Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AUbrEY
Without a wink of sleep and possibly too many orgasms between us, Ryder left my house at three on Sunday morning, loaded with a Thermos full of coffee and half a box of strawberry breakfast bars, so he could get home in time to start work. I worried he’d fall asleep at the wheel, so I stayed on the phone with him the whole hour.
“Are you sure you should be drivin’ right now?” I asked for the fifth time.
“I’m fine, Mom. Quit bitchin’.”
I rolled my eyes and scoffed loudly into my phone. “Do you speak to your actual mother with that mouth.”
He laughed. “I fuck somebody’s mother with this mouth.”
“Ugh, Rye, don’t even say that.”
“You started it.” He chuckled and yawned. “Seriously though, I’m okay. I get up this early most days. Maybe a little bit later, but I’m usually up and movin’ by four. What about you? Tell me about your workday.”
“Mm, I usually wake up around six. Take a shower while the coffee’s brewin’. Oh. And I have to feed the birds. I get a lot of Stellar’s jays in my backyard, you know the blue jays that look like opposites of themselves? The blue and black ones.”
“Yeah, the little nuisances.”
“They are not.” I sipped coffee from my favorite “Book Bitch” mug. “They’re beautiful, and they’re really smart. They come back year after year, and if you sit quietly and watch, you can see their different personalities. I like to feed them whole peanuts. I’ve even had one take a peanut from my hand.”
“Wow. I made love to Snow White last night. My fair maiden.”
I snorted. Yeah right.
“You don’t see yourself very clearly, fair maiden.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, kind of offended.
I’d always thought I had a good grasp on who I was. I was honest with myself. I knew when to pat myself on the back and when not to. I knew if I’d made a mistake, and I knew how to not end up in the same situation again.
“What do you see when you look in a mirror? Tell me true. Don’t lie.”
“I’m not a liar.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant tell me what you think about yourself. Who you really are.”
Tapping speaker, I set my coffee on my bedside table then tossed my phone on my comforter. I lay back, resting my head on my favorite feather pillow that still smelled like Rye and breathing the scent of his shampoo deep into my lungs. I smiled when it relaxed me.
After the sex we’d had in my store and again in my kitchen before we hit my bed, I was more relaxed than I’d ever been in my life, but feeling his presence in my home, smelling him and imagining him coming back to me put me over the relaxation edge.
I yawned. “I don’t know. I guess I see a mom. A friend. A business owner and member of the community.”
Rye gagged, like he’d stuck his finger down his throat. “I didn’t ask for the bio you submitted to the Chamber of Commerce. Who are you, Aubrey? What do you love? What do you hate?”
“What’s with the third degree so early this mornin’?”
“I’ve wanted to know the answer to these questions for a very long time. The least you can do after the way you came for me last night— several times—is tell me who I’m fallin’ for.”
Falling for? Heat flooded my cheeks. It rushed around my chest and made my heart race. Love wasn’t part of our deal. Sex, yes, he’d mentioned something that day at my store about things getting “heated.”
But wasn’t this the part of the story where one of us was supposed to pull away, create some kind of self-imposed obstacle we had to overcome? Nothing came to mind though. I just wanted to lay there listening to Rye’s voice. I wanted to remember how amazing he’d made me feel—like the main character of an epic, wildly sexy romance novel. At my age? I wasn’t about to waste it.
But had he put me on a pedestal I’d never be able to climb down from? The thought kept popping into my head.
Besides, if Rye’s and my story was a romance, then there had to be a happily ever after at the end. I wasn’t so sure I was ready for that. I had a pretty good guess my boys weren’t ready for it either. Micah still brought up his dad at every opportunity, still romanticized the life he’d thought we’d had back in the “good ol’ days.”
Maybe our genre wasn’t romance. Maybe Rye and I were in the middle of a grisly crime novel, but the bloody parts hadn’t happened yet. Or maybe it was self-help. How to Navigate Menopause and Your Later Years , Erotic Edition , with a note to the reader: Dear Reader, please hide this book under your bed or in your sock drawer. Better yet, hide it with your cleaning supplies. Kids never look there…
Yes, my boys were grown, but they’d always be my “kids.” Some things never changed.
“I thought we were fake datin’.”
Rye didn’t seem to like the word “fake.” He rumbled when I said it and almost growled his next sentence. “Just answer the question.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez. Um, well first, I’m a mom. That’s true. I’m a good mom. I’m not Martha Stewart, but I washed my kids’ sheets every week, and I make a mean apple pie?—”
“Ohh,” Rye groaned, his grumble quickly acquiescing to his insatiable libido. “I’m gonna need you to make that for me and feed it to me, naked in your bed.”
