Chapter 11
11
AURORA
The empty cup that once held a caramel macchiato with extra, extra caramel stares at me from my desk as I attempt to scroll through the updated expensive filing system I’ve been implementing into Steele Ranch the past two days.
I wasn’t anticipating coming into work this morning to find my favourite coffee waiting for me. And I definitely wasn’t expecting the note written on the side of the cup.
Everyone should start their day with something sweet, darlin.
I’ve since drank it all. Down to the very last drop and gob of caramel sauce. I’ve been dealing with the sugar high since.
“Is there anything I can do?” Eliza asks from behind me.
With a glance over my shoulder, I offer her an appreciative smile. “Actually, I was hoping you could answer some questions about Wanda for me. If you don’t mind.”
Her lips purse. “Wanda? Well, I don’t know much, but I’ll try my best.”
Good enough. “Thank you.”
I should be asking about my grandparents and father, but ever since Johnny told me about his sisters, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Wanda. If I asked any one of the people I’ve gotten to know here, they’d give me her number so I could speak with her myself. But I can’t do that yet. I’m not ready to hear her voice or see her face, even if I came here with the intention of doing just that.
I’m not at all ready for that meeting. First, I want to know what I’m getting myself into with her. Have some sort of idea for what kind of person she is.
She’s my direct line to Lee Rose, and I’ve realized that facing him scares the shit out of me.
Eliza sits in the same chair she did during my unofficial job interview and exhales tiredly. The wrinkles above her brows scrunch together as she readjusts her position, and then I’m up out of my chair. Compelled by the flash of pain in her eyes, I set a hand on her shoulder and try to offer support as she leans side to side, getting comfortable.
“Oh, you’re sweet. I’m alright. Just old,” she says with a half-smile.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind getting you anything you need.”
“I’m sure. My joints aren’t what they used to be, is all. I grow tired much too early nowadays.”
“I’m sure you’ve earned the extra breaks.”
Her eyes twinkle despite the exhaustion in them, as if her kindness outweighs all else. “Today, you have as well. Now, come sit beside me and ask what you want to know.”
I don’t hesitate to sit in the opposite chair. Leaning in toward her, I cross my leg over my knee and flip through the series of questions in my mind. There are so many I want to ask and the smallest bite of worry in my side that I won’t get the chance to get answers to them all.
“If she’s not close to Lee, what about her mom? Are her . . . parents close?”
Eliza turns her head so her cheek brushes the high back of the armchair as she holds my gaze and answers, “Lee and his wife are—” She cuts herself off and twists her mouth before continuing. “I only know what I’ve heard. Gossip in a small town is a blessing and a curse, my sweet. There’s no way to confirm the rumours unless we get answers from the mouths of the Roses, but from what I know, their marriage was not built from love. Wanda was raised by her mother, that much is true. Lee was off for long stretches and only home for the occasional holiday. Myself and everyone else can only assume?—”
“That he stayed because of Wanda.”
The statement sounds wrong. Gross.
Despite being cruel and selfish, I hate that he found a life somewhere else, with a woman who wasn’t my mother and a daughter that wasn’t me. But I’d rather my mother find a man who truly loves her than settle for one who only chose to be with her out of obligation.
“He’s an asshole,” I mutter.
Eliza chuckles. “He is an asshole.”
“It sounds wrong when you say it.”
She winks. “I’ve said far worse.”
“Do I want to know?”
“I’ll tell you another time,” she promises.
I nod and fidget in the ultra-comfortable chair, uncrossing my legs only to cross them again. “What is Wanda like? Personality-wise? Anna’s told me a couple things in passing, but nothing much.”
Like that she doesn’t know what it is she wants to do in life yet, so she’s trying a million new things until she finds something that sticks. The salon, for example. It was hers before she decided on a whim to abandon it to go find our father. It was a blessing for Anna, but I’m not the type of person to leave things unfinished the way my half-sister does.
Will we even get along when we meet?
“She’s to the point. Blunt and crass. Determined and fearless. She doesn’t care much for the opinions of others. You have more in common with one another than you think.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Why not?” she asks, not a hint of judgment in her tone, just simple curiosity .
I ignore my discomfort at diving this deep into my thoughts in the presence of someone else and change the subject. “Is she open-minded? Because once she learns about this, she’s going to be . . . upset.”
“Or she could be happy. Isn’t there a part of you that’s excited to have a sister?”
I pause. “That’s why I’m here.”
Her smile is knowing. “I know.”
“When she gets back to town, from what you know about her, do you think she’ll listen to what I have to say?”
Eliza reaches across the space between chairs and grabs my hand from my lap. Her thumb rubs softly over my knuckles with a gentle reassurance.
“I think that if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll do more than just listen to you, Aurora.”
Lifting my hair off my neck, I step out of the house and onto the porch. The wood planks creak beneath my sneakers as I twist to let the screen door shut, but the sound of hooves clopping along the gravel road is too loud not to hear.
