Rachel's recording stint in Nashville lasts exactly two days before a fire in one of the floors below the studio renders it too damaged to use. Three hours later, she's on a flight to LA. She's already called Puck to tell him and he tells her to be careful and kick some ass out in California. Even though he doesn't guilt-trip her at all about leaving (why would he?), she still feels guilty when she hangs up the phone. As she's leaving Tennessee airspace, she realizes that it's not guilt at all but sadness. She's actually starting to feel at home here.
Once she's in LA, she knows that her record label has her at their disposal. Her recording session ends up lasting two weeks because she's the consummate perfectionist and every track must be beyond pristine before she deems it done. Once the tracks have finally been laid, the people at her label take it upon themselves to schedule the album cover photo shoot since she's already in town. And then she's off to several label-arranged appearances that keep her so busy for days on end that her head is practically spinning.
On a Friday morning, Rachel finds herself at the studios for an appearance on Good Day LA. She really doesn't like the show much because the three hosts are positively unnerving but they've been very supportive of her throughout her career. She believes in supporting those that support her so, despite her discomfort, she routinely makes appearances on the show when she's out in LA.
The bright studio lights are baking down on her when the male host, Steve, winks at her and asks, "So, Rachel, is there anyone special in your life?"
She smiles because they do this dance every time she's on the show. She never discusses her personal life and always gives them a pat answer. So when she opens her mouth and says, "Actually, yes there is," even she is a little surprised.
Steve, Jillian, and Dorothy all stare at her in shock and then Jillian prods, "And he would be?"
Rachel laughs, shaking her head from side to side in protest, and says, "He's just a regular man. He stays as far from the spotlight as one person can possibly get and still exist on the planet." She clams up at that point because she's not about to divulge any more information.
Steve stares at her quizzically before he looks at the camera. "You heard it here first, folks. Rachel Berry appears to be off the market!"
After they cut to a commercial break, Jillian immediately hounds Rachel for more information but Rachel just smiles and stays tight-lipped. "I've already revealed too much," Rachel tells her. Soon the cameras come back on for the next segment (about exploding breast implants) and Rachel leaves the studio. She smiles because, in a sense, the entire world now knows about Noah Puckerman, even if they don't know his name. Still, she's dated people before and never, ever disclosed any information about the relationships. The fact that she so readily wanted to admit to the world that she's involved tells her that her feelings for Noah go deeper than she's realized. The thought makes her heart flutter happily as she steps back out into the California sunlight.
Rachel calls Puck on Saturday night and tells him that her flight will put her back in Tennessee on Sunday evening. In the three weeks since he's seen her, his fridge has become filled with meat and cheese and other animal products that feed his stomach and his soul but would revolt his girlfriend.
Early Sunday morning, he finds himself at the grocery store. He's got plenty of produce at home (obviously) but there's all the soy-based crap that she loves to dump into her body that he's gotta get for her. Once his cart is loaded up with Silk soy milk, soy burgers, soy cheese, several types of vinaigrettes, and other vegan-friendly items, he realizes that he feels even gayer than Kurt. He's positive that this is the least-manly his shopping cart has ever been. The only thing that's missing is some pink bows decorating the cold metal...or maybe a glittered handle. Nonetheless, he feels gay.
As he turns the corner to head to the checkout counter (and he can't wait to hide this stuff inside non-see-through paper bags), he stops short because there she is.
Santana.
Shit.
He tries to use his finely honed reflexes and sneak back and away from her without being detected but one of the wheels on his ancient, piece-of-shit cart squeaks and suddenly, her dark eyes are boring two distinct holes into his skull.
"Puckerman!" she shouts.
Fuck.
He turns toward her and gives her his typical, "hey baby, I can see right through your clothes" smile.
"Where the hell have you been? And why don't you return my calls, you asshole?" Santana has a long, slender finger in his face and he sees the anger flash in her eyes. He's been fucking Santana off and on for years…like, since they were in high school. And he knows that when she's pissed, she's at her absolute hottest. (They got into an argument once and then ended up having such rough sex that Santana managed to kick a hole in the wall.) If it were any other time, he'd totally be encouraging her until her anger was white-hot and then he'd follow her back to her place to reap the rewards. But now, he has Rachel so a tumble with Santana is definitely not on his list of "to-dos" that day (or any day).
