Chapter Nineteen
Caine
I wake to the sound of something vibrating against my bedside table, my mind confused by the unfamiliar sound. I’d turned off my alarm before bed, wanting to enjoy a few extra hours with Mikayla in my arms.
I reach over and grab the phone, sliding my finger over answer without looking at the screen. There are only a handful of people who would call me at this hour.
“Hello,” I whisper hoarsely.
I try to speak quietly so as not to wake the little beauty beside me.
“Excuse me?” a rather angry female voice says into the phone. “Who is this?” she asks with obvious annoyance.
“Who is this?” I reply curtly, waking more fully.
“No, you answered my daughter’s phone. I think you should tell me who you are,” she says.
Shit! I pull the phone from my ear and look at the screen. She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named flashes back at me, and I roll my eyes at the name my girlfriend has given her mother. She must have changed it since I picked her up.
I smile… my girlfriend. I don’t even care that we’ve only known each other a few days. I’ve been dreaming about this woman for months. And she’s mine. My girlfriend.
“Mikayla’s asleep. I’ll let her know you called,” I say before hanging up the phone.
Fuck! I think to myself. I put the phone down and turn into the warm body beside me.
Mikayla doesn’t even stir during the phone call.
She’s out cold. I kiss her forehead, her cheeks and lightly peck her lips before getting out of bed.
I look at my phone and see it’s eight AM.
I want to head to the mechanic, see what the deal is with Mikayla’s car.
Then I need to get a picnic basket and a blanket and, of course, food to fill the basket.
I quickly get dressed and look longingly over at Mikayla, who is still out. I walk to the bathroom, brush my teeth and take a piss before heading to the kitchen. I grab a piece of paper and leave Mikayla a quick note:
Mikayla:
Like I said last night, I’ll be home at eleven for our date. Wear comfortable clothes. We may not have time to change before dinner, but it’s not fancy, anyhow. I have my phone if you need to call.
FYI—please don’t hate me, but I inadvertently answered your phone this morning. I don’t know why, but I thought it was mine.
It was your mom. I quickly hung up. But I wanted you to know.
I’m sorry! I swear it was a mistake.
Okay, so I’ll be back in a few hours.
See you soon,
Caine
I make my way to The Garage, yes, it’s a very on-the-nose name for the mechanics. I’m the only person here since the place just opened.
“Hey Caine,” Frankie says as I approach the front desk.
“Hey, just checking in about the car I brought in,” I say after waiting an hour.
Frankie gives me a frown in response. “Sorry, man, the car is done. I mean, I could fix it, but it would be expensive considering how old the car is. Plus, it’s really on its last legs.
Even good cars have a shelf life,” he says.
“Spark plugs need to be replaced, the AC doesn’t even work anymore, and the sound the car is making is from the catalytic converter.
Oh, and the starter needs to be replaced.
You’re looking at like four grand, and the car isn’t even worth that. ”
“Thanks, Frankie,” I say. “I appreciate the honesty.” I knock my knuckles on his counter.
“I don’t need to scam customers to make money, and you’re a good customer. Sorry about the bad news. Want me to sell off the parts?” he asks. “People are always looking for bumpers and doors. They could even use the windows.”
“I’ll ask Mikayla what she wants to do.” I extend my hand and shaking his.
Is it horrible that I’m actually happy her car can’t be fixed? I’m happy she’ll be forced to stay with me even longer.
I make my way to the grocery store and pick up different cheeses, bread, tomatoes and cucumbers and some meats for a charcuterie board, yes, I know what that is.
I grab a bottle of white wine and red. I don’t know what she prefers, but since I’ve never seen her with a beer, I’m guessing she isn’t a beer drinker.
“Hey, Caine,” says a woman from behind me in line.
I have no idea who she is.
“Mornin’,” I reply. I have manners.
“Do you have plans tonight?”
My eyes meet the cashier, Lenny, as I unload my groceries onto the conveyor belt. He rolls his eyes at me. I shrug. What can I say?
“I do have plans,” I answer truthfully, if not with a bit of annoyance.
