Ashley gives me the Aye Aye Captain salute, but her expression softens when she looks up at me.
"Everything OK boss lady?" Her voice is full of compassion that makes me wonder how much more she knows than she lets on.
Not trusting my voice, I just nod and pick up my pace toward the door, but I know she's onto me.
Colter
Her expression changes immediately when she sees me. I just can't tell if it's good or bad.
"What are you doing here?"
Her face is scowling but I swear her voice sounds a little excited.
Maybe I'm just being hopeful.
"I come out here sometimes."
It's not a lie.
After all, I'm the one that introduced her to the place. She shouldn't really be surprised that I'm here.
The real question is what is she doing out here?
Right now I'm guessing she's working on her story in case I actually ask her, but I'm not going to.
She's here right now because it's the first place I took her when she wanted to know how I could stand living in the desert.
It's the first place we went together that wasn't about sugar babies or sugar daddies or trying to work out the logistics of what we were to each other and how we were going to navigate that.
It's the place where we finally got to know each other as normal people where I wasn't rich and she wasn't broken.
And for me, it's the place I first knew I was in love with her.
Today it's the place I came when she left me standing in the parking lot wondering if I'd just lost my last chance for a second chance.
It's also the place I came to wait for her, hoping that somewhere deep down, she'd show up because this place is as much about us to her as it is to me now.
Rachel looks around the trail head parking lot nervously. There aren't many people out here on a weekday this time of year and the only other cars in the parking lot look abandoned under a layer of red dust from the vermilion rock outcroppings of the Valley of Fire.
"I thought you'd be at the office all day," she tells me in a voice that's a cross between sarcasm and curiosity.
"I thought you were going to grow old with me and help me run the Foundation." I shrug, trying to sound lighthearted, "Things don't always go the way we expect them to."
Even from a distance, I can see her eyes roll.
"You knew I was coming out here, didn't you?" She asks as she closes the distance between us and sits on the bench beside me-- not too close, but it's a start.
"Not really," I answer after taking a second to think it through, "I wasn't sure this place was as special to you as it is to me..." I take a deep breath and go for broke, "or that I'm as special to you as you are to me."
Silence hangs between us momentarily and then Rachel makes a noise that can only be described as a guffaw. It's a short, derisive sound bordering on a snort.
"Could have fooled me there," she says, staring out at the desert, "I thought you weren't really into the sugar daddy thing?"
She turns on the bench to face me, "You said you only did it for me."
Her unspoken accusation catches me off guard and leaves me clueless.
Turning toward her, I cock my head to one side: "Yeah, pretty much. If I hadn't seen you on that website that day I'd have never even known about it. What are you getting at, Rache?"
Her head shakes to indicate that I'm supposed to know what she's talking about and I expect her to make me dig for the answer.
"She's just so cliche, Colter."
"Huh? Who?" What the fuck is she talking about? "What?"
"Your new sugar bimbo."
She says it matter-of-factly, without malice or jealousy, but I detect the hurt in her voice.
"You even gave her a job, didn't you?" Rachel turns back on the bench, away from me, to face the desert again, "She sure doesn't look like you found her in a coffee shop in some one horse town, that's for sure. Looks like you traded up."
Then it dawns on me.
"You mean Dionne?" I can't help but laugh a little.
"My 'replacement,' yes."
"Your replacement for the marketing team lead position, yes," I hope that sets the record straight.
Rachel makes a harrumph noise, "Who just happens to look at my picture on your nightstand every day?"
"End table." I correct.
It had bugged me when it came up this morning too. I couldn't figure out how Dionne would know what picture was on my nightstand, seeing as she's never been to my apartment, let alone in my bedroom.
When we got to the office, she whirled in for a second to drop off my coffee that had gotten loaded into the cart with the others, along with a mock up for a new advertising campaign we're considering for social media.
That's when she pointed to the photo of Rachel on the end table beside the leather couch I keep in my office, the one that I took on one of our hikes out here, with Rachel in her jeans and a t-shirt, with a bandanna tied over her hair.
Dionne had told me, "You should really change that picture on your nightstand, she's way prettier than that in real life."
"End table, the one in the office." I reiterate for clarity, "Dionne's smart and she's charismatic, she's doing a great job in the team lead position...but she does some ditsy shit sometimes."
Rachel looks at me skeptically.
"I swear, she's never been to the house, Rache, let alone in my damn room."
"So why did you stop messaging?" Rachel asks sullenly.
"Are you kidding me?" I can't help but chuckle.
Turning toward her fully, I pull my knee up on the bench and stare at her.
She's gorgeous. Looking lost out here in the desolate desert landscape. Her hair is too clean, her make up too perfect. She's wearing a blue silk blouse that reflects the color of the desert sky and a charcoal gray skirt-- I forget what they're called, the tight kind that tapers at her knees and gives her that sexy librarian look.
