Even Ryan? After what he did to me, Ryan voted to hire him on? How could he do that? What was he thinking? I watched him, waiting for him to make eye contact with me and he wouldn't. He was ignoring me! I focused on my notes, trying to ignore the pain. Did he not take it seriously that Jean had been about to attack me the night he came to me rescue? And now he was hiring him to be the town manager? How many more women would he do that to with his powerful position? I berated myself for not going to the police. Actually, I think Ryan insisted I do that, that night, but Jackson is Yates’ cousin and I knew nothing would come of it.
The rest of the meeting was a blur and I did my compulsory note-taking. I didn't even go to the podium to ask questions like I usually do. Even the mayor looked at me expectantly but instead I got up and left. I wanted Ryan to come after me and explain but I knew he couldn't. The meeting was still going and he wouldn't walk out in the middle of it.
I went home and poured myself a glass of wine. All the while trying to comprehend why Ryan, out of the entire group of councilmen and women, would vote for him. Did Yates even have the adequate experience to be the town manager? Another sickening thought occurred to me a little belatedly, but with Rich behind High Plains and Jean the new town manager and then of course the sheriff who would no doubt side with his family – all these men in power – and all them corrupt in their own way, Lone Star was going to hell in a hand bag.
The only thing saving me and possibly Lone Star, was that I was the reporter and my job was to gather the facts and inform the public. That is what I was going to do. I needed the papers from Florida to confirm that Rich was behind High Plains. Then slowly, somehow, I would dismantle this group of men who seemed to think they could get away with everything under the sun.
“We need to talk,” Ryan burst through my back door.
“About how you voted to hire Jean Yates out of all people? Yeah, we do need to talk.”
“It's not exactly what you’re thinking.”
“It's really cut and dry, exactly what I'm thinking: Yates tried to attack me. You saved me. Now you hire him to become the town manager! How could you?”
“I had to do it.”
“No you didn't.”
“I did. In exchange for the information about Altitude Energy building the facility on High Plains.”
My world stops. “You went to him for help? And you let him blackmail you?”
“I had to, Miranda. He hinted to me that he knew something so I had to find out. And when he told me about that, in return, I agreed to talk him up, make sure the other council members would see him competent enough to handle the position.”
“Do you realize Lone Star is now being run by fucked up people? The mayor. Now Yates, who we know isn't afraid to harm women. What will he do now that he has a little power? My dad was a man like him. Using his position of power, of being my dad,” I'm screaming at him now but I can't stop. “A dad who abused me. He used his role as father as an excuse to hurt me and now Lone Star is being run by men like him! With their own spin of fucked-up-ness!”
“Miranda,” he walks toward me.
“No. Don't. Touch. Me.”
“I didn't know that about your dad. I'm sorry.”
My chest is heaving and I know I'm on the verge of tears. “No one knew about my dad because I didn't want them to know. I didn't want you to know.”
“Why not me?”
“Because,” I start crying now, “I don't want you to think less of me.”
His arms are around me now, his chest a solid comfort that I press my face into. His murmuring words into my ear. Words of kindness, of comfort. “I would never think less of you. I think you are amazing. Look at me.”
He pushes up my chin and I look into his bright blue eyes. They’re so bright it's hard not to lose focus and fall into the depths of them.
“You’re wonderful. You are the most resilient, bravest person I know.”
“I am?”
He chuckles, “Damn, woman. Yeah, you are. After all the shit you go through everyday with people disliking you. How you power through it and live your life. The way you write your articles from your heart. Giving your all to the readers, even after all of this crap you’ve gone through and still go through. You’re this inexplicable woman that continues to surprise me every fucking day.”
“I am?” I ask again because he’s never really told me this before and coming from him, it's so nice to hear.
“Yes, you are. Look, I'm sorry about Yates, okay? But he actually was the most-qualified candidate out of the other applicants.”
“But Ryan, what about him trying to hurt other women?”
“I don't know. We can't predict anything. I should have drug you to the sheriff’s department that night. At least then it would have been on record.”
“You couldn't have. I was pretty adamant about not going. It's my fault.”
“Would you stop trying to carry the world’s burdens on your shoulders and give some to me, please? You have me now to fight this world with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Don't you know I’d do anything for you? I love you, Miranda. You’re the first woman I’ve been so crazy about. The kids love you. Please don't be too mad at me about this whole Yates thing. We’ll figure something out with him.”
“I was thinking of doing what I do best. Writing an article about this bad stuff.”
“Will you hold off on that for now? We don't have much confirmation but I feel like we’re getting close. For once, it feel’s like everything is coming together.”
“I was thinking the same thing already. I plan to wait awhile.”
“Now. Come with me.” He tugs me into my bedroom. “I've been dying to get my hands on you all day.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ryan
“I especially love when you put the end of the pen into your mouth when you’re taking notes. It makes me so hard. That wet, sassy, little mouth of yours and all the sweet damage it does to me. I love watching you.”
