It wouldn’t hurt to revel in it for a little longer. With ice cream.
And the dress and the underwear would never be worn again. Probably the boots either, they’d played their part too. And I’d never trim those bushes.
I grabbed the bucket of ice cream and a spoon and headed to the couch, crawling under a blanket to sit cross-legged and look up horrid things on my phone. What a glorious night.
I pulled up Google and typed in the name Michael Long, taking a deep breath and letting it go before I hit Search. Multitudes of random Internet matches came up, and I bypassed that to click on Images. With it being a rather common name, I added
Texas
and
Katyville
and
Bobby Greene
.
An older man that resembled Georgie somewhat was in several promo photos, I assumed for the various businesses he owned. Clicking through them, not all of them matched, but there was a group photo of what looked like the family, and then one of two men that froze my fingers mid-scroll. A news article featuring the two men who were clearly brothers. One in an Air Force uniform. The other in a suit with lighter hair than he had now. With a caption that read “Long Brothers restaurant plans flop in New Orleans.”
“You bastard,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
• • •
Stepping inside the door of McMasters Meats the next morning was a hyperventilating experience. I could have skipped it like before, but Ian would know why, and it was time to be a big girl. His bike was parked outside.
This time it wasn’t about avoiding him, not for the same reasons. Part of me was afraid to look him in the eye. To replay what nearly happened, and more disturbing, to see the change between us. The tide had shifted when I’d said no. We’d become something different. Something I didn’t recognize.
But also, I didn’t want to talk about Duncan, or Michael Long, or any of it. That deception was too heavy on my heart, and I wasn’t ready to go to anyone with that. Not even the man who was doing the lying. So I took a deep breath and pulled open the door, begging the universe for peace.
And I’ll be damned if Emery Slade wasn’t sitting right there. At my table. With Blaine Hollis from the Brass Ass.
“Good times,” I muttered, smiling at both of them on the way to the counter.
Jim passed through and winked at me, his version of an all-out bear hug, and Lily wiped her hands on a rag and smiled in my direction.
“One second, I’m out of cups,” she said. “Got some coming from the back.”
“I should start bringing my own,” I said. “Think of the inventory you’d save.”
“No kidding,” she said. “Is that the Antique Nation lady?” she said, nodding.
“Yep, that’s Cruella.”
She snickered. “Figured when I saw Blaine. He never comes in here.”
“That’s because you broke his fluffy little heart.”
“Oh, please,” she said, laughing.
“Say what you will,” I said. “But his jaw still drops a full two inches when you walk by.”
“Shut up,” she whispered.
“Loves him some Lily,” I whispered back.
“So how are things?” she asked wide-eyed, changing the subject.
How were things? “Umm—you’re gonna have to narrow that down,” I said.
“With the prodigal son back there,” she said, gesturing with a tilt of her head.
Oh, good, he was there. Let the hives commence. I looked down at the meat selection, eyeing a rack of ribs that would be good for dinner. If I had the energy. It would more likely be cereal.
“It’s okay,” I said. At the pause, I looked up. “What?”
“What’s going on?” she said. “I know this weepy look of yours.”
I frowned. “I am most certainly not weepy,” I said.
“Are you still dating Duncan?” she asked, right as Ian came through the hall doorway with a box of cups.
At the sound of Duncan’s name, Ian faltered and his eyes found me. And everything inside me lit up like an active volcano. Not necessarily in a good way. Even the breath I was pulling in went shaky.
Ian pulled a sleeve of cups from the box without breaking eye contact. “Need a latte, Sav?”
I suddenly had no spit. “That’d be great,” I said.
“Savi?” Lily said, making me jerk my head around.
“Yeah?”
“Duncan?” she said, narrowing her eyes at me and darting a glance at Ian.
“Oh—we, um—we went out last night,” I said, refusing to look at him. And he’d texted me twice already that morning. I hadn’t responded yet.
“And?” she said, grinning. “How did it go?”
My throat felt like it was closing up. “Unexpected.”
“In a good way?” she asked.
I gripped the railing so I wouldn’t look his way. My knees would give if I did, because even without looking at him I could feel his eyes on me. It hurt. Him, Duncan, all of it. I felt bruised.
“There aren’t words,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper at the end.
Ian turned around to the coffee machine and shoved a cup under, leaning both arms on the top. I couldn’t tell if it was sadness or anger emanating off him, and honestly I was too spent to analyze it. And still angry. Telling me about Duncan was harsh enough. Telling me I had to sell the barn—he was off his fucking rocker.
“Well, good,” Lily said. “Glad that’s going well. Want tacos?”
I shook my head. “Just coffee today.”
Ian turned back around with my cup and fitted it with a lid, not looking up at me. Stabbing me in the gut.
“It’s hot,” he said. “Be careful.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching him walk away.
“Savi.”
My head jerked back to her again. “What?”
“Focus on the good guy,” she said.
And who the hell would that be? “The good guy,” I repeated. “Right.”
“There’s nothing good for you there,” she said, darting her eyes in Ian’s direction.
Maybe not, but the other direction wasn’t scoring any gold stars either.
“Things aren’t always as they seem, Lily,” I said, turning to go.
“Oh, Savi, I almost forgot,” she said. “Abby was trying to get hold of you.”
I frowned. “For what?”
Lily shrugged. “Said your phone was going straight to voice mail.”
I dug it out of my pocket. Crap. Dead. Lovely.
“Hello, Miss Barnes,” Emery Slade said, rising from her chair as I passed.
“Miss Slade.”
So much for first names.
