Chapter 3 – Ramona
Chapter Three
Ramona
“ T his right here is the best place in the world,” I mumble to myself before patting Bluebell softly on her shoulder.
The sun is descending toward the horizon, painting the sky in orange, pink, and purple hues. The once lush green grass, filled with colorful flowers, has turned a dull shade of brown. The world is preparing for a winter full of cloudy skies and large amounts of rain. We rarely get snow, but with how temperamental the weather is in the area, who knows what the winter holds for us? I usually make sure the fold heads back toward the farm by this time, but who knows how much longer they’ll be able to graze on the fresh grass with winter coming. I glance at my watch and sigh. If we don’t get a move on, it will be well past dark when I finally get the cattle back to the farm and settled for the night, but I’m not in as much of a rush as usual.
“How about we get these cows headed home? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Bluebell neighs softly as I kick my heel, moving toward the cattle grazing a few yards away. It’s not long before Bluebell and I have the fold heading back toward the farm. They already know where they are going. My job is just to make sure they all get there in one piece.
If anyone had told me when I was younger that I’d end up being a ranch hand, I’d have laughed in their face. Growing up, I planned to go to culinary school and become a world-renowned chef. My parents wanted me to do something more practical like them. Become a scientist or a lawyer, but that wasn’t my passion. I wanted to warm people's hearts with my food, just like my dad did with his for me. No matter what ailed me, he had a special dish he just knew would make me feel better. I used to think it was magic, but as I grew up, I learned he put a piece of himself into every dish, and I wanted to do that for others at some point, but that wasn’t in the cards for me. Life doesn’t always go as planned, but we have two choices. We can either cry about it or make the best of the hand we were dealt. I chose the latter and haven’t looked back once.
The shrill ring of my cell phone pierces the silence, and I pull it from my back pocket. This better be an emergency if someone is calling my phone while I’m out with the cattle. Any self-respecting person would’ve sent a text otherwise. Phone calls are reserved for emergencies only.
“Your butt better be on your way to The Chill Zone with Darius and not still sitting on the back of Bluebell,” Alise, resident pain in my ass, deadpans through the phone.
“No, it’s exactly where you think it is because someone said they’d take him to practice for me today so I could let the fold graze a little later than usual.”
Darius has been looking forward to the first day of hockey practice for months. He started middle school this year, and it’s been an adventure, to say the least. He has had a hard time finding his place at school since he moved to Redwood Falls from Portland a few years ago. I wish there was a way for us to have kept his life exactly how it was, but it just wasn’t possible. We had to adjust, and we have… mostly. We’ve had some bumps along the way, but he’s a great kid. Although I know nothing about hockey, or any sport, for that matter, he was adamant about joining the team. Who was I to say no? As long as he keeps his grades up and gets his chores done, he can do anything he wants. Well, within reason. He is only a twelve-year-old boy, after all.
“Mona, I love you with all of my cold, dead heart, but if you don’t get your ass to the rink immediately, I’m going to kick it.”
“What’s so important that I have to be there right this moment? It’s the first practice; nothing major should be happening yet, right? Just equipment and stuff.”
I might need to rethink coming out here without a coat. It was in the mid-seventies when I left the farm with the cattle this afternoon, but I forgot to account for the temperature drop the minute the sun went down. It’s mid-October, my favorite time of year, but it’s been unseasonably hot this year. Instead of my usual heavy coat and sweater, I only have on a flannel shirt, rolled to the elbows, a dark pair of jeans, and my riding boots. I didn’t even put my hat on today, choosing to let my locks hang loosely around my shoulder.
“And the coaches' meeting.” I can hear Alise rolling her eyes at me all the way over here.
Between my mom’s doctors and therapy appointments, my therapy appointment, my shifts at my two different jobs, Darius’s school activities, and now adding sports to the mix, there’s always the potential that I’ll miss something. “But I thought the meeting was near the end of practice, which hasn’t even started yet.”
“It hasn’t, but you need to get your cute behind over here right now, and make it quick.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now. I need to get the cattle back to the farm and take care of Bluebell. I’ll be there before the meeting at 7:30.”
“But you’ll miss everything,” Alise whines into the phone, causing me to roll my eyes.
