by Elodie Colt
Or take the sexy gardener next door who’s only too willing to help you out on that matter.
“No!” I jump from my seat, chest puffed and arms tense as if ready to go to war.
Matthew Mallory is nothing but a temporary daydream that will fade once he’s back on his way to Tampa.
Until then, I’ll deny his sheer existence.
The night is excruciating. I wake a dozen times, drenched in sweat as if I used my bed as a treadmill. One nightmare chases the next, like a bad teen horror flick. Nightmares about me masturbating until Matthew and Jillian barge in, both cracking up at the sight. Nightmares about Christina sneaking up on me while I water my plants before she bops Skyla’s surfboard over my head. Nightmares about Matthew bandaging my wounded hand only to fling the gauze around my throat and chord it up until I suffocate. It’s only in the early morning hours that I find my peace.
Matthew finished his work in no time yesterday. When I looked out the window shortly before sunset, my tree was in pieces, his chainsaw gone. Meeting him today will be as pleasant as drinking the green water in my pool. Dirty, disgusting, and bearing the risk of food poisoning. Hopefully, I won’t puke out all my mortification in front of him.
On second thought, not even that could top yesterday’s incident. On a scale from ‘I don’t care’ to ‘I want to die of shame,’ this hits the ‘I want the heat unfurling in my stomach to make me burst into flames until nothing is left but ashes that seep into the earth and erase any sign of my existence’ level.
Rubbing my eyes, I drag my ass out of bed. I don’t bother to open the curtains. Better to keep them closed and spare myself the constant temptation of stalking Christina’s gardener.
Just as I hop into a pair of sweatpants, someone knocks at my door. Skyla bounces in, too cheerful for my mood today.
“Good morning.” She blinks when I comb a hand through my hair, trying to tame the tumbleweed at the back of my head. “Did you just get up?”
“Yeah, didn’t sleep well,” I grumble, shoving a tank over my head.
She tilts her head, eyes roaming over my ragged appearance. “And since when are you grumpy in the morning?”
Since I lost my self-respect somewhere in this room. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“O-kay…” She flops down on the couch, her silvery beach waves flying with the motion. I keep standing. I won’t touch that couch ever again. “If you need to let off some steam, come surfing with me. Nothing better to get a clear head than hitting the waves.”
I snort, snapping the elastic from my wrist to twist my hair up into a bun. “Did you forget what happened last time?”
She wrinkles her cute, freckled nose. “Nope, still a very fresh memory.”
We both laugh. Shortly after the Rhones sisters came to live with me, Skyla convinced me to try out surfing. I managed to stand up once before I lost my footing. The next wave crashed into me and bopped the surfboard onto my head so hard, I blacked out. Skyla had to drag my limp body to the beach where I came to with twenty pairs of foreign eyes staring down at me, asking if I was okay. That was the end of my golden surfing career.
My phone pings with an incoming WhatsApp message, and I open it without checking the ID.
Unknown number: Can we talk before work today, pls? M.
The little monster in my belly stirs from its slumber, scratching its claws on my insides.
“Who the fuck gave him my number?” I mutter, my eyes narrowed on the screen.
“What?” Skyla asks.
“Matthew. Someone gave him my number.”
“Oh, yes, that would be me…” Her voice turns low at the end when I shoot her a glower.
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“Uh, because he asked for it?” She turns her sentence into a question, arcing an eyebrow at my odd behavior. “Why are you looking at me like you want to chop off my head? I thought you two were getting along well. More than well, if you know what I mean.”
Yes. So well, actually, we busted every fucking boundary in existence.
I just shake my head, tossing my phone onto my desk. An awkward moment of silence follows, interrupted by two more WhatsApp pings I skillfully ignore.
Skyla regards me with a scrunched forehead before she changes the subject. “Oh, I’ve got some cash for you.”
She lifts her peachy ass to pull out a few bills from the back pocket of her shorts and presses three hundred dollars into my hand.
“I know it’s not much, but I’ll do some long hours next week. If everything goes as planned, I can return the rest by the end of the month.”
