Lumbersexual (Novella) (12 page)

But I didn’t get far before I heard the thrum of his truck.  “Maggie,” he called out the window as he pulled up behind me and stopped the engine.  He got out, a flash of anger across his face.  “What the hell?”

“What are we doing, Court?”  I put my hand on my hips, not caring that I was standing in the middle of a road and a car could come around any time.  Not caring about anything.  I didn’t want to see him.

But that hurt.

“What do you mean what are we doing?  We’re together.”

“No we’re not.”  I turned around to keep walking home, but he reached forward and grabbed my hand.

His eyes flashed lightning and his voice thundered forth.  “What the actual fuck, Maggie?  What happened?  What happened between this morning when I made love to you and now?”

My body pulsed with the words.  It
was
lovemaking this morning.  An exploration and a celebration.

No.  Forget it, Maggie.

“I just got clarity.  I learned that you’re not who I thought you were.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?  I live in the woods and work as a ranger.  I hike and mountain bike and go rafting and rock climbing, and I really want to spend time with you.  What else do I need to do?  What else do I need to be?”

“And after this summer?  Are you just going to go back to Amanda?”

A cloud passed over his face and his features hardened.  “What the fuck does she have to do with any of this?  She’s history.  I can’t seem to get away from her.  No one likes her.  She shows up at everything.”  He stepped closer.  “Does she have something to do with this?  Is she the one who made you think something?  Because whatever she said, I’m willing to bet it’s not true.”

“She said that every summer you get together with a temporary employee, and after every summer you get back together with her.”

He looked at his shoes.  “Oh. Well, that is true.  But I broke up with her for the last time last year.  We aren’t together, we haven’t been together.”  He grabbed both of my hands.  “Maggie, don’t you get it?  I don’t see anyone but you.  When I’m in the ranger station, I’m thinking of the sweet way your hair smells.  The softness of your skin.  How stunning your legs are.  The way your hand feels in mine.”

These words made me feel like I was freefalling.  A car came whipping down the road, and he pulled me to the side.  “C’mon,” he said.  “At least let me drive you home.  You’re probably exhausted from hiking all day.”

I was.  I nodded.  Now I was so confused.

Did I believe his history?  Or did I trust what he said?

We both stayed silent as he drove me the short distance left to the house.

When we pulled up, he turned the truck off, but didn’t move.  “Here’s what I’m gonna do.  I’m gonna prove it to you.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that whatever Amanda said to you was bullshit.”

What was the point of doing that?  So we’d both have our hearts ripped out at the end of the summer?

No thanks.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

He reached over and put a hand on my thigh.  I didn’t shrug it off.  It felt comforting.  “Maggie.  What kind of toxic weed did she plant in you?”

“A bad kind,” I admitted.  “It was already there, she just gave it some water and fertilizer.”

“I’m gonna rip it out.”  He reached out a hand and traced down my cheek.  “How ‘bout I show you who I am?  What I like to do?”

Even though my heart and emotions had been on a bumpy mountain road all day, his words smoothed them out.  I loved spending time with him.  I just wished it was the night before and I was back in his arms without Amanda feeding my doubt.

But I just said, “Thanks for the ride,” and turned and went into the house.

As I slammed the truck door shut, I heard him say, “
Fuck
.”

And I flung myself on my bed and didn’t come out until morning.

After work the next evening, there was a knock at the front door.  Court stood with a mountain bike, his white t-shirt tight around his chest.  “Come mountain biking.  Bring your camera.”  

I wanted to rub my hands against the shaved sides of his hair and feel the stubbly growth.  But that would make the eventual pain of leaving so much worse.  “What if I don’t want to?”

“This is weeding out poison.  Let me do it.”

Raising my eyebrows, I stared at him, and then I couldn’t help myself.  I relented, borrowing Katie’s bike, and he took me on a beautiful trail around the Wawona golf course.  The same ease with which he walked, he displayed on a bike, moving like he was one with it, like he wasn’t expending any effort.  We rode around a loop where we saw the deer that I loved and wildflowers that I made him stop and help me identify.  Bright orange California poppies.  Yellow Mule Ear that looked like sunflowers.  Red California fuchsia, with tiny, tubular flowers.

He made me get out my camera and record the deer, the wildflowers, us standing by our bikes shaded by the sugar pine and white fir.  “Take a picture.”  

I did, and as I did so, I felt a lump of longing.  To stay with him forever.  To stay here forever.

But I pushed it aside when I mounted the bike, loving the way the crisp Sierra air felt whipping my hair as I rode.

And that night, showered, sated after dinner of hot dogs roasted on his fire, naked with each other in his big bed in his cabin, he pressed into me from behind, after he’d licked my pussy and made me come—screaming in pleasure that I’m sure they heard in Fresno.

If this was his type of proof, my body was loving it.

I wasn’t sure about my heart.

He’d pulled a noxious weed today.  But would it grow back?

The next night, he’d arranged with the stables for us to go horseback riding on a trail he liked, after hours.  The wrangler saddled up the horses and matched me up with a little gray horse, very sweet, with a soft nose and hot breath.  Court rode a beautiful dark brown quarter horse, its shiny coat glossy in the sun, even in the dirt of the mountain corral set in a grove of incense cedars.

Wearing jeans and boots, we got up on the saddle, and he led me out of the corral to a well-established path.  We swayed with the motion of the horses, holding worn leather reins, as they walked through the dappled sunlight on the dusty tree-lined trail.  At one point he lined up our horses together and came up next to me.  “Take a selfie.”

And later, he thrust into me doggy style while I held onto the headboard, wishing he’d never stop, that he’d keep going forever and ever and ever.

More poison gone.

