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“That’s right.”
“I don’t listen to that nonsense.”
The woman visibly deflated. As you would if you’d driven all the way up here for the scoop of the century regarding a missing rock star and thought you’d been misled. Without another word, she stomped out of the general store.
Me: Reporter in town. Stay hidden.
Garrett: Shit. Ok.
Me: Situation is under control. I think.
Worried glances were exchanged as Emma peeked out the front door. “She’s heading over to the bar. Yong will handle her. He knows the deal.”
“Christian still working out at the Miller farm?” I asked, untying my apron.
Linda nodded.
“He’ll be over at the bar later,” said Emma. “You may as well wait. We’ll outnumber him and there’ll be fewer places for him to run and hide.”
“I needed the money,” whined Christian. “It was nothing personal.”
True to our word, Emma and I had him cornered in the bar soon after five. There was real fear in his eyes. Christian had floppy blond hair and dimples renowned wide and far for winning over the ladies. No joke. He’d actually won best shit-eating grin at the county fair a few years back. But his trademark smirk wasn’t working this time.
Emma waved her broom in a threatening manner. “Trust me when I tell you that screwing someone over is always personal. How could you do that to Garrett? After everything he’s been through?”
“Oh, yeah. We should definitely feel bad for the millionaire.” Christian held up his hands. “Yong, man, tell your woman to calm down, would you?”
“Not a chance,” muttered Yong.
Emma blew him a kiss.
“He’s a part of our community,” I said. “We help each other here. Or did you miss that memo?”
“Ani, c’mon,” pleaded Christian. “You really want to hang out with some asshole who thinks he’s better than us?”
I shook my head. “You don’t even know him. Stop being an ass.”
“All right, that’s enough,” said Yong. “You’re banned from the bar for a month.”
“What!?” Christian proceeded to throw a tantrum. “No way. Come on, man!”
“Get out of here before my wife disembowels you with a broom. I don’t want to have to clean that mess off the floor.”
Christian stomped his way to the door. “This is fucked. Chad said no one would care even if they did find out. It was just meant to be easy money.”
“Wait!” I hollered. “What exactly does Chad have to do with this?”
“The dude that was doing his best to fall into your cleavage?” asked Garrett later that night.
When I arrived home he was outside with Gene, so we were talking through the fence between our properties. Overhead, the sky was heavy with clouds, the stars only peeking out now and then, and fireflies moved amongst the tall pines. Gene sniffed at various spots on the ground when he wasn’t playing with a length of knotted rope.
“No he wasn’t,” I said.
“Christian? The one who kept grinning at everything, right?”
“Right.”
The man said nothing. He just crossed his arms and stared at me. A favorite pose of his and one I immensely appreciated. It accentuated his biceps just so, which was lovely. But the look he was giving me—both stern and brooding at the same time—did not affect my nether regions at all. Because we were just friends.
“If he was, I don’t care and I didn’t notice,” I said, a touch defensively for some reason.
“You’re allowed to objectify me, but I’m not supposed to notice when some asshole is all over you?”
“You know I deleted the picture of you off my cell. And how was he all over me?”
“The hug he gave you at the pool table.”
I groaned. “Christian operates under the delusion that he’s the town heartthrob. But, I assure you, he is not. The fact that Chad was involved, however, interests me greatly.”
“Who is Chad?” he asked.
“My ex.”
He frowned. “The one you shook off in L.A.?”
“Yeah. We all went to school together. Then Chad and I were both in L.A. after college. We met up for a drink and the rest is history. Guess Christian and he are still in contact.”
“You don’t talk to him?”
“Heck no. He was horrible to me at the end. Why would I?” I asked. “At any rate, they were texting, and Chad talked Christian into contacting the reporter and trying to sell some shots of you, along with information regarding your whereabouts. But we convinced the reporter that he was a simple-minded swindler and not to be trusted. It would seem you’re safe for now.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
Garrett cocked his head. “Am I the nice thing in his scenario?”
“The size of the ego on you. Why, it’s awe-inspiring.”
The edge of his mouth inched up just a little. Then it was gone. “Do you think your ex wants you back?”
“No, of course not. He’s just causing trouble,” I explained. “He comes back to town about once a year for the holidays and we’re coldly polite to each other, as the season dictates. The last his aunt told me, he was dating some wealthy influencer type who sells crystal eggs for people to insert into themselves. It’s all about spiritual transformation through strengthening of the vaginal muscles, apparently.”
