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“Hey there,” smooth and silky said.
“Hey,” I replied, now suddenly shy and composed. I sat on my bed, knees up under my chin, wondering what I could say if he mentioned my angry message. Maybe he wouldn’t ask.
“Tylar?”
Here it comes, get ready.
“Uh huh,” I answered.
“You're many things to me. When I think of you, I think of the way you make me laugh at times; other times how you make me crazy. I think of your gorgeous eyes, and how you affect me when I least expect it. But I swear to God, I've never, ever thought of you as a Twinkie. I don’t even know what that means!”
“It’s something that Jenna's spreading around about me. I’m your Twinkie, which I guess is some younger, more attractive version of a bimbo.” I answered, the tears brimming. “It’s not important,” I said in a small voice.
“It was important enough for you to leave a screeching message on my phone this afternoon. You’re neither a “Twinkie” nor a "Bimbo" to me, got it? I’m surprised that you let Jenna get to you like that anyway,” he said.
I didn't answer him because he was right, I shouldn't have let the bitch get to me like that.
“Tylar? Are you there?” He heard my sniffle, confirming that I was still on the phone.
"Is something else bothering you?"
“There was another note left for me at my cottage.”
“What were you doing back at your cottage?”
“I needed to pick up some more clothes and stuff. Gina—you remember Gina, Becky’s niece?”
“Vaguely,” he responded, still very irritated with me.
“She went with me so I was safe. It’s just kind of creepy, you know?”
“What did the note say?” he asked.
“Something vulgar and that he missed me and would find me.” I could hear Trey catch his breath. “Anyway I invited Gina to stay here with me this week is that okay with you?”
“No problem, sweetie,” he replied, his tone now gentle and soft. “I'll let Thatcher know to keep an eye out for anyone lurking around as well."
“Thank you,” I said. I still had Trey’s robe on, but the scent of him was starting to diminish. I had his voice, but only for another couple of minutes.
“What’s wrong, Tylar?” he asked again, sensing my despair.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked.
“Obviously you're not,” he said. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
“I don't know. I guess I didn’t like the way we parted this morning,” I admitted.
There was a long silence from the other end of the phone.
How needy does that sound?
“Hey, I've been thinking about you today. You don't totally fall off my radar while I'm gone."
That was something. He'd given me something; I felt a connection again. “I’m getting ready for bed. Are you?” I asked him softly.
“Well, I have some depositions to review before I turn in, but I’m in for the night if that’s what you mean.”
“Can we sleep together tonight?” I asked. “By phone?”
