by Dylann Crush
I wanted to send Parker packing. But a tiny part of me was dying to know what big news had prompted him to drive hundreds of miles to tell me. Obviously he must have lined up some cash. If I wanted to have any chance of continuing on, even just as business partners, I’d have to let him fill me in. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll just hop in the tub and throw something on.”
“For Christ’s sake, don’t you have a shower in this place?” he asked.
“Nope, just the old tub. My grandma couldn’t let it go.”
“Take your time. I need to respond to some emails.”
By the time I’d gathered my things and moved toward the bathroom, Parker had already pulled his laptop out of his bag, set up his mobile hotspot, and spread out over half of the kitchen table.
I turned on the water in the old claw foot tub, knowing it would be gone soon. Every time we made a change to the inside, I felt a little piece of me chip away. I climbed in and slid down, letting the warm water rise over my ears, up my cheeks, my eyes and finally my nose. As the water engulfed me, I couldn’t help but remember the other night and the last time I’d shared my bath with Robbie.
He’d looked so hurt when I took Parker by the hand. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. I couldn’t keep leading him on. But the chemistry, the magnetic pull between us was still there. It had never left.
I thought about the recent night we’d spent in the tub. The feel of Robbie’s mouth on my breasts lingered, just out of reach. My fingers brushed over my nipples and they hardened. I slipped a hand in between my legs, trying to satisfy the dull, throbbing ache my thoughts of our times together always brought on. As my fingers tried to coax my body toward a release, a knock sounded on the door.
I opened my eyes. Parker poked his head in through the doorway. With my ears submerged and my brain trying to relive one of the best nights of my life, I hadn’t noticed him come in.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Water splashed as I sat abruptly, feeling the need to wrap my arms around my breasts and cover up my nakedness. “How long have you been standing there?”
“I tried knocking but you didn’t answer. I’ve been here long enough to get turned on. Hell, if I’d known that’s what you were doing back here, I would have asked to join you.”
My gut clenched and my brain stalled—embarrassed to be caught in the act by Parker while I was trying to satisfy myself by thinking about Robbie. A wave of heat rolled up my cheeks.
Parker reached for the towel hanging on a hook on the back of the door and passed it to me. “Let’s get you out of the tub.”
“Can I have some privacy, please?”
“Sure. I just wanted to ask if we needed a reservation.”
I wanted to laugh out loud. Where the hell did Parker think he was? “No. No reservation necessary.”
“Okay, then.” He ducked back out and pulled the door closed behind him.
I waited to make sure he didn’t return before I stood and pulled the chain for the plug with my toe.
Pulling the towel tight, I lifted a leg and stepped out of the tub. Conflicting thoughts battered the inside of my skull. Robbie would have pulled me onto his lap and not let me come up for air until we’d both come…hard and fast and multiple times. I’d forgotten that feeling. How it felt to be wanted, consumed by another human being. Possessed. Parker had claimed we were together. He’d introduced me as his girlfriend to his friends and colleagues. But he’d never possessed me the way Robbie had. My head throbbed, trying to sort out the chaos simmering inside my brain.
I faced the mirror, trying to see myself through Parker’s eyes. Mascara streaked down my cheeks and my hair hung in twisted strands. I was a wreck. Robbie had invaded my thoughts, distracting me from my real goals, and I needed to exorcise him. For good this time. My future had to be in Texas, in whatever form that would take. I’d spent too many years working toward building something I could call my own. Something that belonged to me, that no one could take away.
The past month had been a mistake of epic proportions. In a twisted way I was even a little glad Parker had shown up. Seeing him reminded me of everything I wanted in Dallas, everything I’d worked so hard to attain. Time to stop playing around and get back on track.
If Parker expected a bottle of something besides beer, there was only one place to go – Sal’s Steakhouse on the way to Nevada. Maybe a glass of Prosecco or two and spending some time letting him talk some sense back into me would chase the ideas of staying in Swallow Springs away.
