“Shah-ha-hut-it! Shut it right now. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“What’s he putting in your mouth?”
I hid my face in my hands. “Oh boy.”
“I can tell you what I’m putting in my mouth. A entire plate of soup dumplings. Grab your summer love, get thee on a train, and get your ass here!”
“He can’t really leave during the summer; he’s a . . . well . . . he’s a . . .” I cupped my hand around my phone and quietly said, “farmer.”
“He’s a what?”
“A farmer,” I whispered.
When she finally stopped laughing, she told me all about the farmer she crushed on at the Union Square Farmers’ Market. Farmers were the new It Boy, it seemed.
Eventually I was able to get off the phone, promising her that I’d get into the city just as soon as I could. But for now, I had a diner to run. I headed back into the kitchen, offering a high five to Maxine as I passed, who congratulated me on getting off my feet for a change.
Nice to be needed.
“I can’t believe you didn’t want to go to the parade. Who doesn’t like a parade?” Leo said.
We were in the kitchen of my house, washing dishes after dinner. I’d made fresh corn on the cob, Mexican street style with lots of chili powder, salt, and lime, tiny roasted fingerling potatoes with fresh chives and crème fraîche, and buttermilk fried chicken. Which was not just finger-licking good, but apparently Roxie-licking good. After one bite, Leo had pronounced it the best fried chicken he’d ever had, and then made out with my neck for a while. I couldn’t wait to find out what he licked when he found out I’d made pie . . .
Now we were discussing the town’s activities for the night, and my lack of interest. “I like a parade just fine; it’s just that I’ve been to that same parade every Fourth of July since I was a kid. I know everything that will happen. The high school band plays, the cheerleaders cheer, the prom queen waves from her toilet paper float, and the mayor gives a speech. Which is usually accompanied by heavy sweating and a little slurring, due to the fact that he’s already in his cups a bit. Usually from Mr. Peabody’s homemade hard ginger ale, which is rotgut in a plastic cup. The fireworks go off over the town hall, everyone oohs and ahhs, and then they rush to get to their car and be home by midnight.” I set down the plate I was washing and waggled my eyebrows at him. “I’d much rather stay home and enjoy some oohs and ahhs of a different kind, if you know what I mean.”
He promptly set down the plate he was drying and moved behind me. Hands sneaked around my waist, drawing me close to his body. “I do know what you mean. And if you’re ready for the oohs and ahhs, I’ve been ready to salute our country’s birthday since you came to the door in that stars-and-stripes bra.” He bumped his hips into mine, sharing his “salute” with my backside.
“How did you know?” I asked, turning my head to see his bashful grin.
I’d picked out this bra especially for the occasion after spying it in a window on Main Street. The local lingerie shop specialized in themed underthings. Want to make sure your stocking gets stuffed next Christmas? They’ll fix you right up with a nightie that looks just like a sexy chimney. Want your boobs to look like birthday cakes for someone special? They’ve got a bra for that. Want a pair of panties with a strategically placed bush to commemorate Arbor Day? You betcha.
But I’d hidden my red, white, and blues under my clothes, planning to reveal them to Leo while listening to faraway booms from the town fireworks show.
“When you were shucking corn earlier, your middle button came undone. I saw it all. And by the way, I’d prefer that all corn shucking now take place naked, or at least stripped down to your skivvies. Because holy shit, you shucking corn is hard to watch without wanting to get immediately involved.” His lips were on my shoulder now, nuzzling my shirt aside and exposing a star and a stripe.
“You wanted to help me shuck?”
“Let’s be clear,” he murmured, nipping at me a bit. “I wanted to bend you over that barrel out back and shuck you until there was corn silk everywhere.”
I closed my eyes at the sudden image of Leo, strong and naked, glorious and naked, and also naked, thrusting into me from behind as he tipped me merrily over a rain barrel, while fireworks lit up the night sky and corn silk blew lazily across the yard. Instant heat bloomed low and my hips arched backward, seeking contact with anything that resembled a cornstalk. As one of his hands slipped under my shirt I felt my heart pound faster, my blood racing around my body.
My lips felt lonely. My breasts felt heavy and full. My hips felt in need of very specific guidance, mostly of the back-and-forth kind. And other areas felt achingly empty. I tipped my head back onto his chest. As his mouth moved against my neck, his scent surrounded me, earthy and grassy and salty sun-browned. I looked down as he started popping open my buttons, and saw his hands on my body. Wide, strong, and a little dirty, the line of dirt embedded underneath his nails persisting even though I know he scrubbed before coming over. Coarse, callused, hardworking hands, which were gentle as they eased my shirt from my shoulders to pool on the scuffed floor that was used to long, hot, dirty days. I wanted the same thing from him.
Long, hot, dirty days. And nights.
I spun around, letting him surround me as he leaned me back against the sink. His eyes burned as he took in my red and white and blue, and he grinned, realizing that I’d planned to celebrate this holiday with him in the naughtiest way possible.