Owen
Chapter forty-eight
By Roy Reinikainen
"I never went walking at night, back where I grew up," Lucas said, as he, Owen, and Sam, stepped into the silvery moonlight. Now, it seems as if that's when the three of us walk, most often."
"It's the only time we have a chance to be together," Sam murmured, taking Lucas' hand. "Besides, Owen and I are here to protect you from all the bad guys who might be lurking in the bushes."
"Sammy . . ." Owen murmured, a word of reprimand.
"I'm sorry, Lucas," Sam apologized, his voice warm, in the darkness. "I take what we have here for granted. I know I shouldn't, but, since I've never experienced anything else, it's easy for me to do. I'm glad Owen was here to remind me that I was out of line.
"I'm not so easily offended as you must think, guys . . . but, thanks. In some ways, the transition from the city to Riverton, has been easy to make. In other ways . . . I have more difficulties. Sometimes, I have to remind myself that I'm living in a different world than the one in which I grew up. I suits me more than my boyhood home." His voice took on a smiling tone one could recognize, even in the darkness. "Of course, it doesn't hurt that the guys I love just happen to live here.
"I'm glad you guys thought of this," he continued. "As much as I love our new apartment, I've enjoyed the times we spent the night in the meadow. I love being naked in the out of doors."
"That's my cue," Owen chuckled. He stopped, and in the moonlight skinned out of his tight t-shirt, the unzipped his shorts, and in a slow striptease, playing to his audience of two, he pushed both shorts and underwear down his legs. When he stood, from untangling the shorts from his tennis shoes, he was halfway to being hard, and, other than his shoes, was only wearing a bright smile.
"Lucas," Sam invited. "You're the one who likes being naked, outside."
"But . . . here?" Lucas asked, "by the side of the road?"
Owen tossed Lucas a bag, which would hole his clothes. "If someone happens by . . . which I doubt . . . they'll see three naked guys. The sight will be so unusual, they'll probably doubt they saw correctly. Besides, we'll be off he road in a couple minutes. So . . . strip," he urged, making a hurry-up hand motion. "I wanna get to our meadow, so we can squirm around on top of one another."
After a brief glance up and down the road, Lucas, quickly shed his clothes, and, feeling utterly exposed, stuffed them into the waiting bag.
Sam had no hesitation. If possible, he shed his clothes even faster than Owen. "Now," he smiled, brightly. "That's better!" He scratched his pubes, then caught the blanket Owen tossed him, and they were on their way.
Owen gestured toward the barely visible path, leading to the river's edge. "C'mon, guys. Let's get a move on. I'm hungry."
"I'm horny," Sam added, as he ran an appreciative hand over Lucas' butt cheeks, and murmured an appreciative, "nice!"
"And, when aren't you horny?" Lucas teased, stepping closer to Sam.
"Hmm. Let me think."
Abigail stretched her long legs out in front of her, in a pose similar to her older brothers', and turned to her mother. The two women were sitting on the home's porch, enjoying the warm evening, while Daniel was away, tending to a sick patient.
"Mama, d'you suppose most the decent guys in he world, like other guys? I mean Daniel doesn't, but . . ." she shrugged.
"What? Why would you ask such a thing?"
"I'm wonderin' if there's anyone out there who might be interested in me . . . as a person of the feminine gender . . . not as a buddy. That's how everyone treats me . . . Sam, and Corey, and Lucas, I mean. Besides, Owen and Jonah, they're the only guys I know well, and they all like guys, not girls." Abigail snorted, sat back, and crossed her arms.
"It's not fair."
"Sweetheart . . . Riverton is a small town . . ."
"That's the problem!" Abigail interrupted. "Riverton is a small town, which has no eligible boys! Y'know, ol' Clyde McCorkle, of Bessie-the-car fame, asked me to go to a dance at the Evanston school. But . . . geez, Mama!" Abigail turned to her mother. "Clyde's a nice enough guy, but Bessie! Y'know, the last time I tried to open the car door, the handle came off in my hand? You woulda thought I'd torn off Clyde's arm, or something, with all the moaning and groaning he did.
