Out Of The Blue

by P. Dangelico

  “Not much choice. It’s not like I’ve been shopping lately. In years, for that matter.”

  “If you came back into the fold, I could do that––take you shopping for real clothes.”

  “Hilarious. I can’t afford a t-shirt at the places you like to shop. Okay, I’m going,” I tell her, coating my lips with gloss. “I’ll call you if I get girlnapped and kept in a dog crate.”

  After ordering an Uber, I head downstairs and run into Mona in the kitchen. It’s only 8:30, but she’s already in her leopard print robe and her hair looks like Darby has had his fingers in it.

  Her pointed gaze runs up and down my body. She takes a long sip of her Diet Coke. “Has my eyesight got completely batshit, or am I seein’ this correctly? You’re dressed to go out?” Her expression indicates that she’s skeptical of the decision.

  “I’m going out.” I offer her a wide, forced grin. Yes, I’m nervous and not at all sure I’m doing the right thing.

  “Where?” I’m not sure if she sounds scared or surprised.

  “Umm… the Hub.”

  “You’re going to a bar?” Mona says, flabbergasted.

  “Yeah, why? What’s wrong with going to a bar?”

  Now she looks downright suspicious. “Nothin’… nothin’, just… you’re going to a bar to socialize? You––” She points at me. As if there could be any other me.

  “Didn’t you go to bars before you met Darby?”

  “Yeah, but––”

  “And didn’t you meet Darby at the very same bar I’m headed to right now?”

  “Yeah, but––”

  “So what’s the problem? I’m taking an Uber if you’re scared about me drinking and driving, which you know I would never do.”

  We also haven’t replaced the stolen pickup truck yet. We haven’t found anything affordable, so Darby has been gracious enough to let us use his when we have to haul to the vet clinic.

  “Yeah, but––”

  “But what?”

  “But you’ve got those two strapping young men right… out… there.” She stabs her index finger three times at the front door, her sparkly blue nail polish glittering in the light.

  “And?” I say, unable to come up with a better excuse on the fly. Playing dumb seems to be my only option.

  “And nothin.’ Take one of them. Problem solved.” She flips the ends of her hair as if that’s all there is to it.

  “Mona… not only are they off-limits for liability sake. They are way out of my league. I need someone who wants the same things I do––a family. Roots here in this community. In this town. I don’t need an attention-deficit movie star or a wandering nomad, neither of whom have shown any interest in me.”

  Okay, maybe I downplayed the scorching hot chemistry between me and the nomad, but I need to put an end to her dreams, pronto.

  I blow her a kiss. “See ya. Love ya. Bye.”

  I step out into the warm night air and take a deep breath. I’m feeling better and better about this decision. Down the driveway, I see headlights approaching, which I surmise must be my Uber ride.

  Stepping off the porch, wind blowing my hair back, I close my eyes and smile. When I open them, I see Shane standing five feet away dressed in his running gear. The expression on his face can only be described as shock. And not the good kind.

  “Where are you going?” he says. No preamble. No manners, either.

  I pretend to look in my purse for something. “Out.”

  Slowly, he crosses the gravel driveway over to me. “I see that.” Without an ounce of shame, he makes a show of dragging his eyes all over my body. “I mean where are you going and with who?”

  Oh, no. I will not accept attitude from this one.

  I snort purposely. To underscore the absolute ridiculousness of his line of questioning. “It’s not really any of your business, Colonel.”

  “Blue…” His hands go to his hips.

  “It’s really cute that you think you can boss me around.”

  “Where are you going? For your safety, you need to tell me.”

  The Uber car drives up and I match the plates to the ones on my phone. Opening the back door, I slide into the backseat. “See you tomorrow morning, Shane.”

  He glares at me, but otherwise keeps quiet.

  “So anyway, I says to the”––a hiccup––“sorry about that. I said to the fuckin’, sorry ’bout that, to the freakin’ supplier, ‘if you think I don’t know timber, then you don’t know timber…’”

  Holy bad choices. Is this what dating is like now? Have I forgotten something? Do I have a chunk of missing memory caused by the night I got jumped? Has my mind blocked out all the horrid stories of the dating world?

