face. And the way she was preparing her knee.” I took his arm, loving that he had been ready to go defend her. I would have done the same if she’d needed it, of course, but I could tell she was up for the task.
Gregg stood up gingerly, his fists on his hips.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“Agreed. Seeing that made me feel…”
“Like you were going to heave?”
“I was going to put it a bit more delicately, but yes.”
I was not a delicate lass.
Just as we were pulling back, Gregg looked our direction. I stumbled, stepping on Nick’s foot. He gasped and hopped backward, crashing into a trash can and knocking it over. He leaned down to pick it up.
“Hey!” It was Gregg. He’d seen us. Or heard us, more like.
I grabbed Nick’s hand, and we ran. We ducked around the last row of trailers and sprinted to the far side of the concrete bathrooms, dodging wayward parents and jumping over a cooler and several teens who sat on the ground playing a card game. I pressed my back against the building and peeked around the corner, but I couldn’t see Gregg anywhere. It seemed we were safe.
I let out my breath, giving a little laugh. “Well. That was interesting.”
Nick took several deep breaths. “Why do I feel like an idiot?”
“Don’t worry. You’re still cute.”
He made a face, then grabbed my hand, and we headed toward the calf barn, which is where we’d been going in the first place, before that little excursion into the dark side. “So.” Nick sounded a bit awkward, because coming across a scene like that was weird, and if he was feeling anything like I was, he was just a little creeped out. He looked up at the cloudless sky. “Nice evening.”
“Too hot.”
“Whiner.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
I turned to argue just as we went through the calf barn entrance, and ran right into Mrs. Gregg. She bounced off of me into a burly teenager, who barely stopped on his rush past, screaming, “Don’t let her go there! Don’t let her—oh, shit.” His shoulders slumped, and he stopped running to plod forward toward the mess his cow had just made.
“Hey!” Mrs. Gregg said, just as her husband had a couple minutes earlier, only her version sounded afraid, rather than angry.
I held up my hands. “Didn’t see you. Sorry.”
Her lips trembled, and she glanced around, as if she was worried someone was watching. “Have you seen…my husband?”
Oh, boy. I glanced at Nick, but he was no help, avoiding my eyes. “You lose him?”
“He’s somewhere around here.”
“Maybe the dairy barn?”
“I was just there. I didn’t see him.”
Of course she hadn’t, because he hadn’t been there. He was busy assaulting some unknown woman.
From Mrs. Gregg’s appearance, it seemed she’d been searching for him everywhere, including the manure pile. Her clothes, which had been pristine earlier that day, bore signs of actual work, which, if it were true, made me feel a little bit better about her. Not great, mind you, but it was something. And it made me feel even more dirty about what I’d just witnessed her husband doing. Her knees were smudged, she had a small rip in her shirt sleeve, and there was a piece of something—a wood chip?—lodged in her hair. If I didn’t know better, I would say Mrs. Gregg had been for a roll in the hay. Without her husband. What was going on with them?
“Mom?” The two older Gregg girls, the ones with the dairy cows, wrinkled their noses in unison. From their French braided, light brown hair, to their clean pastel shorts and skintight, lacy tank tops, they were practically twins.
“Where have you been?” the older one said. “Where’s Dad?”
“I’m sure he’s close by, Madison. Did you try calling him?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I texted him. He didn’t answer. But then, does he ever?”
From the sarcasm, I would guess the answer to that would be “no.”
“He’s very busy,” Mrs. Gregg said. “He’s probably helping your sister.”
“Of course he is.
Gregg stood up gingerly, his fists on his hips.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“Agreed. Seeing that made me feel…”
“Like you were going to heave?”
“I was going to put it a bit more delicately, but yes.”
I was not a delicate lass.
Just as we were pulling back, Gregg looked our direction. I stumbled, stepping on Nick’s foot. He gasped and hopped backward, crashing into a trash can and knocking it over. He leaned down to pick it up.
“Hey!” It was Gregg. He’d seen us. Or heard us, more like.
I grabbed Nick’s hand, and we ran. We ducked around the last row of trailers and sprinted to the far side of the concrete bathrooms, dodging wayward parents and jumping over a cooler and several teens who sat on the ground playing a card game. I pressed my back against the building and peeked around the corner, but I couldn’t see Gregg anywhere. It seemed we were safe.
I let out my breath, giving a little laugh. “Well. That was interesting.”
Nick took several deep breaths. “Why do I feel like an idiot?”
“Don’t worry. You’re still cute.”
He made a face, then grabbed my hand, and we headed toward the calf barn, which is where we’d been going in the first place, before that little excursion into the dark side. “So.” Nick sounded a bit awkward, because coming across a scene like that was weird, and if he was feeling anything like I was, he was just a little creeped out. He looked up at the cloudless sky. “Nice evening.”
“Too hot.”
“Whiner.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
I turned to argue just as we went through the calf barn entrance, and ran right into Mrs. Gregg. She bounced off of me into a burly teenager, who barely stopped on his rush past, screaming, “Don’t let her go there! Don’t let her—oh, shit.” His shoulders slumped, and he stopped running to plod forward toward the mess his cow had just made.
“Hey!” Mrs. Gregg said, just as her husband had a couple minutes earlier, only her version sounded afraid, rather than angry.
I held up my hands. “Didn’t see you. Sorry.”
Her lips trembled, and she glanced around, as if she was worried someone was watching. “Have you seen…my husband?”
Oh, boy. I glanced at Nick, but he was no help, avoiding my eyes. “You lose him?”
“He’s somewhere around here.”
“Maybe the dairy barn?”
“I was just there. I didn’t see him.”
Of course she hadn’t, because he hadn’t been there. He was busy assaulting some unknown woman.
From Mrs. Gregg’s appearance, it seemed she’d been searching for him everywhere, including the manure pile. Her clothes, which had been pristine earlier that day, bore signs of actual work, which, if it were true, made me feel a little bit better about her. Not great, mind you, but it was something. And it made me feel even more dirty about what I’d just witnessed her husband doing. Her knees were smudged, she had a small rip in her shirt sleeve, and there was a piece of something—a wood chip?—lodged in her hair. If I didn’t know better, I would say Mrs. Gregg had been for a roll in the hay. Without her husband. What was going on with them?
“Mom?” The two older Gregg girls, the ones with the dairy cows, wrinkled their noses in unison. From their French braided, light brown hair, to their clean pastel shorts and skintight, lacy tank tops, they were practically twins.
“Where have you been?” the older one said. “Where’s Dad?”
“I’m sure he’s close by, Madison. Did you try calling him?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I texted him. He didn’t answer. But then, does he ever?”
From the sarcasm, I would guess the answer to that would be “no.”
“He’s very busy,” Mrs. Gregg said. “He’s probably helping your sister.”
“Of course he is.
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