"Been busy," he answers, crossing his arms to show that he's completely disinterested in her and her bitchy shit.
"Oh, really? Because word on the street is that you're seeing some hot mystery woman. I told Lucy Ann down at The Dairy Dish that that bullshit rumor couldn't possibly be true because I'm the hottest damn thing in this town. Who are you gonna fuck that's hotter?"
When Puck doesn't answer and instead studies the contents of his cart like he's expecting them to reveal ancient world secrets, she barks, "Is it true? Are you seeing someone?"
"Um…yeah, I am," he says honestly. It's a huge relief to tell her because maybe now she'll stop calling and leaving shitty messages (if she doesn't stab him first.)
"Oh really? And who is the lucky bitch?" Santana's voice seethes with disdain, the words "lucky bitch" rolling off her tongue in the same way that someone else might say "terrorist" or "the Ebola virus." Puck's not surprised at her reaction, though, because she's always acted like "property of Lopez" was stamped on his (exceptionally firm, well-shaped, generally fine) backside. She may not want him in a romantic sense but he knows that he's one hell of a good fuck and Santana? She likes sex. A lot. And she loves it with him. And now, he's taken the goods away. He honestly can't blame her for getting pissy because if he was fucking someone as awesome as himself and was suddenly denied, he'd be pissed, too.
Puck's jaw flexes. He wants to tell her who he is seeing because that would shut Santana up faster than anything else. But he knows that Rachel guards her privacy and he may have introduced her to his friends but there's no way on God's green earth he's gonna tell this chick about his Rachel.
"She's not from around here," Puck finally says.
He sees Santana's cheeks redden slightly and he can tell that she's beyond furious. But when she speaks, it's as cool as a business transaction. "Well, don't come crawling back to me when you're bored with her. And I promise you, you will get bored with her, whoever she is."
Santana stares him down again when he doesn't answer and Puck wonders if she's putting some voodoo hex on him at that moment. But she finally flips her long brown locks and as she steps away, says, "Later, Puck. Have fun with your new little tramp."
Puck watches her go and shrugs. She's such a huge bitch. That's half the reason he's always been so attracted to her. They never let feelings get involved. They fuck like crazy until they go their separate ways, only to meet up again a few weeks later. He rarely lets his heart get involved with any woman and even after all these years, he's not even sure that Santana has a heart.
Back at home, he's still thinking about the encounter with Santana and how he didn't even have any urge to be with her. All he really wanted to do was get home and get the place straightened up for Rachel's arrival. And then he looks at the entire section of his fridge filled with nothing but soy products and grins because he realizes that he may just be fucked in the absolute best possible way. It's okay, though, because if he's gonna let emotions get involved, it might as well be with a woman like Rachel Berry. (After all, sex with Rachel? Blows Santana right out of the water.)
As soon as Rachel's plane lands in Nashville, she sends Puck a text to let him know that she's on her way. Then she gets her car from long-term parking and heads back toward Puck's house. She's already tired and the 90-minute drive out to the country only intensifies her exhaustion. She has an apartment in Nashville and she knows she could stop there for the night but the thing is, she doesn't want to. She misses Noah. It's been three weeks since she's seen him and although they've talked on the phone, they haven't had a real conversation since she left.
She finally pulls into his driveway at nearly 11pm. As she draws closer to the house, she sees that the porch light is on and it's casting the entire area in a yellowish hue. It's just a light but it fills her chest with warmth and she almost lets herself think, "I'm home."
When she parks, she sees him pushing open the screen door and by the time she has her car door open, he's standing a few feet away. She smiles at him from the seat and he practically yanks her out and pulls her into a heavy kiss.
"Missed you," he tells her in between nips at her lips.
Rachel just wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him with urgency as she pulls his chest against hers, reveling in the feel of his broad hardness. When she comes up for air, she nuzzles her head against his neck, yawns, and says, "I missed you, too. I can't wait to get some sleep."
Puck laughs and lets go of her, grabbing her suitcase from the trunk before sliding his arm around her waist and guiding her into the house. He drops the suitcase in a corner of the bedroom and watches as she undresses. He can tell that she's completely worn out. There are lines under her eyes, which are also red and watery, and she just looks tired. When she yawns again, he feels pity for her and pulls back the covers. She pulls her favorite shirt over her head and then smiles blearily at him before she sinks into the bed and groans when the cool sheets touch her skin.
