Reagan and her Nephew

This is part 2/3 of a recent commission — I hope you enjoy!

Sitting up in bed, Reagan realizes the implications of the dream. Spencer was in her head. She wanted him. But he was her nephew and that was wrong. She needed to clear her mind.

Reagan decided to go for a ride. She had been riding horses ever since she was a little girl. Reagan knew that while riding, one always has the best of companionship. The steady sound of the hooves, the gentle tail swishes, and snorting of the air is beautiful.

She decided to take Rain, her beautiful quarter horse. He loved to run as much as Reagan needed the restoration of a gallop. The wind streamed by her, whipping Rain’s long mane back in her face. His head bobbed as he galloped as fast as Reagan allowed. He was enjoying this run as much as she was. Wind tugged at Reagan’s blonde hair, coaxing it from her ponytail. Leaning forward, Reagan let herself smile. The only sound was the pounding of hooves and she felt at peace.

They wound their run down, and Reagan walked Rain back to the stable. With the experience of someone who has done this many times before, Reagan unsaddled rain, revealing his sweaty sides. Giving him a little treat, she hosed and brushed Rain down.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she patted his neck before releasing him into the paddock. She turned to go back into the house, nearly running into Spencer. He was leaning against the paddock fence, shirtless and smiling, an apple in his hand.

“Did you have a nice ride?” He extended the apple out to her.

“I always do!” She smiled at him, accepting his gift. “What are you up to today?”

“Nothing much! I just was coming to hang out again.”

“Well Aiden is in town with some friends today.”

“Well that’s fine, Aunty. I can just hang out with you.” With a smile,

“Of course! You know you are always welcome.”

“Thanks Aunty!” Spencer leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Smiling at him, Reagan offered “I’m actually just about to head into town to grab some supplies, would you like to join?”

“That would be awesome! But do you have a shirt I can borrow? I had a little run in with the fence earlier and I ripped this one all up!” His words were traced with a gentle laugh as he held up a tattered shirt.

Spencer truly was clumsy. Reagan remembered how right after her husband’s death, Spencer had come over to help out with dinner and had brought an apple pie. He knew that apple pie was his aunt’s favorite. He had popped it into the oven while they ate and when he went to get it from the oven, he dropped the pan, and pie went everywhere. His look of helplessness and sweet remorse was enough to push Reagan into a fit of giggles. As if taking cues from her, all three cousins soon joined in the laughter. Moments like this were not few as her nephew did everything he could to help around the house after her husband had died.

With a smile Reagan assured him that she had a shirt he could borrow and ushered him into the house. He followed her up to her bedroom where she rifled through her closet, finding one of her late husband’s old shirts. With a deep inhale, she tossed it to him. “Here, try that. I’m going to rinse off and change before we go.”

Selecting a clean outfit for herself, Reagan smiled and closed the door to the bathroom, leaving Spencer in her bedroom.

Her shower was quick, cold and just long enough to wash the sweat from her ride off. She got dressed and stepped out into her bedroom and saw her nephew lounging on her bed, in her husband’s shirt. Her heart pounded as she felt herself flush. Composing herself, she smiled and gestured that they should leave.

The drive into town was quiet, only the soft sounds of the radio floating between them. Reagan knew she should say something, talk to her nephew. Clearing her throat and turning down the radio, she turned to her nephew, “how are things going with you? Anything new?”

He shifted a little. “Nothing much, Aunty.”

“Nothing? No girls in your life?” Reagan swallowed a little after she asked. Why did asking her nephew? This wasn’t an out of the ordinary question. She glanced over at him.

“Well, yes and no.” He flashed her a smile. “There is this woman I’ve been interested in.”

Reagan shot him a quick look. “Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s quite a bit older than me.” He moved his hand behind her headrest. Reagan kept her eyes on the road. Was he coming onto her? Surely not. “She’s blonde and an excellent horseman.”

Reagan felt herself begin to flush. He was talking about her, he must be. As if to punctuate her thought, she felt his hand rest on her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and continued to drive. The rest of the drive was quiet; his hand gently on her shoulder, her eyes glued to the road.

When they arrived at the feed store, Spencer stayed glued to Reagan’s side. As they browsed the aisles, Spencer found reasons to touch Reagan; her arm, her shoulder, the small of her back.

Reagan made her selections, paid, and Spencer loaded the car. Their drive home was marked by the silence save the radio. Spencer rested his hand on his aunt’s knee as she drove. She could barely focus on anything but the sound of her heart pounding in her ears and the heat of her nephew’s hand on her knee.

She pulled into her drive and parked the car.

With a deep breath, she turned her gaze to her knee then to her nephew. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.