  I don’t think so. I remember it being easier than this, though. Then again, I met Jaime on the job.

  Dustin, the manager of the hardware store, saw me take a seat at the bar and made a beeline over. Tall, good-looking guy with an easy smile. And yet I’ve been here fifteen minutes and I’m ready to head home.

  “Another Dr. Pepper?” Beth the bartender asks me.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Put it on my tab,” Dustin orders. “Anyway,” he keeps repeating. Leaning on the bar with his elbows sprawled out, he hits me with one by mistake. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, tacking on a tight smile.

  “You never go out. I mean, I never see you out.” He tips the rim of his trucker hat back with his index finger and brazenly checks me out.

  “I don’t know why. I should do it more often.”

  Grinning widely, “Yeah, you should,” he agrees, missing the sarcasm altogether.

  For a Thursday night, the bar is super crowded. A few heads turn to see who just walked in. The look on the woman’s face stationed at the end of the bar causes me to throw a quick glance over my shoulder.

  Shane is standing in the threshold of the bar, trying to push his way in.

  I’m going to kill Mona.

  My stomach drops. He’s so handsome I want to scrub my eyes and erase my mind of him. It’s not fair that I know he exists and I have to go on living as if he doesn’t. The white linen shirt rolled up his forearms makes his tan look deeper and the whites of his eyes brighter. Face tense and jaw a hard straight line, he scans the crowd, and when our eyes connect, he stops. I notice the emotion on his face because I know him, but I doubt anyone else would. It’s relief.

  Chapter 14

  Pushing through the crowd, Shane doesn’t break eye contact once as he heads for me. Meanwhile, filled with anticipation, I’ve stopped breathing. Air will not move in and out of my lungs. It’s a problem.

  “Hi,” he says softly, sounding somewhat humbled. We’re starting in a good place at least.

  “Hi,” I say in return, finally taking a deep breath.

  Shane’s attention switches to Dustin who is now watching us with the beginnings of a frown on his face.

  “Hey, thanks for keeping my girl busy,” he says to Dustin and sends me an almost-smile. “Sorry, I got stuck in traffic, shirina.” As loud as it is in here, his low rasp is a breeze on my neck that makes me shiver.

  Shirina… I Googled it. It means sweetheart in one of the languages spoken in Afghanistan. My heart melts and my resolve to keep him on a shelf weakens. Damn you, Google. I could be walking around right now none the wiser, but no, now I know he’s been calling me sweetheart.

  “Your girl?” Dustin repeats, justifiably skeptical. Never once did I mention I was waiting for a boyfriend.

  “Yeah, my girl. Now if you’ll excuse us––”

  Normally, this macho bullshit would make me roll my eyes. Except I’m really not interested in spending any more time with Dustin, and I don’t want him knowing that. Last thing I need is to get jacked with higher prices next time I need timber because of bad blood.

  “Dustin, I am so sorry I didn’t mention it, but I assumed you knew.” How the funk would he assume that? Who knows, but the good news is Dustin doesn’t ask
any questions.

  “How much do I owe you for her drinks?” Shane asks the bartender.

  “Already taken care of by Dustin,” Beth answers.

  “How much do I owe you?” Shane asks Dustin.

  “Nothin’, man. It’s just soda.” Dustin sounds bummed. I almost laugh.

  Shane looks at me with a touch of humor. “Soda?”

  “Dr. Pepper.” Picking up my half-finished glass, I take a sip from the straw and Shane watches me take a sip, his gaze flickering to my mouth.

  Taking a gentle hold of my arm, he says, “Let’s go.”

  I slide off the stool and he begins to pull me in the direction of the door. “Oh, hell, no. I am not going home. I haven’t been out in four years. FOUR years, Shane. I got dressed.” I sweep my hand down my body. “I did my hair.” I point to my head. “I did my makeup.” I bat my lashes. “I’m going to have a good time tonight. Thanks for your gallant service in saving me from eternal boredom, but you can go now.”

