Chapter 9
NINE
Ava
I’ve been in a mood all day and for a stupid damn reason. I knew that he wasn’t forever. I didn’t want him to be that for me. But I wanted him to be Mr. Right Now for a little bit longer. The fact that Ranger already has his eye on the horizon—and that I’m so bothered by that—is a problem.
It wasn’t what I wanted or what I expected. And to use the ridiculous slang terms that so many of my young clients like to toss into the conversation, I wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for him. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him.
I’m not one of those “one right person in the whole wide world” people. That’s impractical, and I am never that. But is it possible to fall in love this fast? Hell yes. It’s possible to fall in love in five minutes, five seconds or even at the very first sight. But falling in love and staying in love, and taking those feelings and channeling them into a healthy, respectful and reciprocal relationship? That’s the holy grail. And maybe, on some subconscious level, I’d been thinking that Ranger might be that for me. My holy grail. It stings like a son of a bitch to realize he’s not thinking the same thing about me.
All my thoughts about Ranger and the very solid—very real—punctuation mark he’s put at the end of it just fall away from my mind. When you grow up with one trauma after another, one of two things happens. You learn to compartmentalize and prioritize your challenges in the moment, or you become frozen by them and just spiral into overwhelm and anxiety. And for me, priorities are the name of the game. The horrible knocking sound coming from my engine takes precedence over everything else.
Easing the car onto the shoulder, I just cut the engine and lay my head over on the steering wheel. Willing a problem to just go away has never been a very effective method of dealing with them but that doesn’t stop me from trying every single time. After I collect myself, I pop the hood. Do I know what’s going on under there? Not a clue. But, if my hood is up to signal car trouble then maybe, just maybe, someone I know will come back. Troy James or Cam Fellows would be my pick. There are other good cops locally, but I’m comfortable with them. They feel “safe” to me. And when you’re already on the rocks from a shit show of a day, that’s one less thing to worry about, some unknown guy and his motives.
The quick fix would be to call Ranger. I know he would come and help me. But I also know that the more I depend on him now, the harder it’s going to be when he’s gone.
“Fuck. My. Life.”
The interior of the car is getting hot. Too hot to just sit inside it. And rolling down the windows is only an invitation for every biting insect in the county to come in and take a nibble. So, I get out of the car and walk around to the front of it, staring under the hood as if the wisdom of some ancestral mechanic is just going to appear in my brain. It doesn’t. Then I hear wheels crunching on gravel.
I peak around the raised hood and see none other than Billy McGill himself climbing out a tricked-out Range Rover that cost more than my condo. Do I trust him? No. I don’t get the ick from him. Like I don’t get the vibe that he would be violent or get physical with me. Mostly because a man like that thinks he doesn’t have to. He could just open his wallet, and my legs would part like the goddamn Red Sea.
“Well hell, Ava … A man’s always happy to see a woman pretty as you, but I hate for it to happen like this,” he says as he walks up and peers under the hood. “Looks like your coolant system has bit the big one.”
No shit, Sherlock. Even in my considerable ignorance, steam rolling under the hood of the car is kind of a dead giveaway. “It’s been acting up lately, but every time I took it to the shop, they said they couldn’t find anything Clearly one of us was wrong.”
He chuckles under his breath. “I like a smart woman with a smart mouth. Keeps life interesting. I’ll have this thing towed out to the farm. I got a guy out there that can fix anything. Never met an engine that wouldn’t purr for him. Should have it back to you in a couple of days. In the meantime, I can give you a lift back into town … or to the farm. We can have a little dip in the pool while we wait for Ranger to come pick you up. It’s a hot day, Ava. Can’t think of a better way to cool off than a little skinny dipping.”
And there it is. Ham handed. He’s threatened by Ranger. Because for all the money and all the trappings, Billy McGill knows which of them is more of a man. What better way to establish his superiority than to “take” me from Ranger. Little does he know that Ranger has already let me go. Maybe he was never holding on to start with.
