Chapter Eleven
Miranda
The next morning after our rendezvous, I wrapped up the article I’d been working on about Lone Star’s mayor, Richard Stevens. Rich, as most people called him, had lived in Lone Star for years and was one of many large philanthropists Lone Star had. Lone Star was home to one hundred and forty wind turbines and along with government funding, we received a large amount of funds from donors all over the country.
Every year, Lone Star hosted a Wind Energy Conference where top officials of each state would come and, well, think shit up, on how to make the country a better place by using alternative methods of energy. Believe it or not, there were a great deal of people who cared about this cause and this was what Lone Star was known for. The conference was to take place at the end of June, about six weeks from now and I liked to keep the general public informed and reminded of the importance of the wind turbines and the importance of the annual conference.
A lot of the older folks, I guess just too set in their ways, never appreciated the conference and the crowd it brought to town. It was one of the few things that made Lone Star survive, if you ask me. But I liked to highlight the mayor in the paper, reminding the people of all his good deeds and why we needed the Wind Energy Conference to continue in Lone Star.
I submitted my article and opened my notepad with Ryan’s information, his letter tucked into the pages. It was easier to research some of this stuff here at work because my computer was already set up to research the programs and websites that I wanted to research his information on. Lucky thing being a reporter!
“You know what I heard?” Abby peered over the counter of my desk space. Today she wore candy-apple-red eyeglasses that were perched on the tip of her nose. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun making her the stereotypical secretary every one in history pictured.
I took a deep breath; I’m not sure I wanted to know what she heard. It couldn’t possibly be about giving Ryan head could it? About him being the only man in over six months who’d been able to get me off by simply using his fingers?
“What did you hear?” I could hear the wariness in my voice.
She smiles and glances behind her shoulder double-checking that no one is listening. Gossiping was mostly off-limits in a place like this – hungry journalists always vying for a story – even though I was mostly the one and only, there were a few assistants we worked with that would love to get any scoop.
“That Ryan John was the one who beat up Yates. Over some woman!” She squeals with excitement as she says this and my heart catapults into despair, worry, denial and shock. No! I had to nip this in the bud.
“That’s crazy! Ryan’s on the city council. He wouldn’t do that. He’s too good for that.”
“Maybe this woman was worth it.”
“Worth it?” I could feel my forehead wrinkling.
“Worth it to Ryan. To protect.”
My heart flutters as I register what she is saying. It flutters because I was, indeed, the woman of this conversation and was she right? Did he really think I was worth the trouble? The rumors that were already swirling? I wanted to jump up on my desk and scream. It never occurred to me that Ryan thought I was worthy enough to be protected. He would intervene on any female’s behalf – not just mine…right? Yes, right. That was the kind of good, decent man he was.
“They’re just rumors, Abby. Probably started by Jean himself, knowing that bunch. Look what Arthur started with the whole town over being let go. It’s not true, Abby. Promise me, you will not repeat this rumor!” I did that thing with my voice when someone wants to yell but they have to keep their voice down…it was a loud, stern whisper.
She places her hand over her heart and bats her eyes, “But just think, who could be amazing enough to capture Ryan’s attention? To have him be her knight in shining armor?”
I wasn’t able to suppress my grin, as the warm funny feeling inside me stole through my veins. Ryan’s attention. I’d definitely captured that, hadn’t I? At least for a little while. I vowed to myself it would be longer than a little while and our one-night stand would equate to more than one night. I swore that these little meetings would continue to be as erotic and delicious as the one we’d performed on my couch last night.
“See? It’s not just me, Miranda.” She winks at me and walks off.
She was right about that. I turn back to my notebook and thanked God the letter had partially covered his name or Abby would have seen it and put two and two together. I had to focus. Not only were memories of Ryan’s thick, warm cock touching my lips, his hand dominating my head with firm pressure guiding me to him, on the forefront of my mind since last night, but now I had the added excitement of what Abby’s theory was about him being a knight in shining armor.
Turning to the letter, my initial search didn’t bring up squat. There were endless possibilities with the term ‘High Plains Corporation.’ I weeded through numerous websites and businesses until what I found on-screen matched the letter Ryan had given me.
Reading through their website took me another hour or so with all of my real work obligations. I had to keep stopping and re-starting and stopping again. High Plains had a simple, elegant website with minimal designs. Maybe to entice business by looking prestigious; I don’t know. It went on and on about the importance of water, going so far as putting photos of people from Nigeria standing around some kind of water well, and how important it was to test and improve our water resources.
Pretty boring.
High Plains made no mention of who they were, just a group of people looking out for the best interests of the Earth, not anyone specific. No names and no place to lay claim. It was just a group of like-minded individuals who’d come together for the purpose of promoting better water…if there was even such a thing, I thought. I rolled my eyes at some of the crap I read. As a reporter I was trained to see both sides of every story, but I was also trained to read between the lines and call bullshit when I saw it.
