Chapter 3 #2
Ricky punctuates the notepad with a wild flourish. “Thank you, gentlemen. Appreciate it.”
When he leaves, Miles’s mouth spreads into a wide grin.
I chuckle. “Randy the Rooster? Really?”
Miles takes a sip of his beer and sets it on the coaster. “Poor fucker will be driving in circles trying to find it.”
“How the hell did you come up with that shit?”
“Married to a fiction writer, remember? I’ve picked up a thing or two.”
I lean back against the brick wall and cross my arms over my chest. “Think we should tell someone about that guy? One word to Rosie at the diner, and everyone will know about it.”
“Not a bad idea,” he says. “The dumbass will probably figure out I sent him on a wild goose chase. Then maybe he’ll do the smart thing and search up the ranch online instead of relying on some stranger in a bar.”
“Yeah. I’ll head over there on my lunch break.”
Miles stays long enough to finish his beer, and we chat about Maggie’s next book and their dog, Max. It’s mostly surface-level shit. I don’t open up to people, and Miles is similar in that way.
Stephanie, our other bartender on duty, comes in around five, and I head down the street to Rosie’s for a dinner break.
The bell chimes above the door when I step inside, the scorching summer heat giving way to the blissful chill of the central AC.
The scent of fresh apple pie hits my senses as Rosie places it in the display case.
It only catches my attention for a fraction of a second before my eyes lock on the back of a woman sitting at the counter.
It’s been a few months since I last saw her up close, and she still manages to stop me dead in my tracks. I never could forget her, no matter how hard I tried; something always drew me back in.
Even though a decade has passed, I can still picture her on Sunday mornings sitting next to Connor at the breakfast table, and those late nights with her legs dangling off the tailgate and her guitar across her lap.
Over the years, I catalogued every minor detail like I was studying for a test. She likes her coffee sweet and her candy sour.
She loves cherries but hates cherry cola.
She’s terrified of spiders and thinks ghosts are real.
That was then, and the Ruby from ten years ago has nothing on the woman sitting before me now.
Goddamn, she’s a sight for sore eyes.
Her long golden blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail threaded through a bright pink baseball cap.
Her thick thighs spill over the sides of the stool, and don’t even get me started on her gorgeous ass in those painted-on blue jeans.
Ruby Lynn Hayes is a wet dream come to life.
She’s trying to blend in, but she’ll have to do better if she’s going to go unnoticed in this town.
I step up behind her, bending just enough so my lips are next to her ear. “Hey, Goldie.”
She startles, dropping the fork to her plate with a loud clatter, and spins to face me. “Jesus, Liam. You scared the shit out of me!” She playfully swats at my chest.
The simple touch sends a sudden jolt of electricity sparking through me.
I flick the brim of her hat. “You know this isn’t fooling anyone, right?”
“Oh, shit! I forgot my groucho glasses at home.” A single dimple appears in her left cheek as she tries and fails to hide her amusement. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’m not afraid of being recognized.”
She stabs another forkful of pumpkin pie, and I don’t look away when she takes the tines between her luscious pink lips, leaving behind a smear of whipped cream. Before I can think better of it, my thumb swipes along her bottom lip. I bring it to my mouth and suck.
Desire pulses through my veins as her blue eyes track the movement. I let the flavor linger on my tongue, imagining what it would be like if I had my mouth on Ruby instead.
Rosie stands behind the counter with her hands on her hips and a knowing smile on her face, waiting to take my order. “You just gonna stand there gawking, or did you want to order somethin’?”
Rosie Sullivan, the diner’s owner and namesake, is a seventy-something grandmother with grey hair pulled back in a ponytail and a permanent gleam in her mischievous blue eyes. She’s known around Oak Ridge as the town gossip. You’d do well to filter yourself within these walls.
I clear my throat and tear my eyes away from Ruby long enough to order my usual—a club sandwich with fries to go—and take a seat on the stool to wait.
Ruby sighs. “Before you ask… yes, the rumors are true.” There’s exhaustion in her voice, as if she’s been asked the question a million times and she keeps the answer tucked into her back pocket like one of those punch cards. If she answers one more time, she gets a free lobotomy.
Not wanting to be another intrusive asshole, I respond sarcastically. “So, you are secretly into hobby horsing?”
“Actually, I’m retiring from the circuit. Something about intimidating the competition.”
“What a shame.”
