Chapter Six
FLORA
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“HOW WAS THE water pressure this evening?” Dani waggles her eyebrows when I step out of the bathroom.
She’s already showered, her face is flawless, her hair braided down one side, and she is dressed to impress in a cute denim outfit.
“It was incredible, thank you.” It’s more like my revenge on Thorn was incredible.
I wonder if he’s still sitting there, tied up and livid? Or did his brother rescue him? Maybe a lodge employee went to double-check the room and found him lassoed in his little predicament. That would be the perfect outcome. However, even better would be if he knocked over the chair and lay sprawled out on the floor when rescued. The possible outcomes are endless.
I shut the door to the bathroom we are sharing with our aunts. I tuck in the edge of the towel and snuggly secure it around my body.
“After your playtime with Thorn Slater, I bet you burst into an explosive orgasm the second that stream hit your coochie.” Her moan muffles into the material of the denim dress she yanks over her head. “That Thorn looks as smooth as sweet tea and twice as tempting.”
She tosses it on one of the queen-size log beds in a chaotic pile of mixed fabrics bunched up and twisted inside out.
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but Thorn doesn’t do it for me.”
That will be the case from here forward. Yes, I almost fell into his charm and banged him on the chair. Yes, every speck of my being wanted to strip down and ride him into an explosive release. Then he spoke and reminded me I wasn’t the only girl he shared his Stetson with that summer.
I could’ve walked away. I could’ve been the adult I am, but something sparked inside me, and I wasn’t feeling that generous.
I pat another towel against my damp hair before I drape it over the arm of one of the chairs by the stone fireplace. Our room is small but a cozy haven. The dark, rich colors, rustic wood walls, beams along the ceiling, and traditional decor create a Southern charm. Add in the throw pillows and blankets in festive holiday prints, and it’s an indoor winter wonderland.
I unzip my suitcase and begin unpacking my belongings into the dresser. After the weekend, I’ll be packing them right back up and leaving—again. I’ll be leaving Rocky Ridge Creek, my family, my childhood. And it’s what I want. But for whatever reason, a sense of home clings to me like the humid southern December air.
“Do you like this one?”
I glance over my shoulder at the skintight black mini-dress my sister has changed into. “The denim was cuter.”
“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for ride me hard, cowboy.”
I can’t help the smile that creeps on my lips.
“I saw that,” my sister teases. “Is someone maybe having a good time back home with her family and friends?”
Does my sister not realize she was my only friend growing up? Her, my camera, and bookcase of novels—except the summer I unintentionally spent with Thorn. Lord, he was irritating, chasing me around, somehow always managing to find me no matter what hidden trail I traveled—then acting like he wanted to spend time with me. I took the bait, fell for the cowboy, and he broke my heart. But my sweet revenge makes it all better.
“It’s nice to be back.” It’s not a lie. I miss Dani and even my wild aunts. “But it’s also nice to leave too.”
She clicks her tongue at me.
When I find my plaid pajamas, I pull the warm flannel up my legs.
“What are you doing?”
I slide my arms in the shirt and begin buttoning up the front. “Getting dressed.”
“No. You’re putting on your pajamas.”
I turn to my sister. “You like? I have them in three colors: red, pink, and green. You can have a pair.”
My sister gawks at me, wearing only her lace bra and barely what you could define as panties. “Whether I like them or not isn’t the point—which I don’t—the point is you’re supposed to be putting on an outfit for supper.”
“I’m not going.”
“What do you mean you’re not going?”
“I mean, I’m staying in to watch a Christmas movie and eat a ridiculous amount of cookies.” It’s my favorite holiday pastime.
“Did something happen today?” A seriousness I’m not used to washes over my sister’s face.
“Lots happened today. We haven’t stopped going since I arrived, which is the perfect excuse to order supper and veg out on the couch.”
“I mean with Thorn.” She shimmies a denim skirt up her legs. “Did something happen with Thorn?”
“No. Why would anything happen with Thorn?” Did I answer too fast? Did my voice rise too sharply at the end? Did I sound accidentally excited?
I order my face to stay blank, but I know my eyes flash my inner turmoil.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No.” But almost. I was so damn close to repeating my mistakes.
“Then why are you wearing that weird, guilty, but pleased look all over your face? Like you did something you’re trying not to be proud of.” She pauses to reevaluate her statement. “Not that guilty is a word you should associate with nailing Thorn.”
“I didn’t nail Thorn.”
“What did you do then? Kiss? Was it a kiss? Are you feeling guilty about a kiss?” Her voice deepens. “You would feel guilty about sharing a kiss.”