I tried not to imagine the mess that would make, but then I smiled like a fool when I actually pictured the act and how hot it could be if I covered my body with strategically placed dollops of apple-pie filling and demanded he lick it off.
Like he knew exactly where my randy mind had gone, Rye chuckled deviously.
“ Anyway , I was always good at helpin’ my boys with school projects. They probably got their best grades on the dioramas and posters I helped them make. But then after Tommy passed and I bought the shop, I didn’t have a lot of time for that kind of stuff.
“That made me feel like a shitty mom, but I guess it also taught them that they couldn’t wait around for me to do everything for them. They had to figure stuff out for themselves.” I rolled my eyes. “They’re still workin’ on that.”
He laughed, and I let the sound wash through me, from my ears all the way down to my toes and back up again. It made me feel warm and cozy, and I snuggled into my soft mattress and pulled my covers up to my chin.
“What else?” he asked.
“I dunno. I guess… I’m a great friend. I didn’t really have girlfriends until I became a widow. Tommy didn’t like me spendin’ time with other people. God, sometimes I forget just how isolated I was back then.”
“I remember that,” Rye said. “But I also remember your wild smile, the way you were so free before you got married.”
“You do?”
“Oh yeah. Like it was yesterday.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “How are you this person? How have you been here the whole time and I never knew?”
“Well, technically, I wasn’t ‘here.’ I was an hour away, and also technically, you weren’t ready to know, but I’m glad you do now. It’s a great birthday present.”
“Birthday? When?”
“Today. May twenty-third.”
“What! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Age is just a number, baby. Haven’t we already decided that?”
“Yeah, but your birthday is special, no matter how old you are, or how young. It’s supposed to be a celebration of you, of the person you are now and of the day you debuted in the world. It means somethin’.”
He hummed. “I like that.”
“I’m glad you were born, Ryder Graves. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you were born too, in October, ain’t that right?”
“Yes, how…? Never mind.” I smiled again, thinking of the book I carried at the store that talked about compatibility between zodiac signs; Libras and Geminis were said to be extremely compatible. Not that I believed in all that crap…
“I also like that I got to ring in my thirty-fifth year inside you.”
He couldn’t see it, but I blushed so hard. “So what would you like for your birthday?” I asked to distract him. His filthy mouth was going to change my skin to a ruddy red color permanently.
I had already started making a list in my Notes app: books about regenerative farming, the cowboy coffee he’d told me he loved. And maybe I’d be brave and order some kind of sex toy or, like, edible panties.
“You,” he said. “I want you on a big, round cake plate. Gargantuan sized. And I wanna eat you and give you apple-pie orgasms till you’re nothin’ but a moanin’, pantin’ mess with a warm, gooey center.”
It seemed my birthday gift list was spot on.
“Be serious,” I scolded.
“Fine. For my birthday, I’d like you to come out to the house tonight for dinner. My mama makes a big spread and a tres leches cake that’ll make your head spin. It’s delish.”
“Tonight? Won’t you be passed out by then?”
“No time for sleepin’, lil’ lady. There’s work to be done.” He yawned again. “Please? I miss you already, and we can flaunt our date in my parents’ faces. It’ll be the first real test.”
“If it’s fake, just an arrangement, why’d you stay the night? Not that I’m complainin’.”
“Mm, ’cause I like to keep a good eye on my investments,” he said. “Besides, we barely slept, and I know when I’ve struck gold. And when a man strikes gold, he don’t love it and leave it. He keeps it close.”
Silence greeted me when I walked into book club after my first ever railing—during which, and with Rye’s giant-sized dick inside me, I’d spoken to my friend, the fucking sheriff! Who was also a lesbian. She was probably still icked out. I’d already texted her to apologize for my rude behavior on the phone last night, and for the moaning she’d no doubt heard.
Abey at least had decorum, and she took her job seriously, and since she’d called while on duty, I felt pretty sure she wouldn’t rat me out, but everybody knew already anyway. Of course they did, just like I knew every other piece of gossip that happened in this town, if not when it was happening, five minutes after.
Someone cleared their throat.
Standing behind my usual chair, I rolled my eyes and braced myself. “Just get it over with.”
Chaos ensued, wherein people jumped out of their chairs. Some giggled. Some squealed. One of them slapped my ass. I had a feeling it was Billie, but I was too busy being hugged by at least six women to know for sure, and after they’d taken their seats again, all ten of them grinned up at me, buzzing in their chairs, waiting for more information. I heard a few, “Mm-hm, girl”s, and Phil said she was “pleased” I’d had “a nice time.”
