Chapter Thirteen

Jon grunted, sweating heavily and wondering what in hell had possessed him to agree to help Billie. He’d envisaged maybe a little light lifting and carrying, perhaps some painting or carpentry. What he’d never imagined was helping her to shift what seemed like an entire meadow of hay into the upper half of the barn. At first, it had felt like a decent workout, picking up bales of hay and carrying them up the wide stairs to the hayloft. That had been for the first couple of dozen. Now, though, his arms and back were aching, his thighs burning with the exertion of constantly climbing stairs with the added weight of a bale of hay in his hands. The only thing that kept him from bitching like a spoiled rockstar was the fact that Billie was matching him, bale for bale. Well, that and the fact that she was at least sweating as profusely as he was, the tank top she wore soaked through.

It was a good thing, Jon thought, that her top was black, otherwise it could’ve turned into a wet t-shirt look. Not that he thought that was necessarily a bad thing, but right now all he cared about was putting one foot in front of the other. Finally, as they each grabbed a bale, Jon realised they had the last two, and he laughed with relief.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Billie confirmed with a happy, sweaty grin, turning toward the stairs one last time.

Climbing behind her, Jon was closer than he realised, and when Billie paused, adjusting her grip on the bale, the one he carried bumped her back, lifting her top partway and exposing her lower back. Before the wet fabric fell to cover her again, Jon saw a pale, twisted line on her back, an old scar, and he frowned, wondering if it was from the car wreck.

At the top of the stairs, Billie stacked her bale onto the pile, arms straining as she tried to push it onto the top, well above her head. Arriving on the planked floor, Jon saw her struggling - the first time he’d seen her have any difficulty, and he laid down his own bale, stepping up close behind her and reaching over her.

“Lemme help.” He said in her ear, and between them they pushed the bale all the way on.

Billie collapsed onto a lower bale, leaning back tiredly, idly watching Jon as he lifted the final bale again, stacking it on a lower pile before dropping to sit beside her. They were both sweating, and Billie could feel the heat of him, could even feel his bicep flex against her own arm as he opened and closed his hands, trying to regain feeling after the repeated abuse of the rough twine.

“Thank you.” She said on a whisper. “That’s a job I’ve been avoiding for weeks.”

“You’re welcome, Billie.” Jon turned his head to face her, at exactly the same moment as she turned to face him, and they found themselves almost nose to nose. “You’re welcome.” He said again softly, leaning closer.

She knew they shouldn’t. She wasn’t too sure whether he was married to Dorothea or just ‘with’ her, but she did know they shouldn’t do this. Unfortunately, ‘should’ wasn’t coming into it right now. All that was in her head was what she wanted, not what she should or shouldn’t do, and she just tilted her head as Jon’s lips brushed over hers. The second contact was firmer, their tongues meeting for a moment before Jon drew back a little. He looked at her, seeing her patient gaze, but it was when his gaze dropped from her face that his willpower failed, as he saw her nipples hardened under the wet fabric of her top, her body’s reaction to their light kiss. Lifting his hand to cup her face, Jon kissed her properly, hard and thoroughly, probing deep into her mouth with his tongue as she turned to him, kissing him back just as hard.

He dropped his hand onto her waist, turning her further, but holding himself back from the impulse to lay her on her back on the bales. If he were honest, he just wasn’t sure she’d be anything like as understanding as Dot if he was still unable to ‘perform’. Though his dick was rising against his zipper, trying to convince him otherwise.

They drew apart slowly, looking at each other silently, then Billie just smiled and eased away from him, getting to her feet.

“I need a drink.” She said. “You?”

“Yeah.” Jon grinned. “Beer.”

“Sounds good.” She paused at the top of the stair, then winked at him. “Race you to the fridge.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she was off, down the stairs, leaving Jon to bolt off the bales and follow her. He was fast, but he discovered Billie was faster, as she was already in the kitchen, opening the fridge as he hit the door, panting and laughing.

“You cheated!” He pouted.

“I’m a woman.” She shrugged. “Sneaky’s in our nature.”

The rest of the day, they just relaxed, sipping beer until Billie announced it was dinnertime. After feeding Drummer and Deke, she cooked chicken and a mountain of mashed potato, rich with butter and pepper. The night darkened around them as they sat talking at the kitchen table, then when the coffee was ready they moved through to the living room again, Jon taking a seat on ‘his’ couch while Billie settled into the armchair.