"Of course, since I was holding the handle, the door wouldn't open, so I had two choices, either to climb in through the window, or crawl across the front seat." Abigail thought a moment, while her mother did her failed to rub an involuntary smile from her lips. "Actually, I had a third choice. I could have told Clyde to take Bessie to the dance, or better yet, a salvage yard. Someone needs to put that beast out of its misery! Bessie, not Clyde," Abigail hastened to add.
She shook her head. "I swear! That car doesn't like me. Either I'm helping Clyde change a flat tire, or he and I are trudging along some road, miles from nowhere, gas can in hand, `cause the ol' girl has gasped to a stop and needs a drink, or I'm crawling across the front seat holding that stupid door handle. I want to have a good time, not an adventure every time I see a guy.
"Clyde's really sorta sweet, and he is cute, once he's been cleaned up some. And he does like girls, so that's a plus, but geez, Mama . . . Clyde? Is that the best I can expect? He has two speeds . . . slow and stop! I mean really! If he moved any slower, he'd rust."
"What? Rust?" Bea asked, surprised at her daughter's vehemence.
"Well, it's true! I want to meet a guy who can put two words together without straining his brain. I want to laugh and hold hands . . . like you and Daniel do, or like Owen, or Jonah, and the guys do. I want romance! Right now, other than you and Daniel, the only folks having any of that are a bunch of guys who aren't interested in me, one bit! I get sooo jealous, seeing how they look at one another. Romance just oozes from their pores. Sometimes, it's so intense it's embarrassing. I wish someone would look at me like that," she muttered.
"I stumbled on Jonah and Corey kissin', one time. Holy smoke, I about dropped my jaw! I've never even thought two people could be that passionate. I wanted to turn away and leave `em in peace, but, as Clyde would say, dang!" Abigail playfully fanned herself with a hand. "No wonder they seemed all flushed when they came back into the house. Even I had wobbly knees, and all I was doin' was watching!
"Corey was sweet about the whole thing. When we were sorta alone, he said he hoped they hadn't shocked or upset me. He told me Jonah didn't know I had seen them. He didn't want Jonah to think they were corrupting me, or something. What does he think I am . . . some virgin, who's been locked away, waiting for her prince charming to rescue her?
"Hmm," Abigail spoke to the air, then turned to her mother, her blush showing, even in the dim light. "I guess that's exactly what I am, huh?" Bea was not sure how to interpret the regretful shake of her oldest daughter's head, and decided it might be better not to ask.
"Corey's nice, to consider my feelings like that. Lucas is the same sort of guy. Since Owen seems to attract nice guys like honey collects flies, maybe I should set him the task of finding me a nice . . . non-gay . . . guy." Abigail barked a laugh. "Trouble is, Owen would probably come back with someone nice, who happens to be gay, then there'd be four of `em sleepin' on that bed of theirs."
"It might be best, dear, if you conduct your own hunt for a guy who attracts you." She grinned. "After all, even though that bed of theirs is huge, I don't think it could handle four men very well. And . . . I'm gonna be required to buy more dinner place settings, if this family gets too much larger. Oh, and a new table too." She patted her daughter's arm. "Let's leave Owen out of this, shall we? Besides, there's no guarantee he won't come home with more than one guy!
"Maybe there'll be some nice young guys from the Evanston community college, coming over to help out in Lucas' greenhouses," Bea suggested. "Surely, there are some boys who are interested in girls, and are exciting enough to give you wobbly knees." Bea smiled.
"Y'think?" Abigail thought a long moment, then sighed. "I guess if they're going to a community college, they'll most likely not be the result of years of careful inbreeding."
"Abigail! What a thing to say!"
"Yeah, I know," Abigail grumbled, flopping back in the chair and crossing her arms. "I'm just . . ." She suddenly sat forward, turned to her mother and raised her voice. "I want a MAN!"
Before Bea could comment, Abigail's little sister, Opie, pushed open the screen door, dressed in her pajamas, and carrying a stuffed Teddy Bear, Corey had given her. "Well, yellin' like that is not the way to get one, old girl," she sleepily grumbled, as she walked past her sister. "I'm goin' to bed," she announced. "You can kiss me good night," she added, turning her cheek to her mother, who dutifully kissed her youngest daughter.
