by Heather Lin
He turned to find Monroe watching him, amused.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she quipped, turning to toss hay in the next stall.
“I deserve that.”
“Don’t let him at your fingers,” she suggested. “Always offer the palm of your hand.”
“I’ll remember that when I never touch him again.”
She laughed. “What brings you down here?”
“Ms. Hutter said you might be heading into town tonight.”
“I am.”
“I was hoping to catch a ride. Maybe you could recommend a good bar or restaurant?”
Monroe tossed hay in the last stall, then brushed her gloved hands on her pants. Bits of clover stuck to her clothes and landed in her hair. A few strands had come loose from her ponytail. Images of rolling in that hay with her flashed through his mind.
“Sorry, I’ve got a date tonight,” she said, wrenching him from his thoughts. “Might be a bit awkward if I show up with another guy.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Nonsensical jealousy flared instantly, and he hated himself for it. Of course she was seeing someone. This was exactly why he needed to go out and clear his head. It was supposed to be the whole point of this secluded getaway, but Monroe’s appeal was proving to be just as maddening as Sophie’s guile.
“You can take the farm truck, though,” Monroe continued, seemingly unaware of his internal conflict. “Jamal won’t need it tonight and I’m driving mine.”
“Thanks.”
She seemed to realize then his mood had changed, and her brow furrowed. Her eyes turned curious. He held her gaze, determined to act as if the thought of fucking her had never entered his mind.
“Let me go get the key,” she said.
She turned and went through an open doorway at the end of the row of stalls. He heard her footsteps above him and the sound of a door opening and closing. She reappeared and placed a set of keys in his hand.
“The truck’s around the side of the barn. Take it whenever you want. There’s only one bar in town. A couple restaurants. They’re all on the main strip. Just take a right out of Applewild, your first left, and go straight. You’ll hit a light. Turn onto Main Street.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded and turned to pat a nosy horse on its neck. Alton started back to the barn door. He’d read the situation all wrong. The attraction was one-sided. But when he glanced back at her, he caught her watching him. Her cheeks flushed when their eyes met, and she turned back to the horse.
Maybe not.
VI
Monroe pulled on shorts and a striped shirt which, as always, covered her torso from the clavicle down. Her tousled blond locks hung just past her shoulders. She applied lipstick and mascara in front of the bathroom mirror before opening her wardrobe and shrugging on a blue blazer. Fingerless leather gloves came next, then a pair of cowboy boots. She slipped the strap of her wallet over her wrist.
That was all she needed. She kept things simple. Even her date tonight was simple. Rodney was an attractive guy who worked at the farm supply store and knew some of the people she knew. They’d both been invited to a bonfire tonight, and he’d asked her out for drinks beforehand. Maybe they’d hit it off. Maybe they’d be good friends. Maybe they’d have sex. Maybe they’d hate each other. Anything could happen, but there was no pressure and no expectation.
The same couldn’t be said for getting involved with Alton.
As a rule, she avoided drama. After her parents’ deaths, she’d pretty much told God if He didn’t send any more shit storms her way, she wouldn’t go looking for them. A celebrity going through a very nasty, very public breakup with his celebrity ex-girlfriend while being a friend of Monroe’s celebrity boss could only lead to one thing—drama.
But his snide comment in the kitchen that morning had genuinely bothered her. Why? Was one half-silent car ride and some long-distance admiration supposed to mean something? She’d been in the process of mentally berating herself when he came to her, to make things right. She’d promptly poured out all kinds of details from her past and present. She’d enjoyed talking with him. She’d enjoyed looking at him. She really, really, needed to get him the hell out of her system.
She should be focused on Rodney. On his tan biceps, his cocky grin, the way his dark blond hair stuck up in front because he was constantly reaching up to wipe sweat off his forehead—the kind of sweat that came with working long, hard days. He was in the middle of repairing the transmission on his Chevrolet S-10 SS. He was hot, he had a job, he could fix things….He was every woman’s wet dream.
But Alton had the accent, the strong jaw, those deep brown eyes that practically smoldered, probably against his will, when he looked in her direction.
That, especially, was a hard card to beat. Rodney’s attractiveness was obvious, there for anyone to see. He wasn’t afraid to flirt and flaunt it. Alton seemed surprised by his own intensity.
It could also just mean, very simply, that he wanted her. Physically. It was a mutual attraction, of course, but it still didn’t add up to more than a couple of passionate nights together. It might be fun. She might want it. But she knew, in the end, it would be more trouble than it was worth. She’d been in the spotlight once—for weeks, after her parents died. She didn’t want that again. She doubted Alton wanted his personal life in the public eye again so soon, either.
They could always just keep it a secret.
Said every outed celebrity couple ever.
Monroe shook her head in an attempt to force thoughts of Alton from her mind. She locked the door to her apartment and descended the stairs to the feed room. She grabbed a carrot on her way and fed it to Werther. Her foster parents had given him to her as a gift on her sixteenth birthday, and he’d played a key role in pulling her out of the slump she’d thought she would never see the end of. She touched her nose briefly to his and began her trek to the front gate.
Jamal was just getting out of his jeep—on time, for once.