My best friend has always had a flair for the dramatic, much like my older sister, Imani. Those two were the reason our mommas got so many grey hairs before they turned forty. I’m the exact opposite, not wanting to make waves and trying my best to blend into the background, but Alise and I clicked. Most people assume it’s because we are both in mixed-raced families, but they’re wrong. Alise is the ying to my yang, and I would be completely lost without her. However, no matter how much I love her, she hasn’t given me one reason to rush to the ice rink right now.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just head right home to shower and curl up in bed,” I respond, stopping in the middle of the road to make sure there aren’t any stragglers before moving closer toward home.
“Cooper Hendrix,” She squeals into the phone as if I should know who this person is.
I know Ms. Peggy’s best friend/sister is Melanie Hendrix. Is this one of her boys? I haven’t seen any of them around town recently, but I think there was someone named Cole Hendrix I graduated with. Maybe they’re related? If the stories people say about small towns are true, there’s a strong possibility they’re all related somehow. Mother, brother, son, nephew… Who knows? The sky's the limit.
“Girl, he’s fine.” Alise sighs before giggling softly. “I guess I should’ve started the conversation with that, huh?”
“Ya think?” I roll my eyes, even though I know damn well she can’t see me. Alise is forever trying to set me up with someone, claiming I need some “fun” in my life. “But it doesn’t matter what you have planned, the answer is no. This Cooper Hendrix isn’t a good enough reason for me to rush there right this second.”
“Have you been living under a damn rock, Ramona?” she screeches as I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment. “Cooper Hendrix is my brother from another mother. The longest-serving captain in the Portland Timberwolves’ history. He’s brought home three Stanley Cups and lord knows how many Western Conference Championships since joining the team right after high school.”
“Oookaaaaayyyy.” I drag out the word, trying to understand why the heck any of that should matter to me. “But if he’s your brother from another mother, and I’m your sister from another mister, doesn’t that mean he and I are related?”
“I’m working on that right now,” Alise mumbles, barely loud enough for me to hear, and I burst out laughing.
“Oh, no. Not another setup, Lise. I can’t take it. Not again.”
Alise means well, but she feels the need to set me up with any red-blooded male with a friendly smile. She always forgets to ask important questions like whether they are married or have their own apartment. Yes, it’s happened, and it was as mortifying as you would expect. After the last time, I made her promise she would stop with the matchmaking.
“It’s not a setup, per se. He’s Darius’s new hockey coach.”
I let her statement of “per se” go for once, focusing on the matter at hand. “Okay, I can get behind that, but I don’t understand why I have to come right now.”
It’s silent for a few moments before Alise huffs loudly into the line. “Because Annamarie and her plastics are here, and I want to commit murder.”
Now we are getting to the heart of the matter. Annamarie and her friends are stereotypical mean girls. No, seriously, I mean it. If that movie hadn’t been released the year we were born, I would believe they used them as inspiration for Regina George and her plastics. A group of wealthy, well-known, and attractive girls who’ve been told their entire lives they are special when they aren’t. Products of living in a small town with small ideas. If any of them ever left this place, they’d know they ain’t shit. Maybe that’s the reason they haven’t stepped foot out of town: the fear of being insignificant.
The only thing I know is if Cooper Hendrix, whoever he is, has gained the attention of Annamarie Sutton and her court, I feel sorry for him. Nothing good ever comes from being the center of their attention. And I’m speaking from experience. Thankfully, I had Alise, the perfect person to protect anyone from the things that go bump in the night. Cooper and Alise are close, so depending on his desire to have said attention will depend on whether I have to worry about my best friend ending up in a jail cell tonight or not. Alise has a temper on her, and Annamarie loves to push her buttons. No matter how you look at it, this situation is a recipe for disaster if I’ve ever seen one.
Alise continues to tell me all about her run-in with Annamarie earlier today, but I tune her out. This isn’t anything new between the two of them. When Alise has a run-in with her, she always calls me. I let her ramble to her heart’s content, not really listening to anything she is saying. I “oh” and “ah” in all the right places and even gasp a few times for maximum effect as I maneuver Bluebell through the fence and signal for her to stop. I check back into the call to make sure Alise is still on one of her tangents before tucking my cell phone into the pocket of my shirt and hopping off. The last thing I want to do is hunt down cattle in the morning as the sun rises. I made that mistake only once. Never again. I quickly shut the gate tightly behind us before striding back toward Bluebell.
The moment I settle back on the horse, I grab my phone and bring it back to my ear. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Nope.” I giggle softly before clicking my heels into Bluebell's side, signaling her to a trot.
