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“Boone works, off and on, for my boyfriend, Blake. And I’m willing to bet Marta sent you with an order.”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Look up coffee addict in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Marta.”
I laugh with Parker but I also feel a little tug of sadness and regret on my heart. That I don’t know my own cousin as well as her caffeine dealer.
When the sadness wains, anger takes its place. Pissed at my parents for never spending more than a couple of holidays with them when I was barely old enough to remember. My parents always thought they were so much better than their country bumpkin counterparts. What a load of shit. It’s never been so obvious as it is now that my parents are vapid, self-important pricks that have poisoned my brain. This place is amazing.
“I’ll get Marta’s order ready to go,” Parker says and I don’t miss how she hugs the sketch of her cupcake to her chest as she turns to walk back to the counter.
And the people here are even better.
I had every intention of getting to work, straight away, on the commission for Parker. Back in my bedroom now, I can’t stop my eyes from shifting from my canvas to the dirt track hoping to find Theron buzzing around it again.
It’s silly. He’s got to be a good ten years older than me. If he’s the same age as Boone. No way a late twenties hunk like him would be interested in a plump, head-in-the-clouds kid like me. Not that he can show interest in me, even if he was. Not legally. For another couple of weeks anyway.
I’m probably the only teenager in history not to know the exact number of days, hours, minutes, and seconds until I turn eighteen. I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life already. A number beside my name isn’t going to change much of anything.
Just because he can’t show any interest in me doesn’t mean I can’t have a crush on him. It doesn’t have to stop me from dreaming about him or ogling him from a safe distance, like my bedroom window.
Goosebumps crawl up my arms and legs imagining what his chiseled chest and abs, so well defined by his sweat-soaked shirt, feel like. How good they would have felt against my chest if I’d just taken a deep enough breath when he leaned over me to steal my toast.
My knees give out and I fall into the window seat running my hands over my breasts pretending they’re him. Just as my hands pretending to be his, drift down my stomach, Marta’s voice drifts up the stairs. “Skye. You have visitors.”
I tear my hands away as my heart leaps into my throat.
My door is shut and she wouldn’t come in without knocking but I can’t help feeling like I just got caught doing something wrong.
When I finally pull myself together, I wonder who could be here to see me. Even though he crosses my mind, I’m not naive enough to believe it’s him. Though, I have no idea who else it could be. I don’t know anyone else.
On my desk, beside my easel, I set down my paint palette careful not to spill the cup of muddy water before heading downstairs.
When I turn back toward the dining room at the bottom of the stairs, my heart jumps again seeing Theron leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. He tilts his chin up at me. His way of saying hi, I guess. My mouth twitches into a weak grin as, I’m sure, my face turns bright red.
There’s no way he’s my visitor.
I’m sure I’ve got this all wrong. I should look around for who really came to see me but his sky-blue eyes have trapped me. I can’t look away.
“Heya,” an unfamiliar female voice snaps me out of my trance. I follow the voice to the dining room table ahead of where Theron’s standing to find Marta and two girls about my age I’ve never met before sitting there. “I’m Maya,” the girl whose voice took my attention from Theron says. “This is Penny.” The other girl I don’t recognize gives me a little wave barely over the tabletop.
I return her wave, then turn and say, “Hi,” to Maya.
Maya jumps up and drags Penny around the table to stand in front of me.
Besides having dark hair and the darkest, most intense eyes I’ve ever seen, Penny could be my twin. Short, plump, and shy but dressed in stereotypical country attire. A fitted purple flannel top and boot-cut jeans.
Maya on the other hand is nothing less than stunning. Long, lean legs in stretchy knit oversized leg warmers that barely hold onto her calves. She’s muscular but still has soft curves she doesn’t try to hide in short, white denim shorts and a crop top that hangs off her shoulder showing the neon strap of her bra. Her whole look is completely reminiscent of every modern film’s portrayal of girls in the 1980s.
“We’re going into town to get something to eat. You wanna come?” Maya asks.
Wow. They sure are friendly around here. If a bit pushy.
I don’t mind though. This is obviously an offer of friendship and it would be nice to have some friends to hang out with while I’m here. But… On the other hand, Theron is decked out in his riding gear. My fantasy of watching him ride while I paint seems as though it’s about to become a reality.
“I’m actually kind of in the middle of something.” I gesture over my shoulder. “A painting commission.” It’s true. I really shouldn’t put it off while the image is fresh in my head. Getting to watch Theron ride is just a bonus.
“Cool,” Maya exclaims. “Can we see?”