"Abigail's wantin' a man `cause she's feelin' frisky," Opie yawned, as she walked into the house, closing the door behind her.
"Opie!"
"I am not!" Abigail turned from shouting at her sister to sneak a look at her mother. "Well . . . maybe just a little."
Three naked men sat on the blanket, next to one another, with crossed legs, while, at their side, a small fire hissed and snapped, casting off sparks which floated, for a moment in the still air, then faded. The meadow, seemingly carved out of the forest and underbrush, welcomed the men, unchanged from the first time Owen and Sam spent the night here, under the stars, five years earlier. The smell of the grass, smelling like new-mown hay carpeted the gentle slope, extending to the river, while, at the meadow's edge, drifts of butter-yellow flowers on the wiry stems perfumed the air with the scent of honey. Overhead the stars glittered in a broad swath across the sky, combining with the moon, to cast a silvery light over the scene.
Owen leaned his head on Sam's shoulder and spoke into the quiet. "I really don't wanna leave." His voice, always soft, seemed loud, disturbing the sound of night insects. "I don't wanna leave you guys," he continued. Then, after a brief pause, "or all this," he added, glancing around.
He's made a decision,' Lucas thought. That's why he's being so melancholy.' Lucas glanced at his two lovers, illuminated by the flickering firelight. Sam's eyes were closed, probably having reached the same conclusion. Owen was staring, unseeing, into the distance, idly twirling a small twig between two fingers.
"You're still trying to make up your mind?" Sam asked.
"It seems to be all I think about. What the three of us have is perfect. It's something we've worked hard to achieve . . . and, I'm happy. Riverton is where I want to be . . . with you guys, with Corey and Jonah, and Mama and Daniel, and the girls. I don't wanna ever see snow again . . ." His voice trailed off. "This . . . what we have . . . is as close to paradise as I think I'll ever experience."
"Cowboy . . ." Lucas murmured. "Why do you torture yourself like this?"
"I know," Owen sighed. "You've heard me moaning and groaning long enough. But, I'm going to have to make a decision soon, and I'm no closer to figuring out what to do now, than I ever was."
Sam brought Owen's hand to his lips, and kissed it. "I hate to say it, lover, but you do know what you want to do, you just don't know how to go about doing it. So . . . at least for tonight, try not to think about it, okay? Tonight's just for the three of us to be together."
Lucas scooted away from Sam. He carefully placed a couple pieces of wood onto the small fire, sending glittering sparks spiraling upward, then knelt at his friends' side and tenderly tilted Owen's face upward. "Sam's right, Cowboy. The only thing each of us needs to remember is that we're here for one another . . . always. We are loved. Whether we're together or apart, what we feel for one another does not change." Owen compressed his lips and nodded once. Lucas wasn't telling him something he didn't already know. Still . . .
"Mister Pruitt. This is Lance Benham. We met last week, when George Wilkins and his team were visiting you." The young attorney smiled at Franklin Pruitt's genial greeting, and Southern drawl. "Yes, we're pleased to be representing your company. I'm calling to let you know that I'll be heading up a small office we're going to open in Atlanta, specifically to handle your company's business. I'll have one other attorney joining me . . . not one with any ties to the Atlanta area," he added.
"We're setting things up so we'll be able to make the switch from your existing firm, to ours, at a moment's notice. We'll also be bringing a temporary staff of accountants to work with yours, to investigate the possibility of any wrong-doing on the part of your existing firm. I doubt anything will be found, but, I understand your desire to make sure that is the case.
"We'll be working with your accountants, even before you leave on your trip, and hope to conclude things quickly, before any word of the transfer reaches your current firm.
"A transition such as this is not going to be easy . . . or pleasant, since, as you have told us, the firm you're using considers itself to be an indispensable part of Pruitt Builders, and has close connections with your wife."
Attorney Benham grimly smiled. "Yes, I understand the difficult position this change will put you in, with your wife, and I'm sorry but that's something you will have to deal with. I'm sure, with time, your wife will reconcile herself to the fact that she will no longer be able to bypass you and go directly to her attorney-friends for any sort of information. We, of course, will be pleased to work with her, but she must realize that you are our client.