“It’s not about a kiss.” However, I can still taste his delicious lips.
“You’re leaving me in the dark here.”
“Maybe you deserve to be in the dark. You’re too nosey. Go out and nail your cowboy.”
“No, no, no.” She grabs my arm when I try to pass her. She clears her throat. “Tell me what happened?”
I cross my arms under my breasts, wondering where to start. “Yesterday, I called him promiscuous. Yes, those were my exact words. I didn’t want to be like, back in the day, you were a giant manwhore who likely did the hanky-panky with my sister—”
Dani shudders. “Ew. Gross. He’s like a hundred.”
“He’s my age.”
“Like I said, a hundred.” She squeezes my hand and sincerely says, “trust me, I’ve never slept with Thorn Slater.”
“I’m not worried. I don’t care what Thorn does. He’s free to do what he likes with whom he chooses. I just clarified to him that that person isn’t me.”
“Thorn never had the same reputation as his brother and dad.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I pull from her grasp to grab a brush off the dresser and run it through my damp hair.
“I’m not wrong.” My sister debates another outfit in the full-length mirror. “He had a bad reputation. He and Theo were notorious for their reckless antics. Jail was their second home, and their first home was a hotspot for wild parties—generally thrown by their drunken dad, but don’t mistake partying and sex. Those are two very different things.”
“Are they?”
She sighs. “After you left, slowly, those parties stopped. Thorn took his dad’s rundown ranch and spent the last ten-plus years bringing it back to life. I don’t say this often because I look at Uncle Elmer and our shitty dad, but Thorn is one of the good guys. The ones we never thought existed. And maybe you should stop being such a southern belle and give him a chance.”
“A chance to what?” The brush rattles on the dresser when I drop it.
“You know.”
“I don’t know.” I fold my arms again, and my nails dig through the material and into my flesh. Much like the way I dragged them down Thorn’s rock-hard chest.
“To, you know, marry you.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Those were his words.”
“No. His words were to steal my heart.”
“Which, in turn, means marry, move back here, give me lots of nieces and nephews, and live happily ever after in Rocky Ridge Creek.”
I lean on my back leg and tap my foot while I examine my sister. “You’re not telling me something.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“I don’t know why you’re suddenly ‘team Thorn’”—I air quote the last two words—“but you don’t know him as I do. You don’t know what happened at those parties.”
“I am quite versed in what happened at those parties. I attended one or two.”
“Yeah, well, so did I.”
My sister gives a half-hearted smile. “No, you didn’t.”
“I watched from afar and saw exactly who Thorn Slater is.”
My sister’s know-it-all look disappears. “What did you see?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She races to the door and splays her body against it, blocking my exit. “Did he hurt you? Is that why you left? You tell me, Flora. You tell me now. I’ll hurt him. I’ll hunt him down and show him no one messes with a Rowe.”
I already did. And I did it well.
No more sad me replaying the summer Thorn took my virginity, and I spent it thinking I was madly in love with him, only to find out he was sleeping with other girls. No more pity parties because I can’t seem to get him out of my head because no man has ever treated me like he did. And I’m finished thinking I’m still madly in love with him.
“I moved out of state for a career and a better life than here. Don’t mistake a summer fling with Thorn as anything but a fling.” I plan to remember these wise words and how quickly I made him hard before walking away.
“Oh.” She steps aside when I pull open the door.
“And I’m not going to dinner to rehash a fling that was no more than a fling.” I exit before she can stop me. I’m not avoiding Thorn. I’d prefer to live alone in the glory of my sweet revenge.
“Flora, you’re being unreasonable.” She chases me out, her perky excitement back ten times stronger.
Great.
“What’s going on?” Aunt Rita tilts back the wine bottle she’s pouring into her purse—what does she call it—her Sip N Stroll Purse.
Her eyes dart back and forth between me and my sister.
“According to Dani, Thorn is prime property, and I should buy all he offers. At least, according to Dani.” I grab a glass from the cupboard and tip it toward my aunt’s wine bottle.
“Don’t listen to this one.” My aunt isn’t frugal, and the lush red liquid reaches the edge of my glass. “She’s been spotted with the Quylt sisters.”
Dani groans. “Honestly, Aunt Rita. You’re either in or you’re out. You don’t get to play in the middle.”
“Spotted doing what?” My sentence ends in a gasp. I straighten so quickly the liquid sloshes over the brim of the cup. “Dani, you have not!”
Of all the things I considered when coming back to Rocky Ridge Creek, being in the center of a matchmaking scheme wasn’t one of them. And to have my sister involved, bleh.