Flipping off the light, Puck crawls in next to her and throws his arm around her, pulling her against him in the dark.
She turns to kiss him and when they part, he whispers, "Sleep, babe."
Rachel protests. "But…I figured you'd want to—"
Puck doesn't let her finish. "Baby, you're completely fucking exhausted. Get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere tomorrow…I'll be right here. So sleep."
Rachel nods in the dark and snuggles against him. She mumbles something that sounds like "you're right" or maybe even "goodnight" and then she's out. Puck follows soon after. He's discovered that he sleeps ten times better when she's next to him.
She definitely has more energy the next morning. He goes from snoring to hard as fuck in about 12 seconds flat when he opens his eyes and sees her pulling her shirt over her head as she straddles him. He doesn't let go of her hips again until she's shaking and her hair has that just-been-fucked look to it (because he can't keep his fingers out of her locks when he's inside her.) After that, they spend a few lazy hours in bed making up for their three weeks apart. But at 10:30am, her phone rings for the first time that morning. She makes a face when she answers it and then immediately starts launching into a conversation about sound and mixing and shit that means nothing to him. He rolls back over, pulls a pillow over his head, and lets himself fall back to sleep. When he wakes up again, she's trailing her fingernails over his naked ass and he's about to flip her over and pin her to the bed when the goddamned phone rings again. This time, it's her manager and she's stuck on the phone for what feels like half his life. She keeps sending him apologetic glances but he can tell the call's gonna last a while so he finally gets out of bed and gets in the shower. When he gets out, he finds that she's off the phone but has fallen back asleep. He thinks about letting her rest but then her phone rings again and it wakes her back up. Twenty minutes later, that conversation ends.
Rachel stares at him regretfully once she hangs up. "My manager is driving me nuts. Now that they're working on the album, they've got hundreds of questions. Many of them, she can answer but a few can't be handled by anyone but me." She bites her lip and then adds, "hence the phone calls."
Puck sits down on the edge of the bed and pushes her hair away from her face. He lets his annoyance go because at least she's there with him and that's a helluva lot better than her being out in LA. So he brushes his lips across her cheeks and then over her parted mouth before pushing his forehead against hers. "You look more rested."
"I feel better," she says honestly. "I was so exhausted last night. And I'm so happy to be back."
Puck stares at her for a moment and she can tell that the cogs in his brain are turning but he doesn't say anything. Finally, he asks, "Hungry? I stocked up on soy milk and Cheerios and all that other shit you like so feel free to get your cute ass in there and eat something."
Rachel beams at him. "You got me groceries?"
He stands up and puts his arm out, helping her out of bed. After he kisses her again, he grins and says, "'Course I did. I'm an awesome boyfriend, in case you hadn't noticed."
Rachel stretches and places a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Believe me, I've noticed."
…
She's rinsing her cereal bowl in the sink when her phone rings again. She's only on the phone for a few minutes and she watches Puck chew on a piece of bacon and read the newspaper as she talks. When she hangs up, he cocks a brow at her. "You're going on Letterman? Don't let that dirty asshole try to fuck you. You know he will. Dude gets so much ass for having that big gap between his teeth. Oh," he adds, "and for being old."
"Noah," Rachel is clearly exasperated, "I'm sure he'll be the consummate professional. I've been on his show before and it was nothing but pleasant."
Puck just shakes his head and dives back into his bacon. How she doesn't understand that everybody on the planet wants to fuck her is beyond him. He's kinda relieved that she's oblivious to it, though. He's really fucking stingy and not about to share.
…
By 7pm that evening, Rachel has taken what has felt like (to Puck) 127 phone calls. She's obviously weary again and he's so sick of that goddamned ringtone of hers that he's about to toss the damn phone in the toilet. It took her an hour to eat her dinner because of all the phone calls and it's when she's on the phone with either her father or her manager or her agent or some reporter (he stopped paying attention hours ago) that he gets a brilliant idea. While she's yapping away, he goes out to the storage barn and roots through a neatly organized stack in the corner. Once he's got a decent pile of the stuff he wants, he loads it into the back of his truck. When he goes back inside, he can hear her talking on the phone on the back porch so he grabs the cooler and fills it up with ice and snacks and drinks from the fridge. Before she can come back inside, he pops that into the back of the truck, too.
When she hangs up the phone, he's standing in the living room with his arms crossed.