"Yes," Benham responded. "We have received all the papers enumerating your son, Riley's, position with the firm, and your wishes, as well as the notorized and witnessed copies of your new will. I've not yet had the chance to meet your son, but George Wilkins says your son is capable." The attorney laughed. "You have no idea what a high compliment that is, Mister Pruitt. Mister Wilkins does not suffer fools lightly, and if he says your son is capable, rest assured the young man is capable of great things."
Sam followed Owen, getting to his knees and stepping into a three-way embrace. "Be easy, Cowboy," Lucas murmured, after a kiss.
"You mentioned Bailey told you to wait until he and Riley visit to make any sort of decision. Bailey's got lots of connections. Who knows what he might be able to come up with?" Owen missed the flick of a glance Lucas gave Sam, as well as the significance of the slight curve of Sam's lips.
He knows something I don't know,' Lucas thought. Bailey, and that building of his is the key.' He mentally shrugged. No use in pestering Sam. He's not about to break a confidence.' The thought gave Lucas pause. That's precisely the type of person I want to be at my side, running the business.'
His attention wandered, for a moment. I wonder why I invited Sam to be part of the business, and not Owen.' He was vaguely aware of Owen's hand caressing his back, as his two lovers kissed. Sam nudged him with a hip, a silent invitation to participate. I think I chose Sam because I believe Owen is cut out for greater things . . . things which focus on his strengths. Sam is doing what he's best suited for. Owen could surely do the job, he would just never be quite . . . happy, unlike Sam, who loves what he was doing.'
He smiled when Owen's caress moved from his back to his butt. "I wanna bottom tonight," Owen murmured . . . for both of you."
Without any further words, Lucas scrambled to lay on his back. Owen straddled him, on hands and knees, while behind Owen, Sam began to work his boyhood lover's butt and smooth pucker. "Ohhhh Lucas," Owen's voice was barely more than a puff of air against Lucas' ear, as Owen leaned forward. "I love you so much."
Lucas felt Owen jump, with the first touch of Sam's tongue against his hole, followed by the rhythmic movement as Sam aggressively pushed his face against Owen's spread cheeks. "You're gonna do me next, lover," Owen murmured. "You like sliding in after Sam's already shot in me, don't you?"
Lucas groaned, both from Owen's words, and from the stimulation Sam was providing with his hand, at the same time he rimmed Owen. "Knowing Sam's sperm is surrounding me is the reason I never last long. Being in you, and having Sam's jiz surrounding me pushes me over the edge."
"Shhhh," Owen murmured, as he kissed Lucas' earlobe, then his cheek, and finally found his mouth. "Talk is for later."
Before penetrating Owen, Sam lay flat on his stomach, between Owen's legs, and sucked Lucas' cock into his mouth. Perfect,' he thought. Just like Owen's. Jonah's is nice to look at, and to hold, but, beyond that . . . I'm just not built to handle something like that inside me, whether it's in my mouth, or my butt. I'm glad he and Corey are together. They're built for one another.'
Sam smiled, once again admitting to himself how much of voyeur he'd become. I'd love to watch Jonah and Corey make love. But, not . . .' he thought to himself, as much as I'd love to watch Jonah and Owen.'
The thought of seeing Jonah penetrate his brother caused Sam's already drooling penis to throb in anticipation. He released Lucas' erection, then pushed himself to his knees, and pointed the head of his cock at Owen's hole. He smiled, as he pushed the head against the pulsing hole, then swiped it from one side to the other, leaving behind a wet trail of pre-cum.
"Fuck me," Owen murmured, breaking a marathon kiss with Lucas. "C'mon, Sammy . . . now!"