“I feel the love.” Alise is silent for a few moments before she speaks again. “Are you coming or not? I look amazing in orange, but I really want to see who wins The Voice this season.”
“They have cable in county jail.”
“Ramona.”
“Alise,” I respond with just as much annoyance. I could dig my heels in and go home to shower before heading to The Chill Zone, but the nagging voice in my head is telling me to go. I’m finished with my work for the day, and Alise apparently needs me to stop her from committing murder. She has always been there for me whenever I needed her, no questions asked. The least I can do is to be there for her, too.
“Fine. I just have to get the saddle off Bluebell and get her back to her stall. I can be there in twenty.” I check my watch again to make sure I’m not lying to my best friend as the stables come into view.
“Don’t you want to stop at home and shower first?”
“No, you take what you can get. No shower, but I promise to make sure there’s no straw in my locs this time.”
“Thank the Lord for that.”
“Don’t commit murder before I get there.”
“I make no promises. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I respond before shoving my phone into my back pocket and climbing off Bluebell. I wrap her reins around the post outside the stable and get to work. After removing the saddle and bridle, I give her a good brush down before leading her toward her stall for the night. I make sure she has everything she needs to have a good night’s sleep before closing the stall door behind me.
“Night, Bluebell. Sweet dreams.” I smile as Bluebell neighs, and I head back toward the front of the barn. On my way out, I grab the tack and my saddle to return to their proper place. Mr. Matthison is on his way toward me as I shut the door.
If you were to imagine a cowboy in your head, that’s exactly how he looks. He’s wearing a pair of faded Wrangler jeans tucked into his boots and a flannel shirt. The outfit wouldn’t be complete without his worn brown cowboy hat, the brim positioned perfectly to shade his eyes from the setting sun because God forbid he step foot out of the house without his hat on.
“Headed out for the night?” he asks, his silver walrus mustache turning up at the corners as he smiles softly.
“Yeah. Darius has his first hockey practice tonight, and there is a parent meeting. Don’t want to miss any important information.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. Have a good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Matthison.” I wave at him over my shoulder before jogging to my car.
The moment I’m inside, I pull the visor down and check my locs for hay, picking a few pieces out and dropping them out my window. Once I’m pretty sure it’s all out, I reach into my bag and grab the body spray Alise insists I keep for moments like this. I circle my head, ensuring to spray it a few times to mask any unwanted animal smell, before dropping it back into my bag. Pulling my shirt to my nose, I inhale deeply, ensuring I smell like apples instead of livestock, before turning the car on. Thankfully, the rink isn't too far as I pull down Matthison Farms' long drive and turn right onto the main road heading toward town.
I pull into the parking lot with three minutes to spare and rush inside. I come busting through the double doors like a bull in a china shop, but no one even looks in my direction. The entire rink is packed, every person focused on whatever is happening on the ice. This Cooper Hendrix must really be as big of a deal as Alise said because this seems a little excessive for a twelve-year-old hockey team practice.
“I’m never going to find Alise in this mess,” I mumble to myself, pulling out my phone and dialing her number.
“Are you here yet? Please tell me you are,” Alise whines, causing me to giggle.
“I am, but I doubt I’ll be able to find you with all these people here. Who knew practice would be so on and poppin’?”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with watching practice. Everyone wants a free show. Tickets to the Timberwolves games are scarce.”
I move closer to the ice as the loud shrill of the whistle fills the area. The deep baritone of the coach echoes around the arena. “Two laps.”
I watch as the players take off around the ice. Their arms are pumping back and forth, their sticks gliding across the ice as they make it around the net and head in my direction. My eyes scan the pack, searching for Darius, instantly looking for his curly hair, but I come up short. All the kids have the same black jersey with numbers on the back, black pants, and helmets, which makes it almost impossible to tell them apart. I vaguely remember him saying something about position numbers, but honestly, I wasn’t listening. My job is to get him to and from practice and games, nothing more. If I pick up a few things along the way, so be it, but sports really aren’t my thing.
There’s an older gentleman standing in the center of the ice, watching the boys make their way around the rink for a final time. I can’t see much of his face, just a glimpse of his chiseled jawline before I hear someone shout my name. Spinning around, I catch sight of Alise waving her hands wildly over her head, motioning for me to come towards her. I smile and wave back before making my way toward her, excusing myself as I walk by each person.