28
Robbie
“Dammit!” I slammed on the brakes, dust flying out behind the truck as it fishtailed on the gravel road. “What the hell is that?” Something small and furry shot across the road in front of my tire and now laid still in the dead center of the road. I grabbed a baseball bat from behind my seat and cautiously climbed out of the truck. If it was some rabid squirrel or pissed off baby coon I wanted to be able to defend myself.
A tiny ball of orange and yellow fur trembled as my feet stomped closer. Big blue eyes gazed up at me and the kitten squawked, a coarse cross between a meow and a howl. “Well, hi there, little guy.”
I held my hand out toward its nose. The kitten regarded it carefully then nudged up against it, smoothing the fur back from its cheek and pushing into my palm. Scooping it up, I held it close to my chest; tiny purrs rumbled against my shirt.
“So are you a he or a she?” I flipped the cat over to check. “Go figure. I gotta warn you, I’m kinda outta luck with the ladies.” She rubbed against my shirt, oblivious to how I would probably fail her. My eyes scanned the tall grass lining the dirt road. “Where’s your mama, little girl?” She was probably only seven or eight weeks old. Mama cat couldn’t be too far away. I tried setting her down on the side of the road but her sharp little claws caught on my shirt. Every time I’d get one untangled she’d latch on with another. “Help me out here?”
She squawked again, a pitiful sound coming from something so small.
“Oh hell. All right. We’ll get you something to eat and then I’ll worry about trying to figure out where you belong.” I cradled her against me and climbed back into the truck.
I wasn’t ready to face my dad. A few days away had been a welcome break from the stagnant trappings of my childhood home. I pulled into the drive, taking my hitchhiker into the house with me.
The abandoned recliner sat empty, and a heavy silence cloaked the place. “Dad? You home?”
Tires crunched on the pea gravel out front and I looked out the window. Dewey’s bright blue half-ton truck idled behind mine. As I reached the front door, the passenger door flew open and my dad’s worn roper searched for the running board. Dewey bustled his bulk around the back bumper and held onto Dad’s elbow as he lowered himself from the truck.
I stood in the doorway as they shuffled toward me. “Where have y’all been? Out for a drive, Pops?”
“None of your damn business.” The smell of Jack and cigarettes wafted off him as he passed by me and into the house. “What’cha got there? Ain’t no damn cat comin’ into my house.”
“Hey, Rob.” Beads of sweat dotted Dewey’s round face. He walked Dad over to his chair and waited while he settled in.
“Talk to you for a sec, Dewey?” I asked.
“Sure thing.” He followed me out to the porch. A red splotch, maybe barbeque sauce, maybe ketchup, sat square in the center of his gut.
“Dad hasn’t left this place for months. Where did y’all get off to?”
Dewey leaned over and spit a long stream of tobacco juice into the dirt. “It’s not right. Him bein’ cooped up here all the damn time. Man’s gotta get out every once in a while.”
“He’s not doing so well. Doc says maybe a few months left. Hell, getting him out of the house would be good for him. Just no drinking and no smoking, okay?”
Dewey shrugged. “He’s my friend, Rob. I hate seein’ him like this. Just tryin’ to give him a li’l bit o’fun before…we
ll, before he can’t have no fun no more.”
Dad mighta always been hard on me, but Dewey was like the son Dad wished he had. Like maybe the son Jeffy would have been to him if he’d lived. Dewey worshipped the ground my father walked on. If my dad told him to jump, he didn’t just ask how high, he fucking jumped without looking. His faith in my dad had always seemed a little ill-placed in my opinion, but I guess that was why Dad had chosen Dewey as his drinking partner. And me as his punching bag.
“I gotta get to work.” Dewey reached a pudgy hand out and ruffled the kitten’s fur. “Nice kitten you got there. My kids have been askin’ for a cat. You gonna keep her?”