Inside her room, I take my time undressing her. Marveling at her perky tits. The sweet pink bud as I pull it into my mouth. Her intake of air as I roll it between my teeth. The rustle of her clothes and her breathing are the only sounds I hear. I want to savor this moment, this woman who has stolen my heart. My cock and balls are tight with arousal but I continue my treacherous assault on her quivering body. I kiss her breasts, her navel and deftly pop the snaps open on her skirt. I'm greeted with the added bonus of no panties and my cock gets fucking harder.
Her skin is soft and her hair is trimmed and well-kept. My fingers glide along her skin down to the folds between her legs. Her wetness coats my fingers as she grips my arms, her fingers digging into my biceps. She wants more. It doesn't take much for my fingers to slide into her pussy, where I pump them slowly, only giving her a dose. Pulling them out, I lick my fingers and she tastes so good. Her grabby hands are undoing my jeans now and I help her chuck them off so we’re now standing toe to toe, my cock rubbing the smoothness of her stomach.
She begins to fall to her knees, “uh-uh.”
I lie on her bed, grasping her hips to pull her atop me. I want her to ride me. I want to see her this way, on top of me. Getting off. I want to see her slide down onto my dick. Exposed. Her legs spread apart, her clit front and center. And she does. And it's glorious. She eats me up like I want, drawing me into her and lifting herself so I slide out. Then she does it again. This slow, acrobatic act that gets more intense each time she lowers herself back on to me.
When she pulls up and my cock comes all the way out of her, I wait like a fox in the underbrush for her to slide back down and when she does, I capture her hips with my hands and hold her down. I’m deep inside of her now, as far as she can take me and it feels painfully good. I roll her hips and she takes over. Grinding me, riding me and I watch bliss take over her as her heads falls back, her mouth half open as she moans out her orgasm. My hands cup her tits. My thumbs gently
brushing over her nipples as she rides me slow, prolonging her orgasm. Then she's back at it, swiveling, grinding, humping me and my dick can't take it anymore. I press my thumb into her clit and she and I unite in a Fourth of July fireworks finale.
Later, as we lay together in her bed, I apologize again for the entire situation with Yates, with her father. I apologize to her on behalf of every male out there who exerts power over women, using them, belittling them, making them feel inferior. It's hard to sleep because she's naked, nestled perfectly into my arms and because I’ve been having a difficult time getting over Jean being my half-brother. It's a tough pill to swallow.
“Do you want to know the worst thing I’ve ever done?” I ask her. She’s drifting off to sleep. I know she’s awake because she is trailing her fingertips along my knuckles that are tucked into her side.
“Yeah,” she whispers sleepily.
“I ignored you for two long, lonely months after that wedding.” She doesn't acknowledge me and soon my mind drifts to High Plains.
I haven’t received any more correspondence from them which makes me wonder what’s happened. Does Rich know we’re on to him? Have they simply given up because they’ve realized I'm not interested? I can’t be sure one way or the other but that's another reason I can't sleep. Rich. While I’ve known the guy all of my life practically, I’ve gotten to know him more so because of the city council and I can't fathom this is what keeps him awake at night. But apparently it does.
The morning light seeps through Miranda’s blinds and slowly I unstick myself from her – my arms from underneath her back, and my legs intertwined with hers. Just the way it was when we were fishing. Perfect. She stirs as I'm pulling on my jeans and shirt.
“Are you leaving?” She kills me with that innocent voice.
“I'm leaving. Only for now and then I will see you after work. Okay?”
I kiss her forehead as she grabs hold of my shirt pulling me down so my lips meet hers. She whispers that she loves me and I promise it back and go.
I can't wait. I'm going to find Rich to get this all straightened out. Does Yates even know he’s my dad’s son? Why is Rich still wanting revenge on an old feud between him and my dad? I run home and shower, checking the twins’ rooms to make sure they still aren't home from their sleepovers.
I get to the courthouse in record time. It's eight o’clock. But of course Rich isn't in his office yet so I wait. ‘Cause he should be here by now. Around eight fifteen he saunters down the hall, no cares in the world.
“Ryan. Good morning! You see that baseball game last night?”
“Nope. I need a word with you.” He doesn't even act worried or anything. As if he was expecting this moment. He shuts his office door and invites me to sit.
“Why wouldn't you come to me and offer to buy my shares instead of using a front like High Plains?”
“Are you selling your shares?” he asks.
“Don't play dumb. You know I'm not. That's why you keep sending me the stupid brochures about all of the great things High Plains has done.”
“The water brochures?”
“Yeah. Have you got that big of grudge against my father that you can't move on?”
He puts his hand up, signaling me to stop,” Wait. One thing at a time. You’ve been getting brochures from High Plains?”
“Yeah, but don't play fucking stupid. I know they’re from you.”
“No. They’re not from me. I’ve been getting them too.” He stands up and walks around his desk to the metal filing cabinet in the corner of his office. He fishes out a key from his back pocket, opens the second drawer from the top and produces a Manila folder.
“I got these from High Plains too.”
He sets the documents down with a thud. Opening the folder, I can already see they are the exact documents I’ve received in the mail. Everything. The letter I first received to all the brochures that came later. Of course this was his way of fucking with me.