“Don’t be wasteful.” My aunt sips my glass while she strategically mops the stone counter surface.
“I don’t know what any of you are talking about.” My sister spins and retreats to her room faster than she followed me out.
“Now I can’t believe a word you say about him!” I shout behind her. “The sisters blind you!”
She slams the door as her reply.
I move the cup away from my aunt. “Why would she help them to set me up with Thorn Slater?” I sip, enjoying the pear, apple, and honey notes. “She doesn’t even believe in marriage.”
“Sweetheart”—my aunt’s hand covers the one I’m resting flat on the counter—“to keep you here.”
She pats my hand before twisting a corkscrew into another bottle of wine.
“I’m not moving back to Rocky Ridge Creek. Especially not for some cowboy who can’t keep it in his pants.”
“Then I guess you better spend the week focused on not allowing him to steal your heart.” She glances up from filling the plastic lining in her purse. “As his intentions were made clear as a blue sky.”
I don’t tell her Thorn stole my heart a long time ago. Or how he broke it when I snuck to his dad’s ranch one night and watched him leave the barn shirtless to a bonfire party with a brunette wearing his Stetson—the Stetson he claims looks so good on me.
“I’ll spend the weekend focused on the calendar. Tonight, I’ll stay in and edit today’s photos to send them to the calendar designer, who will send them off to the printer so they’ll be ready on Sunday.” I gulp the rest of my drink and hold it out for a refill.
“Good choice.” My aunt beams with pride, tipping the bottleneck.
I didn’t say I was going to spend the evening sober. The liquid pours into the glass with a satisfying slosh.
Rita slides a gaze down my pajamas. “You can’t wear that to dinner.” Now, she sounds like my sister.
“I’m not going to dinner.”
The front door swings open, and giggles chuckles, and moans sweep inside. So does my married feisty aunt, in the arms of a cowboy I don’t recognize—and half her age.
“Hell, yes, that’s the spot.” Her squeal is deafening.
I try to make a quick exit, beelining toward my bedroom door, but my drunken Aunt Rita grabs my arm and shakes her head. “Shhh.”
The cowboy kicks the door shut with his boot like he’s done this a bazillion times, balancing my aunt and moving his mouth over her bursting cleavage.
I open my mouth to object. Discussing and witnessing my aunt cheat on my uncle are two entirely different things. My Aunt Rita presses a finger against my mouth and shakes her head. No sooner do we have a silent back-and-forth argument, and that grunting cowboy carried my aunt to their room and slammed the door shut behind them.
“It’s easier not to get in the way.” My aunt drops her finger and finishes filling her purse with wine.
“Wait, was that my cowboy?” My sister stands in our doorway, and I see her undergarments through the lace dress.
“What are you talking about?”
She jumps in the spot and points at our aunt’s bedroom door. “Flora, that was my lipstick-wearing candy cane cowboy!” She belts a laugh, and it takes me a second to put it all together. Then I buckle over in laughter with her.
“I don’t understand.” My Aunt Rita continues filling her bag with social lubricant.
“Oh yes, baby, do it hard!” At my Aunt Peggy-Ann’s request, a loud thud strikes the door, and we jump.
Dani stops mid-laugh. “Wait. Ew.” Her nose wrinkles. “Gross.”
The door continues to bang, at what I’m guessing is thrust after thrust after thrust—and like my sister said, ew, gross.
I hold up my hands. “I understand we are all adults here, but this isn’t a desire den—”
“Oh, I like that name,” my sister cuts me off.
“It’s a keeper,” my aunt adds.
I groan. “Y’all aren’t knocking boots in these rooms for the entire weekend. I am working, and I need a nice normal atmosphere to watch sweet romantic Christmas movies and snack on cookies without—”
“Pull my hair!”
I point at the door. “Without this.”
The thud against the door grows louder, as do my aunt’s screams of bliss.
With a firm twist, my Aunt Rita tightens the lid of the compartment embedded inside her purse and slings it over her shoulder. “Are you staying to enjoy this little desire den in action?”
“Love it,” my sister says to our aunt.
I glare at both of them and gulp down the second glass.
“That’s my girl. Hurry up and get changed.” Aunt Rita swats my rear end as I walk away.
“I’m not going to dinner, though.”
“That’s fine. We’ll hit The Lodge Lounge for some sister quality time, and I have the perfect dress for you.” She also slaps my ass as she rushes by to grab me a dress from her clothing mountain.
It’s no wonder I’m a hot mess. The good news is, I’m sure I’ve chased Thorn Slater out of the lodge with his tail between his legs.