by Teagan Kade
“I’m functioning on all fronts, but you’re welcome to conduct an inspection if you want,” I say, eliciting a sensual laugh from her.
I feel bad leading her on, but if it gets under Ava’s skin even a little, it’ll be worth it.
“Hey, sugartits, stop flirting with the riffraff and get me another beer,” a voice calls out down the bar. I look over to see a biker with gnarly, weathered leathers on and a face rougher than the granite boulders Deric likes to climb so much.
“You got it, babydoll,” Geena calls, turning to me. “Sorry, Dean, have to pass on the offer. I’ve got my own handful, and mouthful, if you catch my drift, to keep me busy.”
“Oh… yeah, by all means,” I hear myself say as she saunters off and leans over the bar to land one hell of a wet, sloppy kiss on Mr. Harley.
Left alone, I sit and brood, sipping my drink and trying not to focus too much on the sultry tone of Ava’s voice.
My drink is finished and I’m rifling through my cash to lay down on the bar when I notice the guy get up from the booth and walk off to the bathroom. From what I can see he’s a perfect cookie-cutter of a guy. Corduroy jacket, smooth sweater vest and collared shirt, trendy frames on his glasses, perfectly clipped hair… He might as well have walked right out of a Banana Republic ad.
I’m on my feet before I can think any better on it and standing in front of Ava’s booth.
“Moving on awfully quick, aren’t you?” I say, letting my gaze roam over her.
Damn it, she looks so good. It’s not even anything particularly revealing—just a simple black dress with bell sleeves. The V-neck ends plenty high enough to hide the luscious cleavage I know is under that dress. She’s wearing bright pink lipstick that draws my attention to her mouth and makes me think about how good it would feel wrapped around my cock.
“Excuse me? I don’t owe you any explanation. Besides, looked like you were doing plenty of moving on up there at the bar,” she spits back, raising an eyebrow.
The fact she was paying attention somehow gives me some small satisfaction.
“You were here first,” I say, somewhat nonsensically.
“I don’t even know what means, but let me jog your memory. You are the one who ended things.”
“So, you just go out and pick up a guy like nothing? Like it’s no big deal, like I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you with someone else and be okay with that?”
“Everything alright?” Corduroy asks, getting back to the booth and sliding in beside Ava.
She looks up at me, amber eyes alive with angry fire. “Everything’s great, Luke. This is just an old friend of my brother’s. I’m sure he’s got more exciting places to be, though.”
“That’s right, Luke, just an old friend. An inconvenient old friend. But don’t worry, she’ll forget me as soon as I leave. Have a nice night playing it safe,” I bite off and storm out. Corduroy can make whatever inferences he wants.
I get to my car, but pissed off as I am I can’t bring myself to start it. Instead I climb inside, turn the radio on, and wait. I’m all kinds of sick to be sitting here watching, but I have to know how over me she is.
An hour and all of Alice in Chain’s Facelift later and the door to Gracie’s finally swings open. Corduroy walks out first and holds the door for Ava like the perfect fucking gentleman he is.
My heart is pounding. I’m chewing on the inside of my cheek so hard I can taste blood.
Ava leads the way in her thin dress that seems to catch the wind and flash her thighs. They stop at her little Prius, chatting for a moment.
I’m not sure I breathe or blink while I wait, heart strangling my throat, to see if they’re about to kiss goodnight. As long as they’re taking, it’s almost like they know I’m watching. Even as I’m hoping nothing happens, I can’t help but think he’s a fucking idiot if he misses his chance with her.
You mean like you did?
Corduroy is smiling, nodding down into her pleasant, welcoming expression. Her mouth is moving animatedly and then…
Corduroy is stepping back, taking Ava’s outstretched hand and shaking it.
Dumbass, but I can breathe again as I watch her climb into her car and Corduroy walks to his own, both of them pulling out of the parking lot and heading in different directions.
No kiss, no hug, nothing… for now. The realization she was out, that she could be moving on, leaves me sick. At least the cougar and the bear would have finished me quickly. Apparently, I survived that to be slowly tortured by the least imposing creature of all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AVA
“Headed somewhere?” Mom asks from the family room where she’s mastering the art of cross-stitch.
I pop my head in. “I’m meeting one of the ladies from the Red Hat Society, you know, from the tour?”
“Oh, yes, well, be sure to give her my thanks, again. Someday, when you’ve got children of your own, I’m sure you’ll understand there is just nothing in the world so terrifying as having a child go missing.”