She's dressed for work today, but she's out here in the dust, surrounded by the vast gray desert with the red rock formations contrasting with the color of her blouse.
Just like the first time I saw her-- shining like a jewel in a barren wasteland.
If I was a braver man, I'd kiss her now.
The primal, masculine part of me that's still part caveman wants to reach out and pull her to me, claim her and make her know she's mine.
Honestly, the civilized part of me thinks that's a pretty good idea too.
But that's my dick doing the thinking and he's never had to argue with my heart before. My heart says wait. My heart says I need to be careful because Rachel isn't the kind of woman that responds well to that caveman shit.
She's the one that needs to decide she belongs to me. I can't make up her mind for her.
"No, Colter, really, what made you stop messaging all of a sudden?"
Jeez, how do I answer that? I think, running my fingers through my hair like it's going to help me think.
"I didn't want to, Rache. I wanted to bombard you with texts and emails and voicemails and letters and singing telegrams. I wanted to camp on your doorstep until you finally gave in but...but well, I didn't know where you were for starters."
I give her a lopsided grin that's supposed to look endearing. Her expression remains stoic, so I guess I'm not doing it right.
"But you never answered any of my messages. I was going out of my mind, trying to figure out where you were and how I could get to you. I kept thinking that if I could just talk to you again, I could make you understand and everything would work out but..."
Rachel
"But what?"
When I got in my car this morning after leaving the office, I didn't know I was coming out here. It wasn't until I left the city and found myself headed toward the lake that I realized this was the perfect place.
I thought I was coming out here to forget him. To say good bye and create some sort of closure for myself.
And then he was alr
eady here.
Sitting on the bench at the trail head, staring into the desert like an abandoned dog waiting for its owners to come back for it. Until he saw me walk up and his eyes lit with hope.
My fingers move nervously against the little wristlet wallet on the bench next to me and I realize everything depends on what he's about to say.
"But then I realized that I was making things worse," he tells me.
His eyes flit nervously between mine, his hands in his lap, and the rocks in the distance.
"You're so used to taking care of yourself. You built your career and you bought your own home and you never settled. You didn't marry the first guy that came along. Remember when you said you didn't want to to do that? You wanted to make sure you could do it all on your own so you'd know that when you found the right guy it was because you really wanted him, not because you needed him?"
Yup. I remember that.
I nod.
"I never wanted to be trapped in a relationship that's over just because I can't afford to leave or because I don't have the life skills to make it on my own," I add.
"And after you worked so hard to build your life on your own terms, it all got taken away when your boss got arrested."
"True."
So true. That's what happens when you live in a small town. There was so much gossip surrounding Dr. Emerson's arrest, no one wanted to hire me. Too many people thought I must have known he was having an affair with an underage patient, no one trusted me.
Things went downhill from there. It's how I ended up broke, unemployed, and filling out a sugar baby profile when I was sick as a dog and couldn't think of a better plan...and now here I am, sitting in the desert in a pair of expensive heels, having to re-evaluate everything I thought was true half an hour ago.
"Rache, I got lucky and I know it. I was born into a family that has more money than I'll be able to lose in my lifetime."
I swear he starts to reach for my hand but then he catches himself.
My heart sinks as his hand returns to rest on his thigh.
"I wanted to you to take the team lead position in marketing because you would have fucking rocked it, not because I wanted you to be dependent on me for a job.
"I wanted to take you shopping for a car because I can afford to buy you anything you want, not because I wanted you to be obligated to me for anything.
"I know you're strong and you're smart and your independence is important to you, Rachel. And I don't want to do anything to change that.
"I have the resources to make up for all the shit you've been through over the last few years. I want to take care of you because I can. I don't need you to need me, Rachel..."
Pain etches his face as he looks at me with eyes that seem to be searching for an answer I don't have yet.
"...but I thought you wanted me. And I stopped contacting you because I finally realized that if you did want me, you'd let me know."
Then his eyes fall from mine.
I watch his fingers curl into a fist against his leg. Not an angry gesture, more like frustration and I wonder what he's thinking.
"I know you don't need me," he tells the dirt at his feet in a choked whisper, "but I need you."
Colter
Damn that was hard.
It feels too much like giving up.
Giving up isn't my style.
I didn't come out here to give up, I came out here to get centered, re-group, figure out what my next move was.
Rachel sits next to me, making me nervous as hell. I hate that I don't know what she's thinking.
My hands clench into nervous fists against my legs in the effort not to touch her.
Nothing about this woman has been what I expected. Not the way we met, not the way we became friends, not the way we became lovers, and definitely not the way we got to where we are now.
I'm not used to this kind of challenge. In past relationships, it's always been me ending things and not looking back. I guess that's a perk of being rich. No one has ever walked away from me because I wanted to spend money on them before.
