Chapter 7
SEVEN
Bristol
“Do you know when Jasper will be here?” I ask when I see Anson getting out of his truck. I wander downstairs to meet him from where I was just decorating the haunted house.
“He’s not coming. He’s taking a vacation.”
“What? I just talked to him a couple of days ago, and he didn’t mention that. In fact, he said he was looking forward to working on this together.”
“Well, plans change. Especially when there’s new information involved.” Anson’s eyes rake over me like hot coal, and I feel as if I’m being admonished for a sin I didn’t know I committed.
Unless he blames me for what happened at the wedding or told Jasper about it.
A chill runs down my spine at the thought.
I don’t want that information coming from Anson if I can help it.
I can only imagine how it would have made Jasper feel.
I can see how after learning that, he might decide he didn’t want to see me for a while. A pit opens up in my stomach.
“Did you tell Jasper what happened?”
“No, I didn’t tell Jasper.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not keen to have the best guy on my crew wanting to knock me out.
Not to mention he’s a friend, and I’d never break your trust like that.
You made it very clear you didn’t want anyone to know what happened in the whiskey cellar.
I hope you’d know me better than that by now.
” There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes before he continues, “But while we’re on the subject, it’d be a little fairer to the men you otherwise call friends to let them in on the fact that you have a boyfriend before you try and talk them into climbing into bed with you. ”
Mortification sweeps through me like wildfire.
I think it’s the most words Anson’s ever stitched together in a row in my presence.
I can’t believe the subject matter is a lecture on my wanton behavior.
In my rush to explain things to Jasper, I hadn’t considered that my lie about a boyfriend would get back to Anson.
I should have known it was a possibility.
It’s not like Jasper would think that it’s a secret.
He probably assumed Anson knew. Which means on top of everything else, I’m about to be caught in an embarrassing white lie.
“My personal life is none of your business,” I snipe in return. It’s the only thing I can think to say that might buy me some more time, but it doesn’t go over well, judging by the look on his face.
“It’s my business if you’re gonna be pinning me up against a wall in a dark room and letting your hands wander.”
Oh my god!
I have to swallow my shame down to respond.
“I didn’t know it was you! I thought you were Jasper.” Apparently he told a little white lie too, because this certainly doesn’t sound like the same “no problem, ma’am” attitude he had the other night.
“And Jasper deserves to be tricked?”
“I was not tricking Jasper.”
“So you got a boyfriend between Saturday night and now?”
“I’m not sure why that’s so shocking.”
“That’s one hell of a fast track. You sure you even know the guy well enough to be bringing him around and calling him a boyfriend?” Anson questions my judgment, and it’s another searing swipe over my already bruised feelings.
“I know him plenty well.”
“Don’t tell me it’s Chris again.”
“It’s none of your business who it is.”
“Who you spend time with and bring around your home matters when my son is involved. Christ, Bristol. I thought Chris being behind bars would finally make you see reason where he’s concerned. How many times are you gonna let that guy treat you like that and take him back as if nothing happened?”
I’m on the verge of tears. Big, fat mortifying ones that are gonna destroy my mascara and my sense of composure. I need Anson gone before they come.
“Get out.”
“So it is him.” Anson has never shown anything but a passing dislike for him before.
“You never cared before. He’s been around Ford in the past.”
“That was before he was in prison, and I thought maybe he’d get his shit together.”
“So Ford isn’t allowed on the ranch or near Ramsey? That’s funny because I swear I’ve seen him here before.” This is a ridiculous fight. I know it is. I’m being pedantic because if I don’t fight, I’ll cry, and I’m not about to cry in front of Anson. I’ve had enough humiliation for one week.
“You know damn well those two are nothing alike.” Anson calls me on my bullshit.
“Ramsey got his act together for Hazel. Chris could do the same.”
“So you’re gonna wait for him then? Waste five more years of your life hoping he comes home reformed? Be a prison widow in the meantime?”
I would have. I really think I would have. So even though it’s not true anymore, I still feel the need to defend myself against the accusation. I’m certainly not about to give him more ammunition by telling him the truth right now.
When we both calm down, then we can talk.
When he can see he’s crossing a line and I can see reason, I’ll tell him the truth about Jasper, Chris, everything.
But right now, we just need to reestablish some boundaries.
They’ve been in jeopardy since the wedding, and every deviation from our normal routine only seems to make this whole situation more perilous.
Given how much my life is changing right now, I can’t take the bedrock that is Anson Briggs shifting out from under my feet. He and Ford are too important to lose, so much a part of my daily life that I’m not sure what it would look like without them.
“Lucky for us, Ford will be off to college by then, won’t he? So I think, as I said, this is none of your business, Anson. I don’t pry into your personal life, and I expect the same in return. We don’t cross those lines, and everything is fine.”
I’ve never once asked a question about the women he sees or where he’s really going when he tells me he has to work late, when he asks if I can watch out for Ford.
The kid’s too old for a nanny anymore, but I know he’ll worry if I don’t crash at the house and make sure he’s got everything he needs.
Then I pretend to be too tired to tell that Anson comes home disheveled, smelling like a woman’s perfume.
I don’t ask if he’s waiting around for one of them to finally make an honest man out of him.
I mind my own damn business. He minds his.
That’s the cardinal rule that defines our relationship as Ford’s dad and Ford’s aunt.
He takes a heavy breath and lets it out slowly like he’s counting to ten before he answers me.
I hope it’ll be a precursor to his leaving this room.
I need him and his broad shoulders and the twitch of disappointment in his jaw under yesterday’s five-o’clock shadow gone.
Banished until I can reclaim my composure.
“You’re right. We don’t cross lines.” It’s a curt statement before he heads to the door. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m going to get back to work.”
“Me too.” I agree wholeheartedly with the intention.
I won’t be doing it. I’ll be crying and mentally spinning out the second he’s out of earshot. But in theory, I’d get straight back to work.