“You’re just in time. Coop just got here.” Alise wraps her arms through mine before pointing toward the opposite corner. Just as I look up, everyone in the crowd cheers loudly. A cacophony of noise batters my senses as I notice a man gliding across the ice. He has a pair of grey sweatpants on and what I presume is a dark green hockey jersey. There’s a gigantic wolf layered over two hockey sticks in the center, the same as the boys’ jerseys, and a large C on the left side of his chest. His head is cast down, but I notice his lips moving slightly, as if he’s praying before he comes to a stop near the older man. The two embrace, and my eyes widen in shock.
“Umm, Alise,” I whisper, tapping furiously on my friend’s arm. My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I duck my head, allowing my locs to cover my face. “Alise.” I can’t believe this is happening. I would love nothing more than for the earth to open right now and swallow me whole, but I doubt I’m that lucky. How could I have missed this? Sure, Alise always talks about Coop, but how am I supposed to know that is his name? She has nicknames for everyone, but Coop doesn’t always have to equate to someone’s name being Cooper, right?
I tug on her arm a few more times to get her attention before she finally turns toward me, annoyance clear on her face. “What the heck is wrong with you?”
“ImetCooperthismorningatthecattlecrossingandmayhaveflirtedwithhim,” I mumble softly, looking around to make sure no one around us heard me.
Unlike Alise and about 90 percent of the population of Redwood Falls, Oregon, I didn’t grow up here. When my dad lost his job, my parents knew we needed to get out of Detroit for good. They made an adventure out of it, taping a large map of the US on the wall of our tiny living room, and asked Imani and me to choose where we wanted to live. We all agreed we wanted to see the ocean, so Dad started looking for jobs. He snagged a job at a steel company in Portland, and we packed up the U-Haul and headed west. Imani and I begged to live in the heart of the city, but Mom and Dad wanted a house with a backyard, so we ended up in Redwood Falls.
The closest I’ve ever been to a hockey game is whatever is playing on the TVs at The Pit Stop whenever I’m working. I have no idea about any of the players or even what they look like, so how could I have known that the incredibly gorgeous man with soulful chocolate brown eyes that I flirted with this morning was Cooper Hendrix?
“Repeat that, please.” Alise’s body stiffens in my arms as her head slowly turns in my direction, her eyes narrowed slightly.
“No.”
“Yes, because there is no way in hell that you could’ve already met Cooper and not spilled the tea.” Alise’s voice raises slightly as I cover her mouth with my hand. The last thing I need is to grab someone’s attention. It’s bad enough that I flirted with him, but it’s even worse that I had no freaking idea who he was. He must have gotten a good laugh out of that.
“I ran into him at the cattle crossing today. He was waiting for the herd to finish crossing the road.”
“Okay. I still don’t see a reason for you to be freaking out right now.”
Alise doesn’t know. I don’t flirt… ever. I don’t have time for relationships between work and taking care of Darius. But there was something about the way Cooper was looking at me that made me want to know more about him, even if he was just passing through town. I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, a person, someone who deserved to be noticed and not blend into the background. So, instead of blowing him off like I usually do I flirted back, or at least in my mind, I did. If I’m being honest, I don’t have much experience with the opposite sex, but would I have done the same if I knew who he was? I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter because the one thing I know about Cooper Hendrix is that he’d never be interested in someone like me.
“I may have flirted with him some.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my shy best friend?” Alsie laughs loudly, turning her entire body to face me, gripping both my hands in hers. “Tell me everything, and don’t leave out a single detail.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He wanted to bring Bluebell some apples.”
“I doubt that was all Cooper wanted,” Alise whispers, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Oh, this won’t end well for me. Before I can react, Alise stands up and waves her arms above her head while shouting Cooper’s name. His head snaps in our direction, and our eyes lock on each other. My cheeks heat for what feels like the millionth time in the last hour as I tuck a few of my locs behind my ear, my eyes looking anywhere but at the man standing in the middle of the ice.
“He’s looking at you.” Alise bumps my shoulder, motioning for me to turn toward him.
A knowing smirk covers his face as he glides toward us. My heart instantly shoots up into my chest as my head swivels back and forth, searching for a place to escape.
“Oh, no, you don’t. We’re going to talk to him,” Alise commands, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the few steps toward the glass.