But that's just part of what makes Rachel special, her insistence on being able to take care of herself.
Unfortunately, I realize it means I don't have enough experience with this kind of scenario to make sure things go my way.
Then it hits me; I don't have enough experience with love to make sure things go my way.
That's why this is hitting me so hard.
Suddenly so much more is at stake.
I can't just sit quietly and hope she's here because she was thinking the same thing I was when I drove out of the city after running into her this morning.
In fact--
"What were you doing at the Java Trailer this morning? It's half way across town from you."
Rachel's lips twitch just slightly as if she's suppressing the urge to smile.
Her shoulders lift a bit and drop in a shy shrug.
"My boss sent me flowers," she tells me.
Jealousy rips through me with a white hot flash that's cooled just as quickly by the sickening cold grip of fear.
I want to kill the motherfucker.
God, please let her say she wants me to kill the motherfucker.
My eyes close in the silent prayer. I can wait forever for her answer if she's going to tell me she's in love with someone else.
"They were really pretty."
Does she know she's poking holes in my heart right now?
"They were on my desk on my first day of work and..."
Is this how she's going to tell me that there's no chance left?
"I thought they were from you."
She sighs wistfully, "But they weren't. They were from James and the upper management crew, welcoming me to the company."
Never in my life have I felt so fucking relieved.
"That was nice of them," I manage to croak out.
"Yeah, it was," she agrees, "Mission is a great place, I like the job a lot but every time I saw those flowers they made me sad. All I could think of was how they weren't from you."
Rachel turns fully toward me and I steel myself for whatever she's about to confess.
"I should have gotten flowers from you to congratulate me on my success--"
"Rache, I--"
I try to explain. I try to tell her I would have. I wanted to. I tried but I didn't know where she was but she picks up a hand and waves me silent.
"I should have come home that day and gotten to tell you all about my new office, and my new co-workers, and my new job.
"You should have had champagne ready when I walked through the door and we should have ordered Chinese food and you should have eaten it with a fork while we sat on the kitchen counters and I talked your ear off.
"I should have been sharing my news and celebrating it with you but instead I was taking drive through fast food home to a hotel room every night and watching old sit coms on the computer."
"Rachel, when you left, you accused me of not being supportive of your choices but you never gave me a chance to explain. I'm thrilled for you, Babe. The job with Mission Labs is a phenomenal opportunity for you and I'm fucking proud of you for landing it on your own. If you'd just read my messages you'd know I did want to celebrate it with you."
"I know you did."
Finally. A smile.
It's shy and careful as if she's afraid to let me see it.
"I finally read everything you sent me. And listened to the voicemails," she says.
"What made you give in?" I want to know.
It feels like something in the air between us has relaxed and I almost dare to start breathing again. But first, I need to know I'm right, before I make any assumptions.
"I missed you, Colter," she says with a touch of sarcasm that only makes her admission sound that much more vulnerable. "I missed you and I hated that I missed you. I hated that you were the only person I wanted to celebrate with and I hated you for not wanting me to be successful on my own ter
ms--"
Once again she waves away my attempt to interrupt.
"--and then I remembered something you said when I brought the Buick home."
That damn car is going to be the death of me.
"Rache, I'm sorry about the car thing. It's not because I want you to owe me or--"
"Or because you don't think the car is good enough for me?"
Uh oh.
"Wellll..." I wince, but I fess up, "It's a perfectly respectable car, but you can have any car you want, Rachel. Are you really telling me the Buick LaCrosse is your dream car?"
Now she laughs. It's a welcome sound and my heart sores.
"No! But I negotiated a good deal on it and I was able to put down enough money on it that I could qualify for the loan by myself even though my credit hasn't fully recovered yet. Colt, I haven't had a new car since I got my first job out of college.
"You've never had to struggle for money. I think it's amazing that you're not a selfish, spoiled rich prick. I can't imagine how your parents managed to raise you to be so humble and appreciative of what you have but you have no idea what it's like to not be able to just buy whatever you want whenever you want it...so you have no idea what it feels like when you can again."
She's right. I don't know what it's like to work hard to be able to afford what I want. And I don't know what it's like to have that taken away.
"But you didn't even tell me you were shopping for a new car," I point out.
"I wanted to surprise you," she says.
"So how did my ruining your surprise get you to read my emails?"
"I'd been so focused on thinking that you wanted me to stay dependent on you, and I was thinking about how disappointed I was that you weren't happier for me when I showed you the car. You know, I was just looking for an excuse to be mad at you so I wouldn't miss you but then I remembered that when you said I could have had any car I wanted, you said we could afford it."
This is not a revelation to me. I don't understand why she's acting like that's wake-up call material.
"Well we can."
Ankle Deep in Sugar Page 7
