Chapter 12 Sam
SAM
Dolly disappears inside my house for the next few days.
I’m hyperaware of her presence, but I only glimpse a few sightings of her, along with evidence that she’s still around, like damp dishes in the clean rack beside the sink and her shoes being moved beside the back door.
I spot her walking through the field in the distance in the morning, but she never nears where I’m working the cattle.
I don’t know how she spends her time until Friday afternoon rolls around.
I walk up to my back porch an hour earlier than usual.
She’s in a yoga pose, ass in the air. I stop a few feet short of the wooden porch so my boots don’t make a sound and alert her to my presence.
I count to ten inside my head, allowing myself only that long to admire the curve of her backside, and then I continue on past her and into the house.
My chest is tight, but I try to ignore the emptiness that claws at me.
You really do need to get laid if you’re going to survive this.
The front door to my house opens. I look up to see Duke letting himself in with a case of beer, a bottle of wine, and two pizza boxes. He grins at me.
“Just came by to make sure you and Dolls aren’t getting too friendly over here.” He laughs at his own joke.
I stiffen, afraid my face will give my thoughts away. He kicks his boots off before making his way toward the living room coffee table. “There’s a fight tonight. You’re buying.” He grabs the remote.
The back door opens behind me.
Duke sets the pizzas down. “Hey, Dolls. Guess what. Sterling is gonna be home in a week.”
Dolly walks by me. I keep my eyes averted from her petite frame.
“Really? Oh my gosh, that’s awesome. Rosie and I have a girl we want to set him up with.”
I remove my hat, hanging it on the line of old brass hooks by the door before using the boot jack to remove my work boots.
Duke’s eyes narrow at her. “Why won’t you set me up with her? I’m single.”
Dolly scoffs, lifting up the lid to the pizza. “She’s a recently single mom. You’re not ready to settle down.”
“And Sterling is? Sam, are you hearing this?” He turns to me briefly and tosses me a beer. I catch it and pop open the top. “I could show a single mom a damn good time. I love moms.”
Dolly’s long, dark hair is tied up in a high ponytail. She’s wearing a black sports bra with black leggings that accentuate all the right curves of her ass and waist. A thin sheen of sweat coats her chest.
She levels her brother with a knowing look. “She’s not looking for a player. She has twin boys.”
He grabs his chest. “I’m a great uncle, am I not? I love kids.”
He looks to me for support. I lift my hands.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not doing that to her. After what I witnessed of you at the lake, I know you’re not looking for a serious relationship.”
Duke looks seriously offended. He collapses onto my leather sofa. “Who is it anyway? Do I know her?”
Dolly shakes her head. “She’s Rosie’s friend from the twins’ preschool. I think she’s newish to town.”
Duke leans forward, grabbing his own slice of pizza. His brow furrows in the center. “My feelings are hurt by this.”
I smirk, shaking my head. He’s nowhere near ready to date someone seriously, least of all a single mom.
“I’m going to shower,” I tell them.
“Me too,” Dolly says.
“Whoa, what’s going on here?” Duke says, eyes growing serious. He studies me, then Dolly.
My chest tightens. I glance at her. She freezes, gray eyes widening.
Duke laughs, shaking his head. “Y’all are too easy to prank. Hurry up. The fight starts soon.”
She grumbles, rolls her eyes, and marches for the stairs. I follow after her. Her cute little stomps on the wood floor make her ass jiggle. I watch her ponytail swing over her lower back, picturing it wrapped around my hand.
She turns off into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her. I don’t know when her crush ended so abruptly and turned into stone-cold dislike, but it’s good for both of us.
Several hours later, the fight’s coming to an end, and the sun has set outside the windows lining the back wall of the living room.
Duke is on one end of the sofa while Dolly is curled up on the other side.
I’m in my recliner on the opposite side of the room.
She drifted off to sleep with her e-reader in her lap an hour ago.
I’ve been stealing glances her way, hoping he doesn’t wake her up being too loud.
Duke has been on his phone for the past few minutes, asking me weird questions.
“If someone breaks into the house, what’s the first thing you would do?”
I shrug. “Grab the gun in my nightstand and go to Dolly’s room.”
I realize he may find that answer suspicious, but he simply nods.
“Does it upset you to see other people cry?”
I shake my head and raise a brow. “What is this for?”
He’s tapping on his phone.
“I downloaded a dating app for you and made you a profile. It’s asking a bunch of personality questions and shit now.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need an app to find someone to hook up with.” I realize now that he’s holding my phone, not his. “You’re a meddler.”
He nods. “Sure am. How much do you value physical intimacy and connection? I’m gonna put very high.”
I sigh.
He continues, “How do you respond if something is bothering you? Silent treatment, ask for space, let’s talk about it? I’m going to say silent treatment.”
Several minutes of silence follow before he asks another question. “What is your preferred budgeting method in a relationship? I’m going to put provider. You want a housewife.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what gives you that idea.”
“Keely wasn’t the housewife type. She wanted to go out, wear designer clothes, be seen. She maybe wanted one kid in ten years, through a surrogate. You want someone who can cook, someone who wants three or four babies. Traditional, but not in a toxic way. You want to take care of her.”
I stretch my legs out. “You’re missing one important thing. I don’t want a girlfriend or a wife. I’m fine by myself.”
Duke smirks. “Okay. Whatever. I’m going to match you with a few and start the conversations. You don’t have to marry any of them. You could just hook up with one and get out of your head.”