“Whisky?” She asked as she sat, but he shook his head.

“Nah. Coffee’s fine, Billie.”

“You sure?” She got off the chair anyway. “I’m having one.”

“Oh, okay, you twisted my arm.” Jon laughed. “Whoever said I had willpower?”

She brought out a fresh bottle of Macallan, reminding herself she’d need to buy another as this was the last one. They more-or-less repeated the previous night, drinking just enough to allay any natural reticence they felt, but never actually getting to the stage of drunk. In a lull in their convoluted conversation, Jon grinned boyishly across at her.

“Tell me a secret.”

“What?”

“Tell me a secret.” He repeated with that silly grin. “C’mon. Tell me something nobody else knows about Billie.” He chuckled. “You show me yours, I’ll show ya mine.”

“Well, now, you’re in a band. You probably have way more interesting secrets than a little ol’ cowgirl.”

“Tell me yours and let’s find out.” He encouraged.

Billie swallowed whisky in a lump. The only true secret she had - something only she and Craig had known - wasn’t really the kind of thing he was asking for, but it was something that burned inside her sometimes, and something - if she were honest - that she’d regretted since losing Craig. Her eyes were serious as she looked at Jon.

“Okay. But it’s not a nice secret.”

“If things are nice, they don’t stay a secret.” Jon said, his own expression growing more serious.

“I guess. Well, it’s nothing major, really. I told you Craig was in school in LA. He was training to be a doctor, and he was only halfway through the course when we got engaged. That was okay, ‘cause we weren’t going to get married until we could afford it, once he was qualified and working.” She drank the last of her whisky, her voice dropping. “Then I found out I was pregnant. And we couldn’t afford a baby. Not then. So I had an abortion.” She looked over at him sadly. “My parents never knew. Only Craig knew. We both agreed it was the best thing, and I still think it was, most of the time. But…….”

“But if you’d had the baby, you’d have still had a piece of Craig?” Jon suggested, and Billie looked at him in surprise.

“Yes. How did you……….?”

“I’m a songwriter, Billie. I guess that means I have to be able to put myself in someone else’s shoes.” He shrugged. “But, if you want my opinion, you did the right thing. And you can’t change it, so you just have to accept it.”

Billie blew out a sigh of…….of what? Relief? She wondered at herself. Why should she feel relieved that he didn’t censure her for what had been done in the past? She looked over at Jon.

“Your turn.”

“My turn. Yeah.” Jon threw back a half glass of whisky. Shit. He was the one who’d started this, and her total honesty meant he felt obliged to do likewise. There was only one huge secret he held right now. But could he actually say it aloud? While he hesitated, Billie spoke again, and he knew she’d be angry if he chickened out on this.

“I showed you mine………”

“That you did.” He smiled at her, embarrassed. “This is a tough one to say. It’s not a particularly nice…..well, okay, it’s not that bad, but it’s as embarrassing as all hell.”

“Spill.”

Jon sighed, then nodded. Hell, he didn’t really know her anyway, how bad could it be?

“I told you how I’ve been, well, I guess depressed is the word.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve been with Dorothea since high school, and we’ve always been good together. But since she came out to Malibu and found me sinking in shit - or Jack Daniels anyway - we haven’t…….I haven’t been able to……..” He flushed with embarrassment, unable to make himself say the word, then roughly telling himself to just suck it up - he’d started this. “She’s been really great about it, telling me it’s a symptom of the depression, but can you even imagine how it feels, having the woman you fell in love with there, wanting you, needing you, and you can’t…..can’t get it up?”

Billie looked shocked. “You’re………you’re impotent?”

Jon’s face flushed scarlet. “Easy for you to say.” He mumbled.

“But…….” Billie frowned. “Well, when we were on Drummer……..you…….you didn’t feel impotent, Jon. You were……..”

“I know. I wanted you today, Billie. I still do. But I don’t know if……..”

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think we’ve had too much to drink.” She rescued him from the confessional. “And that’s what happens when you’re drunk and sleepy. Well, it’s what happens to me anyway. I get waaay too honest! I think it’s time I flipped that couch out for you and we got some sleep.”

Jon gratefully took the escape route, and while Billie took their glasses and coffee mugs to the kitchen he managed the couch-bed mechanism, even remembering where the pillows were stored. They said goodnight, then Billie paused before walking away to her bedroom.

“Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Just for the record.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I want you, too.”