  I can see the wheels turning in his thick, beautiful head as he stares at me. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I’ll show you a good time.”

  I laugh. I laugh hard. Is he for real? “Are you for real right now?”

  “What’s so funny?” Taking my hand, he drags me toward the back of the bar.

  “You showing anyone a good time. First, you would need to know what that feels like. And second, you would have to master the art of the smile, which you have yet to do. And at your advanced age, it’s not looking good.”

  His head whips around, expression amused. At least, I hope I’m reading it right. “My advanced age?”

  We reach the back of the bar, where the pool tables are set up, and he drops my hand. Eyes hooded and positively predatory, he says, “You don’t think I know what a good time feels like? You don’t think I can show you one? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you make a crack about my age.”

  I swallow. I may have taken it too far. He takes a wad of cash out of his wallet, the one attached to the chain, and places it on the table. “We’re next,” he says to the guys playing while his focus remains on me. “You ever play?”

  “Pool?” Not really. Darts were more my thing when Jaime and I went out with the guys from the firehouse.

  Shane nods.

  “Yeah, I can play some.” Famous last words.

  A few minutes later, Shane sets us up and tells me to break. Tentatively, I walk around to the top of the table, bend over, get my pool stick ready, and…

  Frankly, I’m a little self-conscious that my butt is sticking up in the air and my underwear is showing.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Goodtime asks me. He’s sitting on a barstool with his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms crossed, and a smirk on his face.

  “I’m getting ready to break. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Fixing your skirt.”

  Okay, maybe he’s onto something.

  He gets up and walks over to me. “Bend over.”

  I can’t believe he just said that to me. With a straight face, no less. “Really?” I say, desperately trying not to grin from ear to ear.

  “Don’t be a wise ass.” He takes me by the hips, and gospel truth, moves me into place in front of him. Then, with his palm on my back, he pushes me down and my butt brushes against his groin. Kate Pierce couldn’t have written this any better. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

  Without so much as a heads up, he covers half my body with his. He’s bent over me. We are touching in places I never thought we would ever touch. “So this is your idea of a good time, eh?” I half-croak, half-giggle.

  “Shut up and pay attention.”

  Taking my hands, he places the pool stick where it needs to be, between my fingers, and helps me break the stack.

  Balls go flying and I almost celebrate by kissing him. I don’t, though. He doesn’t invite that kind of a good time. His face is the picture of concentration, not lust… like mine.

  Shane takes me through every shot: placing my body in the right position, making sure my pool stick is at the right angle, showing me where to strike the ball for the most effective outcome. And two hours later, I’m a sweaty mess and my hair looks bigger than it’s ever looked. I’m having not just a good time, I’m having a great time. And I think he’s having one too.

  “Time to go,” he says, glancing at his Rolex, a big silver one.

  “One more round,” I plead like I’m underage again.

  “It’s midnight and we’re starting at six on the barn tomorrow.”

  Without asking, he takes me by the elbow and pushes me to the front of the bar and out the door. Outside, the breeze feels good on the tacky surface of my skin.

  “This way,” Shane says and takes my hand as we pass a bunch of bikers talking on the sidewalk, the smell of cigarettes and weed drifting over us. I cough.

  “Hey, beautiful,” an older, fat guy calls out. Ignoring him, we keep walking to the Cobra.

  Shane opens the passenger side door and helps me in. Once he gets the door shut, he walks around the hood to the driver side and gets behind the wheel. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks, gaze trained ahead and his hand on the ignition.

  “I did,” I admit freely, a smile growing on my face. “Did you?”

  “Hmm. Told you I’d show you a good time.”

  “I did have a good time, Shane. With you. The pool game wasn’t the reason… I mean, that’s not why I went to the bar.”

  I’m getting frustrated. He’s so methodical about everything that I don’t know how to speak to him without humiliating myself. I think I understand Aidan better now.