“No. You planned this. This is your way of making yourself look innocent. So once I caught onto you, you could produce similar documents to try and steer me in the wrong direction.
“I don't know what you’re talking about, son.”
“Don't call me son. Not after what you’re trying to do to my father!”’
“Ryan, your dad’s been gone for, what? Six years now. What could I possibly be trying to do to him?
“You’re trying to take all of the water shares.”
“No I'm not. You need to leave, before you get yourself into trouble. I don't know who High Plains is and I definitely do not want your water rights.”
Fuck this. I was ready to knock him on his ass. I took off on foot, from the courthouse with no destination in sight. I walked and walked unable to comprehend how my life had gotten so fucked up in the past two months. I walked and walked for I don't know how long, trying to sort this all out in my head. High Plains. Jean Yates. What to do with the farm, if anything. The obvious conclusion was screw High Plains. Despite Rich’s lying, High Plains had managed to tangle me in its web, getting me all screwed up. It had to stop. High Plains couldn't and wouldn't get shit from me. It would be different if the company was flat out stealing from people but they weren't. Was it shady? Absolutely. Did I give a fuck?
That was the million-dollar question.
Lone Star has a nice downtown area full of businesses – the tavern, the feed store, the newspaper as well as a variety of other stores. At the end of the block, past all of this, across the park was a realtor I knew, Sheila Birch. She had completely renovated an old drive-in and turned it into her real estate office. This is where I ended up. Across all of her windows, she posts properties that are for sell. The idea of moving was appealing. But I still didn't have a solid plan of what I wanted to do. Sheila had posted a few lots for sale. No homes on them yet. But water hookups were already on the property. That meant, when it came time to build, the owner wouldn't have to get a water tap as it was already installed.
Something occurred to me then. Tingles spread through my body as an idea formed in my head. Why couldn't I do that? Why couldn't I subdivide my land and make a subdivision? I didn’t know how long it would take, but I had plenty of land if Altitude Energy was going to build a facility along Pepper Ridge, to zone it for homes for the massive amounts of people it was likely to bring to Lone Star. Fuck. I already owned the water rights. I could parcel off the land into small acre lots, sell it and retain the water rights.
Not only would I be able to have income, but the time would help me figure out the shit I wanted to do. I’d need to talk to a few people around town first. Figure out the potential profits and losses on doing something like this. It was risky. But the farm was in a great location alongside town. Plus, the homes would be new which would appeal to a lot of people. Everyone wanted new shit now days.
This could only work if the wind mill facility came to town though. I needed to find that out for certain. Otherwise, I felt rejuvenated! Like this crazy plan might actually work. I was so concerned with the kids before but they’d both made it clear they didn't care where we lived. Since my world had already been turned upside down by Miss Miranda Phillips and Yates, I was on my way to figuring out the shit I wanted to do. Thank you Sheila for the nudge!
I strolled back to where I’d left my truck. Still pissed about Rich but leaning toward forgetting the whole thing ever happened. Miranda was leaning against my truck; fanning her face with some papers. I couldn't make out her face exactly but the closer I came to her, I knew whatever she was waiting to tell me, I wasn't going to like.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Miranda
I went to bed last night thinking about everything happening to Ryan. The things I’d told him about me. I couldn't stop thinking about how he must feel. I must have drifted off to sleep quickly then because this morning came fast. Once I’m at the office, I drowned everyone out and focus on next week’s articles.
It's barely eight thirty when
my phone rings and because I’m just about to go into a meeting, I almost ignore it. But it rings with a sound separate from the ringing. I get that with all calls that usually end up being big stories. It's weird that I can tell, but it's almost like the phone rings with a different shrill to it like it’s screaming at me.
“This is Miranda.”
“Hello Miranda, this is Donovan with The Palm Daily.”
“Yes, how are you?” I’d completely forgotten I’d reached out to him about the paperwork High Plains filed. Not forgotten per se, just hadn't thought about it too much this morning.
“I'm doing well. Listen, I was able to go down to the state and order those papers you asked for.”
“And?”
“And I can fax them to you right away.”
“Excellent. Can you tell me who is a part of High Plains?”
“Sure can. It’s listed here that-”
“Donovan? Donovan? Are you still there?”
“I’m here. I’m getting a bad connection. You still there?”
“Yes. Give me the names,” I practically yell into the receiver.
“Miranda? Are you there? Let me fax this over. I can't hear you.”
The line goes dead. Fuck! I want to throw everything off my desk like they do in tv shows, I’m so mad. I restrain myself. I can wait until the fax comes through. What if it doesn't come through today? I will call him back after one hour. It's suddenly become life or death that I have to find out the answers. I have to see Rich’s name on the documents. Because when I blow this story wide open, I need all the evidence I can get.
Time goes by and still no document. I’ve called Donovan twice now and have left two voicemails. Still nothing. What in the hell happened to the guy? With no call backs, I pack up to leave and as I’m rounding the corner of my desk, I see documents being spit out of the fax machine.
Wet: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 1) Page 18
