Notes in Love

by Hetherington, Megan

  I catch my breath and he leans in to whisper achingly close to my ear, “Sickening, ain’t it.”

  Not sure if he is joking, I try to decipher his expression. Even after my testing look, I’m not sure what I see there. But whatever it is, it isn’t welcome. I can’t afford to get amongst these people. They have a life interwoven with hope and future, and it’s not where I belong. I can’t forget that.

  Colt chuckles warmly and claps his hands together. “Right, better get back to it. These cows ain’t gonna fill out their own paperwork.” He stuffs the pencil behind his ear and plops his hat on his head, then stands at the island, studying the papers.

  Amber comes back into the kitchen area and stuffs her phone into her pocket. “What time are we heading to Visalia, Josie?”

  Josie looks up at Amber and then pulls Blue’s wrist toward her face so she can read his watch. “Couple of hours? I need to process the ranch payroll first.”

  I turn to wash the pots, feeling a little on the edge of their conversation.

  “Do you have Lacey’s employment details? So I can process that advance you asked for her.” I freeze at Josie’s reference to me, then glance over my shoulder at her.

  Amber screws up her lips. “No, I can’t remember what I did with Lacey’s form.”

  I eye the paper stashed between two books on the shelf and bite down on my tongue.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Josie says. “I’ll put a temporary code in for this month. We can sort it all out for next time. Is cash okay, Lacey?”

  I nod and smile.

  “I just need your surname and date of birth?”

  “Jones,” I blurt. I can’t remember what date I’d entered on the employment form so I latch onto the first number that pops into my head. “February 29… 1992.”

  Josie hesitates a moment, curling her lips. “022992,” she murmurs. And that’s when I realize it’s the code for the door to Mrs. Corrigan’s apartment. It’s as if my mind wants me to get caught, with the way I continually come up with these details. I flush up and look away, pleading over and over in my head for Josie not to call me out in front of everyone and willing Colt to leave the way he threatened to two minutes ago.

  Five

  Lacey

  My voice is hoarse from reading aloud for so long, so I take a sip of water, relishing the cool liquid as it soothes my throat. The roar of Amber’s Mustang draws me to the window. She and Josie head off to Visalia for the bachelorette party.

  I stuff my bottle of water down the arm of the chair and snuggle into the cushioned back to continue reading Notes in Love, a book I picked out from the bookshelf in the kitchen along with the employment form. I feel so shitty for hiding that form in my backpack, but I don’t know what else to do. Josie brought me cash in a small brown wages envelope and didn’t say a thing about the details I gave her earlier. Although the look she gave me when she handed the money over was a little weird. Or it could have just been me being paranoid.

  “Go on, lovey.” Mrs. Corrigan wafts her hand for me to carry on. Turns out this book was one she’d never read before. But instead of curling up to enjoy it on her own, she asked if I would read it to her. Which is fine with me. The jigsaws frustrate both of us.

  I trace my finger down the text to find where I’d stopped. “Coraline had never wanted Jack like that. In fact, Coraline had wanted no one like that. She even wondered if she was normal.”

  I curl my lips at that statement, reflecting on whether that applies to me. I almost laugh out loud that I even consider that question. No, I am not normal. And whether I want a man like that isn’t even a viable question. I resume reading. “Coraline removed herself from the room and took a moment to compose her demeanor. Her hand traveled to her heaving bosom in an attempt to calm her breaths.”

  I flick over the page, wondering how romantically detailed this book is likely to get. “Oh.”

  “What is it, lovey?” Mrs. Corrigan asks.

  “Um. Nothing.” I clear my throat and ignore the scribbled NO triple underlined in pencil in the margin of the book and carry on with the reading.

  “But she wasn’t alone for long before Jack flounced through the door. The brass handle ricocheted off the mahogany wood paneling that lined the cavernous hallway. ‘Where do you think you’re going without my permission?’ Coraline tried to break eye contact, but the way his glare darkened made her burst into tears…”

  I see what the NO refers to now, and I quite agree, Jack shouldn’t make her cry. He has misinterpreted her feelings toward him and now he’s become all dominant with her. That will never do. Coraline is not that kind of girl.