"Put down your phone," he instructs, "and let's go for a drive."
Rachel looks down at her phone and he thinks she's about to protest. He knows she's attached to the damn thing and, considering that she's fuckin' famous and all, he knows he has to understand even if he hates it. But when she doesn't argue and instead, tosses it onto the couch, he kisses her on the forehead and pulls her outside with him. He helps her climb up into his truck and then they're heading down the gravel driveway.
"Where're we going?" she asks, her eyes on the scenery as they meander down his dirt road.
"You'll see."
A few minutes later, he's turning off the road and onto a worn path through a a hilly pasture. They climb up a small hill and then back down before heading up another one where he pulls over to the side. The hood of the truck blocks anything in front of them and Rachel stretches and scans, trying to see where they've stopped.
Puck helps her out of the truck and, before he lets her go, presses her against the side of the cool metal, pushing her shirt up slightly to feel her skin in his hands as he runs his mouth over her jaw. "Had to get you away from that fucking phone. And there's no better place than this."
He pulls away and shuts the door of the truck so she can finally see where they are. In front of her is a sandy, flat expanse of ground that holds a fire pit and a trash bin. Farther to the left is a small building. A very small, odd-looking building with a slanted roof.
Rachel's eyes widen and she swivels to face Puck. Before she can speak, he says, "Welcome to the Puckerman family campground."
"Campground? We're going camping?" She tries not to sound horrified but to be honest, she is. Camping involves sleeping in a tent, which is located outside. There are bugs and snakes and wild animals and, if movies have taught her anything at all, escaped prisoners that have insatiable bloodlust for young, attractive women like herself.
Puck sees the shocked, terrified look on her face and laughs as he tugs her to him. "S'gonna be fine, baby… If I hear that damn phone ring one more time today, I'm gonna fuckin' snap. And you need time away from it anyway. And what better place is there than this?"
"The Hilton? The Ritz? The Savoy? I can go on," she deadpans (although she's also very, very serious.)
"You're in Celina now, baby," Puck tells her as he pops open the tailgate of the truck and begins pulling stuff out. "Hotel Puckerman is as good as you're gonna get."
Rachel looks around and her eyes settle on the small building again. "If you tell me that's an outhouse and not a storage shed, I may steal your truck keys back and leave you out here."
Puck snorts. "Sorry, Rach. That's the outhouse."
Puck turns away from her so she can't see the smirk on his face. He hears her sputter and then her voice gets a little higher-pitched as she starts to protest. "You want me to use the restroom in there? Noah? You do realize that we live in the modern world, right? Indoor plumbing? Running water? No real reason to ever spend time outside?" She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, her eyes fervently fixed on the small, dilapidated building. "I'm not going to open up the door to that disgusting, germ-ridden outhouse and run into Laura Ingalls on her way back out to help Pa in the fields, am I?"
Puck ignores her little rant and grabs the hand sanitizer and toilet tissue, chucking them at her. She catches the roll but the bottle plops to the ground at her feet. She stares at the articles like they're foreign to her before bending down to snag the bottle.
"It's gonna be fine, I promise."
Rachel's too dumbfounded by his nonchalant attitude about the entire matter to notice that he's assembling a sleeping area when there's not tent in sight. When it finally dawns on her, she groans in frustrated resignation. "You don't even use a tent, do you?"
Puck shakes his head and winks at her. "Why would I? Sleeping under the stars is the best thing in the world."
Rachel feels dizzy and goes to lean against the truck. Puck watches her pinch the bridge of her nose and realizes that all this may be a little much for her. Walking quickly over to her, he puts an arm around her waist and kisses her temple.
"You'll be fine out here, I promise. There're no scary wild animals, other than maybe coyotes or a bobcat, that might be lurking around. And we'll have a fire going so they'll be too afraid to come near us. We're going to be fine, babe, I one hundred fucking percent promise. Plus," he adds as he lets go of her to walk back toward the bed of the truck, "I brought my gun." He holds a rifle up long enough for her to see it and, although she abhors weapons of any kind, she has to admit that it makes her feel better. At least they have a fighting chance if a pack of rabid wolves pounce them during the night.
Rachel exhales loudly and crosses her arms, practically groaning when she says, "I didn't realize I was dating Daniel Boone."