I’d lost count of how many ruffians Dewey’s wife had popped out. Four? Five? All of them hellions. And all of them boys. Visions of the tiny kitten being tossed around like a football floated through my head and my hand curled protectively around the ball of orange fur.
“Haven’t decided yet, but yeah, I think she’s gonna stick around.”
“Well, if you change your mind…you’ll let me know, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay, then. See ya, Rob.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
He closed the passenger door to the truck and walked around to the other side, grunting as he hefted his beer belly up into the cab. As I turned toward the house the theme song from The Andy Griffith Show blared out of the open front door and into the front yard.
I stroked the soft fur on top of the kitten’s head. “Welcome home, girl.”
She licked my hand in reply, her scratchy little tongue like sandpaper on my knuckle. Cassie’s birthday was coming up before the end of the summer. Maybe I could find a bow and wrap up the kitten for her. Parker didn’t look like a pet kind of person. But Cassie had always been a sucker for animals. She’d once even nursed an injured mama possum back to health in the smoke shack along with a brood of babies, before her grandpa caught on and turned them loose. If I couldn’t figure out a way to worm my way back into her heart, maybe my new feline friend could find a way and leave me a trail to follow.
As I ducked back through the doorway, hiding the kitten against my side, my dad called out from his post. “What’s for dinner, Rob?”
Why the hell was I always in charge of everything? I stashed the kitten in my bedroom and pulled the door closed, cutting off the sound of her pitiful mewing.
“Just got back. Haven’t had a chance to plan anything. You in the mood for something special?”
He stroked his chin, looking pensive for a change. Probably the alcohol flowing through his veins. “Ya know, I could really go for a burger. Why don’t you go pick us up some take out?”
“I don’t really feel like going back into town. How about I just throw some beans on the stove and fry up some of that ham we got in the freezer?”
Dad muted the TV. “How about you go get me one of them racks of ribs they got down at the VFW tonight, and I don’t say nothin’ about that damn cat you’re hidin’ in the bedroom?”
We glared at each other for several long moments. I caved first, always had. “Fine. But I need to catch a shower first.”
“Take your time, son. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
I mumbled to myself, “Not unless there’s booze.” Then grabbed a towel to hit the shower. What a fucked up night this was turning out to be. I hadn’t even allowed myself a chance to imagine what Cassie and Parker were doing. He didn’t look like the passionate type. Probably so uptight he brought his own sheets. Yeah, I bet he fucking ironed his underwear. The more I thought about how wrong he was for her, the more pissed off I got. Visions of Cassie putting her mouth on his drifted through my mind—kissing a trail from his neck to his chest, then down to his navel, lower even, wrapping her mouth around...
Sonofabitch! I needed to get a grip. I finished up my shower then pulled on a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt to make the long drive into town for my dad’s fucking dinner. With Parker back in the picture, I needed to figure out a way to make Cassie want to stay. Trouble was, I had no idea how. And I was running out of time.
29
Cassie
“Well, isn’t this quaint?” Parker held out the vinyl chair for me as I sat down at the wood-grain laminate tabletop.
He’d asked for a table with a view. The waitress gave him the once over with heavily lined eyes then smacked her gum and showed us to a four-top facing the parking lot. The place was half-full, a mix of good ol’ boys sipping tall-neck beers straight out of the bottle, families eating dinner together, and a few other couples.
“Getch y’all somethin’ to drink right away?” Her nametag read Sue Ann. She didn’t make eye contact, just twirled a round serving tray around in her hands while she waited for us to respond.
Parker flipped the plastic-encased menu open and closed again. “Do you have a wine list or anything?”
Sue Anne’s over-plucked eyebrows furrowed. “We got red, white, and pink.”
“Those are colors, not wines.” His lips spread into a tight-lipped smile. “Any sparkling varieties?”
I put my hand on his arm. “Parker, it’s okay. We can buy a bottle on the way home.”