  “So, where was I?” I draw my fingertip over the paragraph. “Coraline flared her petite nostrils. ‘It’s none of your business, Jack, and never will be. Your actions speak volumes and I can never allow a man like you to trifle with my emotions.’ She huffed.” Yeah, you tell him, girl!

  Mrs. Corrigan shuffles in her seat. I’ve never seen her so interested in anything. Not the TV. Not the board games. Not even when she watches her own family drama around the dining table.

  “Jack narrowed his gaze. ‘But you misunderstand me, woman.’” I shake my head. I don’t think she does, dude. “Coraline sniffled back her tears and drew in a restorative breath. Her spine lengthened with resolve. ‘I’m certain I do not. You have shown your true colors to me, Jack Brownlee. And after everything I have given you.’ The cadence of her voice fought and won over her desire to keep calm.”

  I lift the book to decipher the small note at the edge of the text. They all show their true colors, eventually. “Hmm.”

  Mrs. Corrigan leans forward in her chair. “What was that, lovey? You must speak up, I can’t hear you.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about what Coraline said.”

  She nods in agreement.

  “So, you haven’t read this book before?” I rest my finger into the fold of the pages and examine the front cover—a hand-drawn image of a blonde-tressed woman in a flowing emerald gown, gazing wistfully into the eyes of a cravat-wearing gentleman. The curls of his hair are plastered to his forehead in the typical fashion of that era.

  “No. I told you that already. But I want to find out what happens. So don’t stop like you did with that jigsaw.”

  I laugh under my breath. Sure, I was sick of that last jigsaw of the Montana plains, but that’s because every piece of brown hued grassland looked just like the next. However, it was Mrs. Corrigan who scooped the pieces into the box.

  I skim my thumb over the 400 pages in the book. It will take a fair few days to finish at this rate. Oh well, I suppose there’s no hurry to move on from the ranch. And if I can wait until at least the first full round of wages comes along, I can travel legitimately to my next destination. I glance out of the window at the farm scene. We’re on the edge of everything here. One way in and one way out. And it’s at the other end of the spectrum from where my captors live. So, I suppose, that makes it not such a bad place to be.

  Mrs. Corrigan snuggles into the cushion behind her back, her head nestles on the padded head rest—a precursor for her morning nap—and I return my focus to the book. On the first page there’s a sticker from the Gunner Ridge Community Library.

  “Oh. It’s from the library in town.”

  Mrs. Corrigan doesn’t react.

  “And according to this stamp it should have been returned a year ago.”

  “Really, lovey?” Confusion scars her face and I don’t want to distress her, so I quickly read again until her eyelids droop shut.

  I finish my chores while Mrs. Corrigan naps, all the while thinking about the book and it being overdue. I figure the library will be a quiet place with not too many customers and definitely not full of the type of people I need to avoid. After a while of chewing it over, I leave the house and walk passed Colt’s pickup. It’s the only one in front of the house and I don’t feel I can take it as Amber suggests I should, with any of the vehicles parked out front. S
o I grab a lift from one of the ranch hands into town and leave a note for Colt that I will be back soon.

  The library is small but functional. Computers are set up in individual privacy booths and several racks of books are organized in lines across the main room. And fortunately, there’s no-one else around.

  I wait at the desk, looking out onto the street scene, people coming and going from Alma’s. Pickups galore. More cowboy hats than I’ve ever seen in my life, and women in jeans with knee-high boots, and scarfs tied around their necks.

  An assistant appears from a storeroom, hugging a pile of books close to her chest. She beams a friendly smile over them.

  “Can I renew this?” I hold up the offending book. “It’s overdue but I’m able to pay any fine.”

  She dumps the stack on the counter and comes to check the inside page of the book I’ve brought.

  “Sure.”

