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Takin' Care
It only took a year of you and Tim going steady, before you agreed to move in with him. You could work remotely, which made living so far from the city not too difficult on your end. Plus, you were getting really tired of the constant rat-race, traffic, and cluttering of people everywhere you went.

So, when Tim proposed the idea to you, over waffles, strawberry jam, and some eggs–all made by him; he always brought you the best food from his small farm when he drove up to see you–in your apartment, you didn’t take too long to decide… You’d do it.

Why not? Things were going wonderful with Tim.

You two would rendez-vous a few times a week, since he’d drive back and forth between his farm and your apartment. In the daytime, he’d go out with you to wherever you wanted to take him next: an art museum, a shooting range, or even a cheap, good old greasy diner you indulged in.

Some weekends, when work wasn’t too hectic, you’d let him drive you in his truck, down to his ranch. It was always a cozy, orderly–if a little masculine–home, with a scent of burning wood that never fully left, even when his fireplace wasn’t burning.

He was a good man, too. Intentional when he spoke, but still with that rugged charm that never failed to make you smile, sometimes laugh. Never patronizing, never trying to take your freedom or independence, but he believed good and well in caring for his woman. Tim took you out on dates, brought you the best foods from his farm, and never let a day go by without checking in on you, even on the ones where he was swamped from working all day on the field.

You two had similar beliefs, in every sense–except, perhaps, that you’d never believe anyone could truly find the taste of beer appealing. You wanted the same things–love, a peaceful relationship, no rushing into anything, but still steadily moving towards a union; and certainly, no children of your own.

Not to mention–anyone could take one good look at the man, and see why you were so eager to have him in your life. Tim’s broad frame, muscular yet softened with years of good, hearty food, and his wonderfully handsome face… Most of all, you doubted you’d ever get over the ever-present Southern accent in his words. He grew up in the South, even if this farm of his wasn’t so far down, for over a decade, now.

And, it went without saying: Tim was quite the passionate lover. You, for the first time dating anyone, had no complaints in that regard.

All of Tim simply made you swoon.

So, it didn’t take much convincing before you packed your things into Tim’s truck, with your help, and let him drive you down to his home. You offered to help him pay half the rent on his home, figuring it was the least you could do, moving into his place so soon.

“Oh, this ain’t like one of your apartments, sweetheart,” he gave a short huff of amusement, turning to glance at you for a few moments, while he drove through on the open road. It was a lot of farmland you and Tim usually drove through, whenever you had him take you down to his place.

“Ain’t got ‘rent’. I’ve paid it all off years ago… Even the bills ain’t so steep anymore; jus’ a payment every few months.” He gave you one of those ruggedly handsome grins at your surprised reaction, one hand loosely resting on the wheel, while the other was settled over yours on the console, his fingers loosely intertwined with yours.

“Damn, I should’ve bought myself one of these places years ago… You know how expensive my place was? For like, one-tenth of the size of your home?” You added, scoffing slightly at the thought of your apartment. But, hey, those days of paying damn near two thousand dollars for a one-bedroom apartment were over. Tim squeezed your hand reassuringly, silent as he already started slowing, to turn into the driveway of his ranch.

“...I still have to pay something, Tim,” You added, watching him roll the wheel as he started parking, the sound of gravel crunching underneath his truck’s heavy wheels. “I can’t just mooch off of you. You know I need to take care of you, too…” You gave him a slight, playful smile, your hand sliding up his forearm as he pulled the truck into park.

He was soon turning to look right back at you, his eyes warm and creased at the corners, always entertained by your antics.

“Ain’t gotta worry about a damn thing, darling.” He spoke with his tone gruff, before he leaned in, smelling faintly of smoke and the strawberry jam you two had eaten earlier, and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Ain’t gotta pay, cook, clean… None of it. It ain’t moochin’ to me, I promise you. You think I’d offer for you to come if I thought you were some… Some sorta parasite?”

“But,-”, you protested, brows furrowed.

“Sweetheart. Listen… You jus’ do your work, I’ll do mine, and… We focus on spendin’ as much time as we’re blessed with, with each other. If you don’t like it, I ain’t ever gonna stop you from goin’ back to where you feel the best. But let me show you jus’ how nice I can take care of you, yeah? You ain’t owin’ me a cent.”

You let out a breath of air through your nose–not of frustration, but of weary resignation. He was always like this–trying to get you to relax, to let him pamper you… Damn Tim and his charming ways!

Yet, you had no reason to believe otherwise… Tim was always nothing if not a good man.

“...Fine,” You relented quietly, giving a curt nod.

…How bad could it really be?

FIN...?