Puck just laughs and lets go of her to start building a fire. He knows a night out here will toughen her up. Hell, all this fresh air in her lungs will probably make her sing better. He'll have to remind her of that.
…
Rachel leans back on the blanket and grabs Puck's arm, pulling it out to use as a pillow. She lies down flat on her back and supports the back of her head on his bicep. It's dark now and Rachel's a little bit more comfortable with the idea of a night under the stars (a very teeny, tiny bit.)
While she stares up at the sky, he's content to lie on his side and just look at her. He's seen these same stars a million times. She's still something relatively new to look at. With her features illuminated by nothing more than moonlight and the low flicker of a flame from the waning fire, he can't get over how stunning she is.
"The stars are so bright out here, Noah," she says after a few minutes of companionable silence. He finally rolls away from her and stares up at the sky. Everything does seem to be twinkling extra bright tonight. There're no clouds anywhere so their view is completely unobstructed. It's like they can see deep into the galaxy from their vantage point on that little Tennessee hill.
Rachel's watching what she thinks is a satellite progress through the heavens when she hears an owl hoot and tenses slightly.
"You're a wimp, babe," Puck whispers in her ear.
"I'm still not used to the country life," she tells him. "But I'm definitely less jittery than I was two months ago, right?"
Puck starts to snicker and then barks out a laugh when he remembers the first night she heard a coyote. They'd been dating for a few weeks and it was her first time back to the farm since her first, unplanned visit thanks to the rainstorm. After messing around on the couch, they'd finally agreed to head to the bedroom. They had just turned out the lights and were halfway down the hall when she'd heard the scream coming from somewhere in close proximity to the farmhouse. Rachel had jumped blindly toward Puck, snagging him around the neck in a stranglehold and they'd both fallen to the floor in a frantic heap.
"Call 911!" she'd shrieked. "There's a crime being committed right outside the house! I knew living in the country was dangerous!"
When she noticed that Puck wasn't calling the police but was, instead, rolling with laughter, she'd gotten furious with him for not taking a very real threat against their lives seriously. Once he'd explained that it was just a coyote, she'd been embarrassed. Her nerves finally calmed enough later to allow herself to sleep but she'd remained fitful all night.
"You've come a long way since then, baby," Puck assures her, kissing her before turning back towards the sky.
They both silently watch as a plane flies over, so high above them that it produces no sound.
"I just can't get over the quiet," Rachel comments after a few minutes. "It's like I can get lost in my thoughts out here."
Puck nods in the darkness. "S'why I like to come out here. Away from the TV and the computer and the phone and people. Do my best thinking out here, actually. Something about the sound of rustling leaves and crickets that really helps a guy figure shit out."
Rachel turns on her side, tucking her hand under her cheek, and asks. "What do you think about?"
Puck doesn't answer for the longest time. When he finally speaks, he offers, "Music, a lot of times. Or I just think about the shit going on in my life. Everything is easier when there are no fucking distractions."
Rachel reaches her hand out and lays it gently on his chest. His hand comes up and covers it and she scoots closer to him, burying her head against his side for a moment. When she pulls away, she says, "I can't imagine a life without any distractions. They're just everywhere. Someone always wants something from me or I'm always scheduled to be somewhere. The only time I can escape from most of it is when I'm here…with you."
Turning his head, Puck finds her lips and kisses her. It's so soft and gentle that it almost makes Rachel tear up. He pulls back slowly and turns toward the stars again.
"Do you think about me, too?" she says quietly.
Puck smiles. "Yup."
Rachel bites her lip and grins in the dark. She knows this, of course, because they're in a relationship and if he thinks about her even one fifth of the time she thinks about him, that still means that she's on his mind quite frequently. "What do you think about?" she asks coyly.
"Oh, you know...the usual. Your hot body. Your gorgeous face. How fuckin' hot you are in bed."
Rachel sighs because, of course, he isn't telling her anything that he hasn't told her before. "Anything else?"
"Yup," he answers simply.
"And that would be?" she prods.
Puck smiles into the darkness. "Not tellin'."
Rachel groans but she knows they're approaching iffy territory. She's only been with Noah for nearly three months but she knows him well already. Feelings aren't something he easily discusses. He shows her in a multitude of ways that he cares but the words don't usually come too smoothly. And honestly, she's okay with that. She always remembers that "actions speak louder than words" and times like last night, when he just wants her to get some sleep and doesn't worry about anything else, tells her everything she needs to know about how Noah feels about her.
