Chapter Four

Oh No, He Didn't

“I can’t believe you’re making me peel potatoes. This is such a ranch cliche.” Shaking my head, I laugh as I scrape what must be my tenth potato for tonight’s dinner. I glance at my mom, chopping veggies from her garden, and notice for the first time dark circles under her eyes. Her brown hair, pulled back into an old fashioned bun at the nape of her neck, has more grey hairs than I’ve noticed before. I’m a few inches taller than her, having gotten my height from my dad who’s a healthy 6 feet if not an inch or so more. Our matching green and gold floral aprons–handmade by my grandmother decades ago–and our hair color are the only similarities anymore.

“Real food takes work,” mom says. “This is the life of a ranch wife, after all.” The wistful smile on her face takes away any sting of judgment her statement could have indicated. She loves this life.

But it’s not for me.

I think there’s a part of her that understands I don’t want the small town, ranch wife life. But it’s all she knows. It’s who she is at her core and she loves it, even with the dark circles under her eyes.

Although that doesn’t stop me from pushing a little while I have her alone. I blame my crankiness as a direct result of the afternoon ambush.

“Mind explaining why you sent Ross to pick me up from the airport?” 

Mom doesn’t skip a beat. “Oh, he stopped by to see you and offered to make the drive. Your father had extra work to do in the back fields so we took him up on it.”

“A little warning would have been nice.” I don’t hide my irritation.

“Oh, Ross wanted to surprise you, otherwise I would have sent you a message about it.”

“He surprised me all right.” Like stepping in horse shit. The words sit on my tongue and die there. I can’t bring myself to curse in front of her. “But dinner? The ride here was more than enough contact with him for one day.”

“The Johnson’s are like family, Colleen. Besides, I think Ross is looking for another chance.” Mom turns and winks at me.

Winks.

She’s in cahoots with him! My own mother…

“I’m not interested. Please respect that, Mom. We dated. We broke up. When I came home from college it wasn’t with the intention of letting him back in and starting over. I’ve moved on. I don’t want that life.”

“I see. And I won’t let him talk me into meddling anymore. But the Johnson’s have been so good to us over the years. We can’t cut them off because you two broke up.”

I could. Right quick, as my dad says. Not willing to roll over and play dead just yet, I try one more time.

“Then invite Wayne and Jillinda. Without Ross. Or better yet, without me.”

“That’s not very neighborly. If you’re old enough to make your own life decisions, you’re old enough to let bygones be bygones.”

Bygones? I crumple. Deflate right over the sink full of potato peelings. Why can’t she see it? See how self-serving Ross is? I haven’t even been home for an hour and I’m already exhausted.

“Mom, he’s not the man for me.”

She puts the veggies in a steamer and starts the burner. Then she turns toward me, rubbing a hand along my back.

“I’m sorry. I hear you. I really do. But the fact is, the Johnson’s will be in our lives as they always have. Ross will be running the ranch soon enough. We need to remain cordial.”

“Cordial is one thing, but don’t give in to his delusions. He’s practically a stalker at this point.”

“I won’t. But I doubt that will hold him back, honey. He’s a man who knows what he wants.”

“Yeah. Like a stalker.”

Mom sighs, the kind that says she thinks I’m exaggerating. I can understand why. She’s never been outside of Silver Valley. She hasn’t experienced anything other than this small world and the way things work here. But I have. And I can’t stuff my knowledge back into a box.

“I’ll be nice at dinner. But I’m not encouraging Ross to keep trying and neither will you.”

Mom kisses my cheek. “I won’t.” She turns and walks into the pantry for more fixings. “But I can’t promise your father will keep his mouth shut.”

Ugh. 

***

The clatter of silver against porcelain fills our small dining room. Considering this house was built in the 1920’s when every room was divided by walls and doors rather than an open concept like so many modern designs, there’s ample light and space for our group of six. As I glance across the room, lifting my eyes from my food for the first time in a half hour, I’m surprised not to find Ross staring back at me. He’d had his eyes fixed on me the second he entered the house with his dad and mine when they were called in to eat.

But now he’s gone and I don’t remember hearing him get up to leave. I want to know where he went out of self preservation, but I don’t want to ask after him and draw everyone’s attention to the two of us again. I barely dodged our parents overt attempts at matchmaking. It was like Pride and Prejudice when Elizabeth was left alone to Mr. Collins feeble attempts at a proposal. I'd been waiting for Ross to tell my mother what handsome potatoes she’d prepared.

“Colleen, dear,” Jillinda says. “Would you run to the car and grab my sweater? I’m feeling chilled.”

“Oh.” I press my hands to the lace tablecloth and push up to stand, never happier for an excuse to leave the room. “I’d be happy to.”

Ross’s mother hands me the key fob to her SUV, an overpriced Porsche Cayenne. His father doesn’t even glance my way, locked in a conversation with my dad about land and horses. My mother only offers a small smile, probably all too aware that once I retrieve the sweater I won’t be back to entertain our guests.

I hop out the door and down the three front steps. Clicking the unlock button, I waste no time grabbing Jillinda’s large weave blue sweater. How cold could she be if this is what she’s using to ward it off? The holes are bigger than a quarter. I shrug, not caring enough to give it more thought, and hop back up the steps.

“Not so fast.”