I don’t need a woman to hook up with to get out of my head, but when my best friend’s mind is made up, he’s impossible to sway. It’s easier to go along with it.
Duke finally finishes up and hands me my phone. I grab it, locking the screen and setting it on the armrest of my chair.
“Just try it. Respond to a few messages. After you’ve talked for one week and sent at least one hundred messages, the app will reveal the photos of the other person.”
My eyes sharpen. “I don’t get to see what they look like?”
He chuckles. “That’s part of the fun. It’s just a pseudonym and a personality quiz. It pairs you with someone compatible. It’s like Love Is Blind, but a dating app.”
“Are you on it?” I ask.
He nods. “Yep. And it makes sure to connect to your social media so that any relatives are ruled out automatically.”
My eyes skate over to Dolly. I know she’s on a dating app, but I don’t know which one. The reminder of what Rosie told her about uploading photos of her on the boat in her bikini makes me think it’s probably not the anonymous one with no photos.
Bummer.
I tap the screen to life, seeing that he has, in fact, made several compatible connections for me. The personality charts show a shadow of a woman with no distinct features, but there are bullet points telling me more about each one. Duke started the chats with three of them.
One of them says, I would take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring your own snack.
The next one says, Do you have a name? Or can I just call you mine?
The last message says, Let’s skip this part and just get married.
I snort, shaking my head. “These could be men for all we know.”
He throws his head back with a bark of a laugh.
“You have to upload your driver’s license to prove you are who you say you are.
” He stands, stretching. “Look, I don’t care if you’re single and miserable and alone forever.
I just think you should give it a try. You’re in this big house with no one to share it with.
I get that you don’t want Keely here, but I worry about you. ”
“You’re single and alone, and I’m not barking about how you need a woman to fulfill your life.”
He grabs his ball cap, placing it on his head. “I’ve got my family. Pops, Dolls, Holden, and Rosie just around the corner. It’s not the same. But once it’s just me in the big house, I’ll be ready too. And I just hope my friends are around to push me in the right direction.”
He walks over to where he left his boots in the foyer and puts them on. “Night, man. Take care of her.”
“I will. Night.”
The heavy wooden door slams shut behind him. Dolly doesn’t stir, apparently used to the loud noises of her family.
I don’t know how much time passes while I sit, watching her sleep.
Her ebony hair is in a braid on her shoulder.
The faded floral blanket she has tucked around her is one of my grandmother’s quilting projects.
It’s made out of soft, worn cotton. She used to make the same blankets for the women’s shelter.
I think she always hoped to see my mother when she went there, but it never happened.
To this day, I struggle with the memory of my mother’s death.
I was only seven when I found her, and there’s a lot of gaps in my dark memories.
She ran away with my biological father when she was pregnant with me.
My grandmother never gave up hope, even though my grandfather swore he’d never let her live at Moonlight Ranch again.
He left everything to me after she died and the state gave them custody.
I was raised with a clear message: The wrong man in a woman’s life will destroy her. The Redfords received the same cautionary tale each day they spent any significant time working for my grandfather at Moonlight.
I know his intentions were to raise us boys to be good, strong, dependable men.
He wasn’t overly moralistic or religious, but he did believe in going to church every Sunday and following a strong set of classic Southern morals.
He wouldn’t have been too concerned if I’d gotten a girl pregnant, but I damn sure would’ve been expected to marry her.
Dolly sighs, rolling to her side in her sleep. The new position causes the blanket to shift partly off of her, exposing her pajamas and the curve of her hip. The yellow fabric is patterned with white seashells.
The way she shattered on top of me from the rocking of the boat and my erection against her is going to haunt me for the rest of time.
I grab my phone, tapping the screen to life and skimming through the matches Duke already messaged for me on the dating app.
One of them replied, despite the stupid name he gave me.
@ropesandchainsexciteme:
Do you have a name? Or can I just call you mine?
@hairstylistkenzie:
You can call me whatever you want. What’s your name?
The app lets you choose a username to keep things anonymous for the first week, but apparently, hairstylist Kenzie isn’t concerned about it. I roll my eyes at the one Duke set for mine—@ropesandchainsexciteme.
I type out a response.
@ropesandchainsexciteme:
Call me Chance. Maybe we’ll have a chance to meet.
I feel like an idiot as soon as I send it.
I’ve never had to flirt to get a woman. Keely and I dated all through high school.
I know a few girls named Kenzie from our school, and I know one of them became a hairstylist after graduation.
She was a sweet person, and I think a cheerleader.
But if it’s the Kenzie I’m thinking of, she’s also Keely’s second cousin.
Dating in a town this small and remote is a nightmare. There’s almost zero chance these matches aren’t women I already know.
Fuck. What if one of them is Keely?
The prospect of being alone in this house forever looms over me as I watch Dolly sleeping peacefully. Since she’s been staying here, I haven’t had to get shit-faced in order to get some sleep.
I stand and walk over to her, pocketing my phone before reaching underneath her tiny frame and lifting her up in my arms. Her sweet wildflower scent hits me, and I wonder if it’s her shampoo or if it oozes out of her pores.
Her body heat seeps into me as I carefully walk up the stairs with her, watching her head as I go through the door to her room. She doesn’t stir when I lay her down and pull the covers up to her chin.
Her pink lips are full and inviting. I lean forward, brushing my thumb over the bottom one.
“Sweet dreams, Dollface.”
She moans, and it’s an addictive sound. My pulse sputters when her lips part, and she makes another sexual noise, like she’s having a very good dream.
“Sam,” she breathes.
Fuck.