  “I know why you went to the bar,” he says in a low voice.

  “No, you don’t. You don’t have a clue because you don’t know me… I was engaged four years ago. We broke up for the right reasons, but I’m tired of being alone. Jaime’s getting married and I’m happy for him. I really am. I’m glad that he found someone who suits him better than I did. But I want to be happy for me for a change.”

  Wow. After that meltdown, I’m not so sure he won’t pack his bags and skip out tonight.

  Shane starts the car. I can feel the rumble of the engine under my butt. It’s about all the action I’m getting out of him so I try to enjoy it. Pulling a U-Turn, he heads in the direction of the ranch.

  “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to unload on you,” I say, completely bummed. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “It’s fine. I understand.”

  We don’t say another word until we reach the ranch and he parks in front of the guesthouse.

  I open the car door and take a good hard look at him. I know now with a hundred percent certainty that he’s not the right man for me. My heart hurts. I’m so sick of being the odd man out in this life of musical chairs. I want someone to pick me because I’m what they want most. Of their own free will. Is that too much to ask for?

  I’m about to get out when he touches my wrist. “Blue…”

  I bite my lip to stall the tears. So much for a good time.

  “No one should try to tame grizzlies. They aren’t meant to live in captivity. You can try, but you’ll get hurt. Collies on the other hand are domesticated animals.”

  With that, I head inside.

  “Blue…. Blue… Blue!” an annoying raspy voice calls out.

  “What!” I look up the ladder at the man who owns the annoying voice.

  “Get me the socket wrench out of the orange tool box.”

  I’m ready to kill him. I’m ready to break a window, sneak into his bedroom tonight, put a pillow over his face and sit on it. The sick bastard would probably like it.

  He’s been unbearable and pushy (typical grizzly) as all get out for two days. Thank God we’re almost done with this barn.

  When I asked him yesterday if he needed to get back to his writing soon, he snapped at me. “And who’s gonna install the support beam? You?”<
br />
  Whatever. I’ve given him all the breathing room he needs. The problem is now I can’t seem to get rid of him.

  “That’s not the right one. The other socket wrench, the bigger one.”

  Have you checked your asshole? ’Cause I think there’s something stuck up there. Gospel truth, I am one snide look away from saying it out loud.

  I show him two more. Eyeballing them with the intensity of the sun, he grabs one and climbs back up the ladder. I turn around for one minute, one freaking minute, and somehow within that small window of opportunity, he falls backward.

  “Shane!” Crouching down over him, I check his pupils first. “Did you hit your head?”

  “No. My foot slipped.” He sits up. “Got the wind knocked out of me.”

  “He alive?” Aidan asks with nary a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, I think,” I say, inspecting the patient’s face. Aidan goes back to framing the new wash stall they decided to build ‘since they’re at it.’

  Shane glances at his forearm and sees blood. A nasty gash. “Let me look at it. I used to be a paramedic.”

  His expression changes lighting quick. He searches my face while I inspect the wound. “You must’ve thrown out your arm and caught the edge of the table saw blade on your way down. You’re lucky this isn’t worse.” I can feel his eyes on me as I move his arm to get a better view.

  Shane gets to his feet and walks to the water hose. Taking it from him, I turn on the water and pour it on the wound.

  “I can stitch you back up if you’d like. I have a zip stitch suture kit.”

  He looks somewhat surprised. For him, that is. For everyone else, it’s a resting face. Then with no direction from me, he takes his shirt off, peeling it over his head and exposing a chest that makes my fingers itch to explore. No, I am not immune. As much as I hate myself for looking, I look anyway.

  His gaze meets mine. “Go ahead.”

  My neck goes up in flames. I’m still mad at him, and we’ve already determined that I’m looking for another domesticated animal to share my life with, but he needs to be more careful how he speaks to me. What he just said could be misinterpreted as a green light to do unspeakable things to his body. He has no idea what a ticking time bomb of lust and frustration he’s dealing with.