The next night, he drove me into the little town of Oakhurst, and took me out to pizza.  Like he’d told her (I didn’t want to think her name).  Thankfully she wasn’t there.

He ordered pizza at the counter, paid, and we sat down at a booth.  A proper date.  

But why bother?  Was this what we should be doing?  

I kept going along with what he told me to do.  And frankly I loved it.  

Which scared me.

As we sat in the booth, I glanced around the dark pizza parlor covered with old beer signs, sipping my soda, and then looked at him, his face getting more tan from being out in the sun.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, Court.  I don’t know why you’re even trying.  It’s pointless.  There’s an expiration date.  I leave.  You stay.  We’ll be done.”

He pressed his lips together—his lower lip chapped—and looked at me intently.  Then he leaned over the table into me, almost nose to nose.  “Tell me.  Do you like what we’ve been doing?  If there was no end date, would you do it?  Would you want this to be your Yosemite experience?”

I nodded.

He leaned back.  “Then I’m gonna keep it up.”  He stared at me, and I felt like he looked at me the way I looked at plants when I was identifying them—precisely, with the intent to categorize them into the proper genus and species.

“What?”

“Just trying to figure out who hurt you.  Besides your parents.”

“I had a boyfriend in high school.”  His eyebrows narrowed.  Interesting.  Jealous?  “And it was no big deal to break up.  Really,” I said to his eyebrows shooting up.  “If it was that easy to leave after three years of dating, I guess that means we weren’t really in love.”

The pepperoni pizza was served in front of us, hot and cheesy, smelling delicious.  “Here, have a slice.”  He served one on a plate and handed it to me.  “What happened in college?”

“There were all these guys.  I walked to class and passed a half dozen I’d want to get to know, every day.  It’s a big school.  But none of them, not one, was interested in me for me.  They all wanted something they could get out of me.  Either my homework or quick sex or something.  None of them wanted me for me.”

“Maybe they were assholes.  But they all knew how beautiful you are.”

I shook my head, popping a piece of spicy pepperoni in my mouth.

“I dunno.  You’re so defensive.  You think everyone wants to take something from you, and you don’t trust that maybe they don’t.  You don’t see that not everyone is like your parents.  Not everyone promises things they can’t give.

“You don’t believe that people can like you for you.  That
I
like you for you.  Botany princess, funny, gorgeous Maggie.  You take all of the attention you get in a negative way.”

I shifted in the booth and got very interested in my fork.  “That’s because it hasn’t worked out well for me.”

Court reached across the table and put his hand under my chin, lifting it up and looking at me in the eyes.  His right eye twitched underneath.  “Why are you so surprised that I’m interested in you?”

“Just am.”  I resisted the urge to focus back on my fork.

“Are you interested in me?”

I couldn’t believe he was asking that.  He’d captured my attention from the moment I saw him.  I didn’t want anything or anyone other than him.  When I was with him, he was my world, and he showed me all of his world, all of Yosemite.  All of his body.  “Of course.”

But then his next words hit me with the truth.  “Because I could ask the same question of you.  Are you just like all the other girls who wants to go back home and tell her girlfriends that she fucked a mountain man?  Or are you for real?”

My stomach sank, and all of a sudden I wasn’t hungry.  I
was
leaving at the end of summer.  Just like I’d left my high school boyfriend, no big deal.  And maybe while I was busy sealing off my emotions, I hadn’t realized how much his emotions were wrapped up into me.

“So I ask you.  Do you want to keep going?”

I stared at him.

“Because I do.  I want you to get to know me.  Not the one who stands up and gives tours, not the one with the rep.  Me.”

I reached a hand over the table.  “I’m totally scared of how bad it will hurt at the end.”

He stared.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “But yes.  I do.”

“Thank fuck.”  We both let out our breaths.

Another toxic weed pulled.

Standing up, he leaned over the table, crashing his lips to mine and kissing me so hard I felt it in the soles of my feet.  By the time he pulled back, the pizza had gotten cold.

When we returned to his house, I hadn’t stepped inside more than five seconds before he’d pressed me against the back of the green painted door, his hand on my ass, his tongue in my mouth.

And I grabbed his hair, yanking him to me, feeling the need to claim him, make him mine.

“I like it when you pull my hair.  It’s fucking hot.”

He sucked my earlobe and then bit it with his teeth.

“Gotta ask.  You on birth control?”

I nodded.  “I’m on the pill.”

Now he was sucking on my neck, one hand under my ass, lunging into me still against the door, hard between my legs.  “You good with bare?  My last test was clean. I can show you.”

Was I good with bare?

Did he need to show me the paper?

Was I being an idiot if I believed him?

He pulled back for a moment.  “It’s okay either way.  I just really want to feel you with nothing in between us.”

I wanted that connection, too.  I’d never been bare before.  I’d always used condoms with the pill.

But I wanted this too.  I wanted to be natural with him.  Enjoy him.

Trust him?

“Yes, it’s okay.”

He didn’t say anything, but he smiled a full grin and raised his eyebrow.  Then he wrapped me in a huge hug.

And in a flash, my t-shirt was off, boots off, he’d taken off my jeans for me and slid down my undies.  His shirt off, his jeans undone, he picked me up, naked, and laid me down on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.

“Don’t think we need a fire tonight.”

I shook my head, and I wished that it was winter and I could be here, doing this in front of a fire crackling, music playing.  But I pulled myself together and fuck, his beardy beard was between my legs, one of my legs flung over his shoulder, the other spread to the side.  I scratched at the rug, his broad shoulders and inked arms flexing over me, his head bent, his hair falling onto my lower abdomen.  He caressed, licked, sucked, and drew out my pleasure with energy and strength.