She smiles broadly at me. “Not at all. You two kids go and have some fun.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He smiles down at her and squeezes her to him before he kisses the top of her head, showing her affection that only a son can. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks.
I smile and nod at him. “Sure.” My eyes turn to Mrs. Sandy. “Can we finish our talk later?” I ask.
She waves her hand in dismissal. “Later. Now, you two go and get out of here,” she says, standing from her seat.
I pick up my glass and take a drink of my tea as I walk toward the sink to dump the remnants out.
“Ready?” Wes asks, as I rinse my glass out.
“Yep.”
“So, where are we going?” I ask as we walk behind the barn.
“Over there,” he says, pointing toward an old Chevy pickup truck. The paint is a faded blue color, weathered from the sun. Spots of rust speckle the front and back chrome bumpers. As we walk around the front of the truck, the word Silverado comes into view.
“What year is this?” I ask as he opens the passenger door for me. I climb in and smooth out my navy blue, strapless dress. The heavy metal of the door groans at the hinges as he closes it behind me. The inside is not too bad. The dark blue, leather, bench seat has minor cracks in it, probably from the blistering Texas heat. My eyes flash to the dashboard and semi-new stereo, complete with an audio input. Nothing in this truck is electric, and I love it. The windows roll down manually, and it takes me to a time when I would ride with my dad in a truck similar to this one. Good memories come rushing back to me.
“You all set to go fishin’?” asks my dad.
I turn in my seat, looking up at him. “I can’t wait!” I squeal with joy as my dad starts his newly remodeled 1980 Chevy Silverado. When he bought this truck, we were the only ones who saw the potential it held. It was covered in rust, and more than half of the parts needed to be replaced. Momma thought we were crazy, but it was our thing. Daddy and I would fix them up together. Actually, he fixed it while I watched, handing him a tool every now and then.
“You remembered to get the lures, didn’t you?” he asks, pulling the gear shifter down and into reverse.
“You think I’d forget? I like fishing almost as much as you do, Dad.”
“I was just checkin’. And you are my child, so of course, I knew you’d love fishing,” he replies, edging out of our driveway with a smile.
I lean forward on the newly upholstered, black leather, bench seat and roll down the window. As I lean back, the sun bounces off the polished black paint, blinding me momentarily. I rest my head on the back of the seat and look over at my dad. “You know, I think I just might catch more than you today.”
“Oh, yeah? And what makes you think that?” he asks with a smirk and raised eyebrow.
My arm goes out the window and waves back and forth in the wind as we travel toward the lake. “Because I also brought some worms that I dug up out of Momma’s garden. It’s a fish’s delicacy,” I say with a matter of fact.
“I’m so gonna tell on you,” my dad teases as he reaches over, grabs my knee, and begins tickling me.
I shriek in laughter from his assault. “I won’t share with you if you don’t stop.”
Immediately his hand is gone, and I’m left trying to catch my breath. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we,” my dad says playfully.
A sudden pop jolts me out of my daydream. “What was that?” I ask, looking all around us for the sudden, loud sound.
“The truck just backfired,” Wes answers with a chuckle. “It’s an old truck and hardly ever gets used.”
My face grows red with embarrassment. “Oh.”
“You seemed a little lost there for a few minutes.” He reaches for my hand and gently squeezes it.
I look up at him and take in his curious expression. A slow smile spreads across my face. “Nope. Not lost. Just reminiscing.”
Wes’ hand slides to my thigh and he pulls me across the bench seat. As I nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, he drapes his arm over the back of the seat. I reach up and interlace our fingers which brings his arm down to drape over my shoulder. When I look up at him, our gazes lock. He leans in and whispers against my lips, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Not right now.” I shake my head. “Right now is just about you and me, and this awesome sunset.” Lightly, I brush my lips against his. “So, where ya takin’ me?”
“It’s a surprise, but can you plug this in for me?” he asks as he hands me his iPod.
We drive along the rolling hills, out to where, I’m not sure. Wes likes to keep where he takes me under wraps I’ve noticed. Honestly, after last night at the tree house, he can keep where we go a secret all he wants. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. He is so sweet and completely romantic. If he hadn’t hooked me in the barn when we were on the bale of hay, then he, for sure, would have reeled me in last night.