Their spiel was borderline. I’m sure somewhere in this world people believed in this group, but how much impact could they possibly have? Nowhere did they actually show how they’d improved conditions or what they were currently testing and where to measure the quality of water. How. They had social media platforms that when I clicked on the small icon in the upper right corner, took me to their social media page, that indeed, had more than a few thousand followers.
I perused their page, taking note they hadn’t made a post in over three months. Worthless. There went that. No lead to anything major. I scribbled down a few notes angling my next step when my phone rang. I closed out of the websites and shut my notebook.
“This is Miranda.”
“Miranda.”
Damn, how did he do that? In one swift sound, my name rolls off his lips like water – haha, I think – all slippery and husky. My stomach muscles become tight in anticipation and I close my eyes.
“Ryan,” I whisper.
“Find anything useful?”
“Not much. I keep getting pulled away. I had a chance to check out their website and only have my opinions at this point.”
He chuckles, the sound traveling straight to my pussy. “I bet you do. Miranda, you keep me intrigued. Even when I’m fighting it. Enlighten me. Tell me your opinions.”
I hesitate, “Well, it’s purely opinion; I have nothing circumstantial to back it up.”
“I believe in you, lay it on me.”
He did? On a professional level, of course, I tell myself. “My gut tells me something’s not right. I don’t know what yet. They’re pretty vague about not what they do necessarily, but how, when and where they are doing it, if that makes sense?”
“Those were my thoughts exactly. I can’t place my finger on it but it’s-”
“It’s something,” I finish for him.
“Definitely. Well Miss Phillips, you don’t disappoint. Once again.”
His voice drops low as he tells me this last part. O
nce again? Was he referring to last night? My heart skips and I begin to get hot and bothered by this man yet again.
“Yes, I meant, once again. You laid it on me good last night. You’re making me hard just thinking about it.”
Chapter Twelve
Ryan
I had to build a wall. A big, thick fucking wall. Around my cock, my heart, my everything. She was undoing me, slowly unraveling me bit by bit. The worst part of this was that I was enjoying it. This was the most fun I’d ever had. Not just physically, but emotionally. She toyed with my mind and I was intrigued by it. I felt like a puppy, waiting, just freakin’ waiting, for her next move, the next string of words to pop out of her mouth and surprise me.
I open the dingy metal door of the court house and almost run into a woman walking out. I hold the door for her, allowing her to pass and make my way to Rich’s office. I rap my knuckles on his open door.
“Hello?”
He sits with his back to me, his black hair cropped short, his neck beat red from a sunburn.
“Come in,” he says, the squeaking of his chair as he turns makes me wince.
“Golf this morning?” I ask.
“Sally and I went out this morning. A cool, cloudy morning. Can never underestimate sun, can you?”
“Weather’s been warmer than usual this time of year. What’d you shoot?”
“Eight over par. My best yet.”
“Nice. I came to pick up those papers. Have them ready for me?”
“Sure do. Sit down, son. Let me grab them.”
I sit in the uncomfortable office chair, waiting for him to produce the papers. Rich was an okay guy; I had no problem with him but I didn’t want to sit and be buddies. Talking about golf was as friendly as I wanted to get with the man. He did a lot for Lone Star – more than I could ever do – but he was arrogant and crude. I’ve managed to do my job on the city council and be courteous to the man, and that was where it ended. Sitting in here makes me feel like a student in the principal’s office – had to be here but didn’t quite belong.
“So, I heard you’ve been seen around town with Miranda Phillips,” he produces the papers, but keeps them in his hands. Evidently not willing to give them up until I hear his piece.
Maybe I don’t like the guy at all. I brace myself for this conversation. A conversation I knew would be inevitable the second I started sniffing near Miranda.
“I wouldn’t call running into her at the Tavern around town necessarily. I can’t believe you heard that from someone.”
“People in this town talk, you know that, Son.”
I didn’t like how he kept referring to me as son. Suddenly, I am on the defense and I don't like where this conversation is heading.
“You don’t have to remind me that people talk. I remember that well enough from my parent’s car accident.”
“Which brings me to my point: your parents aren’t here to steer you straight. Miranda is no good. She’s trouble. Any of the good people around here merely deal with her when it’s necessary because she clearly isn’t going anywhere. Not because we like her.”
I can’t believe this. One run-in dinner with each other and he has the fucking nerve to lecture me about who I should and shouldn’t be seen with? I force air out through my nose, trying to calm my boiling blood. She isn’t trash. I try for professional. He is the mayor after all. What happened to professionalism in the workplace?
“Rich, I’m taken aback. Miranda isn’t trash. Sure, she made bad decisions in her younger days, but we all do that. Besides, why would you or anyone care what I do with my time? I’m thirty-three years old for crying out loud.”
“You are, but you have very impressionable kids to look after. You can’t be seen with just anyone. Especially someone with her kind of reputation. Besides, I know someone who’d interest you and would be perfect for you.”
Ah, there it was. His motive. Or at least one of them. I can’t take much more of this shit. I am surprised I sound so calm, when on the inside I’m flowing lava. I clench my hands into fists, unclench them, and tell myself to breath. Calm the hell down.
