The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen - Debra Kayn Page 0,33
I are getting together. We'll stay at the clubhouse since we all plan to drink." Rachel walked to the other side of the table. "I'll be back in the morning."
Dutch cocked his head. "You won't be here tonight?"
"We planned this two months ago. It's for Diana. She's getting married next weekend. Skull was going to stay home with Marla, but as you know, WAKOM called him away. Now you can watch over Marla and make sure no boys come over, and she doesn't sneak out of the house."
"Seriously? Like, you think I'll leave with Dutch here." She rolled her eyes. "Apparently, I'm the only sixteen-year-old in the world who has to have a babysitter."
"Because you're sixteen going on thirty." Rachel leaned down and kissed the top of Marla's head. "Don't stay up late. You have to be at work tomorrow at noon."
"I know." Marla picked up a tortilla shell. "Have fun."
"Okay, if you guys need anything, call the clubhouse." Rachel walked out of the kitchen.
She added a spoonful of meat, cheese, lettuce and added some salsa in the middle of the shell. Biting into the taco, she sighed in pleasure. She hadn't eaten all day in her excitement for Dutch to arrive.
The front door shut. She looked over at Dutch and caught him staring at her.
She quickly smiled and wiped her mouth. "What?"
"Does this happen a lot?"
"What?"
"Rachel leaving you home alone all night?"
"Only once before, and it was because I was grounded." At his continual frown, she said, "Geez, not you, too. I'm old enough to stay on my own."
He blinked and grabbed the makings for a taco. "I didn't know I was going to babysit."
"Funny. Ha. Ha." She finished her last bite while he ate and made herself another one.
They finished the meal in silence. She forced herself to eat more than normal because everyone was always telling her she was too skinny. But at five-feet, two-inches, she was shorter than everyone else. Of course, she was going to be smaller.
As she cleaned the table and loaded the dishwasher, she said, "What do you want to do?"
"What do you usually do?"
She shrugged, picking up the bowl of extra seasoned meat. "Listen to music or watch movies."
He walked out of the room. She quickly wiped down the counters, knowing all her chores were finished and she wouldn't have to do anything else for the rest of the night but be with Dutch.
In the living room, Dutch aimed the remote control at the television. Stretched out on the couch, he made the house seem like a home, unlike how she'd felt for the past six years, feeling like a charity case and not fulfilling Rachel's dreams for the perfect daughter.
She squeezed between his body and the back of the couch, flopping her arm over his stomach and resting her head on his chest.
Inhaling deeply, she wiggled to get comfortable. "What are you watching?"
His free arm went down her back, and he used his blunt fingernails to tickle her lower back. "Die Hard is on. Have you seen it?"
"No."
He placed the remote on his stomach. She watched the television, not really into action-type movies, but she'd watch anything with him.
If she closed her eyes, she could pretend they lived together, and every night, they snuggled on the couch—watching whatever was on tv. She wouldn't even mind making dinners for him or doing his laundry.
"Who does your laundry when you're on the road?" she asked.
His hand stopped moving on her, then started strumming again. "No one. I drop everything that got dirty at whichever clubhouse I'm staying at, and the women there do it."
The thought of another woman holding his clothes made her jealous. It was something that she'd never done for him before.
"I'll do your clothes when you're here."
His chest vibrated underneath her cheek. "You hate doing the dishes. Why would you want to do my laundry?"
She shrugged. Only one shoulder moved because the other one was trapped underneath her. "Because it's your clothes."
"You're a good kid." Dutch's raspy voice warmed her as his fingers drew slow circles on her lower back.
She smiled, closing her eyes. Dutch was the best thing in her life.
She often forgot that she had lived a completely different life with a single mother and was left alone a lot. Even when Dutch was on the road, he always came back. Now that she had a phone, she was in constant contact, talking as long as she wanted—he never tried to cut the call short.