Frayed Rope (The Ugly Roses Book 1)

by Harlow Stone

  The sun is casting beautiful orange hues across the calm water and for a moment, I feel at peace. Water does that to me, since I was a kid being near the water was always something that would make me feel calm.

  My peaceful moment doesn’t last as long as I’d hoped when I notice my dog taking off at a run towards the opposite side of the restaurant.

  “Norma stay!”

  I say in the deepest I mean business voice that I can manage. She never takes off, especially when we’re in public. She slows down and wags her tail, still staring straight ahead. I go to remove my ass from the bench to bring her back, when I see Ryder round the corner. He bends down to pet my dog while searching left and right, almost nervously. That is if a thirty seven year old man who has probably killed people for a living has the ability to look nervous. That’s the only way I can explain the expression on his face.

  Unless its confusion, not nervousness. Maybe he’s thinking ‘what the hell is my hermit neighbor doing out of her house, in public no less.’

  His eyes eventually land on mine and I give him a small tip up of my lips and chin, until I see a woman round the corner behind him. The same look is still plastered on his face until Ginger loops an arm through his and begins her trek towards the restaurant.

  I recognize her from the bonfire Ryder had almost a month ago, and she’s dressed much the same as last time. If her heels were clear someone could easily stick a one dollar bill in the side of her underwear which are currently doubling as shorts at the moment.

  They get closer and his eyes don't leave mine. I hear her mutter something about the smell of a wet dog, but I’m not paying attention to her. I’m too busy staring at him in his button down shirt and jeans that probably compliment that beautiful behind of his.

  The woman whips her ginger mop over her shoulder and prances toward the restaurant entrance, slightly wobbling on her fuck me heels that weren’t meant for the uneven boardwalk, so she holds onto his arm for support.

  “This is why I suggested using the front entrance Ryder, I’m going to ruin my shoes or break my damn ankle!”

  She whines but he’s not paying any attention to her.

  His eyes are still glued on mine and I refuse to be the first one to look away. Not that I believe I have any sort of claim on him, I absolutely do not. I won’t deny it stings a little to see him out with another woman, but I’m not naive enough to think that a man such as himself goes to bed alone every night. I certainly haven’t invited him into mine, so he’s bound to find what he needs elsewhere.

  He comes to a halt at the bottom of the steps and I tip my chin towards him while Norm sits her ass beside his feet, waiting for more attention.

  “Why is that dog following us everywhere? It probably has rabies.”

  She complains while grabbing onto the railing and trotting up the steps without him. Her focus then settles on me, then behind her as if to see why her date hasn’t caught up with her quick enough only to find his eyes glued to mine.

  Ryder assesses me with a long look before speaking. He almost looks guilty even though we both know he has no reason to. His date has a body to kill for, so long as she doesn't speak when they get in bed tonight I’m sure he’ll go to sleep with a smile on his face.

  Our friendship has been purely platonic regardless of the sexual tension that always invades our space. I refuse to feel ill or act rude towards him in this moment. At the end of the day he has been nothing but kind to me, even if he is a bit of a bossy bastard sometimes.

  “Elle.”

  He finally tips his head towards me in greeting. Norm gives up on him and comes to sit next to me on the deck. I make a motion for her to stay as I stand to head towards the hostess station.

  “Ryder.”

  I feel like I should say more, but I’m not sure exactly what. I turn towards the hostess who has my dinner ready to go and hand over enough money for the food and a tip. His date begins to whine that her feet are killing her and how long are they going to have to wait for a table. The hostess clears that up for her.

  “I’m sorry ma’am but it’s the dinnertime rush, if you’ll give me a few more minutes I’ll have a table ready for you. If you’d like to have a seat at the bar while you wait, I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

  She huffs in annoyance and turns toward Ryder.

  “See, this is why I said you should have made a reservation.”

  She pouts out her ridiculous lips and places her hot pink fingers on her hip in annoyance. She eyes me from top to bottom before edging closer to Ryder to stake her claim.

  I’m not threatened by her, I have never been the type to feel inferior regardless of whether the woman in question is more attractive or not. It’s a petty game women play and I take no part in it.

  Ginger eyes me with complete disdain before staking her territory. She wraps those arms tighter around his and settles her fake tits against his body.

  “Who are you?”

  She asks with bite in her tone, lips soured in distaste. Obviously she’s upset that she hasn’t gotten one hundred percent of Ryder’s attention since she walked up the steps.

  I’ve always despised this category of women. I can eye them from a mile away. Call it judgmental if you want but seldom am I wrong about her type.

