Chapter 15
Rory
Even taking care of myself after we almost kissed, climaxing hard to the thought of Nate’s strong fingers on my jaw, isn’t enough to wipe away the guilt and anxiety that’s gnawing at me as I twist my hair into a braid.
What the hell was I thinking, almost kissing Nate?
If the alert from the station hadn’t stopped us, there’s no telling what we would have done.
Okay, it’s easy to tell what we would have done because his presence makes my body react in ways I can’t control.
When he left the house, my nipples remained hardened into peaks so stiff I was worried they might poke Spam’s eye out when I picked him up, and my underwear was damp with arousal.
If we’d kept kissing, I would have gone to bed with him. There’s no question. The only thing I’m uncertain of is whether it would have been the right choice. I want him—obviously—but I’m headed back to Denver in a couple of weeks. It’s not fair to start something with Nate when I’m leaving.
I’ve already left him once.
Shaking my head, I try to force myself to focus on what’s important. Now is not the time to get involved with my ex-boyfriend. There are bigger priorities.
Like finding a job, for one.
Putting thoughts of Nate out of my head for a minute—or at least attempting to—I turn toward the stairs.
“Let’s go, Spam,” I say, leading the little guy down to Ollie’s crate, even though guilt settles in my stomach.
Look, I’m trying to follow Nate’s advice. He knows things about dogs. It’s literally part of his job. I know about dogs, too, but more about loving them, finding them good homes.
Also, about anatomy, but that’s not especially helpful when it comes to training a dog.
So Nate is probably—almost certainly—correct about dogs growing to like their crates, but remembering Spam’s big, sad eyes yesterday when I put him in there…
Ouch. My heart.
Sure enough, as we get closer, Spam balks at the sight of the crate, refusing to go in. I spend another minute trying to coax him in before I finally give up. I pick him up and set him inside the crate.
Spam whines, making sure I know his displeasure with the situation.
“Now, behave yourself. I need to find a job.” I pluck my laptop from the table and tuck it into my bag. I can’t believe I forgot to ask for the Wi-Fi password again.
A pang of longing hits at the sight of the animal shelter logo emblazoned on the tote bag. It wasn’t my dream job, but I loved the people, and it still involved animals, even if most of my job included picking up their mess.
Am I going to be one of those people who ends up sitting in a cubicle all day because jobs in my field are so hard to come by?
Sliding the tote over my shoulder, I open the front door.
Spam’s mournful howl tugs at my heartstrings.
“You stay here,” I say, giving him a meaningful look as I step out and close the front door behind me.
I hope he’s okay in there for a little while.
Pulling a deep breath in through my nose, I take in my surroundings. Fluffy clouds dot the bright blue sky. Mountain peaks rise in the not-too-far-off distance in all directions, and the scent of pine trees and clean mountain air drift on the soft breeze. This place is absolutely beautiful.
Nostalgia washes over me. How did I take High Lonesome for granted all of those years?
I let myself admire the view for a few more seconds before I quicken my steps toward the coffee shop.
I don’t need to be considering how pretty it is in High Lonesome.
We all know it’s gorgeous up here. It’s the only reason people live here now.
Other than tourism, most industry is dead ever since the mines closed.
Plenty of people have been sucked in by the natural beauty of this town, and while I had visions of being one of them, that’s not my life anymore.
I walk the short distance to Lone Brews. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafts out as I pull open the door, the jingle of the bells on the door already a familiar sound.
Marge looks up from behind the counter and gives me a wave. “Rory! Hi! What can I get you?”
I look around, but everyone else here is tucked away at a table, invested in their own business.
“Um. Vanilla latte, please?” I pull out my wallet.
I didn’t exactly budget for this, but it should be fine. Since I’m not paying rent this month, at least for now, I can afford a few luxuries, although food and toys for Spam has made a dent in the extra funds.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out while Marge steams the milk. It’s not from Nate, but my heart jumps all the same.
Stacey
Hi, it’s Stacey. Do you want to grab a drink tonight? Or a coffee this afternoon? Would love to catch up.
I type back a response as Marge fills a mug with espresso and milk and adds a shot of vanilla.
Would love to. I’ll be at Lone Brews for a while if you want to come by here. Do you get any breaks during the day?