“That’s okay, thanks. I know it’s not easy for you, either.”
She smiles. “I’ll manage, don’t worry. When are we going to start today?”
“Don’t know. Whenever the others are ready.”
I sure as hell am not. In fact, I’d rather blow things off and play sick for the rest of the month. Frankly, I can’t pay Matthew for his work, nor anyone else who could do it in his place, hence, I still owe him a dinner. The thought alone is a kick in the gut.
Or you save yourself the humiliation, make some cheeseburgers, and throw them through his window.
I pretend to adjust my clothing in front of the mirror when Ruby waltzes in.
“Morning, girls.” She lounges out next to Skyla, scooting down a little to get comfortable. “God, I love this couch.”
I did, too. A pity we had to break up.
“How was your exam?” Skyla asks Ruby, both oblivious to my inner turmoil.
Ruby shrugs. “Piece of cake.”
At that moment, Leo saunters in with a mug of coffee in hand, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a sour expression that equals mine for once. She grumbles unintelligible syllables when the two girls wish her a good morning.
“Wow, did you wake up on your own?” Skyla sends Leo a skeptical look. “I thought I’d have to pour a water bucket over your head to throw you out of bed today.”
“Try it, and I’ll draw a dick across your face. With a permanent marker,” Leo fires back in an insultingly casual tone.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Skyla shrieks and starts to rub her socked foot into Leo’s cheek.
“Get your foot out of my face!” Leo yells, swatting Skyla’s leg away.
Grinning, Skyla stretches her body so her legs cross Ruby and Leo’s laps while I fiddle with my bun for the fifth time just to do something other than squirming on the floor like a dying earthworm.
“What’s the matter with you, Sam?”
Leo’s question makes me turn to face her reluctantly. Please, let me wallow in my misery in peace.
“Huh? Nothing, why?”
I scratch the spot around my earring, slapping a fake smile onto my face that probably looks more creepy than anything else.
“Not sure,” she drones in a sleepy voice, eyeing my foot tapping on the floor. “You look as if you accidentally shoved a five-inch butt plug up your ass that you’re desperately trying to push out.”
Interestingly, that’s exactly what it feels like at the moment.
Skyla snorts while Ruby just rolls her eyes.
I jut out my chin. “Maybe I have.”
Leo nods slowly, lifting her mug in a respect-girl gesture. “Hardcore. Doesn’t explain why your curtains are still closed, though.” Ignoring my glassy stare, she stands and peeks through the curtains. “Hmm. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it has something to do with Jillian’s fuck buddy. He’s been staring daggers at your window and is watering that rose bush for the third time now.”
Ruby snickers. Skyla grins from ear to ear. I just shrug, but Leo sees through the cool façade I’m aiming for.
“Did something happen between you two?”
“Nope,” I quip. “Where’s Kendra?”
“Bathroom,” all three shoot at the same time in a where-else tone.
As if on cue, Kendra prances in. We all gape at her.
“What?” she de
mands when we stay silent, blinking at her outfit.
Leo clicks her tongue. “You know we’re about to do some gardening, not a catwalk, right?”
“That’s why I chose the oldest clothes I have. Haven’t worn these jeans for two years,” Kendra explains, gesturing to her tight designer jeans adorned with golden studs. Snow-white jeans, for the record. The ones you’re even hesitant to wear in the office for fear of the black chair upholstery leaving streaks on your ass.
“And you think those shoes are appropriate for dirty work?” I brave to point out with a glance at her black pumps, saving myself a comment about her gold earrings.
“Pfff. I’ve done dirtier things in these shoes, trust me,” she says with a wink.
“Alright, let’s get this shit done,” Skyla announces, and the girls trickle out, leaving me with rags of my composure that I’m desperately trying to patch up in record time in order to steel myself for another day of pure humiliation.
I scowl at my blinking phone, snatching it with a grunt.
Unknown number: You can’t put on the ignore act forever, Sam. Don't make this awkward for both of us.