“Jeez. Y’all act like I was a virgin before the weekend and Rye came down from on high to bless me with his golden dick. This isn’t the ‘magical-cock trope’ in real life. You do know I’m a mother to two children, right?”
Billie snorted, and Cal tsked her disapproval.
“Alright, here’s the deal. Yes, I had sex. No, I’m not gonna regale you with the tale. It’s private and you should know better.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Sam said. “Shame on us. Now, let’s get to our new book.” She held up a paperback copy of a pale blue book, and on the cover next to an illustrated couple standing on a train track and wearing cowboy hats, the hot-pink title read, Railed by the Cowboy .
“Abey!” I accused and glared at her.
She held up her hands. “I swear it wasn’t me. I didn’t say a word.”
“It was me!” Roxi said, bouncing in her armchair with her hand in the air as I sat next to her. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t hold it in. I’m so proud of you.”
“Jesus.” I breathed slowly, trying to quell my embarrassment.
“Well,” she tried to explain, “sorry, but I just happened to be standin’ next to Abey when you talked to her durin’ your… the railing in question, and you were really loud. And then you didn’t call to tell me about it this mornin’. I had to talk to somebody!”
I scoffed. “The whole town qualifies as ‘somebody’?”
She winced. “Not the whole town. Just book club.”
“She spilled the beans,” Billie drawled. “Get over it and get to the good stuff. How exactly did he rail you?”
“What is railing?” Cal asked.
Phil leaned closer to her and whispered, “I’ll explain it at home later.”
“It basically means Aubrey got good and… fucked, for lack of a better word,” Juneau said. “Please,” she whined, “tell us something . How do you feel? Was it a positive experience?”
Billie snorted again, and I shot daggers at her eyeballs.
“Yeah. It was… great.”
The word didn’t begin to describe the whirlwind marathon sex fest I’d had with Rye, but I wasn’t ready to share him. The girls now knew he and I were “dating” but that’s all they needed to know.
And I was so not going into how sore my entire body was. I had to be careful not to groan when I sat. I hadn’t checked in my mirror, but I was pretty sure I had bruises in the shape of Rye’s fingerprints all over my hips and ass. The pain was my constant reminder of the railing I had indeed received, and I never wanted it to go away.
“I’m not goin’ into details, so don’t even ask.”
“He’s so young,” Daisy said. “I can only imagine his stamina! But you girls should’ve seen the way Rye looked at Aubrey. He’s smitten.”
I shook my head. “He is not.”
“He is too,” she argued. “Even José said so.”
Rye had said as much, hadn’t he? That he was falling for me. But when someone on the outside of the situation said it, it felt silly, like some teenage Romeo-and-Juliet farce we were playing in.
I wasn’t someone people adored. Not since the early days with Tommy, and even then, it hadn’t really been me he adored, but the idea of me. The idea of the life and family he’d said he wanted, but then failed to live up to even his own expectations.
As usual, Carly had hearts in her eyes. “Do you like him?” she asked.
“She does,” Roxi practically shouted, but then she turned toward me. “You do like him, right?”
Looking around the room, I knew I couldn’t lie. My friends would see right through me.
“Yes,” I said. “I like him. He’s funny and kind, and he treats me well.”
Abey smiled at me. She knew Rye better than I did, had for years. She’d corroborate his goodness.
“But,” I added, “he’s way too young for me. He lives an hour away, and I have my boys to consider. My business.”
Roxi glared at me and her mouth popped open, probably so she could point out that there wouldn’t be any business had it not been for Rye. She’d promised not to mention to anyone the deal Rye and I had struck, but Roxi was nothing if not passionate about her friends. Especially me, but before she could blurt it to the entire town, I shut her down with a glare of my own.
“Look, guys, he hasn’t even had kids yet, and you know I can’t be the woman to give those to him.”
He said he didn’t want kids, but that would change. He’d meet some young thing soon, with tight thighs and really perky boobs, and she’d want kids, and Rye would want to give her whatever she wanted. He was that kind of guy.
But why did that image in my head make me sad? He wasn’t mine. He couldn’t be, and I wanted him to be happy, didn’t I?
“Did he say he wants kids?” Aislinn asked. “Maybe he doesn’t. And aren’t your boys in their twenties? Why do you care what they think? And don’t you think they’d want you to find happiness?”
Yeah, sure, if Rye had gray hair, the boys might find it partially acceptable, but since his hair is golden brown and beautiful, he still has a full head of it, and there’s literally one decade between the boys and Rye, and Rye and me, yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna be on board.