  She’s among the kind that will most likely fake a pregnancy to keep a man, or completely alter their personality to fit a certain man’s likes. Then once they have moved in all of their hair care products and convinced you to add them to your benefits plan at work, the true personality really comes out. At that point it’s more than a chore for the men to get out of it, since they’ve already moved them in.

  This is why I always kept my own house, and always kept my benefits up to date. I also never moved more than a toothbrush and a change of clothes into another man’s house.

  I hate when things get complicated, and honestly I think people move way too quickly these days. Best to stand on your own two feet in case things go down the shitter.

  I’ve seen awful things like this happen to many of my close male friends over the years, and a few good women. However I’m certain Ryder is more intuitive and not throwing a rock on her finger anytime soon. I also don’t picture him letting a woman crowd his space, therefore so long as he keeps it wrapped up he should be fine.

  He’s not out with this woman tonight to meet mom and dad for dinner. I have a level of respect for Ryder, and I know if he had good parents he would respect them immensely. Knowing this I can say for certain this woman who cares more about her footwear than the beautiful view of this harbor is not someone Ryder, or much less any man, takes home to meet the parents.

  This also means she’s only good for one thing.

  She’s not incredibly intelligent, this much I know for sure. She’s probably one of those women that sell weight loss products that never work, or skin cream that promises smooth skin but never really stops the wrinkles from forming and ends up giving you a rash.

  I take in her looks closely. I’m guessing she’s around my age, but the obvious overuse of tanning beds has made her skin look that of a forty year old. It does not suit her colored hair which I am now assuming must be fake since she lacks the pale skin color to compliment it.

  I’m not typically a judgmental bitch, but when I encounter a woman who’s half filled with plastic and wears that ‘I’m better than you’ attitude, I can’t help but want to ‘one up’ them in honor of the wholesome women in the world.

  I can feel my old self bubbling to the surface, the sass along with a bit of the wit. Harley Green would have walked away by now, not looking for any form of confrontation or attention. Jayne O’Connor would have ignored her. She’d have grabbed her food and hit the boardwalk, never looking back because bitches like this weren’t worth her breath.

  But I’m not Jayne anymore, am I?

  Nor am I Harley Green.

  I’m Elle fucking Davidson, and I feel the need to introduce her.

  ‘
Who am I’ she asks.

  She’s about to find out.

  I force my bright greens onto her dark blues, and plaster on a smile before I reply.

  “Who am I?”

  I shake my head and let out a small, very fake little chuckle before continuing.

  “Sweetheart, don’t beat around the bush. You don’t want to know who I am, or what my name is. What you’re really dying to know and trying to figure out, is if I’ve sucked his dick or fucked him yet? ”

  The shock slowly registers on her face and I don't let her respond before I continue. Nor do I acknowledge Ryder’s sharp intake of breath.

  “The answer is no. Now if you’ll excuse me my dinner is getting cold.”

  I’m sure she’ll still spend the evening wondering if I’m her competition, and I’ll sleep well knowing it felt damn good to put the hooker in her place.

  I look over my shoulder as I retreat towards the parking lot.

  “Enjoy your evening!”

  I say with a genuine smile on my face. Her shock is priceless and if I’m not mistaken Ryder looks like he’s trying very hard to keep the laughter in, but his shaking shoulders give it away.

  “How could you let that witch speak to me like that Ryder?” She whines.

  I don't hear his answer because I’m halfway down the boardwalk with a dopey smile stuck on my face.

  I smiled.

  Maybe there’s hope for me yet.

  Chapter Ten

  I’m curled up in the lounge on my deck and just opened my second bottle of wine. The first went down with my delicious dinner and now the dog is making due with the leftover lobster tail treat. She begins to wag her tail and look in the direction of Ryder’s house. I heard his truck pull in a few moments ago and wonder if his date got cut short, or maybe he brought her back to his house.

  I have noticed he stays out late sometimes, because of this I assume he goes to their house since I have yet to witness him bring a woman home for the evening. Not that I sit here and monitor his home but it’s pretty hard not to notice since he’s practically my only neighbor.

  If the dogs tail wasn’t wagging and I heard footsteps I would reach under my blanket for the gun I keep there, but the moment I hear the sound of earth crunching underneath heavy boots I know who it is.

  His face holds a bit of humor as he makes his way onto my porch and leans against the railing, crossing his arms across his chest. He hasn’t changed his clothing and he still looks fucking fantastic. Not that I’m going to tell him that. I can smell his cologne being brought in with the breeze off the river, but this time it’s mixed with a certain eau de hooker that almost takes my breath away, it’s that repulsive.

  It’s like that cheap overpowering perfume the old birds used to sell out of magazines, mixed with roses.

  I fucking hate roses after seeing them on my porch everyday.

  “You ruined my date.” he says fighting a smile.

