To Breathe Again

Chapter 2 - A Country Encounter

Shit, shit, shit, shit. I can't believe this woman standin' here in front of me. I run my hand over my bald head as she talks 'bout what they need, space-wise. I'm strugglin' to truly pay attention, though I'm hangin' on every word. I love the way she talks.

Look, I'm a country boy; redneck, some would say. Hell, even my old friends nicknamed me "Country" when I was in the oil field. I know I got a heavy accent and use words like y'all, ain't, and yonder more than some, even in this town, but damn this woman; man, she's different. She's smart but not cocky. I'm used to those chicks down at the bar throwin' themselves my way but talkin' like they came out the trailer park. Nothin' against trailer parks, hell, I even lived in 'em fer a while, but some people basically stew in that shit. Not this girl, she's different. Her accent is subtle but it's there. I can tell she's from the South but maybe she wasn't always livin' here. Maybe a southern city girl. They sound like this sometimes. I'll ask her at some point. Somethin' to break the ice.

I don't mind a city girl if she can spend at least a little time outdoors with me. I'd love one that could hang out on the boat with me, maybe she don't worm a hook or nothin', but at least she can keep me company; maybe hand me a beer or a sandwich while I fish. Maybe she won't hunt but at least be cool with my deer heads on the wall. I don't see a ring on her finger, so that's a good sign for me. She seems really nice so it makes me wonder if she has a boyfriend and if not, why in the fuck is she single. That little voice in the back of my head is yellin' out, "What the fuck is wrong with her?"

As she finishes talkin', I realize I'm smilin' at her like a dumbass and wipe it off my stupid face. At least I wasn't starin' at her incredible breasts like I was five minutes ago. Motherfucker, you are going to screw this up before you even get a chance to start anythin'.

I answer her questions and we finish up. We had moved our little meetin' to the conference room, so at this point, we shake hands and I mention that I'm gonna go say bye to Chester before I leave. She nods and tells me that it was nice to meet me and she was on her way. I can't help it. I'm a man! I watch her ass sway back and forth as she walks back to her office and try not to drool. It's nice and plump and, fuck me, I wanna bite it. Growlin' lowly, I turn and make my way back to Chester's office.

"The fuck, man? You didn't tell me she looked like that!" Chester was laughin' at my outburst after I closed his office door behind me. "Do you have any idea how hard, and I mean literally hard, it was to focus on anythin' that woman said? You gotta warn a brother, bud." Chester continued laughin' and finally, I relaxed and sat back in a chair, runnin' my hands over my head.

"I figured you'd like her. Even Teri thought that you would fall all over yourself. She made me promise to not warn you about how she looked. She knew that she was exactly your type and you would be an idiot." He laughed and I glared at him. "She's tough though, man. If you're interested, you will have to work for it. She's been through a lot and she has a kid that's her whole world. She's really not shown any interest in datin', so I don't know where she is in that light. I try to stay out of that kind of business while at work," he says, sighin'.

Teri, Chester's wife, is like the sister I never had and kinda didn't want. She's awesome to Chester but loves messin' with me whenever she can. She says that it's payback for all the trouble I used to get Chester into when we were younger and dumber. "Like what?" I replied.

"I don't know her whole history, but I know there's been bad breakups and not long after she started workin' for me, her stepfather killed himself. I went to the funeral. That woman is strong, I tell ya. She sang. Man, she sang at her father's funeral. That's tough as nails in my book. She broke down afterward but was determined to keep it together before that. From what I understand, that's not the first suicide in her family either," he said.

I took a deep breath, "Damn, man. That sucks. How will it be workin' with her?" I asked, wonderin' if she was gonna be a ball-buster or cool.

"She's good. She won't hold anything back and she'll be straight as a nail with you, but she's not a bitch if that is what you're lookin' for," he replied while straightenin' his paperwork on his desk. "You'll like this part." I lifted my eyebrows, waitin' for him to continue. "She's from here, man. Her family's from that little town just on the north side of the city. Weatherford, I think. I can't wait until you hear about her hobbies, but I'm not spillin' the beans. This is gonna be too much fun."

Glarin' at that last comment, I replied, "It's pretty country out there, man, or was 'til the interstate came through. She doesn't sound like she's from here."

"Yeah, she mentioned that during her interview. She said she lived up north for a short stint and in business, she found that women with southern accents were thought of as bein' less educated or refined, so she worked on it and fine-tuned her grammar and lessened the accent a bit. She lived out of the States for a while as well, though that's a much longer story that she can tell you if she wants," he said while standin' up from his desk.

"Now, jackass, get outta my office so I can get some work done." He reached out his hand to shake mine.

"Yeah right and take a long, cold damn shower, you fucker." I replied while shakin' his hand, him chucklin' as I walked out the door.

As I walked down the hall, I noticed Michelle in her office with a few other women. All of them listenin' intently to her directions. She spoke with such authority but also the type of kindness that drew people in without even meanin' to. I tried to glimpse into her office without makin' it obvious and saw pictures on her desk but the women were blockin' most of my view. Sighin' to myself, I kept goin', hopin' I can get a chance to get to know her better soon.

As I climbed into my lifted F250, I couldn't help but picture her smilin' face. Her laugh was my new favorite sound. I loved how she didn't hold back. Her laughter was loud and bold but not annoyin' or abrasive against your ears. It was contagious and filled with unhindered joy. I loved that she didn't cover her mouth or try to stifle it. If somethin' was funny to her, you knew it and couldn't help but smile at her amusement. But those dimples... fuck me, it made me think of her on her knees with my hands wrapped in her long dark hair, tear-filled blue-green eyes lookin' up at me while I force her to take me down her... aaaaand now I have a fuckin' hard-on. Shit! After adjustin' myself, I cranked up the radio to try to drown out the images in my head and get my shit together. At this point, I know I've got to talk to my buds. I just hope they see what I do.

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Ok - So what do you guys think of Grant?  He's a good ole' boy.  Based on someone I know.  He's brilliant but talks like a hick. LOL - I can say that people, I'm from hicktown, myself.  :-)

Please remember to vote and comment!