4. Ronnie
Ronnie
I let my gaze stray to the slab of man meat lying on the motel bed. He’s stretched out, looking even younger and more carefree in his sleep. The sun highlights his wavy hair, hair I couldn’t stop running my fingers through.
Last night was the best sex of my life, and I don’t think it had anything to do with what I was or wasn’t doing.
No, it was something about the look in Flint’s eyes.
He kept staring at me the entire time, like what was happening between us is precious, fragile, and worth protecting.
I can’t examine that too closely. I don’t have time or space for a man in my life.
He stirs in his sleep, mumbling something that I can’t quite understand. I glance back to my sheet of paper, doodling another cat on it. The boys have been after me to get them a pet. I think a sweet little kitty that purrs would be the perfect addition to our household.
His stirrings grow louder, and he lets out a soft grunt before sitting up. I keep focused on my sheet, not sure what to say or do. We shared amazing sex last night, but we’re not anything to each other.
“Morning,” he grunts and gets out of the bed, searching until he finds his discarded briefs on the floor. He slips into them and yeah, maybe I sneak a peek when he bends over. What can I say? The man has a fine ass.
“Morning,” I answer and add dinosaur nuggets, the freezer staple of every busy mom, to the list I’m working on.
I already had a video call with the boys earlier this morning.
I went outside by the pool, so I wouldn’t disturb him.
The two of them melted my heart when they showed me the new finger paints that grandma bought for them to use.
Flint spins the little collection of coffee pods. “What can I get you?”
“I’m a tea girl, and they’re out,” I answer without looking up, warmed by the fact that he thought of me. He’s been like this since yesterday, and I have to remind my heart that it doesn’t mean anything. This is what good men do—they look out for those around them.
“We’ll fix that,” he murmurs, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or me, so I don’t say anything.
He sets a cup to brew and strides to the table to peer over my shoulder.
He’s so close, and he’s hovering over me, letting me catch whiffs of his cologne.
Or maybe it’s his beard oil. I’m not sure.
I only know his long beard tickles my face when he leans over me.
“What is this? Are you making a grocery list on your birthday?”
“I have twin boys. Mom brain never turns off.”
“Today, you’re not a mom. Today, you’re just the birthday girl. Now, what do you want to do?”
My gaze strays to the bed.
He groans. “No, we’re not starting there. We can end there.”
“I don’t know what I want to do,” I admit since he took that off the table. “I mean, I brought a book to read.”
“How about this? You get dressed, and we go on an adventure.”
I think of the other swimsuit I packed. “I know the Cuddle a Cowboy event said you were stuck with me for the weekend, but I don’t expect you to actually—”
“I want to spend the weekend with you. Now, get that sexy ass up and look for something to wear.”
The coffee machine beeps, and he strides across the room to get it. I debate for a moment before deciding to just do what he said. I am curious, and he did call my ass sexy. It’s been years since I’ve been called sexy and even longer since I’ve felt it.
I grab my beat-up duffel bag and haul it into the bathroom.
It only takes a few minutes to find my cute swimsuit with the flowers on it.
It’s a two-piece, high-waisted to support my tummy and as I shimmy into it, I feel the tell-tale aches from last night.
My nipples are pleasantly sore, and my thighs burn from riding him.
I open the door at the exact moment he turns from the coffee machine, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.
I see the heat flare in his gaze. He's across the room in two quick strides. His hands go to my hips, and he gazes down at me. The intensity of those blue violet eyes pins me to the spot while one finger traces the swell of my breast, sending tingles through my body.
“This isn't quite what I meant,” he says.
“I figured we could go swimming in the pool,” I answer, my voice a breathy whimper.
He groans, “Not yet. Now, put some real clothes on. Later, you can model this for me.”
“Or we could just stay in,” I whisper, the pulse between my legs throbbing insistently.
He takes a step back and drops his hands. He shakes his head. “Come on, boss. We're gonna have some fun today.”
It only takes me a few minutes to change into a different outfit, and I leave the bathroom door open as I do. He watches from across the room, gripping the kitchenette counter so tightly I’m surprised he doesn’t break his fingers. But he never moves to devour me.
I gesture toward the shorts and tank top I'm wearing. “Is this better?”
The grin he gives me could stop traffic. “You look beautiful.”
“I've never done this before,” I tell Flint as I survey the go-kart track. The tiny cars look like something out of one of the boys' video games.
“Speed is your thing, so I thought you would find this fun,” he answers.
“Are you kidding? This is awesome,” I tell him, slipping into the car with the big red ladybug on it. It’s a tight squeeze, but I manage it then put on my helmet.
Flint waits until I'm settled and strapped in before he gets in his own go-kart.
Within seconds, we're flying down the track. I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts and shouting to Flint over the wind to be heard. I can't remember the last time I've had this much fun. It’s the perfect carefree morning, and it passes in a blur that’s over far too quickly.
I make a note of the place as I climb out of my car on rubbery legs. I’ll have to take the boys here in a couple of years when they’re big enough. They’d love this.
After, we head to the pinball museum and spend a couple of hours there, talking trash and trying to best each other’s scores. When I finally get tired of that, we walk around downtown Asheville.
I don't have a lot of time to explore on my own, and it's nice to take the self-guided walking tour with him. The conversation stays light and easy as we discuss the historic buildings, trading bits of trivia we’ve learned with each other.
“Want to grab some dinner?” He asks when the sun is low in the sky and the heat of the day is fading.
When I nod, he threads our fingers together. He guides me toward a bar called The Charging Bull, complete with signage of an angry bull. “I come here whenever I’m in town.”
