A powerful urge to protect her fills me when I think about it.
But fuck, seeing her tremble on the couch after her nightmare? I don’t know if anything will ever wipe that memory out of my head. Holding her felt right somehow. I’m sure that’s what planted the dirty dream in my head.
And Jesus, what a dream.
We were tangled here on the couch when she slid on top of me, tore off her little t-shirt and thrust her tits in my face. I took one perky, pink nipple between my lips and sucked until she ground herself against me.
My dick throbs harder, and I realize I’d better deal with this somewhere a little more private. I glance over at the closed door and then to the wall-mounted clock. It’s still early. She’s probably out feeding the animals. I vow to get my ass out there to help her as soon as I’m done dealing with my dick.
I grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom for a quick shower and a slow-motion replay of that dream. When I’m done and can walk upright again, I get dressed and head for the fresh pot of coffee.
Is it wrong to love a girl for making the coffee every morning? I pour in a little cream and take a sip. Perfection. Strong but not burn-your-esophagus strength.
My eyes land on a familiar Dunkin’ Donuts travel mug on the dish rack, and part of me wants to fill my brother’s coffee cup. He drank it with extra cream, extra sugar.
A deep sadness wells over in my chest. “I miss you, brother.” I hold up my mug, wishing like hell he were here to give me shit about something. Anything.
The back door slams shut, and I turn to find Kat holding the baby, who’s wrapped in a blanket.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “When did you go get Izzy from the MacIntyres’?”
Her eyes dart down with a shy smile. “I didn’t.” She laughs and tilts her arms. A little masked face leers at me.
It’s the fucking raccoon.
I jerk back, and she laughs harder. “Relax. He’s a baby and he doesn’t have rabies or anything.” So she says. “I found him asleep in the shed. The little rascal found a way in there last night, which is good because we got record rain, which is great for the aquifers but bad for the fields.”
“The aquifers?”
She pushes her glasses up her nose. “Texas gets its water from nine major and twenty-one minor aquifers. Around here, the most important ones are Edwards and Trinity.” She nibbles on her plump lip. “That’s why fracking is such a bad idea. If we contaminate our water supply, we’re screwed. I mean, obviously. But that means even more for farmers than the average person.”
“Fracking? Is that why you were wearing that Frack Off t-shirt when I first met you?”
Kat smiles while snuggling that giant rodent to her chest. He wraps his creepy arms around her neck and makes this weird little snick, snick, snick noise. “Not everyone loves that t-shirt as much as I do.” She strokes the mongrel. “Fracking stands for hydraulic fracturing,” she says slowly, like she’s testing whether or not I want to hear what she has to say.
I nod, prompting her to continue. I know about the issue. It’s not like I live under a rock, but I’m surprised to see her so interested in the topic.
She continues. “It’s a process that uses millions of gallons of water—aquifer water, I should add—to blast out oil and gas from shale deposits.” Her frown deepens. “You can smell the fumes for miles, and those tanker trucks drip chemicals all along their routes.”
The sun filters through the kitchen blinds and highlights the soft tendril of hair that’s escaped her messy bun. Honestly? She’s a vision. Even in sweats. I’ve never met a girl who looks so goddamn hot without makeup. The fact that she’s all riled up is even hotter.
Kat stares up at me, her eyes bright. “We have twelve thousand gas wells here, and that number is only going up. Never mind that many experts suspect that’s why we’re having earthquakes for the first time ever. Mining the five-thousand-mile shale formation that runs along the eastern side of the state sounds feasible until you realize how much of that sits over our water supply.”
The one hand that’s not holding the raccoon starts waving wildly, and I hold back a grin. “Fracking is great for gas prices and oil companies and tax revenues, but terrible for Texans, who eventually will be ingesting God knows what in our water. Some ranchers are trying to fight it, but unless politicians have a major change of heart soon—good luck with that—it’s a done deal.”
She’s so serious—her brow is furrowed, her jaw tight. I’m smiling at her like a dumbass, strangely more attracted to her now that she’s unleashed that little rant.
“Sorry,” she laughs, flushing. “I’m getting carried away, aren’t I?”
“A little, but it’s cute.” I like this spitfire version of Katherine. I chuckle at her embarrassed grin. “How do you know so much about this? Did you study environmental issues in college?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Not exactly.”