AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nothing happened to me in New York.” through her anger and frustration, I sensed a tinge of sadness, too. “People change.” She looked me up and down with a frown. “At least, some people do.” She straightened, turned from the car, and started to walk away.
“Just one more thing, Ruby,” I called out.
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Did the guys pay you? Do I need to book them for soliciting a prostitute?”
She gave me the finger and walked away.
I didn’t drive off, not immediately. Instead, I watched her as she headed back toward the creek, swinging her camera in hand.
That didn’t go as planned.
The Ruby I knew would have been mortified to be caught having sex in the creek, let alone with two guys at once! But, then again, the Ruby I knew would never be participating in a threesome under the stars.
The Ruby I knew was gone. She’d left for New York. And the Ruby that returned was somebody different entirely. The same piercing green eyes, the same fiery red locks a fiery character, but the fire had spread. I wondered just how much of her the fire would consume. And I wondered just who, besides her, would get burnt in the process.
11
Ruby
In New York I would have woken to the sound of traffic and been immediately thrust into the day with a sense of angst and urgency. In Magnolia, however, I woke to the sound of stillness. No cars passing down the street outside my window; no swarms of pedestrians bustling their way down the sidewalk; not even a bird or a bee ventured into our yard to impose its presence.
I felt too lethargic to make it down the flight of stairs to the kitchen for tea and toast. Instead, I sat by the window with my hunger and stared out at the sleeping well-groomed lawn and the trimmed hedges that separated my home from Lincoln’s.
I thought first of Wyatt, how he’d made my heart flutter, how sweet he was yet rough around the edges the way I like it. I replayed the events of our date: the drive out to Pinewood, the steakhouse, Maple’s then the ranch, and Teddy and Wolf, and Grayson and Samuel.
Greta would love Samuel, I thought. Put his shirtless body and brooding mug on the cover of magazines and watch them fly off the shelves.
Grayson would be marketed as the boy next door, the all-American kid you’d want to bring home to your parents. He had the look to sell that illusion, but it was merely an illusion. He was more devil than angel, that I’d learned first-hand, and happily so.
I definitely have some strong candidates for my calendar.
I tried to picture which of my hunky cowboys would go with which month. Grayson would get February. With his cherubim looks, he’d fit well with the month of Valentine’s.
Samuel would have to be a late-fall or winter month. He gave off the feeling of wanting to be in the cold and have him wrap you in his big arms, keep you snug in his warmth.
Wyatt? What month are you, Wyatt?
As I contemplated the options, my reverie of Wyatt in different seasons was spoiled by a far less attractive image: Lincoln in his police officer uniform walking out of his house and going to his car.
I didn’t look away. I scowled at him from my bedroom window.
Look up at me, Lincoln. Look and see how much I despise you.
As if I had telepathic powers, before getting into his car, Lincoln did look up at me. Our eyes met. I quickly looked away.
What I saw in his eyes surprised me. There was sadness and regret. I immediately felt guilty for the hatred I was trying to project to him.
Why should I feel guilty? He’s the one that insulted me. Asked if I was a prostitute! Threatened to tell my parents. Tell on me! How childish. Grow up, Lincoln.
When I looked back, his gaze was still on me. He offered a sheepish smile, which I returned with a scathing glower. He got in his car and drove away.
The view had been spoiled and with it my reverie as well. I left the window and deliberated whether I should return to bed or go downstairs and get the day started. I opted for productivity. Whatever sourness I had woken up with would go away with a little work, a little productivity.
The house was empty. Mom had left a note, saying she was going out to Grandview Retirement Home where she volunteered leading the guests in exercises and games. She invited me to join her if I could. She left the keys to Dad’s motorcycle on top of the counter for me and ended the note with ‘Love ya’, the O in the shape of a heart, though the smeared ink made it look like it was melting.