  She logs on to a computer set up on the counter; looking up at me a few times as she does.

  “Oh, okay so it’s registered to the Corrigans?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I’m Mrs. Corrigan’s companion.”

  She nods and taps more.

  “So, has it been loaned to many people before her?”

  “No. Just the Corrigans.”

  “Really. It’s just…” I stop short of revealing the scribblings in the book. I’m sure she would see that as defacement, and maybe I can erase the pencil marks before returning it. “It seems such a great story.”

  She grabs hold of the book and studies the cover. “Yeah, I love a good historical romance myself.”

  Fortunately, she passes it back without flicking through the pages; holding her hand aloft until the ticket machine stops printing. “Be sure to come back soon,” she says, handing me a receipt.

  Out on the street, I skip the main thoroughfare and walk back along the high road. I can skirt around the fence of the Corrigan Lands, like I did on that first time I came to the ranch. It will give me a chance to check on the ride I hid in the bushes.

  At first, I think I’ve missed it, and hold my hand to my brow as I squint against the high sun and look back toward town, but I keep my nerve and eventually I find the spot with branches I piled over it. The place I hid it, only looks different because new foliage and weeds have already grown around it.

  I peer through the thicket and see its black bodywork. It can stay there for now. But I need to think about whether I will use it again on my next stage, and if I do, I need to think of a way to get it started again. When it ran out of fuel, it made an awful noise and I think it might be damaged.

  Six

  Colt

  I drop my dirty boots on the porch and drag my tired ass into the homestead. It’s been a tough day and although I missed dinner tonight, I’m ready for my bed.

  One step inside and I pause, softly clicking the door shut so as not to disturb whoever’s singing in the kitchen. It’s not unusual for Amber to sing, but she’s away tonight with Josie in Visalia.

  The song sounds like one Mom listens to. Patsy Cline, maybe? Mom must have wandered down on her own. That new girl needs to be more careful, and I won’t be pleased if she hasn’t fed Mom tonight.

  Stifling a yawn, I sneak to the kitchen door. If it’s Mom, I don’t want to scare her. An aroma stops me in my tracks. Melted chocolate. It’s the best smell on Earth and gets me every time.

  A flash of blonde hair. I pull back in surprise. Is that Lacey?

  I rest my shoulder onto the doorjamb and cross my arms in front of my chest to watch the show.

  Lacey’s wearing Bluetooth headphones from our stereo system and she sings in a real pretty voice to what I now recognize as Closer to You by Carly Pierce. She doesn’t know all the words, just the chorus, and she hums in between. Her hips jut out as she pushes them repeatedly back and forth in front of the stove top, where she stirs a pan of chocolate. Her moves are kinda cute but also erotic. I lick my lips and let my gaze wander down her body. Her tank top hitches up her tiny waist, exposing pale skin. It’s like she’s never been in the sun.She dips her little finger into the chocolate and sucks off the silky dark liquid. I stifle a groan with my knuckle. My mind wraps around dirty thoughts of pouring the molten chocolate, drip by drip, over that gyrating ass of hers and licking it off.

  It must be the chorus now, as she ratchets up her voice and sings out loud, using the wooden stirring spoon as an impromptu fake mic. Her head snaps from side to side and strands from her pinned up hair fall in soft ringlets over her neck. My face breaks out into a shit-eating grin. She hasn’t said boo to a goose since she got here. Maybe this is the real Lacey giving me a private show. And whatever pleasure she gives to me, I’ll give her right back, topped with cherries. If only she’ll let me.

  She turns, her eyes closed, as she powers out the last line.

  Fuck. She’s one chocolate covered hot mess. There’s a streak across her cheek and drops from the spoon on her top. I reckon I could easily hook her under my arm and carry her up to my room, where I’d put her over my knee and spank that pert backside of hers as punishment for being so fucking damn irresistible.

  My phone beeps in my pocket. I rush to silence it and the movement catches Lacey’s eye.

  Darn.

