I opened the converted icebox with the GE compressor top and looked inside.“We’re out of beer,” I said, “Bet you a buck they went after more.�...�“Never bet against a sure thing,” Consuelo said.She looked at the beer fridge and the white enameled wood cookstove.“Antiques ... where did you find the stove?” she asked me.“That was in the garage,” I said. “The Warm Morning stokers and the beer fridge were in the bunkhouse. There’s still a bunch of old stuff out there.” I waved at the little two room. "I will let you think for a while. Do you have any questions at this time? There will be plenty of time later to ask as well."Thoughts thunder through my poor brain. "Uh, not right now, Tara." Fine. I'll let you sit here alone and think about what I have said." Thanks," I say, a bit timidly.Tara gets up and goes to the kitchen to help Melissa complete the kitchen cleanup. They then both go upstairs, presumably to their bedroom.My goodness, what am I? What does "special" mean? Tara has offered. I dragged my vest off, struggling as it clung to me. She was right about the sweaty part. The shorts and footwear were easier.‘How do you do it?’ I asked.She laughed, and you’ll be bored to tears if I say the sound was like music rippling across the water; but it was, and somehow it didn’t feel like a cliché at all.‘Does it matter?’ she said, sliding back into the water and taking two lazy strokes away from me.I swam; she was right, and it didn’t matter; the race didn’t matter; the crazy. I had measured them once and when hard they were just over three quarters of an inch long.Shelly was red faced now. Her blush had traveled down to almost reach those breast's she was futilely trying to hide. The man had stepped up closer and stood between us, me on his left and her on his right.He was about six foot tall, slender yet broad shoulders. His stomach looked like it was flat under his shirt and he looked to be in shape. He looked at me and winked before apologizing for being.