him as moans came out by force in a chain of airy breaths, interweaving in a jumble with Rhett's.
In a sudden gasp, she looked up into the moonlit sky as the stars bore witness to their holy matrimony.
Copyright ⓒ 2019, Desarae A Dotson. All rights reserved