The woman smiles, and Lenny outright laughs. This lady is insane! She actually thinks my response is an invitation.
“With my girlfriend,” I clarify.
The blonde’s smile falls. “You don’t have a girlfriend,” she says, her hands on her hips.
“I do.” I grin, unaffected by her bitchy attitude.
“You can just say you aren’t interested.” She tosses her items behind the rubber bar she placed on the belt.
“Darlin’ I’m not interested, and I’ve never had to lie, and I ain’t now.” I wave and walk away, my groceries in a canvas tote. I think we’ve established I’m a dick.
Behind the grocery store is a small shop with random shit. It’s the kind of store that has everything, including housewares. I’m hoping it has a picnic blanket and a basket I can use for the groceries.
“Well, look who we have here,” muses Mrs. Wilson.
She’s owned this store for as long as I can remember. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was passed down to her from her mama.
“Hello to you, Mrs. Wilson,” I say with a smile.
The woman has a full head of white hair that she braided and that hangs over her shoulder. She’s a slim lady with friendly green eyes. At seventy, she’s still a lovely vision, and full of sass.
“So, what brings you in? Need help finding something?”
I think she’s being nosy, and she likely is. But I do need help.
“Do you carry stuff for a picnic?” I ask, unsure of myself for the first time.
“A picnic… I sure do. Follow me,” she replies, waving me over.
The shop is actually deceptively large. We navigate a few aisles, and I find myself in front a few different baskets, blankets, and serving stuff that fits in the picnic basket.
“I came in here for two things!” I mutter in feigned irritation.
“Honey, are we trying to get laid or are you laying the groundwork for more?” Mrs. Wilson asks, deadpan.
I would have spat out my drink had I been drinking anything. I have never heard her speak this way, at least not to me.
“I have eyes and ears. You think I don’t know about you, Caine Montgomery? I’d have to live under a rock to not be aware of your nighttime proclivities.” How does she say that sounding all prim and proper?
I’m in shock. I mean, her words are pretty insane, but what she’s saying… I’m no man-whore!
I place my hand on my chest and ask, “My nighttime proclivities?”
“You heard me; don’t make me say it twice. Now, are you just looking for sex, ‘cause this is a lot of effort from you for sex. Now, unless the rumors are false, you don’t need to go through all this effort,” she says, crossing her arms over her slender frame.
“I’m not having this conversation,” I murmur under my breath.
I shake my head and frown. This can’t be happening.
Lance gets laid more than I do! What level of hell have I walked into.
“I want to do something nice for my girlfriend,” I explain simply.
“Franklin Caine Montgomery? You have a girlfriend?” I hear from a few aisles over.
I shut my eyes at the sound of her voice. When I open them, she’s standing right beside Mrs. Wilson.
“Mornin’ Mama,” I say, walking over to my mother and giving her a hug.
“Do you have a girlfriend? How… why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, hurt written all over her face.
My mother’s brows are drawn, and her usual smiling face is down-turned, a frown marring her lovely visage.
“It’s very new,” I say, hoping to curb her hurt.
“Hmm, must be since… what… three days ago you were moping…” she says skeptically, one brow raised as she regards me skeptically.
“Mama, are you gonna give me grief or are you gonna help me convince this girl I’m worth her heart?” I ask my mother.
I wish I could say I’m trying to make her feel better, but the fact of the matter is, I need her help.
A big smile comes over my mother’s face, her white, straight teeth making an appearance.
“Well, I think that’s just the best thing I’ve heard in years,” she says, beaming with happiness, her eyes crinkling at the ends. “A picnic…” she muses as she begins grabbing items off the shelves.
No one can claim my mother isn’t the queen of shopping. She grabs plates, cloth napkins, a caddy for everything, a blanket, a basket, and glasses.
“Put that plastic thing away,” she mutters, swatting my hand when I reach for two plastic wineglasses. “I know you weren’t raised in a barn…” she adds with a giggle. “Oh, dear, you really were raised in a barn!”
The giggles quickly turn into full-on belly laughs, and I’m just stuck here staring at my mother, waiting for her to get it under control so I can get what I need for my lunch.