I can’t do this. It’s one thing to talk to this man when he was just a stranger passing through town, but this is entirely different. He’s the town golden boy, a professional hockey player, and probably not the type to want relationships or put down roots.
“I’m not asking you to marry him, Mona. Just say hello and see where things go,” Alsie whispers, shoving me toward the glass.
“Hello again.” His voice glides over my skin like silk, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Hello,” I squeak out, his warm brown eyes locking with mine.
We both just stand there, staring at each other like two lunatics. There isn’t a sound in the room, just the two of us in our own little bubble of bliss. I should say something, break the silence, but I can’t do anything but drink him in. Cooper Hendrix is tall and hard all over, built for sports. His arms look to be about the size of my head, but that could also be from the bulky shirt he’s wearing. Either way, it would take little effort for him to toss me around like a potato sack, but I’m not afraid. There is a gentleness to him that I have a feeling he doesn’t show too many people.
I’m not short by any means at 5’4”, but he has to be well over six feet tall. I even have to tilt my head back slightly just to see his face. His luscious brown hair, which I wanted to run my fingers through earlier, is covered with a grey beanie hat. He has a small scar above his eyebrow that my hand itches to trace with my finger. His clean-shaven jaw from earlier is now accentuated by his five o’clock shadow.
His eyes scan my face as if he’s committing me to memory before his lips stretch into a blinding smile, and two perfectly shaped dimples appear on his cheeks. Fuck, he has dimples. Dimples are my goddamn kryptonite.
Alise clears her throat loudly from beside me, breaking our trance. Every sound and smell from the rink comes rushing back to me. Speaking. I need to speak. But instead of saying something like my name or flirting a little more, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t move to town until high school, so I didn’t know who you were. I think I had a few classes with your brother, Cole, but we weren’t friends or anything. Sorry, I didn’t know you were such a big deal around here. If I did…”
Alise bumps my shoulder, and I slam my mouth shut. Fuck, can I be any weirder than I am right now? Probably one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen is looking at me like I’m his next meal, and I’m apologizing for not knowing who he is and talking about someone I assume is his little brother. Shoot me now. But instead of immediately skating away, he cocks his head to the side and asks, “If you did, what?”
“Huh?”
My brain must have temporarily short-circuited because there’s no way he is still standing here speaking to me. This is the part when the guy makes his excuse and leaves, regretting his decision to come and talk to the weird girl sipping a soda in the corner of the bar while all her friends are dancing. Does that analogy have anything to do with this moment? No, but as you’ve already discovered, my brain has a mind of its own.
“You said if you knew I was a big deal around here, you would have… what?” he questions, interrupting my spiral.
“Ummm…”
There are a million different ways I could’ve finished that statement. Not make an ass out of myself by flirting with you. Not even spoken to you at all. Would have pretended you didn’t send my heart galloping in my chest the moment you looked at me. Nope. I can’t say any of those things. Not to his face, at least. My mind races for something I can tell him when someone calls his name.
“Saved by Coach's whistle.” He winks, and my knees buckle slightly.
This man should come with a warning label. It should read Beware of dimples and will wink when given the chance. Please do not enter a conversation with this individual without having something to hold on to. OMFG, why am I so freaking weird?
“See you around, Beauty.” Cooper taps the glass between us twice before skating backward toward the center of the ice.
“Show off,” I mumble.
“Her name is Ramona,” Alise shouts, startling me. Bless it. I completely forgot she was standing next to me. Again.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ramona, but if it’s all right with you, I like Beauty better.” He winks before spinning around and skating toward the group of kids and other coaches in the center of the rink.
“Holy fucking shit, Ramona! Coop has the hots for you!” Alise squeals, throwing her arms over my shoulders. “I couldn’t have planned this better myself.”
“Pump your brakes, girl,” I say, unwrapping her arms from my neck and stepping away from her. “It’s just a little flirting, nothing serious. I’m sure he does this with every girl he meets.”
“That’s the point, silly. He doesn’t.”
Wait. That can’t be right. Cooper Hendrix is… well, Cooper Hendrix, the ultra-famous professional hockey player. If the turnout for practice today is anything to go by, he’s also kind of a big deal. He could have any woman he wants; women are probably throwing themselves at him left and right. There has to be another reason.
“Is he gay?” I blurt out before slapping my hands over my mouth.