“I’m not interested, but thanks. I’ve got too much going on right now, I don’t really have time for dating.”
I stand up and pull the papers from his grasp, “See you at the next meeting, Richard.”
I could hear the smug bastard chuckling as I walked down the empty hallway. To make matters worse, I ran smack into Jean Yates. Fuck. His cowboy hat is pulled low over his forehead. I smirk at his belt with a big fancy buckle. I’ve never seen him in such clothes. The wound on his lip was healing and after my ridiculous conversation with Rich, I felt pretty content with the fact that I had been the one to put it there.
“Still protecting damsels in distress?”
“Screw you, Yates.”
“What would everyone think if they knew it was you who attacked me?”
“What would everyone think if they knew it was you who was trying to attack Miranda?”
“No one would believe her. Believe it or not, I think I’m a few rungs higher on that ladder than her.”
I shake my head and go to side-step around him, this time controlling my urge to knock his teeth into his throat. “Whatever. Just stay the fuck away from her and from me.”
His gritty little laugh has me biting my bottom lip, trying to keep myself in check. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. At least, not until I get what I want.”
I didn’t care what he wanted. I didn’t want to know. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with me. I start to walk outside and down the steps, just as his voice rings out above me.
“You’d like to know about this, trust me.”
I stop and turn on the step, letting out a laugh, “Trust you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I can be trustworthy when it’s warranted. Let’s just say, I might be the new town manager who will have plenty of secrets at my disposal.”
“Town manager? Hell, no. You have to be approved by the majority of the council. I don’t ever see that happening. I’m out of here.”
I turn and trot down the rest of the steps before turning back, Yates still standing at the court house door, “I meant what I said, stay the hell away from Miranda.”
I hop into my truck and punch the steering wheel. The shrill horn had birds on the ground in front of me taking flight. I hate that fucking asshole. I don’t even think he has the experience to become the town manager. I hadn’t seen his application yet. Granted, I couldn’t bet on that, but I didn’t think he could ever pass the interview. If it ever got to that point.
I start my truck and back out of my spot wondering if everyone has always been this hateful toward Miranda. How did this stunning woman live here and manage to put up with this shit for so long? I tried recalling all of this hate directed toward her. I had never heard anyone talk about her, it was just always known most people didn’t approve of her. Not until today. Today was the first time I’d really heard anyone badmouth her by saying something negative. I didn’t fucking like it. I sure as hell didn’t understand how she brushed it off and ignored it. She simply persevered, I guess.
That’s what my father had always told me. “There’s some things in life you’re not going to like, some things you’re going to love and some things you’re just going to have to put your shoulders down and persevere through the shit.” Miranda definitely put her shoulders down and shoveled through the shit. She was unbelievably confident for the crap she’s put up with. Another point for Ms. Phillips.
The bell rang and all of the middle schoolers flooded out of the school doors. The instant I saw Brianna I remembered how she wanted me to ask Miranda about her idea for the newspaper. Shit. I hope she isn’t on the rag or I’m going to get an earful about it.
She makes her way to the truck and swings open the door, “Guess what I heard today? Guess?” She giggles and squeals and I can’t help but smile, too.
“I can’t imagine. Tell me.”
<
br /> “Where’s Alex?” She scans the grounds looking for him, “he is so going to want to hear this, too. That is, if he hasn’t already!”
“Alex! Hurry up!” she yells at him over the roof of my truck, standing on the edge of the flooring.
He says something I can’t catch which is just as well because it’s probably something he shouldn’t be saying, even though he speeds up his pace and hops into the truck.
“Okay, now tell me what you heard?” I ask in a deep, ghastly voice.
The twins eyeball each other, some intuition thing I guess, before they both say at the exact same time, “That you got in a fight!”
They laugh and cackle as my ears fill with the pulsing sound of my heart. No, no, no. This isn’t good. I pretend to act calm, look calm, I keep my eyes glaring through the windshield….debating. Truth or lie. Truth or lie. Shit.
“Who in the hell did you hear that from?”
“Tell us if it’s true and I’ll tell you who I heard it from.”
“This is going around the entire school?”
“Yes! Isn’t that so cool!” Alex chimed in from the back seat.
“No! It’s not cool.
“So it’s true? It is, isn’t it?”
I glance at Brianna and then in my rearview mirror at Alex. I guess it’s best to get it over with now.
“It was a small scuffle,” I say, trying to downplay the entire event.
I hunch my shoulders at their squeals and laughter and non-stop chatter. Once I’m out onto the road heading back home, I speak up.
“Listen, you guys. Listen!”
They end their little chatter and I continue, “You guys cannot say anything to anyone. I’m on the city council, if they catch wind of this I could very well be voted off. Tell me what you heard.”
“I heard you got into a fight with some dude because he was trying to steal your girlfriend. Which is who by the way?” Alex says.
“I heard you were trying to save a girl from being attacked by a man with a knife.”
Wet: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 1) Page 7
