‘What should we do today? Decorate? Paint? Unpack?’ We’d made love the first morning in our new house. On the second morning, she was down to business. I thought for a second. ‘Unpack now, decorate tonight. I’m more concerned with how the tree looks at night than during the daytime. Besides, I wanted to put it up last night, but you wanted to get off your feet.’ ‘When do you want to paint, then?’ ‘It’s not as urgent. Next time I’m out, I’ll get the paint. Then we’ll have it ready on a day when we don’t want to go out.’ ‘Robin’s egg blue,’ she reminded me. I smiled. ‘I know, Sweetie.’ Sam got up and went to the bathroom. I put my head back on my pillow for a few minutes, then got up to make coffee. I logged onto the internet and checked the news and social media. By the time I’d finished checking Twitter, Sam held a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs out for me. ‘Eat up, Wolf. I want to get the basement done today.’ ‘And that means I’m up for some lifting. I get it.’ All of our. Making her forget if only for these moments of sheer joy and passion. And Danny could only regret that she was probably right—that a furtive fuck in the fields was as good as it would get for a woman from Carson County. He certainly had nothing to give her but a fuck—although he could only think of the joy she was giving him. He’d fucked the girls before, but nothing had been like this. There was nothing as beautiful and lustrous and as transcending beyond life in Carson County as Marylou. Marylou, he whispered her name with each virile thrust. Marylou. Who likely would never see anything beyond Carson County. Marylou, moaning for him. Marylou. Who would never own anything firsthand store bought or that hadn’t been worn to the grave by women before her. In, hold, swivel hips, listening for the sound of the sigh, retreat, then dig deep again. Marylou. Who would be put in an early grave herself if her pappy found she had been fucking with one of the Owen boys. Marylou. More rapid.
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