My mouth clicks open. For both of us? I don’t remember me storming his room to watch him rubbing his shit.
Unknown number: Awkward it is then. Fine…
Fuming, I jam my phone into my pocket, throwing a glance through the curtains. Leo wasn’t exaggerating. Matthew has almost flooded Christina’s flower bed.
A pity he didn’t drown in it and choke on the soil.
Twelve
Samantha
“Morning, ladies.”
His voice coldcocks my heart in the boxing ring that is my ribcage when I drag out my butt at last, stiff as a board as I dump a tray of water bottles onto the rusty garden table. The girls greet him back with friendly smiles. Well, except for Leo who just yawns so unabashedly, I can see her wisdom teeth. Matthew only receives a closed-lip glower from me that hopefully communicates for him to stay clear of me if he fancies keeping his balls in place.
I can feel his eyes on me but mine are on the floor. Namely, on the spot where the tree had crashed onto the porch and created a hole the size of Florida. A pity it’s not a portal I can use to beam me up to Scotty. Or anyone else out there, really.
There’s a beat of silence as the girls wait for his instructions. The way he smacks his lips tells me he wants to say something about yesterday, but he has the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not start an earthquake in a volcanic area. I’m highly active these days.
Scratching his beard, he veers his gaze over to Kendra and her unfitting wardrobe. He nods to her pumps. “Girl, you’re going to break your ankle in those.”
Kendra smirks. “Then you can carry me to my bed and tend to me. I’ve heard your first aid skills are amazing.”
Matthew and I both roll our eyes before he points to the pile of wood that was once my favorite tree. “Let’s get rid of these pieces first. Put them in the wheelbarrow and unload them in front of the house. I’ll bring a car trailer next week and take everything to the recycling center. Leave the heavy ones for me. For the smaller branches, I’ve borrowed Christina’s shredder. All clear?”
The girls bop their heads, and we all set to work.
Skyla and Leo throw me questioning looks from time to time, trying to figure out why I haven’t uttered a word yet and look as if I had cereal with sour milk for breakfast, but I go for the all-fine-and-dandy act. My entire focus is on the impossible task of keeping a mile-long distance between Matthew and me, before I run into the risk of hurling myself at him and chopping off the lips that have claimed mine so ruthlessly yesterday.
Soon, we fall into a routine. Kendra takes over the shredder with Skyla handing her branches, while Leo and I dump the logs of wood into the wheelbarrow, and Ruby attacks the remaining debris with a shovel and a broom.
Matthew constantly tries to capture my gaze, but I stay non-responsive, only stealing occasional glances at him when it escapes his notice. Apart from a pinched, unhappy expression and a permanent scowl, he wears a glassy, eyelid-twitching look that speaks volumes about the hot drinks he had this morning. The fury swirling inside me turns into a whirlwind of raging flames. Not even lunch time yet, and the idiot is already plastered.
“Hey, do you think this fits in there?” Kendra shouts over the clanging noise of the shredder. We swivel to see her holding a thick branch that got chopped in the middle of a gnarly spot, making one end look like a cock’s tip.
“Don’t know,” Leo says. “You’re the expert when it comes to chopping off dicks.”
The others howl with laughter, but I remain emotionless when I pick up the next log. I’m so not in the mood for cracking sex-related jokes at the moment.
The midday sun rays soak the ground, bleeding heat upward from below until my boobs break out into a sweat, and I have to flap my shirt every thirty seconds. Matthew takes a moment to down a whole bottle of water in one go, while I try my damnedest not to watch the cords twanging in his neck.
Relentlessly throwing log after log into the wheelbarrow, I watch him in my periphery as he fishes out his phone, fingers zipping over the screen. A minute later, the buzz against my thigh signals an incoming message. My heart makes an elated bounce that I choose to ignore, along with the notification waiting in my sweatpants.
Maybe someone else contacted you. Maybe Arthur Emerson sent you a text.
