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“I regret not taking you up on your idea first. You were right. This place is perfect,” she says.
“It’s alright. Besides, you’re too young to have regrets,” I say, not quite sure why I said that.
“What do you mean?”
I don’t know if it’s the sunset, the peace I feel looking over the pond, or being close to Mariam, but something has me feeling like saying things I never admit out loud.
“I really do regret being a shitty parent,” I sigh.
What is it about Mariam that makes me feel safe to say that?
“You weren’t shitty. You were grieving.”
“Grief is no excuse for the choices Nate made.”
Now it’s Mariam’s turn to set me straight, even though I don’t want to hear it. She pivots toward me. “Nate makes bad choices, not because of you but because he’s an adult making bad choices. That’s it. Did you screw up when he was younger? Maybe. Nobody expects perfection. Let it go, dude. Set him free. Stop picking up his pieces when he falls apart. That’s the biggest favor you can do for the guy.”
Well, shit. “I didn’t realize I was picking up his pieces for him.”
“How many jobs has he tried and failed at the ranch?” Mariam asks.
I have to think about it. “Oh, about seven.”
She smiles wickedly. “Then, he’ll have to find job number eight on his own.”
“I’m afraid job number eight is trying to sell your donuts to get back at me,” I tell her. I’d forgotten to tell her that part.
I listen to the crickets chirp and wait for her to speak.
“Those were my donuts?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
To my complete surprise, Mariam cackles. “Are you serious? Oh my god….”
“You’re…not mad?” I ask.
“It’s too pathetic to make me mad. And stop apologizing for your son. That might be why he never saw fit to explain himself to me.”
I swallow back the last bit of annoyance toward Nate for standing up this perfect woman. “Are you…still wanting closure from that?”
“Closure?” Mariam leans away from me, and my body chills, mourning the loss of contact. “Babe, I got the best closure on that mess.” She swings her legs up and over, resting them crosswise over mine, giving me a heated look.
My hand automatically finds its way to her shin, stroking her smooth skin under the hem of her long skirt. I palm her calf, massaging the tight muscle there.
“Good,” I say, the word raspy with emotion.
Mariam makes a sexy, satisfied noise in her throat. “You keep petting my legs like that; I’m going to start humping you like a cat in heat,” she says.
I love that this woman isn’t afraid to tell me what she likes.
“Promise?” I slide my hand up farther, above her knee, the fabric of her long skirt bunching around my forearm. I grip her upper leg, letting my thumb caress the tender skin on the inside of her thigh.
“Guaranteed humping, cowboy,” she breathes.
My right hand travels higher and higher until I reach the front of her panties, where I cup her mound. “Oh…Jesse…”
“How about instead you lie back and relax, and let me take care of that ache,” I say.
