45. Lily

45

Lily

For three days , I lived an idyllic life with Bull. I’d wake up each morning in his tiny trailer and we’d have slow, sensual morning sex. He’d go off to the ranch to work and I’d drive my Toyota to the bus so that I could work. It was weird—the work wasn’t any different to before but now I practically whistled to myself as I did it. It was the knowledge that this wasn’t all there was in my life.

And when I did step out of the air-conditioned cool of the bus, the sun felt good. The heat felt good. I let it soak into my bones instead of fighting it. I’d finally acclimatized to Texas.

In the evening, we’d venture into town...or, more often, just cozy up in Bull’s trailer. Long summer evenings filled with good food: steaks cooked outdoors, sticky ribs you ate with your fingers, corn that was perfectly barbequed and dripping with butter.

And the sex. Oh, God, the sex. Up against the wall of the trailer. Bent over Bull’s bed. Twice, in the stables again (I don’t know what it is, there’s just something about stables). I’d fall into bed pleasantly exhausted with Bull spooning me from behind.

We were disgustingly happy. And the nagging voices in my head, the ones that said it was wrong to keep my past from him, seemed very small and far away. How could it be wrong, when it felt this good?

Besides, I found out lots of other things about him. I found out that he liked his coffee not strong and black but milky as all hell. I found out that his dad was in oil and that he was considered the family misfit because he’d wound up riding horses. His brother, who had followed in his dad’s footsteps, was seriously rich.

So we were getting to know each other...even if it was a little one-way. He didn’t need to know about my uncle.

Right?