I jump at Ross’s voice, shouting a curse for good measure. I hadn’t seen him sitting in Granny’s rocker on the porch when I came out. Did he follow me or was he there the whole time?

“What are you doing?” I ask, Jillinda’s sweater gripped against my heart in a vain effort to slow its racing beats.

“Waiting for you.”

Scrunching up my nose, I say the only thing that comes to mind. “That’s creepy. I wasn’t planning to come out here so why were you waiting.”

“I figured you’d end up here eventually. The house isn’t that big and I knew you’d want to escape once they all found out.”

Un-scrunching my nose, I level a glare his way. Every red flag alarm is ringing inside of me.

“Found out what?” I barely get the words out. I know I’m giving him exactly what he wants; namely attention. But I’m flying blind here so I stoop to his level and ask.

Ross doesn’t look at me. Instead, his eyes are downcast, focused on his phone and whatever it is he’s scrolling through. He’s silent long enough that I start to wonder if he heard me but before I feed his ego by asking again, he clears his throat and turns his phone toward me.

“As if you weren’t there.” His disgust is evident in his tone, but all I see is the picture of Brianna’s roof top deck and the view of the Hollywood sign in the hills beyond it.

“Okay, so you found a picture of Brianna Royce’s deck. And?” My heart shouldn’t be racing at his reveal, but it is. I’m sure there’s hundreds of shots of her deck online from various photogs that follow and harass her. That’s the entire reason she met Zack in the first place. His black belt was her brick wall. No one was getting through him.

Ross laughs, his mocking tone all too familiar. “And, your little dalliance is now public fodder.” He looks at his phone again, scrolling something once more before shoving it back in my direction.

“What do they call it these days, a throuple? An orgy?”

“What?” I look closer to see the picture of Brianna, Clinton and I tangled together on top of Char by the pool yesterday afternoon. “We were swatting away a bee.”

Ross rolls his eyes before standing up. He slithers in my direction, the worm, with a demeaning look on his face as if I’m twelve and he caught me stealing candy from the Grab n’ Go.

“You had your fun. You sowed your oats. It’s time to settle down and be an adult.”

I want to laugh in his face. As if he knows anything about adulting. He’s bankrolled by daddy and hardly lifts a finger on their ranch. He spends more time at Suds, the local bar, than he does working.

“Sure thing, boss.” My words may be submissive, but nothing in my tone or the glare I give him suggests I actually mean to follow his instructions. I salute him for good measure then stand stock still on the porch while he walks over to his god-awful convertible.

“Leaving so soon?” I croon. I’m more than happy he’s leaving but truth be told, I’m shocked. He’s got the upper hand. Why would he walk away now?

“Got an appointment in town,” he says, combining a wink with a finger gun. He even makes the tongue clicking sound.

I might be sick.

“Is that code for a sexual encounter with a paid participant?” Crossing my arms, I lean against the porch post as I watch him scowl back at me.

“Spoken like a woman who’s got experience with that type of employment.”

“Ew. Do you think you’re winning any points talking to me like that?”

“Do you think you are?”

“No. I’m not trying to win points with you. I’m perfectly content being in a deficit.”

Ross takes two huge steps in my direction, leaning in and glaring as he talks through his teeth.

“Be careful with that attitude, Colleen. One day you might go too far and regret it.”

“Ooooh,” I mock, pairing my faux fear with jazz hands. “Big threat.”

My phone zings in my pocket with a text before Ross has a chance to respond so I wiggle fingers at him in a patronizing goodbye. I’m sure he’ll fume over my dismissal and find some way to weasel back in again.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket as I head back inside, I find several texts from the group chat with the Hollywood gang.

I love that I’m part of it. 

Bree: Hope you made it home safe, Colleen!

I realize now that I never texted everyone when I landed. I’d planned to message them on the ride home, but that became my worst nightmare so of course I forgot. I don’t want to get into the drama that’s already started back home so I go with a simple response.

Me: Yes! Home safe and just had dinner with the fam.

Me: Thank you so much for an amazing week <hugging bear gif>

Zack: Glad you were able to visit.

Bree: Loved having you!

Char: Sorry about the new rumor mill.

Jacob: I’m not. That pile up was smokin’

Char: <eye roll gif>

Bree: Don’t worry it will die down

I’m not worried. It was fun watching Ross blow his top. His insults stopped bothering me four years ago. Now he’s simply a gnat I can’t get rid of. I should invest in a bug zapper.

I chuckle to myself before making sure everyone knows it’s fine. 

Me: comes with the territory, doesn’t it. No worries at all. 

A few seconds go by as each of them hearts my reply. But just as I’m about to put my phone back in my pocket, another heart pops up on my last text.

Clinton’s. He’s been stone silent about everything else in the thread but that. His single heart has my own racing. I wonder if he’ll say anything. I wait another thirty seconds before giving up. Guess not. 

The adrenaline rush between my irritation at Ross and my thrill at Clinton’s heart sparks some more ideas about that thriller I want to write. I feel like a middle school girl with a crush on her gym coach. My attraction to Clinton isn’t that taboo, but his aversion to people makes it feel that way. Something about his little black storm cloud energy draws me in.

Maybe I’ll hit him up for some security questions. For research purposes, of course. I’m sure he’ll be irritated if I do, but his response could be worth it.

---

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7vRSu_wsNc