Chapter 20
Riley
In two weeks’ time, this place will be filled with laughter and long-lasting memories, with tiny footprints being left behind after hours of singing, swinging, and swimming their little hearts away.
All of them are looking to hold on to one last summer of joy and happiness, even if they don’t realize it.
Some of them will be dropped off and start crying; even if this is not a sleepaway camp anymore, it is still scary, especially for the youngest ones.
I still remember when I joined the camp for the first time—just shy of five years old, terrorizing everyone around, as I didn’t listen to a peep of what any of the counselors said.
How many times did Dad have to come grab me so I wouldn’t cause another counselor to quit?
I was the true definition of a handful, but I never stopped loving this place. Even when I left and traveled and explored. Even when I met new people and wondered and wandered, collecting stories and experiences along the way.
I love it here. My heart belongs to this place like the bald cypress trees around the river.
My soul is rooted in every inch of the cardinal directions composing Riverbank Ranch, and now, I have to figure out how to keep this place afloat.
Lilly’s taken over so much of the responsibility of keeping everything running, and it hasn’t been fair.
It’s my turn to do something about it too, but how can I when it takes more energy to keep me from fucking something else up then it takes for me to just mind my own business and leave the big decisions to the adults?
I toss a rock into the river, skipping once, twice, three times before sinking in the water, leaving ripples of disturbance behind.
A great representation of who I am and what I’ve done.
For every three steps forward, there’s a mess the size of a crater when I have to take a step back and try again.
I down the rest of my Angry Orchard, because now, he messed up tequila for me too. Now, every time I taste it, I’ll think of him and his damn perfect laugh, his damn wisdom. I toss the bottle to the side and pop another one open.
These are my guilty pleasures either way, these little drinky drinks, low in alcohol but reminding me of times when the biggest worry I had was getting caught sneaking a drink while out with friends.
My sisters and everyone in this town did a great job at sheltering me from everything that went on with my parents’ deaths.
It wasn’t until I overheard Lilly that I realized how much she’d given up for this place, for me.
Half the time, I’m just treating her like an overbearing mom, when, in reality, I’m a little older than she was when she had to drop everything in the blink of an eye to come here, run a business, and help raise two kids.
“That’d be me!” I shout into oblivion, taking another sip of my third, no, fourth bottle.
“I didn’t think I said your name,” Dom’s voice, one I could recognize from everywhere now, says from behind me.
Of course, he’s here. I can’t even escape this man for a second to drown my sorrows in alcohol.
Not that I don’t enjoy his company—totally the opposite, actually—but every time I’m around him, I find myself so hot and bothered, it takes a cold shower, a run, or an intimate session with my trusted hand to make it out the other side with my sanity intact.
And then, last night happened, and what I thought was a moment between us was just me and my stupid crush messing up the one thing I have going for me.
He’s making me question it, my sanity, with his emotional push and pull, as if we’re on a fairground attraction and he’s toying with me. It’s been more than once that he’s been close enough to kiss, but nothing ever happens. Last night made it abundantly clear where he stands.
He can’t be lying to himself. I know he feels this too, these out-of-this-world sparks that ignite every time we’re close. Like just now, the mere image of him standing in front of me has me sweating and my thighs clenching tight. Like a horny teenager, I tell you.
“You didn’t. I was talking to myself.” But maybe he isn’t lying to himself and it’s all in my head.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
I take another sip of my drink. If I’m going to have to deal with his moodiness and my lust, I might as well have a buzz too.
“You do that often?” he asks, kicking a rock into the river. He looks relaxed, as if the day ending has him feeling like the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. That makes one of us. It’s impossible for me to be cool, calm, and collected around him.
I’m pretty obsessed with him, and it makes me feel silly, considering he’s either dead inside and doesn’t feel the spark, or he’s waiting for the match to light the fire.
But I can’t be that for him. Other than flat-out telling him to kiss me just once so I can see if these stupid flutters will go away, I’ve done my part.
He’s not interested, and I need to live with that.
Or I can keep tempting him, making him and me both sexually frustrated.
Both sound equally miserable and fun.
“Talk to myself? You’d be surprised.”
“Everything about you surprises me, Riles.”
Fuck him and his little teasing words and the Riles melting from his lips like marshmallows on s’mores. I scoff, ignoring his remarks and finishing my drink, tossing the bottle with the rest of them. He follows my movements with his eyes, opening them wide as he sees the number of drinks I’ve had.
“You can spare me the disappointing looks, Dad. I only have one more.”
He’s taken aback by my choice of words, tensing as soon as they leave my lips. “What did you just call me?”
I laugh. “What? You prefer daddy?”
“Riley,” he grunts.
I raise my hands in defeat. “I might start calling you grouch instead. Lighten up, buddy. Life’s too short.”
I grab my last bottle, removing the cap with ease and offering it to him. “Want a sip? I’m happy to share.”
He shakes his head, lifting the beer for me to see.
“Cheers then.” I tilt my bottle in his direction before taking a long, drawn out sip, not removing my eyes from his as he does the same.
Holding his gaze for longer than a few seconds has been my favorite game to play, and every time, he wins.
There’s only so long I can look at him without wanting to climb him like a tree or thinking about his thick salt and pepper beard between my legs.
Damn it. Here I go again. I drop my gaze, fixating on my drink now. “Are you done for the day?” I ask, changing the unspoken topic, the one where we pretend there’s nothing going on here, and we can just be ranch neighbors.