Sam pushed the head of his cock against Owen's hole, amazed, as he had always been, watching Owen slowly open to him. When he heard a hiss of indrawn breath, he stopped, and waited for Owen to relax. I complain about Jonah's size,' Sam thought, immensely turned on by the sight of the head of his penis half-way inside Owen, but I'm not that much smaller, so I understand what Owen and Lucas mean, when they ask me to go slower, or to be gentle. I'm mostly a bottom,' he thought to himself, aware that Owen was relaxing, and I know I wouldn't want to be fucked by me. I'm glad to take my time, so they can enjoy having me inside them. Besides,' he grinned, as he ran his hands over Owen's flanks and the sides of his buttocks, By goin' slowly, I get to spend more time inside both of `em.'
Owen, as he often did, resumed the penetration on his own, deliberately pushing back, until the entire length of Sam's penis was inside him and Sam's dense, black, pubes were pressed against the pale skin of Owen's spread butt cheeks.
The possibility that Owen might soon be leaving was something Sam could not face. Not again!' He knew that he shouldn't worry. After Bailey's visit, Owen would undoubtedly stay, but . . . I know how much that school means to him. It's the source of knowledge he has never thought he'd be able to get, while living in Riverton. `Oh, Owen. You can't leave Lucas and me.' He leaned forward, until his chest was touching Owen's back, and wrapped his boyhood friend in a tight embrace, at the same time he began to rock his hips, in a slow rhythm.
"Shoot in me, Sammy. Fill me up."
"Fuuuuck," he groaned, as a tingle formed at his prostate, and rapidly began to spread. "This is too much." He dug his fingers into Owen's sides, thrust . . . hard . . . a couple more times, then shivered, as his orgasm swept over him. `He's friggin' milking me dry,' Sam thought, as he held still and let Owen move back and forth, alternately tightening and relaxing his sphincter. Sam could feel his cock surrounded by his own sperm, and wanted to stay inside Owen, until he softened and slipped free.
But, he knew Lucas was anxiously waiting for his turn, And, I want to taste Owen's tongue,' he told himself, as he pulled free. Even, with only the light of the moon, he could see sperm drooling out of Owen's anus, as he pulled free. "Damn!" Lucas can wait a minute,' he told himself. The sight of Owen's leaking hole was too much. He pushed one finger, then two, into the hole and finger-fucked Owen, massaging his prostate with one hand, while masturbating Owen with the other.
"I'm not gonna last, Sammy," Owen groaned, a moment before he grunted, his body jerked, and he sprayed his load onto Lucas. "Holy . . ." Owen gasped, twitching as Sam stroked one time too many.
"Hold Lucas' dick while I sit on it," Owen instructed. "Lucas has gotta shoot. He's `bout sucking my tongue down his throat!"
Lucas groaned as Sam gathered up some of Owen's sperm and lubed his dick, readying it for penetration.
"Now, Sammy!" Owen sat back on his haunches, and quickly lowered himself onto Lucas' cock, burying the entire length in one move. "Play with his hole, Sammy," Owen ordered. "Push his button."
Sam smiled. Once, Lucas referred to his prostate as a button which, when pressed, would make him shoot. Ever since then, Owen, did his best to stimulate Lucas' extra-sensitive prostate, at every opportunity. "Someday," he grinned, one night, after he'd stimulated Lucas to his third orgasm in less than an hour, "we've gotta see how many times we can make this man shoot!"
They'd been able to coax two more loads out of Lucas, and would have been willing to try for a third, but Lucas had stopped them. "I can't take any more, guys! If I had to stand up, right now, I'd probably fall flat on my face. I'm worn out." Before the three of them had gone to sleep though, Lucas nursed on the fingers Owen had been stimulating him with, while, first Owen, then Sam, masturbated their own loads onto Lucas, then cleaned him up, using their tongues.
When I touch his . . . button,' Sam thought, he's not gonna last another minute. Maybe I should wait.'
"Do it, Sam!" Lucas grunted, meeting each of Owen's downward movements with a thrust of his own. "I'm close! Make me shoot! Being surrounded by your sperm is so fuckin' hot."
Sam wet his finger, positioned it at Lucas' opening and pushed inside, applying firm pressure to the prostate. Lucas gasped with pleasure, then loudly grunted and began to fill Owen.