A black-and-white polka-dotted horse is running right for the house, its ears forward and wispy tail slashing through the air. My mouth dries when I glance up at the man atop its back, sitting snug in a massive brown saddle that nearly blends into the horse’s coat.
With long legs and thick thighs that cup the horse’s sides, a pair of dirty, scuffed-up brown cowboy boots tucked into the stirrups, and two gloved hands gripping a set of black reins with a sureness that stirs my belly, Johnny watches me. His smile is wide and goofy. Like he’s genuinely excited to be seeing me.
“Hey!” he shouts, one arm lifted in a wave.
I press my tongue to the back of my teeth before replying. “Hi. ”
“Looks like I’m right on time.”
“For what?”
Johnny slows the horse to a calm pace as they get closer, the horse’s tail brushing the slatted railing of the porch. The hat on his head is tipped back enough that I get an unobstructed view of his handsome face while he stares at me. There are so many freckles. Too many to count in this lifetime and possibly the next.
“To walk you to your car.” He says it like it’s obvious, but it really never was.
I look from him to my car parked on the grass and then back to him. “It’s parked like twenty steps from the house.”
“Still gonna walk you to your car, darlin’.”
“Why?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” he notes, his eyes the lightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen.
“That’s usually a good thing. I hate surprises.”
Intrigue tugs at his features. “Why’s that?”
“Now who’s asking all the questions?” I throw back, moving quickly down the porch steps before dropping onto the grass. The horse beneath him watches me with a concerning level of concentration. Deep, dark eyes examine me, sizing me up, maybe. “What’s the horse’s name?”
Johnny pats the side of its neck affectionately. “Her name’s Joker. Want to give her a pat?”
I shake my head and tuck my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “I’m not much for animals.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all.”
He blows out a long, weighted breath while cupping the top of his hat in his hand and lifting it. The mass of curly black waves he had hidden beneath it ripples in the warm breeze, making him look like something out of a goddamn cowboy porn magazine. I keep my expression blank and rock back on my heels, debating just making a run for my car. Something keeps my feet planted to the grass .
“Everyone is an animal person deep down,” he says.
“Not me.”
“I don’t believe you. Maybe you just haven’t met one you like before.”
“I’ve met plenty,” I argue.
From the duo of creepy raccoons that used to use our trash can as a five-star Michelin restaurant to the snappy Chihuahua my neighbour had growing up, I’ve met far too many animals that I didn’t like.
“You have stories to tell,” he notes, reading my expression with an expert gaze. “I’m a good story listener.”
“And damn nosey.”
His laugh travels in the wind, making it sound as though it came from right beside me instead of a few feet across the yard.
“I’m curious about you, Rory. I’ve been honest with you about that. It would save us both a shitload of time if you would just open up to me already.”
“How do I know you don’t just want me to tell you every deep, dark secret of mine because you’re simply eager to learn gossip? A coffee on my desk and an offer to walk me to my car isn’t going to grant you that honour, Johnny.”
Some of the light fades from his eyes as his expression morphs into one far more serious than I think I’ve ever seen on him. It’s enough to make me feel guilty, and I hate that. I’ve got no reason to feel guilty about what I’ve said. But damn him for looking like a wounded puppy all the same.
I don’t expect him to swing off his horse with a speed and expertise that startles me. His breath escapes him in a low puff as his feet hit the dirt, and he twists before heading right for me. Each step he takes forward is confident, certain. He’s a man on a mission.
I force my eyes not to linger on his thighs as they rub, the denim worn between them the same way mine do. He’s all muscle, though. Every inch of his body has been carved from long hours spent doing physical labour in the hot sun, and I’m self-aware enough to recognize that reminding myself of that is one of the stupidest things I could have ever done.
Swallowing, I force my eyes upward only to find myself immediately snared in his gaze. No longer wounded, he looks . . . determined. My stomach threatens to fall out of my ass.
“You want more coffee? More than just a quick walk from the house to your car? Say the fuckin’ word, gorgeous. I’ve been waiting weeks for the opportunity to give you more than that,” he declares, or maybe vows. Fuck, each syllable is a promise wrapped in a pretty bow and a tag that reads please let me woo you.
“There are secrets in your eyes, darlin’. Ones that, yeah, I’m damn curious about. But they’re not important right now. What is important is that I’m about one second away from beggin’ you for a chance to tie my horse up and drive you home, knowin’ that I’ve got a long walk back ahead of me, just so I have peace of mind that you got home safe. The extra time with you is just a bonus.”
My cheeks are on fire, exposing how flattered I feel. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth snags my attention, and I focus on it as it curls just enough to be considered a smirk.
“So? What do you say?” he asks, voice soft yet deep.
I think I black out. Because one moment, I’m preparing to duck back inside to ask Eliza for help, and then next, I’m ignoring my instincts and throwing caution to the wind.
“Get in the car, Johnny.”