  She jumps back, startled, like a little bird scurrying around in the undergrowth. She pulls the spoon to her chest, then hurtles it at me like a circus knife. I duck, and it hits the back wall. A framed picture of one of our prize bulls smashes to the floor and shards of glass skitter across the tiles.

  “Woah.” I cautiously straighten.

  Her cheeks blotch with red patches, and she rips the headphones off her ears.

  “Good you wasn’t holding a knife right then.” I chuckle.

  My eyes drop to a smudge of chocolate on her tank top and a peaked nipple poking at the white cotton next to it. I groan at visions of sucking the fabric and nipping the tight bud with my teeth.

  “What the hell?” She folds her arms tightly across her chest at my continuing stare.

  Feisty, too. I smile and tip my head toward the pan. “What you doing with that chocolate?”

  “I… um…”

  “Well, if you’ve got no plans, I can tell you exactly what I’d like to do with it,” I joke.

  She huffs, which makes me chuckle. I think she’s game for a little banter.

  Brushing against me, she squats near the floor and picks up the broken glass.

  I bend down near her, close to her face.

  “Hey, no need to do that.” I grab at the picture, and she darts her hand back.

  “Ouch.” She drops the pieces and presses her thumb to the center of her palm.

  I take hold of her hand and draw it to my face, there’s a small cut on the pad of her thumb and blood seeps from it. I latch onto her smoky gray eyes, and without breaking my stare, press my lips to the cut. Sucking and kissing it while she watches in amazement. Metallic tasting blood floods my mouth, and as the wound cleans, the taste of her skin with a hint of cocoa drives me insane.

  My phone beeps again, and she pulls her hand away.

  Goddammit.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, picking up the broken picture and placing it on the bookshelf then scooting back to the kitchen to grab a dustpan and brush from under the sink.

  “It’s no problem,” I say, distracted by my phone continuing to vibrate. Shaking my head at my misplaced response, I pull my phone from my pocket. I’m annoyed that not once but twice my phone has interrupted us. And that is not something Lacey should be sorry for. That’s all down to me.

  It’s another text from Louise, asking to hook up again.

  Me: Rules.

  The phone rings and I push it onto silent.

  Then another text.

  Louise: Fuck your rules.

  Me: No.

  Louise: Please Colt. I can’t stop thinking about that night.

  Me: No.

  Louise: What you did to me though… OMG.

&nb
sp; Me: Sorry no. One time.

  I glance up from my phone and Lacey stands in front of me, her tiny fists curled up onto her hips. The dustpan and brush hanging down her leg. “You’re unbelievable.”

  I raise my brows at her. “How so?”

  “You sneak up on me… do that thing to my hand.” She opens wide her palm, the blood seeping back through the wound on her thumb. “Then… you…” The anger pulses freely from her slender body and I want to throw her on the couch and turn her anger in passion. But I won’t.

  “Hold your horses.” I try to coax her from the ten-foot-high perch she has flown to. “I was only trying to help.”

  “I doubt that very much. You think because you’re a boss around here, I’d succumb to your advances. Well, I’ve got news for you, Colt Corrigan, I’m not that girl.”

  I take a step back, dump the spoon into the pan of now curdled chocolate, turn off the gas on the stove and hold my hands up as I pass her.

  “Asshole,” she murmurs as I pass.

  “Fuck,” I spit out as I climb the stairs. I upset Lacey, and she didn’t deserve that. My actions were out of order. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I shake my head at how low I’ve sunk. It’s like my hookups at the Green Parrot have defined me. And set in stone the thoughts I have about all women. That’s not me.

  I slam shut the door to my room and pad through to the bathroom where I turn on the shower. The water flows hot, steam pulses from the shower head while I peel off my clothes. Bracing myself for the scalding water, I step in and let it beat against my head.

  I never get to know the women I hook up with. And I never go with anyone desperate, but it seems there is still a risk that someone gets hurt and that is never my intention. I can’t keep doing that to them. They don’t deserve it.