There’s nothing wrong with being gay, bisexual, or anything else that isn’t the stereotypical relationship, but that has to be the reason, right? I’m not a bad-looking girl by any means, but things like this don’t happen to me. Ever. I’m the friend who blends into the background and hypes you up when we go out. The eternal wing woman. I know this about myself, and I’m fine with it. Well, at least that’s what I tell myself every time a cute guy asks me if they have a chance with Alise or if I’d slip them her number. There’s no reason for me to think differently now. Unless I focus on the fact that Alise and Cooper have been friends since birth and that he didn’t take his eyes off me once. Nope. Nope, brain, we aren't going there.
“Nope,” Alise answers with conviction before leading me toward some empty seats and forcing me to take a seat. “When are you going to see yourself clearly, Ramona?”
“I do. That’s why this is freaking impossible. A man that looks like that can have anyone he wants, male or female. Why the hell would he want someone like me?”
“You’re a beautiful, smart, caring, loyal woman that any man would be lucky to have.” She places both of her hands on my shoulders and turns me toward her. “Why is it so hard for you to believe he could have the hots for you?”
“Because she has common sense, unlike you,” Annamarie sneers, her minions flanking her on either side.
“Fuck all the way off, Annamarie.” Alise releases my shoulders and turns toward them. “What are you even doing here anyway? Your son is on the under-fourteen team.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Coach James was running practice for both teams today.”
“Fair enough, but that’s not the point. No one was talking to you or about you. Why don’t you go terrorize a toddler or something?”
“That might be the case, but you both know it’s true. Ramona is just being realistic. Cooper deserves someone he can show off to the world. Who will shine brightly when on his arm, not some ranch hand slash bartender whose only crowning achievement is knowing how to rope a calf in under seven seconds.”
“Still bitter about me beating your record? Green really isn’t your color, Annamarie.”
I was trying to point out the fact that jealousy really doesn’t look good on Annamarie, but she’s also wearing a scoop-neck emerald green sweater under a white puffy vest, both of which probably cost more than I make in a month. She has zipped the vest up just enough to ensure her tits are spilling out of the top. Her red hair hangs in loose waves around her shoulders, perfectly placed to frame her face. She finished the outfit with a pair of black leggings tucked into a pair of tan-colored Uggs. At least she is dressed appropriately for the frigid temperatures, but I have a feeling she is here to impress someone rather than wanting to watch peewee hockey practice.
Her minions immediately come to her rescue, as always, completely oblivious to the real sentiment behind what I said to their leader. “I think you look amazing, Annamarie.”
Michelle Nguyen steps in first, putting herself directly between us and Annamarie as if we were going to do something to either of them. Don’t get me wrong, Alise and I both love a verbal sparring match like everyone else, but we won’t do something stupid. Her copper-colored hair is pulled into the perfect stylish bun on the top of her head, a few stray pieces hanging loosely around her face. She has on an oversized high-neck sweater dress falling just short of covering her black boots.
Michelle and I aren’t friends, per se. We more or less tolerate each other. It’s not like anything ever happened between us, but our two closest friends despising each other made it almost impossible for us to be anything more than cordial to each other when we were in high school. Since then, we just wave politely to each other in passing on the street. That is, unless she’s with Annamarie, and then she pretends like no one exists but her.
Cordelia Jones, Annamarie’s other minion, is what people affectionately call a dumb blonde. I don’t think she has ever had an original thought since I’ve lived in Redwood Falls, choosing to use her good looks and family name to get ahead in the world. My eyes narrow as I notice she is wearing almost the exact same thing as Annamarie; the only difference is she’s wearing a black puffer vest, leggings, and boots. Her bleach-blonde hair is pulled back into a perfect ponytail with a matching green bow wrapped around it. What the hell did these three do? Coordinating your outfits to attend hockey practice is a little much, even for them.
She hated me the minute I stepped foot into homeroom freshman year, and the feeling was mutual. There are some people in the world that you just immediately dislike, but that’s not the case with Cordelia. There’s no nice way to say it, but she’s a stuck-up bitch that needs her ass beat immediately.
“People of her...” Her words trail off slightly as her eyes scan my form with disgust. “Stature need to remember their place. The only reason Cooper is giving her the time of day is charity. Her favorite accessory is hay, for goodness’ sake.” Cordelia reaches over and plucks a piece of hay from my locs, holding it out for me to take, but I don’t move a muscle.
