Chapter 3 #3
He just can’t help himself, can he? It’s like slimy is his middle name.
And for some reason, he thinks he’s charming my socks off and enticing me with his comments.
The only thing he’s enticing me on is running out the back door the next time his fancy car drives through town.
The next time he shows his face, I’m going to have to be blunter with him.
Although, he’ll probably think I’m just continuing to play hard to get and making him work for it.
Somehow, I’ll have to make my message clear.
Maybe I’ll start wearing my grandmother’s engagement ring.
Then when he shows up, I can flash it in his face.
“Thank you,” I force the words out. “Hope you have a safe drive back.”
“Until next time, pretty woman.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes and bite my tongue from telling him never to come back.
The moment he’s out the door, I breathe a sigh of relief and count backwards from ten.
Trying to settle my nerves as I watch him through the window, visualizing taking my key to the side of that pretty red sports car I know he loves so much.
He probably thinks of it as his baby. Yet, it’s just a hunk of metal on wheels.
“Honey, why in pray tell did you turn that man down?” Fran comes up to my side, staring longingly as Miles climbs into his car. “That boy wants to sweep you off your feet and take you out of this place. You should let him.”
She obviously didn’t hear what he whispered in my ear, and she definitely doesn’t know my past, so she will never understand my reasons. Although, knowing her, she’d probably think what he said was sexy. I’m just too jaded that I find it annoying.
“He’s not my type,” I state, reaching for a coffee mug and filling myself up a cup to take back to the office.
“Child, that boy is everyone’s type.” She shakes her head.
“You know…” Her voice grows serious, motherly.
“You can put that smile on, but I can see it, Wren. I can spot a broken heart from a mile away. And let me tell you this. If he ain’t here, if the one you’re pining over ain’t banging down your door, realizing he made the biggest mistake of his life by lettin’ you go, then he ain’t worth a lick of your time.
You’re a golden soul. Somethin’ truly special.
” She gives me a wink. “You deserve happiness. You deserve love. And you definitely deserve to get some dick.”
“Fran!” I gasp at her crassness, looking to see if any of the customers heard, but Mr. Granley is the only one in close proximity, and he still has his nose in his newspaper as he sips his coffee, completely unaware of Fran’s shameless comment.
“Just sayin’.” She clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “Even if you don’t want to marry the guy, ain’t no harm in takin’ him for a little test drive. A nice long ride could do you some good if you know what I mean.”
She waggles her brow, and I’m shaking my head.
The old coot reminds me of my granny. No filter and one very dirty mind.
Granny didn’t fit in in my parents’ world either.
Every time she came to visit, my mother would snap at her for the way she spoke, and eventually, it got to the point where she wasn’t invited to our house anymore.
As a kid, I was told it was because Granny was busy during the holidays.
“Cared more about her redneck trashy friends than her family.” But when I came to stay with Granny, after my heart was ripped into shreds, I learned the truth.
My mother was embarrassed by the “crass woman,” so Granny was no longer welcome at our house.
When I read the letter my mom had sent her, I decided right then that I was done with my parents and their shallow life.
And I haven’t been back since. Not that I’ve been invited either.
I was the daughter who went against the grain.
The girl who didn’t want to have a personal chef, but instead, wanted to spend her life cooking for people.
I was the girl who dated a roughneck from the wrong side of the tracks.
A boy covered in “evil sins,” aka tattoos, who ended up in prison.
I brought shame to the Gallagher name, so when I left, my parents probably breathed a sigh of relief.
And they haven’t reached out since. They haven’t once checked to see how I’m faring in this world, but they probably don’t care.
I honestly think them having a child was just part of checking the status box.
“You’re twenty-five,” Fran states. “Now’s the time, girl, before them eggs of yours turn into prunes.”
She’s not going to let up. And I definitely don’t want to get into all the reasons why I’m not interested in dating right now.
I’m already feeling rough for the wear, and I don’t need to drudge up any more rotten feelings.
So, I plaster on a smile and say the only thing that’s going to get her off my case.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “The next time he asks, I’ll consider it.”
Although, the next time he comes in, I’m going to be locked in the back, so I don’t have to see his smug face.