Ruby snorts and eats more of her pie, a comfortable silence settling between us.
Time hasn’t dulled the attraction. Every goddamn billboard and news article with her face plastered on it has ramped my desire up to a thousand.
I’ve tried not to notice, tried to keep my distance, but it’s impossible when she’s so intoxicating.
She was hard to resist back then, and it’s a hell of a lot harder now.
Rosie returns with my lunch, glancing between me and Ruby.
I shake my head, shutting down the line of questioning before she can even utter a word. “Just a heads up, a reporter from Chicago came by the bar asking to get directions to the ranch. I told him to fuck off, of course, but you might want to be careful.”
Ruby throws her head back and groans. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a little peace and quiet around here?”
“Try not being the hottest chick in country music,” Rosie says with a laugh. “I’ll get the word out. He won’t get far in this town if I have anything to do with it.”
“Or Miles.”
Rosie shakes her head and sighs. “What’d that boy do this time?”
“Just sent the guy on a bit of a wild goose chase. Or rooster chase, as the case may be.”
Ruby laughs, full-throated and melodic. I could play it on a loop and never tire of it, like a song written just for me. “I appreciate the heads up.”
I nod and gesture toward the door. “I should get back to the bar.”
Ruby stands and wraps her arms around my waist.
Caught off guard by the gesture, I freeze.
“This is called a hug, Grumpy.” Her teasing tone sobers me enough to return the embrace. The simple touch feels monumental. “It’s good to see you,”
I pull back and palm her shoulders, resisting the urge to linger. “See you around?”
“Yeah.”
Rosie waggles her fingers suggestively, wearing a mischievous smile.
With a shake of my head, I snatch my takeout box off the counter and make the trek back to the bar with my mind still replaying the feel of Ruby in my arms. It’s not the first time we’ve hugged, but something is different.
She is different, and I can’t put my finger on what’s changed.
When I arrive home later that night, Ivy is hanging out on my couch with a book spread on her lap. She glances up and smiles when she sees me. “Aiden’s in his room. Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure. Is everything ok?”
She sets the novel in her canvas tote and turns to face me. “Apparently, Aiden had a rough day at school. Some kids were bullying him. He wouldn’t tell me anything specific, but he seems pretty upset.”
My jaw ticks. Anger, unlike anything I’ve felt since the day Breanna dropped him off on my doorstep, rises to the surface.
“He’s resilient,” she says. “He’ll be ok, but you should talk to him.”
“I will. Thanks, Ivy.”
“Anytime. There’s… something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
I slump down onto the couch and scrub my hands over my beard. “I know. I need to hire a nanny.”
Ivy scrunches up her face and nods. “I’m sorry. I don’t mind watching him when it works with my schedule, but you need someone more consistent.”
“Yeah. It’s just so hard to trust anyone else, you know?”
Shortly after Breanna left Aiden with me, I took him to see a doctor.
He seemed small for his age, and I wasn’t certain of his medical history, so I wanted to get all the information I could.
The doctor said he was showing clear signs of malnutrition and neglect, and they diagnosed him with failure to thrive.
It’s taken me years to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't there for my kid when he needed me.
Even if I had no idea he existed, there's still an uncurrent of guilt there.
She places a reassuring hand on my arm. “I do know. I’d do it if I could, but I have so much on my plate as it is. I’m sorry.”
“No, it's fine. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. I’ll start looking for a nanny.”
She squeezes my wrist. “He’s a good kid. The best. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding the right fit.”
She’s right, but it’s not just about finding the right fit—it’s trusting someone other than my closest friends.
I’ve seen far too much of the ugly side of humanity to go blindly into any situation.
My time in foster care showed me that there can be a whole world of shit going on beneath the surface, and you won’t know until it’s too late.
“I should get home,” she says. “I’ll be by to pick him up in the morning.”
“Thanks, Ivy. I really appreciate you being here.”
She wraps me in a hug as she always does. I learned fairly quickly that Ivy is a hugger, but this embrace doesn’t affect me the same way Ruby’s did. I watch her headlights disappear down the driveway before I head down the hallway toward the sliver of light peeking through an open door.
I find Aiden sitting crisscross on the floor of his bedroom, holding out a piece of romaine lettuce with Jerry at his feet as the little ball of fluff nibbles on his snack. The door creaks, and Aiden glances up at me through red-rimmed eyes.