Alise leaps forward, ready to claw her eyes out, but I grab her arm. All it takes is a small shake of my head to get her to sit back down. We both know exactly what she meant by that dig, and it’s nothing new for her. We may live in a relatively progressive small town, but there are still some people who believe in their hearts they’re better. That they are superior to others because of the color of their skin or the amount of money in their bank account. If I reacted every time someone told me I was surprisingly articulate or that I didn’t need to be so angry all the time, I’d be in jail for the rest of my life. This isn’t something new for me, but that doesn’t make it okay in the slightest.
“Not all of us have perfected the basic white-girl fit like you three.” Alise makes a show of proving her point by motioning toward their outfits. “Oh, wait, where's your PSL? No fit is complete without a PSL, am I right?”
“Now whose color isn’t green?” Annamarie giggles before her entire demeanor changes. “I was just trying to give you a warning. As a friend, you know, girl to girl.”
She plasters on a saccharine smile as she leans over, grabbing my hand in hers. “Cooper Hendrix and I are a done deal. I don’t want you to get hurt pining after someone out of your league.” She gives my hand a final squeeze before heading toward the rink exit, no doubt wanting to pounce on Cooper the moment he steps off the ice for the parent meeting.
“Nope. Don’t even start. I can see the wheels turning in your head. Cooper would rather cut off his dick than go anywhere near Annamarie Sutton. That’s something I know for a fact.”
“What? I didn’t even say anything,” I respond, my eyes focused directly in front of me.
“You didn’t need to. I’m your best friend and always know what you’re thinking.” Alise bumps my shoulder with hers. “Just don’t knock yourself out of the race before it even starts, okay? The only reason she came over here and said anything is because she’s afraid.”
“Annamarie. Afraid of me?” I guffaw, causing everyone to turn in my direction. Shit. Like I need another reason to bring attention to myself, especially now.
“Yes. When someone feels threatened, they attack. That was an attack, and you know it.”
Alise is right, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell her that. I make a habit of blending into the background, not wanting to rock the boat in any way—that’s more Alise’s speed than mine. Annamarie had to have noticed Cooper’s and my interaction and wanted to make her intention known.
“What’s a PSL anyway?” I ask, needing to change the subject quickly.
Alise recoils back, gasping in surprise as her hand clutches at her chest. “Pumpkin spice latte. Damn, you really need to learn there is more to life than working, Mona.”
“Those things are fucking gross and a crime against humanity.” I make a gagging noise, unable to contain my revulsion.
“Don't knock my PSL. Them some fighting words.”
“But you just said...” The loud shrill of the whistle cuts off my statement, probably signaling the end of practice.
My eyes zero in on Cooper and his muscular form as he speaks to the boys. I can’t hear what he is saying, but he has their complete attention. Just then, his head snaps up as if he feels my eyes on him, and our gazes lock. I would love nothing more than to look away from him, but I can’t, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to. It feels as if every cell in my body has come alive, needing his attention more than my next breath. Whatever this is between Cooper and me, it can mean nothing but trouble. My life is here in Redwood Falls. My family needs me, but more importantly, Darius needs me now more than ever.
“I know what I said. It’s my white girl side. I can't help it. It was written in my DNA.” Alise giggles, breaking the spell once again.
I really should pay closer attention to our conversation, but my eyes flick right back to Cooper as he skates toward the opposite side of the ice, coming to a stop just short of the wall. Instead of exiting the rink, he leans over the waist-high wall, giving me the perfect view of his ass.
“Hmmm,” I say noncommittally, pulling my lip between my teeth as he quickly stands up, a hockey stick in his hand as he skates toward the kids.
“Are you even listening to me?” Alise tugs on my hand, and I turn toward her. She’s grinning just like that creepy cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Let’s get closer to the ice. They’re getting ready for sprints, so practice is almost over. If we’re lucky, we can piss Annamarie off a few more times before it starts.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I focus on her for a few minutes before my eyes drift back toward Cooper. Bless it, this is going to be a huge problem. I can’t even stop looking at the dude for more than a few minutes when we’re in the same vicinity.
“More than you’ll ever know. I’d enjoy it even more if Cooper asked you out right in front of her. Her head would explode.”
One thing I know is that if Cooper Hendrix asks me out on a date, Annamarie’s head isn’t the only thing that is going to explode.