Chapter 14
Please Don’t Ruin Smut For Me
Leni
Four o’clock, on the dot, my phone rings for my weekly call with my mom. I bought her Bluetooth headphones a few years back, and now we chat every Sunday while she prepares family dinner. It took a few years, after our big fight, to rebuild our relationship. It’s okay, but it has been better.
“Hey, Ma.” I settle into my reading nook, enjoying the feeling of the sun shining through the windows. I might not be a cat person, but I can one hundred percent respect their predisposition to napping in the sun.
“Hello, sweet girl, how are you?”
“I’m good, enjoying some time off for the summer.”
“You seeing anyone?”
I groan, stretching my legs out as much as I can in the oversized chair. “Ma, this is not what Sunday chats are about. You’re supposed to vent about the boys and remind me I’m your favorite child.”
She tuts at me, and I can hear her opening cabinet doors.
“You are my favorite daughter.” I roll my eyes.
It goes without saying that I’m her only daughter, and it’s such a copout.
We all know Adler is her favorite anyway.
She was supposed to be done after having Toby; the doctors told her it wasn’t likely that she’d have any more, and then Adler came along. She’s had stars in her eyes ever since.
Youngest, am I right?
“What’re we making today, Ma?”
“Oh, nothing special, all the boys are out in the fields, and Brooks is busy with…stuff.”
“That’s not vague or ominous at all.”
“All will be revealed in time,” she says, like I’m a fantasy character on some wild quest and she’s the wise old Sage. “That’s why it’s just some sandwiches and veggies.”
“Brown paper bagging it, I like that. Tell me, are you cutting the veggies into shapes and making the world’s most bougie cold cuts?”
My mom was born to be a hostess. She has a heart for serving others, and her favorite way to do it is through food. I can’t remember a single bad day when she didn’t cheer me up with something beautiful and tasty.
“What am I supposed to do? Slap some cold meat and plastic cheese on it and call it food? That won’t do, Eleanor, and you know it.”
She goes through all the ingredients she has for sandwiches, like pickled onions, fresh tomatoes, and horseradish mustard.
My mouth is watering hearing her describe them, and I’m half tempted to march my way over to the main house to steal one.
I wonder if I’d be testing my luck by trying to sneak over a second time.
“One of the guests here, on that retreat last week, asked if we had a newsletter describing the goings on at our events. She said it would make for good visibility on the internet.”
“Oh, yeah, a newsletter, or even posts on your website, would be great. Testimonials, too.”
“Like reviews? I think we have one of those Yelp pages, and I’ve seen a few happy commenters on the Facebook app.”
I smile. No matter how many times we tell her she can call it internet, Facebook, or Google, she always adds in the to the title. It’s adorable, and I love her for it.
“Yeah, testimonials would be kind of like reviews, but there could be little pop-ups on your website pages. Just so people can see snippets of what clients think of their time with you. Do you have anyone fill out surveys after they stay?”
“I think Annie was setting something up on the website before she left.”
“Oh, Annie left?” I knew there was supposed to be someone running the pages.
“She did. Went and fell in love with one of them hotshot firemen and moved closer to the mountains.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised; Annie was one of the most introverted people I’ve ever met. I never would have pictured her with the type of person who can run toward danger. “Wow, good for her.”
“Yeah, very,” my mom says, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s delicious, Leni. I’ve never been attracted to muscle heads, but he is one hunk of a man.”
“Oh, God. Mom!” I burst into laughter. I can’t believe she’s talking about a man who’s likely younger than most of her sons. Good Lord.
“I’ve been reading some of those books you review on the Instagram.
” My eyes bug out of my head, mouth dropping open in horror.
I’m not a book reviewer by any means, but I enjoy tracking what I read with a quick little review on my Instagram stories.
I had no idea my mother was following them and reading them. “They’re very…enlightening.”
“No, stop. Please, I beg you. I do not want your take on my books! Please don’t ruin smut for me.”
“Is that what they call it these days? Smut? We used to call them Harlequin novels, and the covers were always the same half-naked man with long flowing hair. Now they’re so adorable.
You think you’re picking up a cute little love story, and the sex hits you out of nowhere.