“I’d appreciate a lift into town. I still have some work to get caught up on in my office and need to call and reschedule my client meetings for tomorrow … And I’ve got a friend who can tow it to my mechanic in town, but it was very nice of you to offer.” Firm, but polite. Appreciative but setting appropriate boundaries. It’s important to strike the right tone when rejecting a man’s advances. Should it have to be that hard? Fucking no it should not. But I’m living in the world I have and not the one I want, so I’d rather be cautious than pay the consequences for not.
I’m in the car. He’s been cool so far. No touchy feely, no inappropriate comments, no requests to go skinny dipping again. Thank god.
“That’s my office,” I say, pointing to the two-story brick building that houses the agency I work for along with a pediatrician’s office and a speech and physical/occupational therapy practice for children. We’re one stop shopping for anything most kids are dealing with.
“You're a therapist, right? Working with kids?”
“Yeah. I work mostly with at‐risk children who’ve had abuse, trauma or involvement with social services who referred them to me. I have a few clients outside the system though, kids who’ve had a rough time despite having a fairly stable home life. Bullying today is not like bullying was when I was a kid. It’s way more insidious.”
He nods. “Right, right. Sophisticated world, sophisticated kids.”
He’s right. But it very much feels like a pat on the head. Like he’s saying it to be polite and not because he believes it. Billy McGill strikes me as the “boys don’t cry” type. “Well, thank you for the lift. I really appreciate it. It was way too hot to be out there waiting for a ride,” I tell him, jerking my thumb toward the window.
“Sure was.” He pulls a business card from his wallet. “You ever need anything, Ava, you let me know. I’m a very generous man and I can be very good to the people who are good to me.”
I accept the card, though it feels like it leaves a residue of sleaze on my fingers. “Mr. McGill?—”
“Billy,” he corrects me. “You call me Billy, darling.”
I’m not going to do that. “I appreciate your help today, but I think you have the wrong idea about me. I’m not looking for someone to take care of me. Taking care of myself and having my independence is a point of pride for me. I’ve worked very hard for that and—regardless of my relationship with Ranger—I don’t think I’m the sort of woman you’re really looking for.”
He smiles at me. “Ava, darling, all women pride themselves on being independent. Some just define it a little differently. As for Ranger, you know he’s not the type to stick around. That man is a gypsy. He wants to just get in that trailer of his and let it take him where the work is. I wouldn’t be pinning any hopes on him.”
“Thank you for the warning. But I think that’s a conversation Ranger and I should have.” I reach for the door handle, and he leans over me to stop me from opening it. He’s literally pressed his upper body across mine and pinned me to the seat. “Let me go, Mr. McGill.”
“I will! I will. I just wanna talk to you for a minute … We don’t have to let Ranger know about this. About me and you.”
“There is no me and you.”
He grins. “There could be. No woman of mine, Ava, would be riding around in that death trap you call a car. You could be riding in style. Why won’t you let me be good to you?”
“I’m not looking for a man who is good to me, Mr. McGill. I’m looking for a man who is good for me. That will never be you.”
The grin just slides off his face, like a wax mask melting to reveal the ugly underneath, as he sits up. “Fine. You’re just a novelty for me … I don’t normally go for the thicker girls, but I figured what the hell? Your face is pretty enough. And I know it’s the same for Ranger. A man that looks like him and has that rough, blue-collar thing? He can have any woman he wants. You remember that, Ava. You’re just a new flavor of the same old thing.”
I get out of the car, not bothering to hide the fact that I’m disgusted with him. I march to my office as the Land Rover pulls out in a squeal of tires. At least we’re both in a snit.
But as I punch the numbered keypad to access our office, his words are ringing in my head. Ranger can have any woman he wants. He’s already looking to move on. Why am I hanging on when it’s obvious that this was only ever meant to be temporary?
Time to cut your losses, Ava Lee.
The memory of my dad’s voice is cutting through the miasma of Billy McGill’s words. And every time my Daddy ever said that to me, we packed up and moved because he’d burned more bridges than he could ever build.
Maybe it’s time for me to burn a few.