“You havin’ trouble gettin’ it up, boy?”
At first, his eyes went wide with shock. Then he closed them and counted to ten. This was worse—way worse—than he’d expected. “No, Tante Lulu, it is doin’ just fine.”
“Then why aren’t ya shakin’ the bedsheets with Charmaine?”
Shakin’ the bedsheets? Well, at least she didn’t use a vulgar word for it, or refer to my cock as a wee-wee again. “Don’t you think that question is a little personal?”
“Personal, schmersonal! Charmaine is miserable. Yer miserable. Why aintcha doin’ somethin’ ’bout it, you?”
“And you think shakin’ the bedsheets is the answer?” God, if only life were that simple!
“It’s a start. Listen, boy-o, I’m an old lady. I know better’n most that life’s too short to dawdle, and you been doin’ way too much dawdlin’.”
“Me? Charmaine was busy getting married three different times while I was off… dawdling?”
She turned and wagged a finger in his face. “Listen up, and listen up good. Do you know the one thing all of Charmaine’s husbands had in common?”
Holy hell! What a question! I do not need to know all the finer points of Charmaine’s men.
“They all looked jist like you.”
Once again, Raoul was stunned speechless. And the old lady was standing up, about to leave him hanging in the wind. “Whoa! What does that mean?”
“It means that Charmaine never got over you. It means that she’s been lookin’ fer you in every man she meets. It means ya better get off yer duff before she finds another look-alike and this one turns out better than a stubborn ol’ ex-con cowboy. Think about how yer gonna feel if that happens… again.”
With that parting shot, she was off.
But she’d given Raoul food for thought.
And then the REAL chaos began…
The guests began to arrive at 9 a.m.
Even before Charmaine went out on the front porch, the squealing laughter and rapid-fire chatter of three little girls told her it was Luc and Sylvie and their brood. She watched as they emerged noisily from their minivan.
Who would have ever thought that the “bad boy of the bayou” would one day drive such a conservative Soccer Mom vehicle?
The men had left hours ago, after a cold breakfast, to work in the west pasture, where the new bulls were going to be given a second stab, so to speak, at some lucky females. Rusty had waggled his eyebrows as he invited Charmaine to come watch, but she’d politely declined. And wasn’t it strange how Rusty had been regarding her so quizzically since yesterday when he and Tante Lulu had shared a mysterious tête-à-tête?
In any case, Charmaine and Tante Lulu were alone in the ranch house, there being no respite for ranch work even on Thanksgiving. But the men had promised to return early, hopefully by late morning. Jimmy was especially excited because Tee-John would be coming; finally, someone close to his own age.
Her mother and Dirk probably wouldn’t get up till noon, considering how everyone in the house had been subjected to the tinny sounds of the Winnebago bouncing on its ancient springs all night long from their enthusiastic lovemaking, highlighted by many feminine refrains of “Oooh, oooh, oooh!” and masculine yells of “Yes, yes, yes!” At one point, Tante Lulu had stuck her head out the window and hollered, “Go to sleep, you! Much more, and I’ll be having an orgy-asm.”
Now, Luc carried one-year-old Jeanette in his arms, though she squirmed to be let down and join her sisters, Blanche Marie and Camille, three and two, respectively. All of them wanted to go over to the corral to see the horsies.
“Kin we ride horses today, Aunt Char? Kin we? Kin we?” Blanche begged.
“Sure thing, sweetie pie,” Charmaine answered, scooching down and giving the little girl a hug. “Rusty and his cowboys went out early to get their chores done, but they’ll be back soon. I’m sure they’d love to give you a ride.” I hope. On the other hand, if Rusty’s concerned about chaos, what could be more chaotic than teaching little girls to ride a horse? I wonder if there are any ponies here. I wonder if it makes any difference. “Me too,” Camille said.