“I’m hardly a child, Mom.”
“Just wait, you’ll see.” She nods, keeping her eyes on her cross-stitch.
“Yeah, well, at this rate, it’ll be a good long while before that’s even a thought,” I say, before brushing a kiss goodbye on her cheek.
The drive to the Mountain Cottage B&B and Café for our afternoon coffee meet-up takes a bit, giving my thoughts time to betray me and drift towards places I’d rather avoid. I try to block out everything with Dean, but when I’m alone too long, it comes back with a vengeance. Afterwards, all I feel is empty and sad.
Dean was right, I have been afraid to be happy, to pitch myself towards something I really want and have it fall apart. But if being stranded on the side of a mountain has taught me anything, it’s that life is too uncertain. I could just as easily fail spectacularly at something I don’t love. So, I turned down the job in Sherman as diplomatically as possible.
Maybe there will come a time when that will make sense for me, a regular office job. For now, I want to be fearless and see where it takes me. I’ve spent enough time eking by, not really living, in my own field. It’s time to see where else I could go.
I pull up outside the café and immediately spot Pearl’s car. It’s a bright yellow VW bug with bumper stickers galore.
‘Coexist’
‘Help Wanted: Revolutionaries’
‘I’m not weird, I’m an artist!’
‘Kiss me, I’m organic!’
My favorite is one with the disembodied head of Blanche Deveraux of Golden Girls that reads, ‘Flirting is part of my heritage!’
It’s fitting, and I can’t help but smile. Meeting her and the rest of her friends has been like discovering technicolor. My mom has always modeled strength and devotion, and I love her for everything she’s given me, but she’s never pushed me further than I wanted to be pushed. I’m beginning to see now the virtue in defying the limits I’ve set for myself.
I’m ready to be pushed—or better, to push myself.
“Ava! So happy you called!” Pearl shouts out, setting aside her copy of the Feminine Mystique at the little table she’s occupying by the window.
The ladies and her had shown up at the hospital before I got discharged and crowed over me like a proper brood of mother hens. They felt awful for not realizing we got separated and about buried me in an avalanche of apologies and casseroles.
I hug and sit down and start to order my regular syrupy latte when Pearl interrupts. “Oh dear, that’ll just clog your chakras. Have you ever tried Yerba Mate?”
“No…”
“Make that two,” she tells Wendi, our server.
“I’m afraid we don’t have… uh… Herbert Lattes…”
Frustrated, she resigns us both to two cups of pour-over and decides she’ll have to open her own café someday.
“How are you feeling? That ankle still giving you trouble?” Pearl asks.
“It’s healing slower tha
n I’d like, but I suppose I can’t complain too much. I could have had a lot more of an injury to show for it.”
“Oh, I just feel so awful about it all,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m so glad that Dean made it back to you before anything happened.”
“Yeah…” The mention of him slices through my polite smile. I take a sip of my drink to mask it.
“Have you still been working out there?” she continues with the uncomfortable topic.
“No.” I force myself to smile. “It was never going to be long term anyway, and… now… well, it just made sense given everything that happened, that I move on,” I answer.
It does. It makes sense… right? Right! How many times do I have to have this conversation with myself?
One more time, it seems.
Pearl smiles wisely. “Well, everything happens for a reason.”
“Of course.” I nod.
She cackles, drawing the attention of the other customers around us. “Oh, what a bunch of hogwash. You don’t buy that, do you?”
I look at her confused. “Um…?”
“Sure, the universe works in mysterious ways, but shifting blame for everything that happens to some mystical sense of purpose is a cop-out, darlin’! Believe me, I’ve spent enough time in Tibetan singing bowl circles chanting to the magical unicorn of peace to know that the biggest force in this universe is your own damn will! We choose our reality.”
“Ahh,” I say, trying not to sound too dumb as I unpack everything she just said.
Magical unicorn of peace? Maybe it was an exaggeration, but it also wouldn’t entirely surprise me if there was a group of semi-nude, free love, Yerba Mate-sipping bohemians out there paying homage to a rainbow unicorn statue.
“So, how did the meeting with Luke go?” she asks, changing courses.
“It went really well… I think,” I say, a bit hesitantly. I don’t want to get my hopes up in case I misread the interview.
“Wonderful! I had a feeling about this… After we visited at the hospital and you said you dreamed of being a musician there was this little nagging voice that just wouldn’t leave me alone, saying I should put you two in touch. I’m so glad I listened to it! Mind you, I probably shouldn’t say that too loudly. A woman my age can’t go around talking about hearing voices.”