“I have my cell phone if there’s an emergency,” she said, not bothering to wait for a confirmation.
Her truck was parked in a four car garage near the house. She didn’t mind the walk. The moon was full and the stars were bright. She could see where she needed to go. She hugged the blazer close to her body. It was almost too cold to be wearing shorts, but the extra layer kept her from shivering. The sweet scent of hay and ripening apples reached her nostrils, and she breathed it in. Applewild was quiet, peaceful, and she relaxed, looking forward to a fun night of hanging out, drinking beer, and listening to music with friends—without Alton around to distract her.
Monroe reached the garage and pressed the five-digit code for her door to open. The black Cadillac Escalade EXT came into view, and she smiled. Seeing the monster always gave her a rush; the big reveal in the fancy garage made her feel like a movie star.
Movie star. She rolled her eyes. Now Alton was on her mind again. She glanced at the house. She hadn’t checked to see if he’d taken the truck yet. For all she knew, he’d gone already and come back. The light in his room was off.
Why did she care?
She climbed in the cab and turned on the headlights. She pressed the button clipped to her visor and watched the garage door close behind her. Then she put the truck in gear and drove to the gate. It opened automatically.
Rodney lived five miles away, down a maze of back roads that were familiar to Monroe. She pulled into the driveway of the trailer he shared with a friend on an acre of well-kept land. A two-car garage sat next to the home. Rodney came out to meet her before she could turn off the engine.
“Hey, ‘Roe,” he greeted as he hopped in the passenger’s seat and fastened his seatbelt.
“Hey, Rodney. Where’d you want to go tonight?”
“There’s only one place for drinks, isn’t there?”
“There is.” She smiled, but a feeling of dread washed over her.
She’d recommended that one place to Alton. Sh
it. She checked her hair in the mirror before pulling out of the driveway.
“You look good,” Rodney said.
“Thanks. You, too.”
Because of course she was checking her hair for Rodney. He relaxed into the seat and slung an arm around her shoulders, toying with her blond hair, coaxing Alton from her mind for once. She turned her head slightly and smiled at him. His dreamy, lopsided grin answered her.
“So what time’s the fire?” he asked.
“Ten, I think. I have to grab ice.”
He nodded, and they rode in comfortable silence until they reached the local bar. She parked her truck in the crowded gravel lot and turned off the ignition, but Rodney’s hand still stroked her hair, and his gaze was intense as his eyes captured hers.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” he said.
“Thanks for asking.”
“We’ll have fun.”
“I hope so.”
He withdrew his hand and slid down from the cab. Monroe unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped down. She pressed the remote lock on her keychain and twined her fingers with Rodney’s when he grasped her hand. It felt comfortable, natural.
But out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the dusty, beat up truck from Applewild and a rush of anxiety coursed through her veins. Her fingers must have tensed because Rodney brushed her skin tenderly with his thumb. He seemed to know just what to do, all the right moves. It should have made her swoon.
Alton had his back turned to the front door and windows. He sat at a table alone, facing a TV and holding a half-empty Stella Artois bottle in one hand. But that thick brown hair, worn jacket, and those strong, square shoulders told her instantly it was him.
How had she already memorized him so well? It was almost instinctive; the most carnal part of her liked what it heard, saw, and smelled and had imprinted him in her memory. She hadn’t paid half as much attention when she saw him on TV and in magazines. But Alton through her eyes was so much more captivating than Alton through the eyes of the paparazzi.
Instinct wasn’t playing fair.
He didn’t notice her arrival. She and Rodney found seats at the bar and ordered mixed drinks. There would be plenty of cheap beer at the bonfire. They chatted easily about work, horses, and trucks, but Monroe’s eye kept wandering to Alton’s hunched form. A waitress brought him another beer. Monroe tried to stay involved in the conversation with Rodney.
“I moved out of my parents’ house last year. Graduated college with an associate’s degree in Agriculture, but I’m working the store until my uncle can afford to take me on at his farm…” He trailed off and glanced behind him. “Are you checking that guy out?”
Monroe’s eyes shot back to his, and she thought she did a pretty good job of sounding indignant. “What? No.”
He seemed unconvinced, so she waved flippantly in Alton’s direction. “He’s staying at the farm right now. I was just curious.”
At that very moment, Alton turned to look at them. They were caught. But he just raised his beer bottle and nodded a greeting. Monroe waved and Rodney raised his glass before turning back to her.
“Should we invite him over?”
“No. God, no.”
Rodney seemed thoughtful. “He looks kinda familiar. Is he famous, too?”
Monroe took a sip of her Vodka 7. “First of all, I never admitted to working for a famous person. Second of all, if he were famous, I couldn’t say.”
“I love a mysterious woman.”
That cocky, boyish charm was back again. He spoke the words in a low, sexy voice that made her toes tingle. She smiled in spite of herself, and he leaned in to kiss her. It was slow and sensual. Warmth spread through her veins; awareness pricked her senses. But instead of said awareness making her more in tune with Rodney and his hot bod, she only became more aware of the fact they were being watched by Alton.