Sounds good! I have a free period next actually and I usually head over there to get coffee, the same time I saw you yesterday. Helps me deal with the kids. If you’re still there let’s chat!
I smile as I slip the phone into my tote bag. Maybe Stacey and I could have a real friendship. We got along well when we were in high school, working on group projects and things like that, but I never bonded with her the way I did with Allie.
Growing up, I spent so much time at the barn that Allie and I were practically joined at the hip.
I wasn’t exactly unpopular for most of my school days, but I didn’t run with the queen bee crowd, the ones who ruled the school and seemed to focus all of their energy on making Allie and her sister’s lives a living hell. Mine, too.
Stacey played field hockey, too. We were on the same team for a couple of seasons before I decided that practice was cutting into my time at the barn. She was not only fun, but she was nice. Not in the generic sense, but in a personality-defining way. She was sweet to everyone.
I wonder if that’s still her thing, or if she’s gotten jaded in the last decade.
Marge slides the mug across the counter toward me. The scent of vanilla and coffee fills my nose, all creamy and delicious.
“Thanks, Marge. What do I owe you?”
She waves her hand dismissively in the air. “No charge. Go find a seat, and I’ll come sit with you in a bit. Lots to discuss.”
I settle at a table by the window, still feeling guilty about yet another freebie from Marge. Seriously, how does she stay in business? I make a mental note to drop a few dollars in the tip jar when she’s not looking.
I’m not sure exactly what Marge wants to discuss. Between her wanting to fill me in on things and Stacey stopping by soon, I’m feeling like a HiLo prize commodity.
Plus, I need to apply for jobs.
I pull out my laptop and connect to the Wi-Fi.
There’s got to be something out there that’ll be perfect.
Something where I can feel like I’m making a difference, where I get to work with animals and not just their poop.
Something that pays enough to afford a new apartment and food, and maybe even strawberries once in a while. It’s the little things.
Marge slides into the seat opposite me, twenty minutes and exactly zero job prospects later, gripping a Lone Brews mug in her hands.
“What are you working on?” she asks, lifting the drink to her lips.
I sigh and close the laptop. “Looking for a job. It’s not exactly going well.”
Marge frowns, her eyebrows pulling together. “Still no luck, hmm? Well, remember you can always pick up some hours here. I know you want to get back to Denver and all that, but we take care of our own here in HiLo.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.” I give her a smile, ready to change the subject. “Now, what’s all the gossip? You said there was lots you had to tell me, right?”
“Ah. Yes.” Setting the mug on the weathered table between us, Marge leans in, clasping her hands together and placing her elbows on the table. She looks way too excited about whatever she has to tell me. “There are some of your old classmates who still live in town.”
This isn’t exactly top-secret information or even hot gossip. I figured there were more than a few, actually. In a town like High Lonesome, people either leave right after high school and never look back, or they’re here for life.
“I know Stacey Hiller lives here. She’s supposed to stop by here in a little bit. We’re going to chat.”
Marge smiles. “Ah yes, Stacey is one of the good ones.”
So Stacey is the same, at least in that way. It’s kind of reassuring to know that she hasn’t changed all that much.
I feel like I’m a completely different person than I was in high school, but maybe everyone feels like that. Maybe the ways we grow and change aren’t always visible to other people in our lives.
Marge picks up her mug and takes a long sip before she sets it down again, drawing this out like she’s about to drop a scandalous tidbit. “And Yvonne Parrish and Kaitlyn Crocker live just on the outskirts of town. From what I hear, they’ve both had their eye on your man for years.”
Ah. Now this is news to me, and the twinkle in Marge’s eye tells me that this is the piece of information she considers to be her prize gossip for the day. And she should.
Yvonne and Kaitlyn were the two biggest mean girls in my class at LoPine High.
They focused plenty of their attentions on me, but they were absolutely brutal to Allie.
To her sister Lexi, too, but once Lexi’s soccer skills started carrying the team to state, they backed off.
It didn’t hurt that Lexi started wearing contacts for soccer, while Allie kept the glasses that made Yvonne dub her a four-eyed nerd.
Yeah. Originality was never Yvonne’s strong suit.
I always wondered if my relationship with Nate was part of what made me a target, if one of them had a crush on him back then. Looks like I wasn’t off the mark, if they still do.
“He’s not my man,” I say, and Marge cackles.
“Sure, honey.”