Chapter Text
"No, that's okay. I understand. Well, thank you for the opportunity."
You sigh as you hang up the phone. Another job rejection.
You check the time. Just gone noon. Bo should be going on his lunch break soon.
Pulling on your sweater, you decide to wait outside for Bo to get home. The road leading up to the sugar mill ran right past the Sinclair house, and you had a perfect view from the front porch.
A trickle of workers start coming back into town and soon enough you see Bo round the corner, along with a few of his work friends.
He smiles when he sees you, breaking away from his friends and walking up the short path to the house. When he reaches you, stood on the front step, he wraps an arm around your waist. With a kiss to your temple he says, "Afternoon darlin'."
"Afternoon," you mumble, squeezing him in a hug. "How's work today?"
He frowns down at you, "It's goin' fine. What's wrong with you, baby?"
You sigh again; it leaves you as a shuddering breath. "I didn't get the job," you whisper.
"Aw, darl', I'm sorry," Bo says, pulling away and throwing an arm over your shoulders as he guides you back into the house. "They'll be other jobs."
"I know," you follow his lead. "I know, but... nothing has worked out yet. I don't have enough experience for anything."
"Baby, you're sharp as a whip. Something will come along," he holds you by the shoulders, looking at you pointedly.
You try, "Yeah, but..."
"But, nothing, y'hear me?" Bo's eyes are intense, a fire burning being his baby blues that you weren't about to start playing with.
"Yes, Bo."
"Y'know, if anything come up at the mill -- up in the office -- you'll be the first to know. I promise." He presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling away to
You nod over your shoulder at him. You know Bo would keep you at home all day if he could. He wants to provide for you, and all he'd ask in return is a hot meal and a clean house. For you to wait for him to come home every day and let him love on you.
But real life doesn't work like that, no matter how much you both wish it did.
Bo watches you go into the kitchen. Hears your movements as you get lunch ready, the rustle of the bread bag and the gentle clatter of plates on the counter. When you reappear, with two plates of sandwiches in hand, he smiles at you. God, you're too good for him, he thinks.
He gestures for you to put the plates down on the coffee table. You do so, and then he takes your hand, pulling you over to straddle his lap.
Resting his work-rough hands on your hips, Bo leans in to kiss you. His lips are chapped, but you kiss them when he pulls back to say, coyly, "I got a whole half hour before I have to go back to work, y'know?" His hands leave your hips, finding themselves on your thighs instead, slowly sliding up, inch by inch.
"Oh yeah?" you cup his face in your hands, pulling him back to your lips.
"Oh yeah."