"No one's gonna suck these loads outta me," Owen declared, as he rolled off Lucas. "Tonight, I'm gonna sleep with you guys at my side, and your sperm inside me." He squirmed slightly, enjoying the thought that he held the cum of his two lovers, and held his arms out to Sam, as Lucas snuggled closer to Owen, opposite Sam.
"I love you guys," Owen murmured, a moment before his breathing slowed and his light snoring began. The men on either side of him, silently declared the own love for one another, with linked fingers, resting on Owen's chest.
"Owen beat you to it, Mother," Lucas laughed. "So, the shock value of your impending visit has been greatly diminished." He listened a moment then laughed louder. "I must admit, when I first heard, I was frantic." His voice lowered, showing that the worry had not been completely dissipated. "Will Father be greatly disappointed that I've yet to show any sort of return on his investment?"
Olivia, Lucas' mother shook her head. "Lucas, Lucas," she sighed. "Your father wants you to be successful, as do I. Neither he nor I have attached some sort of timetable on how soon success is to be achieved. So, to answer your question. Neither your father nor I are disappointed with your accomplishments, in the slightest. On the contrary! We are immensely pleased . . . and proud . . . of you and your accomplishments.
"Sweetheart, you must remember that you are having to build the foundation upon which the rest of your efforts will be built. Often, the foundation, be it of a business, or of a building, takes the longest to construct. Such a foundation is rarely flashy, but it is immensely important.
"That is only one of the many reasons we are proud of you, and your efforts. You are taking things one step at a time. To use the building analogy, once more; you are not attempting to build the flashy part of your business plan before you have completed the foundation. Your father has said, many times, during the past months, how much he wishes some of the highly paid staff in his office could take lessons from you.
"So . . . no, there's no need to be frantic about our visit. We both miss you, greatly. I am also anxious to see this idyllic world in which you find yourself, and to meet some of your friends . . . especially Bea and her new husband. Owen speaks of them so often, I feel as if I already know them."
The good natured humor drained from Olivia's voice. Owen is greatly troubled, is he not? I had hoped that . . . after his father . . ." Olivia's voice trailed off.
"Yes, he's troubled," Lucas responded, in the same somber tone his mother used. "Mother . . . Owen feels as if he's useless. To him, it's as if he never left Riverton. He's barely begun his education. He feels as if he's not making a contribution to our household, even though he does everything but cook."
"Owen tells me you are the household chef," Olivia observed, dryly. If that is indeed the case, all I can say is either you have suddenly acquired culinary talent, or your partners are in possession of great intestinal fortitude."
"Be nice, Mother," Lucas chided. "Culinary talent is not developed overnight, and I am improving. Most things I attempt are at least edible."
"The mark of a true chef," Olivia snorted. "Preparing food which is . . . edible."
"Helloooo," Bailey called, sticking his head into Art's barber shop. "Are, are you here?"
"I'm next door!" a disembodied voice responded. "Who's asking?"
Bailey smiled brightly, turning to the next door shop, with its open door. He motioned Riley to follow, almost bouncing with excitement.
It's amazing how happy he's been, ever since the plane landed,' Riley thought, as he followed Bailey. It's as if he's showing off his hometown, instead of a place he's only visited once.'
A man and woman stood as the two visitors stepped into the store, and out of the intense afternoon sunlight. "It's Bailey, right?" the large man smiled, engulfing Bailey's hand in a vigorous handshake. "Welcome back! It's good to see you, once again. You remember Millie, I'm sure," he said, gesturing to the woman who stood at his side.
"Indeed I do," Bailey smiled, as he shook her offered hand. "I've been anxious to come back and have some of your excellent homemade ice cream, Millie." Bailey grinned at her pleased expression, and once again, thanked Owen for giving him enough confidence in himself that he could now make a person smile. It was not too many months earlier, when, instead of a smile, he would have expected anyone he spoke to, to excuse themselves at the earliest possible opportunity, or else ignore him as they suddenly found something extremely interesting . . . in the opposite direction.
"I know of a restaurant back home," Bailey continued, "whose owner would part with her first born, in order to have the recipe."
"Who's that?" Riley interrupted.
"Mrs. Giordano."