I’ve had to ask your Pa to help me figure out how some of the things they do work out in real life. ”
“Oh, God. Yup...you’ve officially ruined it for me. Now I can’t post any of the books I read because I’ll be worried that you’re reading them!”
“Don’t worry, honey. The fantasy stories aren’t for me. I prefer the cowboy romances.”
Burying my face into the cushion of the chair, I scream.
What have I created? My mom is reading cowboy romances, while her sons are out working on a cattle ranch.
Good God, this is what nightmares are made of.
I glance at the new cowboy romcom on the side table and make a mental note to put it away immediately. No more cowboy romances for me.
“I’m getting distracted. I brought up Annie because I wondered if you’d be willing to take a look at what she set up.
I know you have your program in Benson, but maybe you could write some posts remotely?
I can have someone take photos during events and give you a synopsis that you could put a pretty spin on.
I’d pay you, too. It’d be an easy little side gig for you.
” Ma’s voice gets quieter, and I can hear the silent aching behind it, the hopefulness in her tone.
Anything to get me closer to home, and closer to her.
“Ma, you know I don’t want your money.”
“I’m not giving it to you like some kind of handout, Eleanor. I pay my employees.”
“I don’t know that I want to be your employee, Ma.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, no shuffling or sandwich making, just one deep breath into her lungs as she processes.
We haven’t had a fight in almost seven years now.
I didn’t talk to her from the beginning of my freshman year to the summer between my sophomore and junior years.
I stayed in Benson year-round and worked my ass off to afford school and the shitty little apartment I subleased for the summer.
I worked odd jobs throughout high school, but I never knew what it meant to struggle until that summer.
I missed my mom. My family. It was hard working through that fight with her, letting her back into my life when she left it so easily.
Weekly therapy sessions helped. It was the one thing I let them pay for, and I’m fucking glad I did.
“You’re right, that wouldn’t do. I need a partner. I’d like to slow down some. Maybe take on a few less responsibilities. You could—”
“Ma,” I stop her. “I have a full-time job.” Yup, absolutely going straight to hell. “I don’t have time to be a partner in your business.”
“I suppose not,” she sighs. Not the condescending kind, but the kind of sigh you feel down into your bones when you’re weary.
“I should let you go, Ma.” I know where conversations like this one end up, and I’m not willing to go there tonight. She wouldn’t guilt-trip me directly, but I know she misses me. I miss her and my dad so much. I just…I don’t see how anything has changed. “Love you.”
“I love you too, Leni dear.”
It’s dark out by the time I hear Clay’s pickup rumble up the driveway. Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s already nine o’clock, that’s basically the middle of the night, ranch time. He must have been up and out of the cabin by four a.m., at least.
Clay comes up the stairs, dirt coating his clothes and face. He gives me a soft smile before heading toward the bathroom. “Gonna grab a shower.”
I follow him, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom before he can close the door. He quirks an eyebrow, hands going to his hips as I raise one hand and pick at my nails.
“What is this?”
“You wanted me.” I feel the fire stoke in my belly. Years of suppressed anger finally making it’s way to the surface.
“What?”
I take my cracked, decade-old brick of a cellphone out of my pocket and cross the bathroom. Shoving the old device into his chest, I glare at him. “You wanted me.”
He looks down at the phone, cradling it to his chest as his hand rises. I move mine before he can take it. Soft grey eyes meet mine, a yearning I’ve only ever dreamed of burning deep within them. “Of course, I wanted you.”
His voice comes out quiet, fingers gripping the device a little tighter.
“You never called,” I say, voice shaking a little as I back away from him, unable to keep up the courage to stand toe to toe with him. “You never said so, you said…” I cut myself off, turning on my heel to march back into the bedroom. The air in the bathroom feels too hot and charged to breathe.
“Leni…” He follows me out, keeping space between us.
“No! Clay, you lied! You told me you didn’t want me. You let me think that none of it was real.”
“That’s not true. I told you I didn’t want you there. I never told you I didn’t want you.”
“You might as well have! I know Mercer told you about the mugging. I know you knew and you never once—”
“I did,” he grits out, one hand running through his curls. He looks around the room, frantic. “I tried to call, but I had your fucking phone. Three days,” he growls. “Three days after you left, I called again, and your number was disconnected. You never called me. You left me.”