Chapter Eighteen #2
Ivan looked up as they approached, and his smile was even bigger and brighter as if someone had turned a dial up to eleven.
Harry leaned into Rory and said, “That smile isn’t just for you. It exists because of you.” The Rory Effect. That’s what Ivan called it. “No matter what happens, I want you to remember this moment. Promise?”
Rory nodded because he was incapable of forming words.
Harry led them toward the food tent. Whatever token protest Rory would’ve offered died when his stomach growled again.
He loaded his plate with a cheeseburger and the trifecta of salads—potato, pasta, and macaroni.
Perhaps macaroni was a pasta salad since elbow macaroni was technically a noodle.
Rory followed Harry to an empty table at the far corner of the tent, and they dug in.
“You’re going to have to roll me back to the car,” Rory said several minutes later.
Harry turned to him, and a tiny burp escaped instead of words. Her eyes went wide, and she slammed a hand over her mouth. Rory’s breath hitched in his chest for a few seconds before he erupted in laughter. Harry narrowed her eyes and launched a potato chip at him.
“Sorry,” Rory said, waving both hands. “I just…” He started a second peal of laughter. Harry was so petite and feminine that he just never expected that kind of noise to come from her.
Dylan sauntered over with a broad smile. Rory looked to see who’d taken his place and was surprised to see Cash there with a spatula in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. Dylan kissed the top of her head and bounced a curious look between Harry and Rory. “What’s so funny over here?”
Rory pointed at Harry and said, “She—” His words died when he caught her mutinous expression.
“Absolutely nothing,” Harry said.
The more indignant she became the funnier Rory found the entire situation. He doubled over, held his stomach, and tried his best to rein himself in. What was he? Twelve?
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Harry hissed. “I opened my mouth to say something but a tiny burp escaped instead thanks to the cola.”
“Was it tiny?” Dylan asked Rory.
Rory nodded. “Yeah, it was just so unlike her.”
“She’s let loose a few that rattled the roof,” Dylan said.
Harry set her sandwich down and slowly turned to look up at her boyfriend. It wasn’t quite an Exorcist moment because her head didn’t rotate completely around, but it was damn close. Dylan’s smile melted, and he swallowed hard.
“Oops,” he mumbled. “This is where my inexperience shows.”
“Are you making a joke about our age gap?”
Dylan’s eyes widened comically. “No way. It took me two years to overcome said age gap. Months to get you to move in with me. I wouldn’t blow it in one moment with a stupid remark like that.
” He cocked his head to the side. “Not intentionally at least.” He reached over and brushed a red curl out of her face.
Harry let out a tiny snort that turned into a giggle. “I’m just messing with you.” She smiled at Rory and said, “I belch and curse like a sailor sometimes.”
Dylan cupped his mouth and leaned toward Rory. “And she farts in her sleep.”
Harry’s outraged gasp sounded genuine enough.
She jumped up from her seat, and Dylan bolted, though Rory wasn’t sure where the hell he planned to hide from her.
Rory shook his head and watched their antics play out, but Dylan turned at the tent farthest away from Rory’s seat, and Harry’s pursuit took her out of sight too.
Rory tucked back into his food until he felt a shift in the air. When he looked up, Ivan was headed his way with a look of determination on his face that made Rory’s insides quake.
“Wanna get out of here?” Ivan asked.
Figuring he should play a little hard to get, Rory said, “I just got here, and I’m hungry.”
“I’ll drive, you eat. Every person on the farm is here. We could really get up to some mischief.”
Before Rory could probe further, a not-so-subtle groan caught his attention.
Hushed murmurs that made him uneasy quickly followed.
He turned his head to see the source of the disturbance and locked eyes on a large group from Salvation Anew marching on them like a thundercloud of doom.
It disheartened Rory to see they’d brought their little kids with them.
His mood plummeted even more when he saw that five reporters and their camera crews followed behind.
They called out questions and filmed the entire thing.
“Oh no,” Rory said.
Ivan whipped his head around and murmured, “Son of a bitch.”
“Exactly,” said the man at the next table.
Ivan apologized when he looked over and saw small children at his table.
“You’ve just expressed how most of us feel,” the man said. “Now we can’t adopt dogs and eat burgers without getting harassed.”
Rory couldn’t help wondering why the locals didn’t do something about it if they were so unhappy.
He didn’t have time to bring it up because the army of stupid and their entourage of journalists had arrived, filling the tent and sucking out the oxygen and joy.
Ivan removed his ball cap and placed it on Rory’s head.
Rory pulled it lower and lifted his head enough to see what was going on around them.
The Salvation Anew members either looked vacuous and sedated or frenzied and high, though he suspected hate was their drug of choice.
“The time has come for the town of Last Chance Creek to cast out the miscreants living among them,” said a white-haired man. He thought either his first or last name started with Samuel.
“Starting with you, old man,” someone answered from the back of the tent. “Go back to where you came from.”
A female follower gasped and clutched her throat as if she expected to find a strand of pearls there.
Maybe they once graced her neck before she’d sold her soul to this devil.
Harry and Rory had recently listened to a podcast about cult behaviors, and it was common for the followers to sell off their assets and give the proceeds to the leader.
This lady was definitely missing her pearls, even if they were only figurative.
“I can tell you where you’re headed if you don’t stop associating with convicts and perverts. Listen to me, young man,” the Samuel guy told the heckler. The old man’s eyes glittered with malice as he launched into Bible verses, but a familiar female voice quickly cut him off.
“I find your selective preaching very offensive,” Hope said. Rory turned in his chair and watched her progress as she walked toward the church leader. Several of the members huddled closer together and began murmuring as they kept a wary eye on Hope.
“That’s the witch,” one of the women said.
