by Natalie Dean
Wow. A friend. When was the last time she had one of those?
Probably senior year of high school, if she recalled correctly. Her best friend in the world, and possibly the only person she trusted with all the dirty secrets of her family life, believed a rumor that Missy had slept with her boyfriend.
Missy didn’t know how that had started, considering she loathed the guy and did her best to avoid him, but that was all it had taken for Sarah to throw away all their years of friendship. Although that was five years ago, Missy hadn’t trusted anyone since.
Besides, they lived in a small town, so word got around about her so-called proclivities quickly. Most people wanted nothing to do with her, scared she would seduce their partners or otherwise corrupt their perfect life.
Her phone alarm went off, and she pulled it from her pocket. “Holy cow. The work day is over. I can’t believe it.”
Bart blinked at her again. She’d come to like that surprised expression on his face, like he was trying to add up factoids that didn’t make sense to him.
“Wait, really?”
She nodded and showed him her phone. “Yeah, check it.”
He rubbed his jaw, and reality seemed to weigh back down on his shoulders. She hated that. For a few hours, she felt like she had given him an escape that was well-deserved. But now she was going to go home to her pets, and he was going to go home to his family who didn’t quite understand, and all of that work would probably come undone.
“Would you like to come to dinner?”
Now it was Missy’s turn to blink owlishly at him for several moments. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Would you like to join my family for dinner? Ma is always looking to feed guests.”
She continued staring, her body seeming to forget how to blink. Sure, they’d had some great conversation, but that wasn’t the same as her meeting his family. What about the bruise on her neck? What about him hiding what he had accidentally done to her?
She swallowed, her mouth dry, but the words wouldn’t come. His piercing eyes looked through her, clearly trying not to have hope within them.
Who was this guy, and why did she feel like he was only going to get her in trouble?
14
Bart
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Bart tore himself to shreds as Missy stared at him, her hazel eyes wide with alarm and uncertainty.
What kind of idiot was he? Inviting the woman who he nearly killed to dinner with his whole family? Hadn’t she already expressed wanting to stay under the radar, and yet there he was, asking more of her.
He hadn’t thought the question through. Just like everything lately, he was too impulsive. Too emotional. But even though he knew that, too much of him didn’t want her to leave his presence just yet.
Talking with her over the hours had been like someone taking him outside of himself and putting him into a body that works. No random shots of adrenaline. No sudden, overwhelming feelings that someone was trying to kill him. No confusion. No fugue. Just simple conversation with a woman who was as unpredictable as she was comforting.
It didn’t hurt that she literally looked like an angel as she lounged across from him, shifting this way and that in the dappled shade of the tree. And when a ray of light did catch her, she was dazzling. Her blond hair shone gold while the illumination drew attention to all of her features that were entirely too alluring. He could list them all off without hesitation, the sights burned into his mind like a brand.
There was the defiant arch of her brow whenever she was being snarky or sarcastic, and goodness, the girl had plenty of sass to call upon. There was the smooth scoop of her cupid’s bow above her plush, always-moving lips. Even the way it glistened along her cheekbone was like a siren’s call, beckoning him to his doom.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so fiercely attracted to a woman in his life, but at the same time, that attraction didn’t matter nearly as much as the calming sort of presence she had over his mind.
But that shouldn’t matter, couldn’t matter. It wasn’t her job as a woman to fix a broken man.
And yet she stayed. Even when her lunch was over. Even though she knew she could get in trouble. She stayed.
For him.
It just didn’t make sense. She didn’t know him. He had hurt her. For all intents and purposes, she should be running for the hills. And now that he had asked her such a monumentally stupid question, he was sure that she finally would.
Which was well enough. He didn’t really deserve comfort. There were veterans who lost their legs, or vision, or worse in war. What excuse did he have to be so messed up? He came out unscathed when so many better, stronger men hadn’t. None of it was fair.
Something in her face snapped, and she suddenly pulled herself together. “I thought we were trying to keep our knowing each other secret,” she said flatly. Not accusingly, not even scared. That was a good thing, right? It gave him a little bit of hope that she wasn’t about to shut him out—even if that was exactly what she should do.
“Yeah, that was the plan. But it’s not fair that you’re doing so much for me and I’m doing nothing for you. So at least let me start with one of Ma’s homecooked meals.”
“I don’t do nice things for people to get something out of it.”
“I know, I know.” He sighed. He really was making a mess of things, so he might as well give up. It was a stupid idea anyway. “Thank you, for spending the afternoon with me.”
“Of course. I said I’d help, and I meant it.”
The two of them stood, and he helped her to her feet. Her hand felt so small in his, much of her flesh covered up by band-aids. “New callouses?” he asked, looking down at their hands grasped together.
“Yeah, still breaking my hands in.”
“I don’t know if anyone told you, but vitamin E oil will help a whole bunch with that.”
“Thanks.”
They took a couple of steps down the knoll before she sighed.