Once the giggles pass, my mother and Mrs. Wilson grab what they determine I need for a proper romantic picnic, and I make my way to the register to pay for everything.
“Come for dinner. I’d love to meet this girl,” my mother says.
“Not today. I have a whole day planned for Mikayla,” I tell her.
“Mikayla,” my mom murmurs. “Lovely name,” she adds with a simple nod as Mrs. Wilson bags my items.
“She’s perfect.”
I smile as we make our way out of the store. My smile grows even larger as an image of Mikayla lying naked and warm in my bed comes to my mind. I have to remind myself that my mother is beside me as we stroll to my truck.
“Perfect, huh? Now I really need to meet this girl.”
“Give it time. She’s just settling in. I’m trying to convince her to stay,” I explain, hoping my mother doesn’t barge into my house and overwhelm Mikayla.
“What does that mean, settling in? Settling in where?” my mother asks, giving me that look that mothers give, that eye of suspicion.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” I reply, half because I don’t want to answer the question and half because I don’t really understand what she’s asking.
I can venture a guess but why give away something if she isn’t asking.
My mother crosses her arms over her chest and regards me with a frown. “I mean, what do you mean by settling in?” she presses.
Yep. That’s what I thought she meant. “Well, you see, Mikayla is… well, she’s…”
“Caine, stop blubbering and get it out,” she says with obvious annoyance.
I flatten my lips as I think about how I’m supposed to answer that question without making Mikayla look bad.
“She’s staying with me, and I’m trying to convince her not to leave.” Who am I kidding? My mother is going to get it out of me, regardless. Might as well rip off the bandage.
“This woman is living with you?” she asks in exasperation. She scowls at me. “This is Janine all over again!”
“Mikayla is nothing like Janine. I hope you don’t say that or treat her as though she is.
Mikayla is smart and driven. Her car broke down, so I brought her over.
She’d have stayed at a hotel had I given her the choice,” I say defensively.
“If you want to meet her, you’d best treat her nicely, or I’ll not bring her ‘round,” I add for good measure.
“Remember who you’re speaking to, Franklin Caine Montgomery,” my mother warns, narrowing her eyes at me.
She shakes her slender finger at me reproachfully.
“She isn’t after my money. She doesn’t even know I have any,” I explain.
“And how could you know that?”
“Because she ain’t from here. She’s from Seattle. She’s a nurse,” I explain.
“You know, Kyle needs a nurse,” my mother says, tapping her lips.
“No, he doesn’t,” I reply.
A crease forms between my brows. He’s never mentioned it to me.
“He does. His practice is bigger than he can manage. He needs a nurse,” she tells me.
“Ah,” I murmur, nodding my head.
I get it. Kyle hasn’t said he needs a nurse; my mother just thinks he does.
“Don’t ‘Ah’ me!” she says with a huff. “I just found your solution to your girl-leaving problem,” Mama says, raising a brow.
“I’ll see you later,” I say with a chuckle.
I kiss my mother goodbye, unable to shake her suggestion. Does Kyle really need a nurse? Would that be enough for Mikayla? Is that the kind of nurse she wants to be? I frown because I don’t know the answer to any of these questions.
I pull up to my driveway and get out of my car, grabbing the groceries first. I don’t want Mikayla to know about the surprise. Well… at least not yet, anyway.
The house is quiet as I enter. I remove my shoes before I look at my watch. It’s almost eleven o’clock. I walk into the kitchen and notice the note is gone.
I drop the bags on the counter, then make my way to my room. I frown when I don’t see Mikayla. She made my bed, though. Which does something to my heart.
I turn around and make my way to Mikayla’s room. But she isn’t there either. Now I’m officially worried. Where the hell is she? I walk quickly to my front door, get my boots on, and make my way out the door.
I walk toward the ranch, the only place I can think of where she might be. The lovely sound of giggling dances along the wind and my heart lodges in my throat at the sight before me. Then the unmistakable cry of a pained scream ricochets through the trees. I dart as fast as I can toward Mikayla.