“The Bible contains many passages about love and acceptance. ‘Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God,’” Hope said. “Are you familiar with that passage?”
“Of course,” the Samuel guy snapped. “I don’t need to be lectured about the word of God from the likes of you.”
“That’s just what I’m talking about,” Hope said. “You’re not better than me. You’re no more deserving of love, acceptance, and grace than anyone under this tent. These men that you disparage are worth a thousand of you.”
The man vibrated with fury as he glared at Hope.
Before he could respond, a startled cry rang out from under the tent, and Rory braced himself for some kind of attack.
Moments later, a small, curly-haired dog came running through the crowd, dragging a pink leash.
It wasn’t one of the current Redemption Ridge Rescue dogs, but Ivan had told him that previous adopters liked to bring former program pooches back for a visit.
One of the little girls from the fellowship squealed in delight and reached toward the dog, and the pup headed straight for her.
The dour-faced man beside the little girl scrunched up his face in rage and stepped forward.
Rory was out of the chair and launching himself toward the dog as the guy brought his leg back to kick the innocent animal.
Rory managed to grip the pup’s harness and lift her out of harm’s way, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the booted foot when it swung outward.
Since Rory had been leaning down, the blow glanced off the side of his forehead, barely missing his temple.
He rose to his feet and staggered back as black dots swam in his vision. Rory was aware of shouting and lots of bodies surging around him, but he was too stunned to comprehend what was going on. He just cradled the little dog against his chest as he tried to regain his equilibrium.
“Rory! Rory! Rory!” His name was repeated over and over, but the voices were different. Some he deciphered quickly like those belonging to Hope and Harry, but others took a moment longer. Their voices changed from concerned to full-on panic.
“Rory! Ivan needs you!” Cash’s voice cut through the chaos.
Rory whirled back around so fast it made him dizzy.
He blinked to focus on the melee happening all around them.
People were shoving one another and fists were flying, though no one from the ranch joined in the fray.
Cash hollered again, and Rory turned toward his voice.
Dylan, Rueben, and Cash were trying to restrain Ivan to keep him from going after the man who’d kicked Rory.
The reporters and their cameramen were capturing every second of the struggle, and Rory knew this wouldn’t go well.
Handing the trembling dog to Harry, Rory pushed through the crowd without a care for his safety.
He dodged fists and bodies, throwing elbows when needed to get to his guy.
Rory placed himself between Ivan and the man who’d kicked him.
The guy from Salvation Anew taunted Ivan and tried to provoke him into attacking.
Ivan’s tense body strained against the tenuous hold his friends had on him.
His muscles bulged, and his amber eyes glowed with the fierce loyalty he felt for Rory.
He wouldn’t be the reason Ivan’s carefully reconstructed life went to hell.
“Ivan,” Rory said calmly. He wasn’t sure Ivan heard him over the shouting and whatever emotions were churning through his mind. He moved closer, placing his hands on Ivan’s chest until he dropped his gaze to Rory. “There’s my guy,” he said with a smile. “I’m okay. Let’s just leave.”
“He can’t get away with kicking you in the head,” Ivan snapped. “He has to pay.”
“And he will, but you won’t be the one to mete out the punishment.
That isn’t who you are. Look at me,” Rory said more firmly when Ivan shifted his gaze back to Rory’s assailant.
He placed a hand on Ivan’s cheek and implored him to listen.
“If you hit him, you’ll play right into their hands.
Don’t give them the satisfaction.” Rory called up every ounce of the sass he’d displayed during his first days on the ranch.
“Take me home and give me satisfaction instead.”
The glow in Ivan’s eyes shifted from rage to passion, and he relaxed in his friends’ grips.
“I’m okay now,” he told them. “You can let go.” The guys’ relief was palpable when they dropped their hands and Ivan only pulled Rory into his arms for a hug.
“Let’s give them something to pray about,” he whispered in Rory’s ear.
That was the only warning Rory got before Ivan cupped his head and planted a kiss on his lips. Apparently, a smooch between two men was the antidote for religious fanaticism. The fellowship grabbed their members and scampered from the tent. Everyone else cheered for their exit.
“And don’t come back,” said the man who’d spoken to Ivan and Rory before the fight broke out.
“Rory, do you want to press charges?” Cash asked.
The guy was already long gone, and they wouldn’t have any luck getting his name out of the leader. “Nah, I’m not hurt.”
“Let Rueben check you out. He has EMT training.”
“Really?” Rory asked.
“From a previous life,” Rue said with a sheepish grin.
Maybe that’s how the guys thought of things—life before and after the ranch. Or maybe it was before and after jail. “You’re all so interesting.”
“Rory!” Harry came rushing over. “I returned the little dog to her owner. They’re so grateful you intervened, but they feel awful you got hurt.”
“It’s no one’s fault but the jerk who kicked me.”
“Hold still,” Rueben said and began his examination. “This reminds me of the time Finley nearly knocked himself out the day he met Kieran.”
“Jesus, not this story again,” Finley said from somewhere on Rory’s right. He tried to look at him, but Rueben cradled his head in place.
“Struck by my beauty,” Kieran said. “Then he got struck by a muck rake when he stepped on its tines. BAM! A direct hit to the forehead.”
“Ouch,” Rory said. “I don’t feel so bad. Mine was a glancing blow at least.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Snyder,” said an unfamiliar female voice.
Rory bit back a groan. He may not know who the woman was, but he knew what she wanted from him.
His hat had gotten knocked off when the kick landed.
Not that it was much of a disguise. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he turned and faced a pretty brunette with a microphone in her hand.
“I’m Kristin Rogers from Fox Fifteen. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you have a minute. ”
Fuck my life. “No comment.”