“I’ll go to dinner with your family.”
More guilt trickled through him. She was only agreeing because she felt obligated. He hated that. “You really don’t have to. It was a terrible suggestion.”
“It’s too late,” she said primly, her shoulders squaring. “You made me miss lunch, and now I’m ravenous, so you gotta feed me.”
She was… far too good for him. Relief rushed through him, and he thanked God for the strange circumstances under which they met. “That sounds fair enough to me.”
“Good. Glad to know my logic works out.”
The conversation sort of lulled as they walked toward the main house, their feet moving over the grass a bit too quickly. Now he was beginning to doubt himself and his silly little request.
“So, what’s our story?” Missy asked when they were nearing the house but were still far enough away not to be overheard.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m pretty against the idea of telling my bosses that I snuck onto their property and surprised one of their sons when he was in a medical crisis. And you don’t seem so keen on them knowing that either, so I think a cover story would be apt.”
“The way you say it, it makes you sound like the guilty party here.”
She shrugged, the sun glinting off her golden shoulders as if it wanted to emphasize the action. “I mean, none of this would have happened if I wasn’t kinda fudging the rules to see some stars.”
But thank God she did. It made his stomach churn how quickly his view of her was shifting, and how attached he was already, but he supposed there was nothing else that he could do. She was the first person who he didn’t feel on edge around since he got back, even if he didn’t know why.
Missy’s face lit up suddenly. “Oh! I know! How about you helped me with the kitten I found in the barn, and we got to talking about animals? Would they buy that?”
“I… suppose. I’ve always had a soft spot for felines.”
“Really?”
<
br /> He nodded. “Yeah, a lot of the barn cats used to follow me around, and I just sort of understood them in a way. They’re funny creatures. Trying to pretend that they’re aloof when they’re some of the cuddliest, most loving animals.”
The smile she sent him was nearly dazzling, and he almost missed a step. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to that gets that! So many people have this idea that cats are these emotionless jerks, but they only act that way at first because they have to figure you out. You prove your trustworthiness to a cat, they’re your friend for life.”
Huh.
The compassion in her voice was intimidating but almost inspiring in a way. If she felt so strongly about animals, enough to make her whole face illuminate with joy, he was maybe starting to understand why she could treat him so graciously.
They finally reached the front of the house. It felt different than when they had been there the previous night—which made sense—but now he found himself looking up at the meticulously built home and almost felt intimidated himself.
“It’s not too late to back out,” he said to her, noting the color that drained from her face.
“No, I—”
Before she could get the words out, the door flung open and Ma was standing right there, her face flushed and a smile in place.
“Bartie! You’ve been out all day—” she trailed off when she saw the woman next to him and slipped into her normal, hospitality mode. “Oh, it’s the young lady from town I hired.” She smiled warmly. “What can I help you with, dear?”
“Hi, Mrs. Miller, I, uh, I was—”
He didn’t think that he would ever see Missy speechless. So far, his interactions with her involved her being endlessly confident or blithe. It was a bit bizarre to see her so shaken by his mother.
Not that Mrs. Miller wasn’t a force to be reckoned with, but she used her power very selectively.
“I asked her to dinner, Ma. I hope you don’t mind.” He walked up the stairs and pressed a kiss to the older woman’s cheek.
“You did?” The surprise in the woman’s tone was clear. He didn’t take offense to it, however. Him inviting someone to dinner meant he actually talked to someone of his own volition, and that in and of itself was pretty shocking.
“Yeah. She rescued a little barn kitten. We got to talking about cats.”
“And so you invited her to dinner?”
He shrugged, once again borrowing a play from Missy’s book. “Yes.”
“All right, well come on in then. I made something summery, I hope y’all are in the mood.”
“From what Bart says about your cooking, I can’t imagine I wouldn’t be in the mood,” Missy said politely, following Ma’s gesture to walk in.
“Oh, so you talked about my cooking?” Ma asked, raising an eyebrow as he followed after Missy.
He had just complicated things, hadn’t he? But how bad could it be? He had survived a whole war after all.
Then again, he had come out of that war with a broken mind and nightmares that bled into the waking world.
Huh. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
He supposed there was only one way to find out.
15
Missy
Missy looked over the large table at the faces staring at her, all with a mix of curiosity and confusion. It took all of her power to keep her expression in one of passive friendliness when really, she just wanted to slide off her chair and crawl out the door.
This was awful.
This was terrible.
This was why one avoided socializing with one’s employers whenever one could.
But for some reason, she had agreed to Bart’s request, and now she had a whole horde of them staring her down and only one of her.
But when her gaze flicked to Bart, he gave her a grateful sort of look that told her she was doing the right thing. And, like usual, the right thing wasn’t comfortable.
“This is one of our workers,” Mrs. Miller said, explaining Missy’s presence. Most of the food was already on the table, smelling delicious and way more inviting than the stares Missy could feel on her skin. “Bartie, why don’t you introduce her?”
