He let the tailgate of the pickup truck drop with resounding 'bang!' He looked up at the sky. A line of menacing clouds gathered to the southwest, not yet far enough advanced to obscure the sun, still beating down from above the treeline. Only the barest whisper of a breeze slipped through the pine trees...not enough to bring any sort of relief.
The man removed the chainsaw, gas can and bar/chain oil from the back of the truck and placed it carefully in their assigned spots in the tool shed. Then he walked around the small building to the antique hand-pump. A few short strokes on the handle and water began to splash out of the spout. He quickly cupped his hands to gather some of the water, drawn from an old cistern, and slashed it on his face. He alternated pumping and splashing, hoping to rinse at least some of the sweat and grease away.
Behind him, he heard a screen door slam.
As he walked back to the truck, he saw her. She was standing by the tailgate wearing a smile and the long, white T-shirt of his she'd claimed as a nightshirt. That was all she was wearing. He smiled back.
Objectively, it was, next to her flannel nightgown with the candy canes, the second-least sexy thing a woman could wear. On her, though, he enjoyed the view. If she bent over, it gave him a view of her deep cleavage. From behind, her bottom had gotten a little wider over the years...pleasantly so...and he enjoyed that view, as well. And even just standing still, waiting for him now, her nipples poked out - standing proudly at attention.
As he approached her, she extended her hand. She held a large glass of ice water with a few large ice cubes floating at the top. He took it from her, flashed a quick smile, and drained it. It was a nice change from water in the cooler he'd taken into the timber with him that had turned tepid as the day wore on.
When he was done with the water, he hoisted himself up onto the tailgate and sat down. She did the same. They didn't speak. Instead, their hands met and she leaned her head into his shoulder. It was damp with sweat and smelled like cedar wood chips.
They let their legs dangle over the side of the tailgate. He was wearing his work boots. She was barefoot and, as she swung her legs they grazed the tops of the grass.
Eventually, they let go of each other's hands and he put his arm around her. In the distance, the faint rumble of thunder could be heard. A few puffs of a cool breeze would squeeze past the pine now and again.
As she looked toward the sky, he bent his head downward. She felt his hot breath on her neck and then the gentle roughness of his whiskers brushed her cheek as he planted a kiss behind her ear. She closed her eyes and smiled.
