12. Lila
Chapter twelve
Lila
“No way! That doesn’t count!” I yell, pointing to the 3-year-old neighbor of Ken and Jen who just dropped JT’s bean bag directly into the hole on the board across from us. Kelsey and Izzy spent the last hour filling me in on all I need to know to survive a BBQ where each of the seventy-five guests is related, feuding, or both. I can’t keep it all straight, but luckily Kelsey has stayed by my side the whole night. She’s not a bubbly person, but I really have enjoyed working for her. She’s smart and driven and seems to really care about her company and her employees—even if I’m the only one she sees in person most days.
Now, Kelsey and I are playing corn hole against JT and one of the three single guys in town who’s here. After mentioning I wanted to start dating the other day to Izzy, she’s made sure to point out any single man we’ve seen. She even confirmed a couple of times if I was sure I wasn’t interested in women, since that would increase my pool of potential dates. Unfortunately for my odds, we are sticking to the single men. Izzy orchestrated this game for me to get to know Carter Mitchell, the brother of the owner of the competing security firm in town. I was shocked to learn there were two security firms in Wild Bluffs, but as it turns out, remote work has really allowed some locals to move back home and still have the careers they want. Similar to Kelsey’s firm, Mitchell Security works with clients worldwide.
Carter apparently didn’t get the memo we are supposed to be using this time to meet, and he all but ran to stand next to Kelsey before I had the chance to send JT her way. I hissed at JT to go ask Carter to change, but JT just shrugged, giving me a “what can I do about it?” face. Now JT and I are stuck competing against each other the whole game. The problem is that I’m very competitive and so is JT, so being on our best behavior is proving to be a challenge.
Kelsey and Carter look like they are having an okay time. They’ve mostly just stood there in silence, occasionally commenting on the game or the weather or other inane things. Kelsey is currently asking him a question about a new earpiece their guys in the field are using when providing personal security. We stick more to the technology side of the security field rather than boots-on-the-ground, but Kelsey mentioned this morning that she was considering expanding to offer more services. I’m not cut out to be a bodyguard, but Kelsey with her military background could probably kick some crazy fan or stalker’s ass if needed. Carter seems to only be responding in grunts or head shakes, but it’s still more than I’ve seen from him the rest of the game.
“Hey, kid!” I yell at the little ankle-biter who just helped JT score three points. “Come back here!” The kid in question stops running away from us and looks back at me. “Come put this one in that hole too!”
“No way!” JT makes a quick grab for the red bag in my hand, but I hide it behind my back as the kid in question chooses to ignore me and restart his mad dash around the yard. “I didn’t ask him to do it,” JT continues. “He just decided he didn’t like where it was sitting on the grass. And you can’t blame him. It looked sad down there.”
“That’s on you. You’re the one who is remarkably bad at this for being a professional golfer. Your job is literally to get things in holes.”
JT wiggles his eyebrows at me.
“Eww,” I say, giving his arm a shove.
“No one has paid me for that…yet,” he teases.
“Have you considered that you’re just earning what you’re worth?” I toss my bag to the other side of the yard, doing a little dance when it lands on the board. It’s Kelsey and Carter’s turn to throw now, so as they start to pick up the bags, I take a long swig of my beer before turning to look at JT’s stunned face.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” he says.
“It’s hard to hear the truth sometimes.” I nod. “I understand.”
“Was that your experience?” he asks, his tone lowering in pitch and volume.
“I’m sure—based on the rules we set less than two hours ago—that I have no idea what you could be talking about.”
“I’m sure—based on the way you moaned my name—that you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
A bag smacks down on the corn hole board between us, and we both jump apart. I hadn’t realized how close we’d drifted as we’d talked, but, thankfully, Kelsey and Carter are both focused on their throws, clearly unaware of the inappropriate conversation happening at this end of the game. I take a long look at Carter, trying to imagine my night if it had gone to plan, with me on the other side of the board, talking to Carter. He’s a good-looking guy with dark hair and dark eyes. He’s a bit shorter than the men I’m usually attracted to, probably not quite six feet based on the difference between him and Kelsey.
“We can’t talk about it, JT.”
His gaze is on me, a flinty glean to his normally sunny blue eyes. “Right. I remember the lecture. I’m not an idiot. I’m aware that you are trying to hide who you really are so you’ll have a chance of convincing one of these townies to date you.”
There’s a hint of anger in his tone. I’m a bit taken aback by his shift in attitude, and I briefly wonder what caused him to have such an unkind response, but then I remind myself that I really don’t care. He’s being a judgmental prick…to both me and the men from Wild Bluffs.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask him. “You sure seem pretty dumb to me. But, whatever, let’s just get this game over with. I didn’t want to hang out with you tonight, anyway, and if you’re going to be a jerk, then honestly, I want nothing to do with you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders are tense as he finishes off the rest of his drink in one long gulp. Getting along was the other thing I'd asked of him, and he’s already proven he can’t keep from talking about us hooking up. And, for the record, that was one of the most humiliating asks I’ve ever had to make. But I needed to be clear that I can’t have people in Wild Bluffs thinking I’m either not serious and just hooking up with random guys or that I am serious with JT. Both would ruin my chances of getting set up with men who are interested in long-term relationships.
Kelsey, luckily, sinks her final bag through the hole, winning the game for us. I put on a smile I don’t quite feel like wearing and go insert myself into her conversation with Carter. JT congratulates Kelsey on his way back into the Harpers’ house but doesn’t stop to talk, claiming he needs another drink.
“So, Carter, how did you get into the security field?” I ask.