The first thing I see when I step into the bar is a large photo on the wall of a smiling couple holding up something golden. I squint at the caption proclaiming that Camden and Journey won the Golden Bull Testicles.
Flint sees me looking at the picture and taps it. “I know that guy. He works in my town’s fire department. Come on, let’s get a table before the dinner rush arrives. Beer here is decent, and their burgers are too dry, but their chili fries are what you really want.”
I wait until we’re settled at the table to ask, “So, how did you end up living in Courage County? Is that where your family is from?”
Grief flickers across his expression. “My parents are from upstate North Carolina. I lost them about three years ago.”
I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. I give it a gentle squeeze, wondering if their deaths are the reason for the long scar down his chest.
“It was a flood from one of the hurricanes. My mom was terrified of water. She never learned how to swim.” He shakes his head. “They were found holding onto each other, same way they’d lived their whole lives.”
“That’s so sad,” I say quietly, thinking of my mom’s death and how my father never spoke of it. All he ever told me is she got sick one day. Then he spent every day after that trying to love me enough for both of them.
Flint continues his story, “I had my pick of swim scholarships in high school, and I chose to become a Marine. My parents were proud of me. But I can’t help wondering what would have happened if I’d been here. Maybe I could have saved them.”
I squeeze his hand again. “As a mom, I wouldn’t want my son to ever carry that kind of guilt. They went knowing you loved them and that they loved you. That’s the best you can ask for in those situations.”
He grimaces. “Today is your birthday. I shouldn’t make it heavy.”
“No, I’m glad you shared,” I say. “I lost my mom when I was so young that I don’t remember her at all. Then my dad passed when I was a teenager. There's a special kind of pain that comes from watching your parents’ lives get cut short.”
The waitress approaches our table, interrupting our conversation. I order a burger and chili fries, and Flint does the same.
“What happened after your parents passed? Is that how you ended up on Valor Ranch?”
“Not long after that, I was on a mission. We were doing some demolition in an abandoned part of the town. Thought I heard someone in a building cry out, so I went inside. Whole place collapsed on me.”
“You went in after someone else, that’s really brave.”
He groans. “Don’t look at me like a hero. I’m not anything like that. I was just hoping to find the mission that would let me join my parents. Instead, I lost a few organs and spent too long in hospitals and rehab centers. Marines couldn’t find a place for me after that, so Bronco took me in.”
“And you don’t want to run into collapsing buildings anymore?” I ask softly, my stomach tightening at the thought of this strong man hurting himself.
He shakes his head. “No, I miss them every day. I always will. It was just the grief, and I still think I heard something that day, crazy as it sounds. Plus, the ranch is a pretty good place to be. Always something to do. I’m around people that get it, who understand how serving feels like one of the coolest, hardest, and most rewarding things you've ever done.
And at the same time, it's also something that fractures you in a way you never could have imagined.”
I nod like I understand, even though I don't. I’ve never served in any branch though I’ve always admired the men and women who have. “You have community around you.”
The food arrives, and when the waitress is gone, Flint redirects the conversation back to me. “What's your life like when you're not busy hanging out with a hot cowboy you just met?”
I chuckle at the way he describes himself as hot. I like his good-natured sense of humor and the way he doesn't take himself too seriously. “Well, I got married young, had twins. They’re both five now. I divorced my husband when they were about two.”
“Is he in the picture now?” Maybe it’s my imagination but I almost think I hear the slightest bit of jealousy in his tone.
“No, he fled to Thailand rather than pay child support,” I admit softly.
It’s not what the boys know, but it’s the truth.
I could forgive Richard for the cheating and the other women.
I could even forgive him for making the divorce a difficult process.
But the fact that he abandoned his children without a backward glance has always made me furious.
I emailed him twice, telling him he could have a relationship with the boys over email and video if he wanted. I told him that I didn’t care about the child support, that I only wanted him to be in their lives. Both messages went unanswered, and I haven’t reached out since.
Flint’s next words shock me. “Do you want me to track him down?”
I didn’t try to go after Richard for child support.
But when you can’t make ends meet and you find yourself on assistance programs as a single mom, well, the state goes after your ex-husband.
Richard knew enough to pick a country where he wouldn’t be extradited back home.
I tell Flint, “There’s nothing that can be done legally. ”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I fight a laugh, thinking he sounds almost like one of the action heroes from grandma’s movies. “He’s not worth it. Besides, our life is good now. I've got the world's most amazing boys. I live with my grandma who helps care for them. We make it work.”
He doesn’t look happy. But he lets me drop the subject, instead asking me about my hobbies which I explain to him include cooking dinosaur nuggets, sneaking five minutes into read between jobs, and sipping cold tea after the kids have gotten out of bed for the tenth time in as many minutes.
He smiles as I talk. “You really do love your life.”
“It’s not perfect, but it’s mine,” I say as I finish the rest of my chili fries. “You were right, the fries make up for the lackluster burger and the beer.”
He glances at something in the corner, and I turn my head to follow his gaze. Beyond the mechanical bull where his friend won golden testicles, there’s an empty pool table.
“Do you play?” I ask.
“I love eight ball.” His eyes light up, and he stands. He pulls a few bills from his wallet, tossing them onto the table. “Come on. I’ll teach you everything I know.”
I open my mouth to tell him that the kind of man who names his daughter Ronald damn well makes sure she knows how to play pool. But then he takes my hand in his, and I melt at the casual touch. Who knows, maybe I can give him some pointers later.