Down here it looked like Truck had done the same. His boots lined up near one arm of the couch. Him on his back, body stretched along the length of the cushioned seat. Leather vest still on, he had his arms crossed tightly across his chest, and looked cold.
She grabbed a blanket from a stack on a nearby chair. Stretching her arms out she softly flipped it once, letting it float and land on top of the man sleeping on her couch. She had just leaned in to tug it higher on his shoulders when he opened his amazing blue eyes and stared up at her, blinking sleepily. With a groan, he wrapped one palm around her wrist and tugged, pulling her down on top of him. Shifting and turning, he rolled them so she was wedged between his body and the back of the couch, then snaked his arms around her, shoving one arm underneath her so he could wrap her up tightly.
“Truck,” she called softly and he grunted in response, lifting his chin to place his lips on her forehead. “Truck, you fell asleep.”
“And, I’ll stay that way, you quit talkin’, Vanna.” His words proved he knew exactly where he was, and his next ones shocked her into silence. His lips moved against her skin as he said, “He’s a good kid, woman. Means he’s got a good momma. I like good people, know ‘em when I see ‘em. I see a good person in you, Vanna. I don’t know about you, but I could use some sleep, and I could use someone to hold for a change while I do it.”
Silence fell around them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. This was an easy quiet, companionable, filled with the presence of another person, but in a way that was perfectly…right. She felt the difference when he slipped back into sleep, his arms were heavier, his breathing deeper and slower. Relaxed, comfortable, her silence and acceptance of his embrace gifting him with oblivion.
About ten minutes later, she received the same gift in return.
Truck
He stretched and rolled, pushing up to sit on the edge of the couch, twisting to look back at the woman he’d left still sleeping. Face buried in a throw pillow, Vanna sighed and shifted, hand slipping out palm-down, seeking. Strands of unruly hair had escaped her severe hairstyle and he reached out, using the tip of one finger to tuck it behind her ear. Beauty queen, he remembered his first thoughts upon seeing her last night, finding them still agreeable. But, after only a few hours he felt he knew her to be so much more than that.
Mother: sweet and patient, kind and loving.
Snuggler: stealer of covers, under-chin burrower.
Linguist: conversationalist extraordinaire, witty story spinner.
Dancer: talented, rhythmic, sexy swayer.
What if she’s what you’ve been looking for? He asked himself the question he had so often posed to his brothers over the years, when they started weighing the pros and cons of taking an old lady. Old lady? Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you, old man? You don’t even know her last name.
Kitt was stirring around upstairs; the sounds from the bathroom up there had woken Truck a few minutes ago. Rising to his feet he went to the kitchen and opened the cabinet to see three boxes of cereal, all the same kind. With a grin he found spoons and grabbed two bowls, pulling them down from an identical stack, and poured some of the healthy multi-grain into each, finding the sugar and spooning a couple of heaps into what he now considered ‘his’ bowl. Kitt wandered into the kitchen, eyes barely open until he saw Truck. Before he could shout his excitement, Truck put out a hand, palm down, patting the air in a ‘keep it quiet’ motion. “Hey, Kitt. Mornin’. Your mom’s still sleepin’. Let’s let her sleep in a bit, yeah?”
With a slow nod Kitt pressed his lips together tightly and without questioning Truck’s presence went to the bowls. He picked up one of the spoons from the counter and silently looked down, then up at Truck. “Milk, I know. I gotcha.” Topping both up with milk until the circles of cereal floated, he picked his up and stood, leaning against the countertop next to Kitt as they spooned up cereal for breakfast. “You sleep okay, Kitt?”
Head nodding loosely on his bent neck, Kitt paused eating long enough to grunt what must have been agreement. He finished his cereal and stood, cutting his eyes towards Truck’s bowl, still cradled in his hand.
Truck grinned, tipping it to his lips and drank the remaining milk down before setting it on the counter. It had no sooner come into contact with the surface before Kitt grabbed it, moving to the sink.
Lip caught between his teeth, Kitt spread a cloth on the sink divider, then squirted liquid soap on the fabric. Carefully twisting the water faucet, he dripped water onto the cloth, wetting it, then worked it to a lather. He used it to swipe the bowls and spoons. Setting the dishes down Kitt reached towards the lever controlling the water, then drew his hand back. He huffed out a breath and reached out again, a grimace twisting his features. Bumping the lever with the back of his hand, he stood and stared at the resulting water flow for a time. Seconds ticking up into a minute, then two, Kitt was frozen in place as the water ran down the sink.