But the way Matthew drums his fingers on his jeans, his gaze burning a hole through my sweaty tank, tells me he’s waiting for me to make a move. I deny him the satisfaction, keeping a straight-backed stride as I bustle to the wheelbarrow and back. He rakes a hand over his face and mutters something under his breath, crushing his empty bottle. Then, he tosses it into the trash with the vigor of a handball player scoring a goal and resumes his work.
I grab the next log, but the rough wood scrapes against my bandage, so I try to heave it up with my uninjured hand.
“Take these.” I almost jump a foot in the air when I realize he’s too close all of a sudden. He offers me a pair of work gloves. “Those are full of splinters.”
Shove them up your ass, I want to say, but then change my mind. I can do without another injury and one more reason for Matthew to touch me. Scowling, I yank them from his hands.
He sighs, shaking his head as he watches me struggling with the damn log, grunting under the weight.
“Let me carry this.” His voice is strained, low enough so the others can’t hear. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Distance! Distance! the alarm in my head roars.
“I’ve got this,” I hiss. The fact that he’s forcing me to engage with him at all elevates my pulse until it tickles my ears. The thing weighs a ton, but I clench my teeth and heave it up. My back is sure to thank me for the effort tomorrow.
Out of nowhere, a high-pitched scream comes from behind me, and I drop my log into the wheelbarrow with a loud clonk. We all whirl around to take in Kendra’s horror-stricken face.
“What happened?” Ruby yells in alarm.
“I broke my nail!” Kendra lifts something that could be a tiny piece of her red-colored nail. We all shake our heads.
“Oh my God, I’ll call 911!” Leo exclaims, flapping her hands like Kendra. “You should lay it on ice, maybe they can sew it on again!”
“Very funny…” Kendra grumbles with a pout.
And so the afternoon goes on with five of us sweating our asses off, while Kendra fights with leaves in her hair and ants scrabbling over her arms.
After most of the work is done, we take a break and seek shelter in the shadows of the porch, trying to get comfortable on the undamaged wooden planks. I quickly motion for Ruby and Leo to scoot over, but they don’t seem to get the clue, leaving a vacant spot for me directly next to Matthew. With a huff, I plonk down, snuggling closer to Ruby until I’m almost crawling into her lap. Matthew grants me the space for once and puts some distance between us, leaning his back against the wal
l.
“Do you think we’ll get it finished today?” Skyla asks Matthew.
“Should be doable,” he muses before he smacks his lips, his gaze swerving to me. “Do you want to keep that trunk?”
I glance at the trunk jutting out of the ground, fingering a loose thread on my bandage. I’d rather have it gone, but I sure as hell won’t ask Matthew for another favor. “Don’t know.”
“I’d get rid of it if I were you. It’s probably rotted, anyway. I can do it if you want.”
I want you to stop being so damn charitable and benevolent all the time. It makes hating you annoyingly exhausting.
All eyes turn to me when I stall for an answer, so I admit defeat with a mumbled, “Okay, thanks.”
If my reluctance to acknowledge Matthew’s presence went unnoticed before, the girls are now picking up on my odd behavior, zig-zagging their gazes between the two of us.
In the end, Ruby rips through the awkward silence with a casual conversation starter. “Sam told us you owned an orange plantation in Tampa.”
“Mallory Fruit Farms, yes,” he says, his tone oddly jaded.
“I love your orange juice.” Skyla unwraps a lollipop. “The only one I can drink pure without getting heartburn.”
“And the only one you can use for a good Vodka-Orange cocktail,” Kendra chimes in.
Matthew lifts his water bottle in thanks. “Always nice to hear.”
“Do you like working on the plantation?” Ruby asks.
“I do.” He scratches a spot next to the cut below his ear. “Things are tough right now, though.”
“HLB?” Ruby throws in from next to me.
Matthew nods with pinched lips.
“What is HLB?” Kendra wants to know.
Ruby sighs. “A disease spread by an insect that attacks the tree roots. Lots of farmers in Florida have lost their plantations. They can’t cover the costs for spraying the amount of insecticides needed.”