“I didn’t say that—” Dove pats on my leg, and I lift her onto a nearby chair. “It would be nice if you had time, but you’re pretty busy.”
“Look at this one, Mamma!” Dove holds up a letter with an ornate stamp attached. “Can I have it?”
Noel takes the letter from her daughter and studies it. “I don’t know, baby. This one might be worth something. Is that French?”
She hands it to me, and I examine the stamp. “I can’t tell. Maybe Vietnamese?”
“Well, that does it.” She shakes her head. “I’ll go through it tonight and make a stack to take to Miss Jessica.”
“You know, I’m just sitting in a hotel room. I could help you.”
“Oh, no. It’s my old box of junk.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an iPad pro. “Let’s stop wasting your time.”
She taps over to Quickbooks, and we spend the next half-hour reviewing her business plan, which is on track for thirty percent growth this year.
Noel’s a smart businesswoman, so it’s a quick, quarterly check-up. She slides the iPad back in its sleeve as Dove holds up another old letter. “Look at this one, Mamma!”
“Ooo, that’s a fun one.” Noel glances at the envelope, but I look a little closer.
A bright yellow and orange “Greetings from Texas” stamp is in the corner, and the handwriting seems vaguely familiar. A faded return address is in the top left corner, and I remember my dad saying his mother loved to come here in the summer.
“Can I see that one?”
Dove hands it to me. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“Yes, it is…” My voice trails off as I read the addresses. It was sent to someone named Winona, and it’s a Plano return address. “Do you think Miss Jessica might have known my grandmother?”
“Miss Jessica knew everybody.” Noel pops up and looks closer at the letter I’m holding. “Is that from your grandmother?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to ask her.”
“Okay, fine. We can sort through this now.” She’s teasing, but I’m motivated.
We only find two more letters in the box, neither from Plano. The rest are receipts and decades-old bookkeeping.
“In my professional opinion, you’re safe to toss the rest.” I slip all four letters into my messenger bag. “I’ll take these to the nursing home tomorrow.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay for supper?” Noel locks the door to her shop, and we stroll down the hill.
“I would, but I’ve… got to take care of some business tonight.” I want to check in with Angel and pack my things so I can head home early.
“I’ve got to start paying you for all this somehow.”
“Send me some peaches.”
“I’ll do it.” She grins, holding my arm. “One peach care package headed your way!”
Dove takes off running down the hill towards the large, white farmhouse. It’s a beautiful place with a sloped, tin roof, white wrap-around porches, and crepe myrtle trees blooming at the corners. The screen door slams as the little girl enters the kitchen, and it’s a comforting, homey sound. It makes me think of Angel.
We pause at my car, and I look around the place, thinking about a peaceful life with no angry brothers threatening to shoot me. “Call me if you need anything or if anything changes.”
“Nothing changes around here.” She steps forward into a hug. “You know that.”
I like that.
Back at my hotel, I type a quick text to the number of the phone I got for Angel. A horse walks into a bar…
Tossing my device on the bed, I loosen my tie and slide out of my blazer. It was a steamy day, but the window unit in Noel’s shop kept us from getting sweaty. I’m pretty sure I can get one more day out of my suit before I head home.
My phone buzzes, and I step out of my slacks before lying on the bed to read her reply. Bartender says why the long face?
These corny old jokes were the only game I had as a teenager. Now it’s our thing. I text a quick reply, Because the most beautiful girl in the world isn’t riding him right now.
My thoughts drift to her straddling my lap last night, and my cock starts to harden in my shorts. I slide my hand over it.
A few moments pass, and her reply pops up. I dreamed I rode a unicorn last night. It had the most satisfying horn…
Shit. A groan rumbles in my throat, and my fingers curl over my cock. I wish that piece of crap phone had Facetime. I want to see you naked.
At a very crowded dinner with my family.
Go to the bathroom.
Insatiable. How was your day?
Good. Noel’s going to be the next Burt’s Bees. Really wish you were here.
I think about introducing Angel to the Harristown group. She and Noel would be great friends, and I know she’d have a lot in common with Mindy. They’re both artists, although Mindy is more interested in commercial arts.
We could get a house out by the lake. I’d be sure it had a room with lots of windows where she could paint. I could take care of her…
I’m ready to do everything with you. Her text stirs a longing so deep in my soul.
I want to do everything with her. See you tomorrow, beautiful.
She signs off with a big red heart, and I walk to the shower, flicking on the hot water.
My mind is consumed with thoughts of Angel and me together as I step into the steaming glass enclosure. I love her art. I love her mind. I love the way she teases me, the way she laughs at my corny jokes, the way she cares for the people she loves.
Closing my eyes, I remember her touch, her fingers wrapping around me. I remember her hot little mouth sucking on my lips, my neck, my cock.
Her amber eyes are so round when she looks up at me from her knees. She flickers her tongue along my shaft, pulling me deep into her throat, tracing her fingernails up the insides of my thighs.
It only takes a few tugs to relieve the ache of missing my girl. My ass tightens, and I come long and hard, groaning her name as the water rushes over my back and shoulders. Bracing my hand against the wall, I breathe slowly, coming down, missing the warmth of her body next to mine.
I pull on the hotel robe and order room service. I’ll have a cocktail then dinner. In the morning I’ll stop by the nursing home on my way out of town, and I’ll be in Texas by the end of the day, ready to find some answers and be with my girl.
“Deacon, my goodness!” Miss Jessica pats my cheek when I lean down to give her a hug.
She’s sitting on a green couch in the activity room of the Pine Hills nursing home where she lives. It’s a small place, matching the small town, and the residents range from needing light assistance to hospice care.
“I haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been?”
“How does he look?” Ms. Irene, her blind best friend who also lives in the home is beside her on the couch.
Ms. Irene’s straight white hair is styled in a long braid down her back, and her blue eyes gaze in the vicinity of my face. Both old ladies are dressed in flowered smocks, soft pants, and slippers. They appear harmless, but I’ve learned not to underestimate them.
Miss Jessica leans to her. “He looks like a young Gary Cooper. Tan suit with a white shirt and navy striped tie that makes his blue eyes glow.”