He shows me the beer again. “Was this my tell?”
I shrug. “That, and your nonchalant stance. You only look relaxed after your work is done. It’s like you wake up with a stick up your ass, and, until you drive your body ragged, you don’t pull it out.”
Sometimes, I surprise myself with the shit that comes out of my mouth.
He narrows his eyes, his signature move, and takes another sip. Kay then.
I pat the spot next to me. “Wanna come watch the sunset with me?" I’m a masochist. I have to be.
He refuses with a shake of the head.
“You know, one of these days, I’m going to stop inviting you to do things, and you’re going to miss it so, so much.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup. Wanna bet on it?” I smile when he tilts his head to the side. It’s hard not to when I can always get a rise out of him with my silly little comments.
That’s all they are to him and everyone in my life. Maybe I just need to act a little less unhinged for people to take me seriously.
You’re not too much, Riles. He said so himself yesterday, but clearly, I am.
“No need. Sorry about that.”
He takes my offer, dropping to my side, taking his worn hat off and setting it beside him.
His hair is so damn perfect; it’s a shame he hides it under that hat all the time.
The sun setting casts a glow over his features, showing the wrinkles and lines from a life well lived, and I find myself a little jealous of him and everything he must have seen and done.
What would it be like to walk through life fixing things and not breaking shit like a damn devastating tornado?
Maybe it’s not the unhinged actions, but the careless ones that earn me the untrustworthy descriptor.
Except I’m not careless. I swear, I’m not. I’m just clumsy. A little chaotic, one hundred percent full of energy.
There’s nothing wrong with that, though. At least, there shouldn’t be for the right people. I’m enough for the right person, and I will repeat that over and over again until I believe it myself.
He was right. I am not too much.
I am not too much.
Wait, did he apologize? “Did you just apologize?”
“Very funny.” He shows me a careful smile. And damn. With a smile like that, you’d think he’d do it more often.
I gasp playfully. “And you smiled? Fully smiled?” It’s not the first time I've seen him smile, but it’s the first time I’m this close to him to notice the lines near his eyes and how they crinkle even more, or the little dimple hiding behind his perfect beard, as if he couldn’t be more perfect.
I mean, he could, if he opened up a little instead of keeping things in—like he’s wearing impenetrable armor.
He takes a sip of his beer, and I take it as my cue to do the same, savoring the last few drops I have left in mine. I’m trying to cool myself now that I’m sitting so close to him, but it's futile.
What was I thinking?
It’s impossible when he’s this close to me and his scent wraps me up in a tight hug.
Or when his fingers dig into the ground the way I picture he would on my ass in my dreams. Because yes, unfortunately, the damn grumpy cowboy has been crashing those, too, and they don’t end until my hand is between my legs and I’m moaning his name.
“Where’d you go?” he asks, searching my features for a tell I’m sure he got the minute heat rushed up my neck.
Fuck, fuckity, fuck.
Obsessed is an understatement, and maybe, just maybe, if we fuck once, I can get it out of my system. But how does one go and tell this man hey, want to fuck for shits and giggles so I can go back to having a half-functioning brain cell as opposed to not being able to function at all?
“Just in my chaotic brain, you know?”
He brings his hand to my face, caressing my cheek with the back of his finger and creating an overwhelming wave of euphoria. “Your brain is perfect.”
He can’t say shit like that and then go and act like we’re strangers. Acquaintances, maybe even friends, but damn it, I need a little bit more.
His hand lingers in my space. I don’t dare move, and neither does he, just two stubborn as fuck, half-drunk adults playing a game of chicken if I’ve ever seen one.
I should call him on his bluff. I should tiptoe between the line of tempting him and practically asking for it and see if his carefully crafted control will snap like a tight rope.
I jolt to my feet, breaking this moment, ready to lay out my plans. Let’s see what you’re made of, Dominic Diaz.
It’s almost June, and although the sun has set, the heat lingers, so going for a swim in this river at dusk is not new to anyone, especially me, but I want to see if this guy takes the bait. I want to see if the armor will drop and he’ll show me who he really is.
What he really wants.
And I hope to God it’s me he wants.
I discard half my clothes, leaving on the oversized tee that covers my ass plenty, but Dom turns his face anyway.
“What are you doing?” he asks, concern laced in his tone.
“Going for a swim. Wanna come?” He doesn’t reply or turn to face me, so he misses me discarding the rest of my clothes.
He just keeps his head turned as I run to the river, sinking right in and welcoming the cold water on my skin.
Out here, where I don’t have the trees as an umbrella, I see the sky is not as clear as I thought.
It’s dark, too dark, as if it’s later in the night, even though the sun just set.
Rain clouds in Tennessee, typical summer behavior.
Just like yesterday.
One second, there’s a cloudless sky, and the next, a torrential downpour will be upon us. Arnie would scream at me to get out of the water, lightning and such, but until it rains, I can enjoy my moment.
“The water’s perfect!” I shout, splashing dramatically around, enticing Dom to come join me. He finally, finally, dares to look my way, but he shifts his eyes to the clothes next to him before looking at me again.
“Why are your clothes here?” he shouts.
I shrug, knowing damn well he can’t see me, considering my whole body is underwater with just my head out.
“What if someone sees you?”
“Nobody comes this way. It’s why I like the cabin position so much.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose; even from afar, I can see his annoyance.
“Come on, cowboy. Are you afraid of a little bit of water?”