Chapter Eight
Kip
Ginger doesn’t speak to me the whole ride home after calling me a butthead. Who over the age of twelve calls anyone a butthead? Anyway, she doesn’t speak to me while we eat dinner. She doesn’t speak to me after dinner either.
I just yell a goodnight to her as she storms down the hallway.
She’s still not speaking to me the next morning as I pour my coffee.
I notice she winces as she reaches over her head to grab a coffee mug from the cabinet. She’s moving slowly this morning.
“Feeling it today, huh?” I reach over her and grab the mug.
“Here,” I say, holding it out. She takes it without a word.
“Never speaking to me again?”
She just scrunches up her face as she pours her coffee.
“Well, I guess I’ll talk then.”
I point to the island. “There’s a laptop and iPad you can use. They are already connected to Wi-Fi. The password on both is 1234.”
Her eyes jerk up - full of surprise.
“I had some extra stuff that I haven’t been using. It’s not a big deal,” I shrug. “Next, if you need to go into town, you can use Mom’s car. It’s in the garage. It doesn’t get driven much. I try to start it every few weeks. The keys are beside the iPad.”
“I’m not taking your car.” She sets her coffee down.
“Ginger.” Is she really going to fight me on this too?
“I can't take your car.”
“It's not my car. It was my mother's. No one is using it.” My voice comes out louder than I mean for it too.
She scowls.
“I’m not using it.”
I rub my temples. Why does she have to be so fucking difficult about every fucking thing?
“I don't want to be worried about you getting eaten by a moose or caught in a lightning storm.
I need to be able to work without distraction.
If I don't know where you are, and I think you're wandering around outside in some sort of unsafe situation, I'm going to worry, and I'm not going to be able to get my work done.”
She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t fall over.
“No,” she says.
“Are you just still mad at me about yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Cupcake, come on. You have to admit it was funny.”
“No, it wasn’t, and I’m not using your stupid car. Stop trying to bully me.”
Goddamn it. I’m just trying to help her.
“Why are you so bossy?” she says.
“Why are you so difficult?” I fire back.
She makes a hmph sound and then takes a sip of her coffee.
“Is there a bike, or something I could use?”
She’s going to give me an aneurysm, that’s for sure.
“A bike?”
“Yeah, Grumpy, you know that thing with two wheels and pedals?”
“I’m familiar. There’s one in the garage, but you can’t use it.”
“Why not?’
I wave at her arm. “Your arm is broken. Did you forget?”
“I can still ride a bike,” she huffs.
“The hell you can,” I say. I point at her and continue, “I forbid you from riding that bike.”
She scoffs. “You forbid me?”
“Yes, you’re forbidden.”
“You can’t forbid me from doing anything. What the heck is wrong with you, Grumpasuarus? Is this why you haven’t had a girlfriend in a while?”
I freeze and stop breathing. Her face softens a little.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That was too far.”
“You can’t ride the bike,” I say, ignoring her apology. “It’s mine, and it will be stealing if you take it.”
She closes her mouth into a hard line and just gives me a look that makes my balls shrivel just a little. I’ve got to get out of here as soon as I can. She needs to stay occupied. Out of my hair.
“You need to take it easy for a few days. Let your body heal,” I say.
She eyes me suspiciously.
“Why don’t you find something to read in the library or watch a movie?” I continue.
“Fine,” she says, throwing up her hands. “I am quite sore today. Help me pick something to read.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
I follow her toward the library and watch her run her fingers over the spines of the books. She stops abruptly and pulls out a book.
“Elliott Wells. I love his books.” She carefully opens a copy of Rumination. I hear her gasp, and I know why immediately. Her eyes flash up to mine.
“It’s signed,” she says.
“I know.”
“I didn’t think Elliott Wells signed books. He’s so reclusive.”
“My mom was a big fan,” I shrug.
“This is a first edition.” She turns the book over in her hands, studying it with care.
I just shrug again.
“This is worth a fortune.”
“You can have it,” I say.
My jaw drops open. “What? You can’t give this away.”
“Like I said, my mom was the fan.”
“You’re not a fan?”
I sigh. “It’s pretty pretentious and contrived.”
She carefully closes the book and places it back on the shelf. “Pretentious and contrived? It won a Nobel and Pulitzer, not to mention the movie won the Best Picture Oscar.”
I roll my eyes. “Exactly. Pretentious.”
She huffs.
“Self-righteous. Hypocritical,” I continue.
“I don’t even know what that means.” Her hands are on her hips. Her eyes are blazing. “Are we talking about the same book?”