Rachel buries her face in his neck and breathes in his scent. She can smell his signature Irish Spring soap but she also smells the outdoors. It's intoxicating, really. She's so completely out of her element out here that it's ridiculous. She's never been camping and she's certainly never slept under the stars. Her manager would have a fit if she even knew that Rachel was putting herself in any form of "danger." But she's with Noah and therefore, she doesn't feel scared at all. She knows that he's just trying to help her relax and she appreciates it. She also knows that she's probably missed about twenty phone calls but with Noah's hands slipping beneath her shirt, she doesn't care.
She lets him flip her so she's on her back and he's over her. They star at each other in the flickering light of the fire for a long time before she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him to her. Rachel loves to feel his weight pressing her into the bed or the couch or in this case, the sleeping back on top of the Tennessee dirt. She's definitely never had sex under the stars before but when his fingers find their way beneath her shorts and into her panties, she realizes that she's about to. And it's thrilling.
Puck's used to waking up early and the next morning is no exception. Rachel's curled against him, practically swimming in his t-shirt and the blankets tucked tightly around her to ward off the morning chill and dew, but she's sleeping soundly. Puck smirks because he wore her out last night. He's thankful there're no neighbors nearby because when she came, she came loud. Like, ten times louder than she normally is. Hearing his name echo off the trees as she clenched around him, rocking her hips against him to push him deeper inside her, made him come so hard that he'd nearly blacked out for a few seconds.
Puck looks down at her and grins. She did fine during the night. In fact, she slept so soundly that he even heard her snore a few times. He pushes the hair from her face and dropped a kiss along her temple and then over her eyelids before pulling back to continue to watch her. When she opens her eyes and meets his, she smiles lazily and stretches beneath the blankets.
"Morning," she whispers.
"Hey, babe, you sleep well?"
Rachel nods and stretches again. "Surprisingly, yes. I guess outdoors sex does that to you."
Puck chuckles and rolls onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Once she's sprawled over his chest, she pushes her hair out of her face and kisses a wet line up his jaw.
"You're very scratchy this morning," she comments of the day's growth now covering his face.
Puck tangles his fingers in her hair and kisses her intensely, uncaring that they both have morning breath and probably need to get home to shower. She seems so free and relaxed without a roof over her head that he wants to take advantage of it for it as long as possible.
Rachel grins at him when he pulls away and snakes her hand between them and down his body until she has her fingers firmly wrapped around his cock. "Somebody's happy to see me this morning," she comments, her fingers stroking him.
Puck groans and says, "Baby, you don't even fuckin' know…"
Rachel slips her tongue into his mouth as she strokes him. When she feels that he's practically throbbing in her hand, she angles him just right and sinks back down on him, pushing the covers off her back as she sits upright. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep growl because she's already so fucking wet and he's a little smug knowing that he can make her that way with just some kisses. He palms her breasts through her shirt and lets her guide the depth and intensity of the strokes, his eyes travelling up and down her body the whole time. Her hair is wild and her face is flushed and she's so fucking beautiful that he's afraid he's going to say something stupid. So before he can, he grabs her hips and flips them so that he's on top. And then he pounds into her fast and hard, chasing all words and thoughts from both their heads. When they both come minutes later, his face is buried in her collarbone and the only thing he lets himself say is, "Rachel…fuck…"
Later, they finally get up and pack up the campsite, throwing dirt to put out the last bits of the fire. He kisses her hard against the truck and as he helps her back inside, she says, "Thank you for the wonderful night, Noah."
He answers with a "no problem, babe," and closes the door.
Back at the house, she digs her phone from between the couch cushions and sees that she has 23 missed calls and 17 voicemails. No one is more shocked than she is when she drops the phone back on the coffee table, grabs Puck's hand, kisses him hard, and then says, "Let's shower and then have some breakfast. I'm starving."
As Puck guides her beneath the cleansing spray, he's pretty sure that a night under the Tennessee stars did her a shit load of good.
Author's note: Got stuck behind a big-ass John Deere on my way home this morning. Irrational excitement followed. Haha…I love me some farmers!
Also, I really am not sure how long this story is going to end up being. I know how I want it to end but we're definitely not there yet. My question to you, my lovely, awesome readers, is: anything you'd like to see incorporated in the story? Lemme know! Clicky, clicky!