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Benson lifts the blunt from my hand and steals my lighter, as I sit back, listening to Bill and Killian argue for a moment. For whatever reason, I appreciate the distraction.
“I follow their social media page. They’re in France right now for some fashion thing,” Liam says to me as Benson passes the blunt to him.
France…
Yeah, Hale and I don’t stand a chance going after them. I already looked up their family. Even if I pulled every dime out of the bank that I’ve been saving up for years, I couldn’t contend for longer than a year.
Not to mention the fact that they’re always in the public eye. I doubt I’d be a good reflection on the family image that’s already under heavy fire.
What the hell would she do here? Help me tend the crops and end up pregnant? Fashion shows in Paris? How do I even begin to compete?
It’s simple: I can’t.
Standing, I grab an axe from the ground, and heave it hard enough to break the next target.
“Vick asked them not to mention Tomahawk since he learned they were somewhat celebrities,” Liam goes on. “They’re keeping this place a secret instead of showing it off because they respect the town’s need for privacy. They didn’t leave too upset.”
My head drops back, and I close my eyes, wishing they’d all just go so I could go back to enjoying the peace and quiet.
“Learn when to stop talking,” I tell him as I throw the next axe wide and miss the target completely.
The axe hits the ground, slinging up snow and dirt as it tumbles through the woods.
“They’ll be in London next week for a different show. They hit Italy after that. They won’t be stateside again for at least three weeks in total,” the son of a bitch says, not taking the hint. “They’re in the process of launching a site for independent fashion designers to post their clothes, and they’re highlighting the ones they think will trend best. Seems like they can run that business from anywhere.”
I dart a look over at him, ready to cut him down, but he shrugs a shoulder.
“Just sayin’, if they were here, no one would have to compete with that lifestyle.”
I snort derisively. “I’m sure Tomahawk is the ideal location for a fashion junkie. Between the flannel and the Timberlands is where we keep all our couture.”
He smirks, glancing down.
“Speaking as someone who traded couture for flannel and Timberlands, it doesn’t sound so far-fetched,” he says quietly. “It’s hard to surround yourself with people who’ve been genuine, and return to a world where people pick apart the surface, never seeing anything underneath those top two layers. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to suggest for you to give her a call and see how she’s doing.”
He holds up his phone and wiggles it.
“I got her number before she left. Yes, Kylie knows, and she knows why I got it, so don’t even try to get me in trouble. And quit staring at me like you’re going to remove my balls with your next axe,” he tells me, wiggling the phone again.
I really don’t like him having her number.
I snatch the phone out of his hand, and I pull up his contacts, finding her name.
“I doubt you’ll get reception all the way out here,” Liam tells me like I’m an idiot who wouldn’t know even that much.
I refuse to tell him I already knew most of that because I already got my own phone, created a motherfucking Instagram account, so I could follow just one fucking person. There’s a spot over the ridge that gets just enough signal to let me view it.
I’d never hear the end of it, and everyone would forever give me hell. I even made up a name just so I wouldn’t be found out.
I delete her contact information from his phone. I already got her number out of Ma’s emergency phone.
Tossing his phone back to him, I pick up another axe, ignoring his frown.
“You do know that even if I wasn’t a lost cause thanks to Kylie Malone that I still wouldn’t even consider hitting on your girl, right?” he asks me, sounding slightly nervous.
“I don’t particularly have any control over the way I feel right now. Jealousy is a new thing I’m still coping with. Deal with it,” I grind out as I hurl the next axe.
It misses wide left, stabs into a narrow, dead tree that starts cracking after it hits it just right and splits a huge chunk out of it.
“Duly noted,” Liam answers.
They all stay quiet for a while as I continue working out some of my frustration. Cougar lies down on the blanket I have lying on top of one of the tarps, getting ready for her evening nap.
“This reminds me of the time Lilah and Benson split up,” Bill suddenly interjects.