When the kiss ended, she glanced his way. His brown eyes were dark, but he turned back to the TV and took another swig of beer when he saw her looking. Rodney hadn’t noticed the exchange, and Monroe kept it that way, trying once again to pretend Alton didn’t exist. She held Rodney’s hand on the bar top and kept her eyes on him or her drink for the next fifteen minutes.
She was determined.
Then she heard a bottle break in Alton’s direction, and her focus shattered with it. She looked his way. He must have thrown it on the floor. He was fixated on the TV, and she followed his gaze. A picture of his ex-girlfriend with that lighting guy flashed on the screen. Only it was a new image. Taken just the day before. She hadn’t wasted any time moving on.
Monroe looked from Rodney to Alton, torn. But she already knew where she wanted to be. And so did Rodney.
“Monroe. Seriously. You’re leaving? Now?”
“I’m not leaving, exactly,” she said, the words sounding much less reasonable aloud than they had in her head. “We’ll see you at the bonfire.”
“You’re bringing him to the bonfire?”
“He’s really down right now.”
“I’m about to be.”
“I’ll pay for the drinks.”
“Is that supposed to make up for this?”
She couldn’t tell if his offense was honest or feigned, but she was distracted again. Alton was throwing cash on the table and about to head for the door. Monroe slid off the bar stool.
“No, of course not,” she said to Rodney. Then she paused and took a moment to really look at him. He didn’t seem as put-off as she expected. “Does it?”
“It’s a start.”
“Great. Thanks. Sorry.”
She threw down a twenty and went after Alton. He was just opening the door to the farm truck in the parking lot.
“Alton!” she yelled.
He turned reluctantly at the sound of her voice. He looked miserable—pissed and hurt and embarrassed all at the same time. Seeing him like this simplified things for her. At least for tonight. She liked being around him. He liked being around her. He needed a friend and some fun, and she could provide both.
“Do you want to come out with me tonight?”
His brow furrowed and he glanced through the window of the bar. “Where’s your date?”
“Do you want to or not?”
He seemed to consider his options before finally shutting the truck door. “Okay.”
“Keys,” she requested, holding out her hand.
Alton handed them over. Monroe ran back inside to Rodney and tossed them on the bar so they slid his way.
“See you at the fire!” she said, waving as she ran back out to Alton.
She led the way to her truck, unlocking it as she went. Alton glanced at the exterior. His eyes landed on the Cadillac logo. Monroe started the engine and waited for him to hop in. He fastened his seatbelt.
“You couldn’t afford college?” he said skeptically.
“This is why I couldn’t afford it.” She patted her steering wheel affectionately before backing out of the spot and driving down Main Street. She caught Alton’s eye. He didn’t seem judgmental, only curious, though she wasn’t exactly sure he had a right to that, either. “Did you go to college?”
“No. I was already doing what I wanted to do.”
“Me, too. It might not be much, but I’m happy. I love the farm, I love my horse, and I love this truck. That’s all I need.”
“Sounds like something out of a country song.”
“Do you listen to country?”
“I do not.”
“You’ve just heard people make fun of it?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.”
Monroe pulled into a convenience store parking lot and stopped in front of the ice bin. She put the truck in park but left the engine running. Alton unbuckled and got out with her.
“I’ll pay inside if you start tossing bags in the bed. Get thirty-five if they have enough.”
Alton didn’t protest or voice his obvious confusion as Monroe went in to pay at the register.
When she returned, he was dutifully loading ice. She reached in the bin to help.
“So where exactly are we going?” he asked. “And why the hell do we need all this?”
“There’s a bonfire. Wayne brings the music, we take turns bringing ice and hot dogs, and everyone else brings a case of beer.”
Alton stopped. “How many people will be there?”
“I don’t know. Twenty, maybe?”
“And they all have cell phones.”
“Probably.”
“With cameras.”
Monroe stopped, too, and wiped the condensation from her gloves on her shorts. Alton’s eyes followed the movement, and Monroe felt the tension. His blatant admiration of her thighs left no question as to what he wanted from her. She had a feeling seeing Sophie on TV had made him even more eager for a distraction. She shifted her hips. He realized he was staring and raised his eyes back to hers, but they were unapologetic.
“They’ll respect your privacy. I’ll make sure of it.”
“How?”
“I’ll ask them. Like a normal human being. These aren’t the paparazzi. These are people I went to school with.”
“Everyone is the paparazzi.”
“Would you rather go back to the farm?”
“With you?”
She shook her head and started tossing bags in the bed again.
Alton sighed. “No.”
“Then come on. Let loose a little. Sophie’s the one everyone wants to hate right now, anyway.” She slammed the tailgate back in place.
They got back in the truck. She put it in gear and drove through town until the only visible light came from the stars and the moon. Alton cracked his window and rested his head on the glass. The journey was silent, except for the last few crickets and frogs of the season.
Monroe turned down a back road and onto a bumpy dirt lane carved roughly in a cornfield. They drove until they came to a clearing backed by a patch of woods. Four trucks, a couple beat up cars, and an SUV were already parked.
The truck beds faced the fire pit and a few girls sat on the tailgates, swinging their feet while the guys got a fire going. Monroe parked facing the fire so the ice wouldn’t melt and hopped out. Alton followed suit.