Riley rolled his eyes. "I'd part with that daughter of hers . . . for the recipe for a peanut butter sandwich," he muttered, then smiled at Millie and Art's grins. "Big bruiser of a woman," he explained. "I believe she's a professional wrestler, or something."
Bailey cleared his throat as both Millie and Art laughed, and Riley continued speaking, falling into story-mode. "Yes, well . . . she wouldn't look so bad if she didn't have all those tattoos, and got rid of a couple of those piercings. And, all that leather!" He leaned closer to Millie, who was hanging on his every word, captivated by his eyes and sensual smile. "Her mama is the spitting image of her daughter, minus the tattoos and piercings. Oh . . . and the leather! Y'know, the poor thing must think she'll void the warranty if she thinks too much. In fact," Riley continued, warming to his story, "I understand that when the daughter was handed her unemployment check and told to, sign here, she wrote Sagittarius." Riley sadly shook his head. "The poor girl is as confused as a baby in a topless bar."
Millie barked a most unladylike laugh then covered her mouth, looking guilty and blushing at Riley's wink.
"Anyhow!" Bailey interrupted, before Riley could continue. "I've yet to introduce you both to my talkative friend . . . Riley. He's from Atlanta, Millie, a true Southern boy. If the accent didn't already tell you, or the ability to tell a tall tale, now you know."
"I could tell, right off," Millie smiled her welcome. "You do enjoy a good story, don't you . . . Mister . . .?" Riley grinned. "My last name's Pruitt, Ma'am. He held his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. I came this close to being a Northerner. I woulda been if my illustrious ancestors hadn't been late to board the boat the founding fathers and mothers took to this country. So . . . instead of landing in the North, on the Mayflower, as they'd panned, my ancestors came ashore, one month later, in the South, on the June Flower. No one hears much about them." Riley slowl shook his head. "It's sad, really, but that's the story of my family. At least one of us is always late and misses out on all the action."
"No doubt," Bailey interjected. "I'm sure you'll find an opportunity to regale Millie with all your tales. Poor woman, he muttered, turning to Art, who was smiling broadly at the interplay.
"Are you boys here to visit Owen and the gang? I'm sure they'll be right-pleased to see you."
"Yes, ma'am," Bailey answered. We've arrived first. My folks will be along in a day or so, and Lucas' will follow a couple days after that. We've all been telling them what a wonderful place Riverton is, so everyone wants to come out and experience the charm for themselves."
Millie raked her store with a panicked glance. "Oh, my word! Important guests! I'd better start tidying up." She cast a distracted glance in Bailey and Riley's direction and made as if to stand.
"Millie!" Bailey raised his voice to cut through her sudden anxiety. "Please . . . no. Everything is perfect just the way it is. Our parents are here to see Riverton just as it is. It's fine . . . really. Don't do anything, except possibly make some extra ice cream, for the crowd."
Millie nervously allowed herself to be convinced to do as Bailey asked. When she'd settled, she turned to Riley. "Your friend is certainly the charmer."
Riley looked at Bailey, turning a smile on him which left no doubt of his feelings, then turned back to Millie. "Yes, ma'am. I've always thought so."
Everyone looked up at the sound of running footsteps. "Bailey!" Lucas called, charging through the door to Millie's store. "The moment I saw that fancy car sitting in front of Art's place I knew it had to be you." In only a few quick steps, he'd crossed the store and took his boyhood friend in his arms for a back pounding hug,
"And, Riley!" Lucas released Bailey and embraced Riley. "Welcome! Welcome!" He glanced toward Art and Millie. "Are you all finished? I'd like to take the guys up to see our place. Sam and Owen should be along in a few minutes. They've been over at Bea's and Daniel's, helping with some stuff."
Riley and Bailey excused themselves, Riley promising to return to chat with Millie over a cup of tea and some home made cookies.
"Whew!" Riley ran his fingers through his short brown hair, exhaled gustily, and shook his head, as he and Bailey followed Lucas across the street. "Finally! I can be myself and stop tryin' to look pretty." He shook his head. "It's been a long trip, Lucas. I'm as worn out as a cucumber in a convent."
~ to be continued ~
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send you a pic of the character(s), please ask.
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