“Uh, all right.”
Missy watched as he swallowed, feeling her own stomach twist a bit. She got the impression that he wasn’t really a fan of public speaking, even if the public was just five people around the dinner table.
“This is Melissa Dominic—”
“Please, call me Missy,” she interjected, trying to smile softly. She knew how to navigate situations like this, she just so rarely had a chance to. Usually, when she walked into a room, people had already made their assumptions about her. Unlike most movie protagonists, her reputation almost always proceeded her.
“Right. Missy.” Bart pointed to the closest man, a dad-looking type with salt and pepper to his beard. “This is cousin Afton. He’s visiting from St. Louis.”
“Hello,” she replied automatically.
“And this is Bradley, my younger brother.”
Bradley tipped his head toward her. “Pleased to meet you again, ma’am. Your supervisor has nothing but praises about you.”
Missy flushed at that. She owed a lot to the Millers and was pleased to hear that she was proving herself as a hard worker. “Thank you.”
“And this is Pa.”
The white-haired man nodded to her, his incredibly tanned face impassive. He had deep-set wrinkles in his visage, the ones that spoke of decades of hard work and wisdom. She bet that she could learn a whole lot from him.
In a hypothetical world, of course. Because she hoped that she would never have to see these people again. Helping Bart was one thing, but she had no intentions of getting chummy-chummy with the rest of his rich family. That was just asking for trouble. She could already hear the whispers of gold digger and the accusations of her employment being some sort of long con.
Maybe that was just her paranoia. Maybe not everyone thought such cruel things about her. But if life had taught her one thing, it was that she shouldn’t take the chance and give anyone the benefit of the doubt.
“And I’m assuming you’ve met Ma since she was the one who hired you, and well… I’m me.”
“Yes, you are you,” Missy said with a wry smile.
“Thank you, Bartie,” Mrs. Miller said, her smile so kind and sweet that Missy was beginning to get why her sons were so endearing. There was a sort of light to the woman. Would her mom have been the same way now, if she had lived? Missy assumed the two women were similar in age. Would they have been friends?
She felt the familiar sensation of tears trying to wheedle into the corner of her eyes, and she blinked them away. This was not the time to let thoughts of her mother sidetrack her. It had been years, after all, and she had certainly dealt with her grief many times over.
“Let’s say grace.”
Missy startled when Bart offered her his hand on one of her sides and Bradley on the other. She looked to them in concern before putting two and two together and sliding her palms above theirs.
Normally she avoided touch. It either encouraged situations she didn’t want, or rumors about her character. But she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of connectedness as everyone bowed their heads.
Was this what it felt like to have a normal family? One where people ate meals together and sent words to God? One where the first course of a dinner wasn’t beer followed by a liquor chaser?
The prayer was over too fast for her to really figure out if she liked the thumping of her heart or not, and then suddenly everyone was passing the food around.
And boy was it a lot of food.
Missy was a healthy woman, one who rarely skipped a meal and loved her red meat and potatoes, but her budget wasn’t nearly able to keep up with her appetite. Often, she relied on meals of rice and hot sauce or multiple packets of ramen. But it was clear the Millers didn’t have any problems keeping their table full of quality ingredients.
They h
ad a whole platter of grilled pineapple chicken, glazed and covered with a generous portion of fruit. There was also a delicious summer salad filled with fresh vegetables, and wine on the table along with a large pitcher of fresh water. What was essentially a full feast for her was a normal Tuesday dinner for them.
Boy, rich people were a trip.
“This is delicious,” Missy said, barely restraining herself from ripping into the drumstick on her plate with her teeth. The last thing she wanted to look like was a barbarian in front of her bosses. She wished she wasn’t dressed in grungy overalls and a tank top in front of the people who paid her.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Mrs. Miller said with a smile. Just barely at the end, Missy caught the older woman’s eyes flick to her neck, where the blue bandana set. She felt herself blush a bit and looked back down at the plate.
She very much doubted that Mrs. Miller would guess what had happened, but she also didn’t want the woman to get any other ideas. Hopefully, she would just let it go as a hickey or some other abrasion. The bandana covered up most of it since she was sitting still and not raking out multiple cow stalls.
“Yeah, it’s amazing. If I had meals like this every day, I don’t think I’d be able to fit into my clothes anymore.”
“Oh, well I don’t know about that,” Bradley said with a laugh. “Ranch life is pretty physical work. I’ve seen a lot of my cousins really put it away and never gain a pound.”
“You mean Ben?” Mrs. Miller retorted with a chuckle.
Bart rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen the guy devour an entire pecan pie after dinner and wake up like he’d been starved for three years.”
Missy smiled too, the tiniest of a thrill running through her. She liked seeing Bart snarky. Normal. She knew he’d only been conscious for about half the time they’d spent together, but that little glimpse of normalcy gave her hope that there was a light for him at the end of the tunnel.