I inhale deeply. “I’m no literary critic.”
“Clearly.”
We stand in silence for a moment.
“I know someone who went to school with him.” As soon as she says this, she knows she’s revealed too much. She has my interest now.
“Really? Who?” I ask.
She darts her eyes away from mine and says, “Friend of a friend. Doesn’t matter. He went to Harvard. Just someone I know knows someone that graduated with him.”
My eyebrow is arched. I’d love to know more about this.
“Anyway, they said he was a nice guy, that’s all,” she mutters. She’s looking down like she’s afraid I’ll read her thoughts. I really wish I could right now.
“It’s not my favorite of his. I know it’s the most popular, but Moonshine is better,” she changes the subject back to the book.
“I don’t disagree with that,” I mutter, and then I start to scan the shelves. “How about you read something really good? Graham Greene? Walker Percy?”
I grab books from the shelf and hand them to her. She makes a pile on the table.
Once she has a nice big stack, I say, “That should keep you busy.”
“It should.” She looks from the stack of books to me and back again. I pick them up, and we walk back into the kitchen without saying a word.
“Well, I need to get to work,” I say. She doesn’t respond. I feel her eyes on me as I walk out the door. Blue’s waiting for me outside.
I pick up one of his balls and throw it. He bounds after it happily.
I steal a glance back into the house. Ginger’s gone from the kitchen, presumably back into her bedroom.
Okay. No more distractions. It's time to work. I have deadlines to meet. I can't keep fucking around.
Blue is back with his ball in his mouth. He drops it at my feet.
“No more time for play, buddy. I’ve got work to do.”
He looks at me with his big sad, puppy dog eyes, and I just can’t resist.
“Fine. One more time.” I throw the ball in the direction of the lake. Once he returns, I go back inside where I proceed to sit and stare at a blank computer screen for three solid hours - without doing a damn thing.
Why is my brain broken? I never used to have this problem.
Not until...well, not until everything fell apart.
Maybe I do need to talk to Leery’s stupid therapist?
I pick up the card and flip it over. Blue gets up from the spot where he’s been napping at my feet for the past hour and walks over to the door and starts whining.
I set down the card and go to the door. When I open it, I see Ginger on the back patio.
Fuck me. She’s doing yoga in the world’s tiniest spandex shorts and sports bra.
Damn, she’s super flexible. I groan softly.
I did not need that image in my brain. She’s flowing between stretching and balance poses, avoiding using her hurt arm.
She stretches her arms up high over her head and then bends over and holds onto one of the patio chairs, back flat, arms out straight, ass in the air.
I’m just picturing myself standing behind her - my dick pressed between her ass cheeks, fingers digging into her hips.
Well, if my dick wasn’t paying attention to the situation before, it certainly is now. I adjust myself just as Blue spots Ginger. He’s on the move.
“No, Blue,” I yell. He’s mid-pounce, flying in her direction. As soon as he hears me, he skids to a stop or at least tries too, but it’s a little too late, and he crashes into her - knocking her over.
I run her direction.
“Get out of here, you dumb animal,” I say, shooing Blue away. “You okay? Did you get hurt? How’s your wrist?”
I hear a muffled noise. It sounds like crying, and my stomach drops.
“Ginger, god, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?”
She rolls over onto her back - there’s a big smile on her face, and I realize she’s laughing.
“He really got me, didn’t he?” she says. Her hair is everywhere, and she’s staring up at me with those big blue eyes.
I sit down beside her, relieved she’s not hurt.
“Sorry about that. The big dummy doesn’t know his own size.”
“It’s fine,” she says.
“Did he mess up your routine?”
“Oh, I just needed a good stretch. I’m so sore. I thought a little yoga would loosen me up,” she says as she sits up.
It certainly loosened me up, that’s for damned sure.
“I have a frittata in the oven,” she says. I stand up and reach out my hand. As soon as she takes it, I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through me. I think she feels it too because her eyes go wide, and she darts her gaze away quickly. I jerk my hand back and stuff it in my pocket.
“Frittata?”
“Yeah, I just saw you had eggs and some leftover vegetables. I hope that’s okay. I was going to eat it for lunch if you want some.”
“Sounds good. When will it be ready?” I ask.
“About thirty minutes.” She’s wrapping her hair into a high bun on the top of her head. She looks so damn cute; I don’t want to take my eyes off her.
“Come on, Blue,” I yell. “We’ll get out of your hair so you can finish. See you in thirty.”
She doesn’t move until we’re walking into the cabin.