His eyes shift to Kelsey before he looks my way. “I wanted to come back to Wild Bluffs, and my brother was looking for someone to help him out with managing the team. It just made sense.”
“Oh, that’s great. Is it hard working with your brother? I love mine a lot, but I can’t imagine working for him.”
Again his eyes shift to Kelsey, even though she’s staring out at the kids playing, not at all paying attention to our conversation. “It’s mostly okay. He can be a bit intense, but the pay is good, and I don’t have to go on assignment too often.”
I chat with Carter, learning he was in Kelsey’s class in high school and went to a prestigious university back East. He’s clearly smart and kind, but there is no spark between us. Plus, if I’m reading things right, he’s already interested in someone else. I wonder if all the Harper sisters secretly have men in town in love with them. Maybe I should warn my brother.
Izzy and Becca make their way over to our little group a couple minutes later, inserting themselves into our conversation with ease. Izzy widens her eyes, slightly nodding her head toward Carter as if to say “What do you think?” I shrug, pulling my lips to the side, trying to indicate the slight indifference I feel toward the man. He’s handsome and pleasant, but there is no way I want to go to battle against a high school crush that is still alive and well today.
We chat for a while, the Harpers and Becca continuing to give me the rundown on all things Wild Bluffs, from the people, to the history of various events and feuds, to the importance of showing up for the high school sporting events once they get started in August. It’s a lot to take in, but it feels more like watching a “last time on…” clip montage at the beginning of a soap opera episode than truly understanding what’s happening.
“Well,” Carter says, looking at his phone as the sun starts to slip below the horizon line about an hour later. It’s the first thing he’s said since the other women joined the conversation. “Unfortunately for me, it’s time I head home. One of the guys on our monitoring team called in sick, so I’m filling the six-to-noon shift tomorrow. It’s amazing how guys always seem to get sick and need coverage for the early-Saturday-morning shifts.”
“And here I thought all you big bodyguards would be able to hold your liquor,” Izzy jokes. Kelsey gives Carter a knowing smile and says, “Maybe if you guys would stop trying to make your field staff work on the monitoring side of things too, you wouldn’t have that problem.”
He doesn’t quite smile, though a hint of one peeks through. “Maybe.”
The temperature drops quickly after that, and not too long after Carter’s departure, we all head inside, looking for sweatshirts and jackets. I spot JT chatting with Kelsey and Izzy’s dad and a couple of other middle-aged men, a genuine smile on his face. I guess maybe it’s just me he’s grumpy with tonight. He must feel my eyes on him because his gaze meets mine, hardening when he sees me standing there watching him. Holding up a finger to indicate I should wait, he says something to Ken and the group before heading in my direction.
“I’d like to get going. I need to spend some time on the course tomorrow before it gets too hot.”
“’Kay,” I say, as it’s clear I don’t have much of an option. He is my ride, and making someone else take me would require them to make a thirty-minute round-trip detour.
We both go in search of Jen and quickly say our goodbyes before climbing into JT’s pickup.
It’s a quiet drive home. I’m not sure if it’s that we are both tired or if our squabble from earlier is still lingering, but it’s awkward now. We pull into the driveway after saying nothing for fifteen minutes, and we both climb out of the car.
I suddenly understand JT’s desire to be anywhere but in the same space together. So, instead of letting him be the one to leave me, I speed walk into the house, making a quick detour to the living room to grab my book, and head straight into my room without saying a single word.
After getting ready for bed, I climb under the covers, grabbing my book and an extra pillow to prop my back up while I read. I flip the pages until I reach my bookmark and am shocked to find that someone else has written in the margins. My first thought is “Woah, what possessed journal magic is this?” followed quickly by, “I can’t believe I bought a book someone has already written in.” I start to read the comment on the first page of the chapter and am hit with the truth—JT read my book! Duh, Lila. That’s clearly the obvious answer to writing in your book. I’m about to go yell at him when I realize the comment is actually pretty clever. I flip to the next page and see the notes in the margins are all interesting in some way: funny or insightful or just a glimpse into JT’s psyche.
It makes me feel like I’m 14 years old again, and JT’s convincing Jameo to let me tag along with them while they go to the driving range or just cruise around town after Thanksgiving dinner. Don’t be silly. If anything, this is your book. You’re letting him tag along for the ride!
But that doesn’t stop me from grabbing my fancy markers and annotating the book like before, underlining and adding little hearts or exclamation points next to the parts I like. Except this time, I also reply to his comments.
As I read, I feel like it’s someone else entirely who is talking to me through the pages. It’s not the guy who lost his cool during the cookout tonight, and it’s definitely not the man who sits at a different table at Thanksgiving dinner because we can’t stop fighting with each other. Unfortunately, it might be the JT who worshipped my body in Vegas. The one who not only brought me pleasure like I’d never experienced before but also made me feel like he cared about me with his words and his actions. Though, as I found out the hard way, that JT is short-lived. The real JT is the one who returned when we came up for breath, the one who didn't feel anything about us being together, who acted like we were still enemies. The one who stood me up. The one who kissed me in the hallway of a bar like I was water in the desert and then pushed me to the side like he found out I was contaminated with a deadly virus.
I’m not sure what it means that I want to keep responding to his messages in my book. I’ve spent this entire week getting more and more frustrated with the man who insists on staying where he isn’t wanted all while acting like an uncivilized brute, unable to even exchange pleasantries with me before squirreling himself away in his room.
I’m not sure what it means when I reach the next chapter and find it missing his thoughts, so I add mine in instead.
And I definitely don’t think about what it means the next morning, when, without saying a word, I leave the book in the living room and slip out of the house before I can accidentally run into JT.