Not a lot of people understood the closeness the boys and I had between us since their dad died. It was them and me against the world. It was the way things had to be for us to get through the loss we’d been dealt.
“It’s complicated,” I said. “Look, I won’t lie and say I’m not havin’ fun. I am, but I’m not sure it’s meant to last.”
It was the closest I could get to telling my friends about my fake relationship, which had to stay fake in my mind, but seemed to be anything but fake in Rye’s.
Everyone else, including Cal, sighed in disappointment. Except for Billie. She grumbled that she’d only come to book club to get the hot gossip, and I’d let her down, but I hoped my revenue-generating idea would distract her.
“Listen,” I said. “Since we’re on the subject, I have this idea for my shop. I wonder if y’all could help me refine it. It involves custom tote bags and cowboys.”
I told them my Bag a Cowboy idea, and everyone loved it. Carly and Juneau even said they’d talk to Buckey and my cousin Max to see if they knew any available cowboys in the area. Billie loved the idea, and she promised she’d get her husband, Jay, to rat on some of the guys and the one cowgirl working out at Cade Ranch. She was sure she could strong-arm a few of them.
Eventually, we got back to our new book, which was not Railed by the Cowboy , but a billionaire romance between a British real estate tycoon and a nerdy American who went to the UK to nanny for her sister’s college roommate’s boss.
When I got back to the shop, my phone pinged with a text.
I pulled it from my purse and saw that Micah had sent a message. I decided just to call him back. I was too tired to type and try to be funny with slang I didn’t understand and silly emoji.
But first, I called Billie and left a message when she didn’t answer her phone. “Hey, it’s Aubrey. I’ve been thinkin’. You were right about the online store idea. How do I go about settin’ that up?”
Now that Rye had single-handedly saved Your Local Bookie, I figured I’d better figure out some ways to keep it in the black. Besides e-commerce, I’d had an idea a while ago about outfitting a trailer or an old food truck to be a mobile bookstore. There were a lot of farmers markets in the area and festivals throughout the year I could sell at, maybe make the book genre match the event. It would take more thought, and I wasn’t sure where to get a free trailer, but I knew one cowboy in particular who’d probably be willing to help me look.
“Anyway, call me when you get a chance. Thanks, Billie.” I figured if I didn’t hear back, she’d be barging into the store soon to commandeer my laptop. When she had a mission, she was pushy and unstoppable, and it was my favorite thing about her.
Micah answered when I called him next. “Hey, Ma. Get my text?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t read it. It’s easier to call, plus I get to hear your voice. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothin’. Just wanted to check in. See how you are.”
Why he bothered texting in the first place was a mystery to me because I could hear in his voice that he wanted to talk, which meant he’d hoped I would call instead of text anyway.
“I’m okay, sweetie. How are you and Benji doin’?”
“Benji’s Benji. And I’m okay, I guess. Um, I met a girl.”
“You did? That’s great, Micah,” I said. “What’s her name?”
“Izzy. Isabel, but Izzy.”
“That’s a pretty name. How’d you meet?”
“She’s goin’ to school at MSU. She grew up not too far from Bozeman. Her family runs a cattle ranch.”
“Well, she sounds great. I hope I can meet her when you’re ready.”
He hesitated. “Yeah.”
He’d always been the more emotional and quieter of my twins, but not this quiet.
“Micah, what’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I dunno, Ma. I mean, I guess I’ve just been thinkin’ a lot lately.”
“About what?”
“Do you think it’s wrong if I don’t do what Benji does? I mean, like, if we went in different directions in our lives?”
“Of course not. Just ’cause you’re twins, it doesn’t mean you have to be glued at the hip your entire lives. And I think Benji wants you to be happy, whatever you decide to do.”
“Yeah. I know. I think.”
“Is this about Izzy?”
“No. Well, kinda, but not really. But, I guess, yeah.”
That was painfully vague, but it didn’t take much momaging to know he wasn’t ready to go into details. “I won’t push, Micah, but when you’re ready to talk, I’m here. Okay?”
“Okay. But you’re doin’ good? How’s the shop?”
What a question, and my answer was loaded with all kinds of land mines. “The store’s fine.” No need to worry him. “Same as usual. Oh, I saw the new Thor movie.”
“There’s no new Thor movie.”
“Right. It was the other guy. You know, his best friend? The space guy. But Thor was in it.”
Micah snorted in my ear. “Which is the only reason you went, right?”
“Guilty.”
“You’re so predictable, Ma.”
And wasn’t that the sad truth?