  I’m now fighting my own too.

  “Handsome, you and I both know that hooker would have sucked your dick in the parking lot. With, or without the dinner. So if your date was ruined, it was by your lack of attempt to console the girl after I did nothing other than state the fact that we haven’t shared a bed together.”

  He cocks his head to the side contemplating his next words.

  “So, since my bed is now cold for the night are you offering to keep it warm?” He says.

  The smirk ever present on his face.

  “You had a warm and willing body at the restaurant Ryder, you should have kept it. However, the scent of her cheap perfume coming off your clothing is enough to make even me want to shower, so I would suggest if you warm a bed with that woman, let it be hers so you don't need to replace your sheets and air out your household after she leaves. I have disinfectant in my cupboard that smells more pleasing than that.”

  He’s quick to come back at me.

  “I wasn’t with her for the perfume, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  His black eyes bore into mine, he’s trying to see if this conversation will make me jealous, but it’s not. If anything I feel more empowered that Ginger didn’t get invited back to his house for the night. Then again, I have yet to see him bring a woman home for the night but he has spent a few out late.

  I’ve begun to know him better since we started hanging out, not that I really know him. But I know enough to turn the tables around after he pegged my demeanor that day weeks ago on my couch about my inability to trust people.

  “You don’t bring them back to your house though, do you Ryder? You like your space, you like your privacy, and as much as you enjoy a night of mindless fucking, you’re not willing to be the bad guy that kicks them out of your bed at night. You’d rather be the one to leave, less trouble that way.”

  I know I’m right, and I half expect him to deny it. To my surprise he doesn’t.

  “Your right. But the only reason your right is because you see in me a part of yourself, which tells me you do the exact same thing. Don’t you Elle?”

  He asks it like a question but he already knows the answer. I suppose we’re on a roll with this conversation so fuck it, I’ll indulge.

  “I’ve never been booted from a bed and I’ve never been left. I do the leaving, Ryder, and I also do the choosing. However I never shit where I eat. That helps me avoid situations like what happened at the restaurant tonight. I don't do the catty bitch routine, and as you noticed I don't fight over men. So, I suggest in the future you take my advice and find your pussy in the next town over, otherwise poor Ginger might get the wrong idea when you run into your neighbors.”

  I shoot him a wink.

  My tone is playful, as is his when he speaks again.

  “That’s where your wrong vixen. The “Ginger’s” of the world don't give a fuck where I’ve been or who I’ve been with, until it’s their turn all they care about is that I’m there one hundred percent until they get what I can give them and then get the fuck out. I don't cuddle, and I don't stick around to whisper sweet nothings in their ear or drink their coffee in the morning. I make that clear from the get go. But I’m not a total prick and a man’s gotta eat, hence the trip to the restaurant beforehand.”

  Wow.

  I’d like to say I believe him but his attentive behavior towards me and my bum leg this week proves otherwise. The man has a kind heart; he just chooses who he shares it with. Although I’m not going to mention that to him right now, I’ll table it and analyze the way he behaves differently with me as oppose to other women much later.

  In private.

  Maybe with a vibrator.

  “I never pegged you for prince charming handsome, but if you think a woman like her is going to let it go your sadly mistaken. I’m betting at least twice on the drive to her home she showed some sort of remorse for her tone earlier in the evening, and still asked you to come in for after dinner drinks.”

  I see the shock in his eyes before it quickly disappears. I know I’m right. I know how those bitches work. She can ramble all day about how it’s just a quick fuck, but that doesn’t mean when she’s alone she’s not wishing for more and wondering what their offspring would look like.

  “Just because she asked me in for a drink doesn't mean she wants more from me than fucking Elle, as I said I’m clear with them from the get go.” He says with a firm tone.

  “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself Ryder? You know what, don't answer that.”

  I say on a sigh. We are getting too involved in this conversation and I feel like I’ve reached my weekly quota for speaking. I’ll blame it on the wine. He’s silent for a few moments and the only sound is the low blues music coming from inside my house.

  He slowly moves off his perch at the railing and makes his way towards the back door.

  “What are you doing?”

  I ask as he opens my screen door to head into the house. He turns around and points a finger at me while speaking.

  “My night was cut sh
ort, and as much as I would rather have had my dick buried down the back of someone's throat right now, which I’m sure you’re not volunteering to do, I’m going to raid your fridge of beer since I still believe that its mostly your fault.” he turns around and heads inside.

  “What the fuck neighbor?”

  I screech from the lounge. He breezes back out the door as quickly as he went in and with more than one beer in his hand. He moves around to the other side of the lounge, takes a seat and removes his boots before reclining back beside me and bringing an opened beer to his mouth.