Sue Ann examined her neon orange nails. “I’ll check in the back.” Then she turned and sashayed across the room, passing through a set of swinging doors and into what I assumed was the kitchen.
Parker leaned back in his chair and let out a half-sigh, half-grunt. “God, Cass. When are you going to be able to get back to civilization?”
“It’s not so bad.” My grandparents had brought me here a couple times over the years, usually for a special occasion. Not much had changed. Jerseys from the local high school teams lined the wood-paneled walls. Fake wagon wheel candelabras hung from the ceilings, and electric lights flickered underneath hurricane shades, imitating candlelight. A tiny riser nested into the back corner by the bar and a few grizzled, bearded musicians looked like they were setting up to play.
“If this is Swallow Springs’s finest…” Parker’s voice trailed off and he shook his head.
Sue Ann came back with two red wine glasses and a bottle tucked under her arm. “Y’all are in luck. Found this pink champagne in the back of the fridge. Think it’s leftover from a wedding reception we did last spring.”
Before Parker could snap his gaping jaw shut, she’d popped the cork and filled two glasses with the bright neon pink bubbly liquid. I could tell he wanted to educate her on the origins of champagne. I’d heard him school waiters and waitresses in the past. That the only true champagne comes from the Champagne region of France and goes through specific vineyard and fermenting processes. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth. I shook my head. He bit his lip.
“There ya go. Now what can I get y’all for dinner?” She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels.
Parker ordered for us, Kansas City strip steaks, medium rare, lightly seasoned with pepper and garlic salt if they had it, seared over a high heat first, and then grilled for three minutes per side. Sue Ann just nodded.
“Don’t you want to write any of this down?” he asked.
She tapped her finger to her temple. “I got it.”
As she made her way back to the swinging doors, Parker leaned forward and clasped one of my hands in his. The other reached for his wine glass.
“Dare I try a sip?”
“I don’t think it will kill you.” I lifted the glass to my lips. Bubbles burst at the top of my glass, tickling my nose.
Parker eyed his glass with suspicion then tilted it back, taking a tiny sip. He grimaced and shook his head. “It’s awful.”
I took a big gulp. Maybe fortifying myself with copious amounts of bad pink “champagne” would make his condescending attitude more bearable. Funny, in the past I might have viewed him as worldly and experienced. Now he just seemed like a pompous ass. “Didn’t you say you had news? How long are you going to make me wait?”
He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and
smiled. “That’s right. So I told you I’ve been schmoozing some potential investors, right?”
“Um, yeah. As you’ll recall, I was a little leery of your methods.” I didn’t want to ask how close he and Liz ended up working together. Wasn’t any of my business. I’d ended things. As far as I was concerned, Parker was a free agent. That was the only way I’d be able to justify what went down between Robbie and me.
“I told you, nothing happened with Liz. But I did talk to one of her colleagues. She’s extremely interested in working with me. She’s been tracking some of the projects I’ve put together so far and wants to meet next week to discuss her level of involvement.”
“Parker, that’s great! What are we talking here? Did she give you an amount? This is really happening for us. I might not even have to sell the farmhouse if she buys in. Am I right?”
“Whoa, slow down. One question at a time. Our immediate need is for a bridge loan. We can use that cash to cover what we’ve committed to already until you get the money from the sale.”
“Okay. How long will we need to bridge?”
He straightened his knife so it lined up with his spoon. “Not that long. But having the extra money at our disposal means we can move up our opening. How does mid-October sound for a soft launch? We can work out the kinks and then be up and running in time for the holidays.”
“That would be fantastic.” That wouldn’t give me much time to finalize the menu and get my kitchen staff up to speed. But I was up for it. I’d been waiting my entire career for this opportunity. Whatever we needed to do, I’d make it happen.
I raised my glass. “Should we toast again? To a grand opening date?”
“Just a sec.” Parker motioned Sue Anne back over to our table. “What color red is the red wine you’ve got? More of a burgundy? A cabernet?”