“Hey, Savi,” Blaine said, looking very much like a sellout with his soft doughy face and rimless glasses.
“Hey, Blaine,” I said. “Sell your soul to the devil yet?”
Emery laughed. She was dressed much more casually today, in a tank top and Capri pants, showing a little skin I supposed for Blaine’s benefit.
“You’re cute,” she said. “Hey, do you know if they have a ladies’ room here?”
“Not a public one,” I said. “The diner down the street does, though.”
She looked past me. “Oh, that’s okay,” she said, flitting a hand. “I’ll get Ian to let me in.”
She was past me and to the counter before I could even open my mouth in shock. I watched her tilt her head at Ian and say something, to which he responded and lifted the hinge for her, glancing my way for the briefest of seconds. She scooted by him, touching his arm, saying something funny on her way up the stairs.
I shook my head. “Fuck this,” I muttered. “Walk away.”
“Excuse me?” Blaine said.
“Nothing,” I said, waving it off. “Blaine, are you buying into this?”
He opened his mouth and then paused. “I don’t think we should talk about this stuff, Savi.”
“Why not, it’s not a secret?” I said. “I know she’s meeting with you. You know she met with us. She as much as told us that you were in the bag, that it was just a formality.”
“It’s a good deal,” Blaine said. “You should consider it.”
So I kept hearing. “To work for them?” I said. “Or leave completely? Do you realize how exposed that leaves your business? Or what used to be your business?”
“Exposed to what?” he asked.
“Bad elements,” I said.
“What?”
“Just—” I blew out a breath. “Just think it through,” I said. “Please.”
Blaine fingered his napkin, and turned when Lily’s voice reached us from the kitchen.
“One second,” I said, holding up a finger. I walked back to the counter, thanked God that Ian was in the back, and motioned to Lily. “Go flirt with him,” I said.
She stepped back. “What?”
“Go flirt with Blaine,” I said.
“Are you high?”
“No, desperate,” I said. “Lily, he’s gonna sell to Antique Nation. He’s ready to do it, if he hasn’t already. Maybe some—influence from you?”
“What the hell do I say?” she whispered furiously.
“I don’t know!” I whispered back. “But the bitch’ll be back any minute, so—”
It just dawned on me that Ian might not be in the back. He might be upstairs. My lips suddenly went numb.
“I’m married, Savi.”
“Oh, give me a break,” I said. “I’m not asking you to sleep with the guy.”
Of course Jim walked up at that second, and lifted an eyebrow.
“Pardon?” he said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just pimping out your wife for a second.” I lifted the counter. “Come on.”
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “Why me?”
“Because you kissed him in the seventh grade,” I said.
“You kissed Blaine Hollis?” Jim asked, curling his lip. Amazing how he could still look sexy doing that. It was definitely in the genes.
“Truth or Dare,” she said. “Doesn’t count.”
“Are you kidding?” Jim said. “I copped my first feel at a Truth or Dare. Totally counts.”
“You aren’t helping,” she said to him as I pushed her into the seating area.
She approached him and smiled and sat, and Blaine turned as red as his shirt.
“What exactly is she doing?” Jim asked.
“Hopefully saving the barn,” I said. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t have to put out or anything.”
Jim nodded and headed back to the kitchen. “Good to know.”
Emery was either taking one hell of a shit or Ian had gone up to— It wasn’t my business. It didn’t matter. I gripped my coffee tighter and walked out.
And walked into the barn and into something I could never unsee. My dad playing tonsil hockey with some strange woman between a display of metal tiles and an old Chevy tailgate door.
Chapter Eighteen
“Sweet Jesus,” I said, turning to head back out.
I heard metal tiles hit the wooden planked floor and the distinct sound of my father clearing his throat.
“Savi,” he said. “Savanna!”
“I’m good,” I said, holding my hands up, arrest-style. “I’m just gonna—go do something—somewhere.”
“Savi Barnes, get back in here,” Dad said. “We were just—”
“Don’t need to know,” I said, turning back around and attempting to walk past them without looking.
“This is Jemma,” he said, essentially forcing me to turn around and have manners. “Jemma, this is my daughter Savanna.”
What, no last name? This was allowed? I held my hand out with great trepidation, hoping hers hadn’t traveled anywhere—awkward. She at least had the good grace to redden considerably. Or maybe that was her natural color. I couldn’t tell. Her hair was red too. And she was wearing an unfortunate neon pink dress, so all I really registered was a large bottle of nail polish.
“Hi,” I said, shaking her hand.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest, which was quite large and quite red as well. “What an awful impression I must make.”
“No, no,” I said. “Dad—” I was kind of stuck. He what—makes out with women at work all the time? “Dad’s a big boy. Nice to meet you.”
I turned to hightail it to my office, not looking at Dad. In all honesty, I don’t think he was looking at me either, so all was good. Except, what the hell? What about Mrs. Sullivan?
I hadn’t sat down for thirty seconds when Lily darkened my door.
“Okay, all this stress is going to make me fat,” she said. “I think some Rolo brownies are on the agenda for tonight. I’ll bring you some. Or just swing by the house later.”
Lily was a stress cooker. You’d think working in a meat market would curb that urge, but clearly not. When she worried, she baked. Frequently in bulk.
“Rather have a lemon cake, I think,” I said, thinking I needed to spread out my chocolate intake. It was a little high lately. Since I was the stress
eater
in the family. “Or pie. Pie’s always good.”
“So, he’s rethinking, he’s considering, he kind of wants to do it to have more free time, but you made him nervous with the whole bad elements comment and so he’s on the fence.”