I laugh. “I’ll back you if the sanitarium paddy wagon pulls up.”
“Did Luke hire you on the spot then?”
“Well… no. I think things ended on a good note, though… I hope,” I answer. It’s only been a day, but I’ve been checking my phone and email at regular, if compulsive, intervals hoping for an answer. Luke runs an art therapy program throughout the county and is looking to expand their services. It’s a perfect blend of my healthcare management background and my musical interests. A little crazy that an opportunity like this could just happen by chance, but enough crazy things have happened to me I’m not going to question it anymore.
“You’re not sure?” Pearl asks, eyes narrowing.
I sigh, both relieved and a nervous to tell her what happened exactly. “Well, okay, so everything was going great. We were chatting about the program and his goals for expansion—you know, abstract stuff—when… well, Dean showed up.”
“Ohhh, I see,” she says, nodding.
“Right,” I say, sucking in a breath. “Well, he was staring daggers at us from the bar. I’m sure he thought we were on a date…”
Pearl lets out a snort of laughter. “He’s got a better shot at dating Luke than you do! No offense, hon. Actually, you and Luke have a similar taste—serious and rugged.”
It’s a relief not having to hide the fact Dean and I… dated? He didn’t seem to think we were official, so I’m not really sure what to call it.
“Well, I don’t think Luke was particularly impressed. Dean was pretty rude,” I pause, closing my eyes and reliving the embarrassment.
“I take it you did not clarify for Dean what was going on?”
My eyes snap open. “No, why should I? He’s been the one who is so determined nothing can happen between us, so ready to dismiss everything. According to him, we never even were a ‘thing’, so what explanation does he deserve?”
“Well, in my experience, which is considerable, mind you, a man doesn’t sulk around and interrupt would-be dates when he’s content with things being over. Sounds to me like maybe everything isn’t done,” Pearl says patiently.
I sigh. “Maybe… I don’t know. He’s right, though. I don’t belong in his world. I’m vanilla. I don’t fly by the seat of my pants.”
Pearl is shaking her head. “With all due respect, Ava, you are exactly who you choose to be. And, by the way, vanilla is a perfect flavor pairing with just about everything, so tell me what is so wrong about that? Either way, if you want to shake things up and try on a new hat, do it. You’re braver and stronger than you realize. Seize the goddamn moment, girl!”
I admire her gumption, but I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure the ‘moment’ has already passed.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asks knowingly.
Am I?
*
“She’ll forget me as soon as I leave…”
Dean’s words keep rattling around in my brain. I didn’t like it when he said them, and I don’t like it now. Where does he get off telling me what I’m thinking or feeling?
I didn’t just get over him and it pisses me off that he would think that I did. And it pisses me off he thinks he has a right to be offended by that. Shouldn’t he be happy? Shouldn’t he be relieved I’m not texting him, bugging him trying to get back together?
Because I’ve damn well wanted to give him a piece of my mind. I’ve been itching to tell him what an idiot he’s being if he can’t recognize a good thing when it’s yanking him over a waterfall.
I grip the steering wheel, getting more and more angry. The Alanis Morrissette track that just came on isn’t helping.
And I’m here, to remind you,
Of the mess you left when you went away.
Just what does he think, anyway? That I’m all peachy and fine and didn’t care about him at all?
Then there was the way he was flirting with Geena. It makes my blood boil remembering the way she leaned over, her ample chest spilling onto the bar top for his viewing pleasure. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I certainly recognized the velvety, toe-curling timbre of it.
As if he had any right to judge me after that display.
Damn him! Why is he still under my skin like this?
I drive past the turn-off for the house and head straight. Deric mentioned Dean was going to have to put in some extra hours working this week getting more bikes tuned up and ready for their new ‘Survival Tour.’
I’m tired of pretending everything is fine. It’s not fine. Not with me and not with Dean. I can’t claim to be living my life boldly if I’m too afraid to even have a conversation with him. That fear ends now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DEAN
Damn, my back is aching, and I still have another hour’s worth of work ahead of me, at least. It’s a good thing, of course, because the less down time I have the less time I have to think about anything else… like Ava’s date.
Focus on your work, man.
I’ve had to order some sturdier frames for the rentals on our new tour. It’s not an exact retracing of mine and Ava’s path, but it gets near enough. It was Deric’s idea and I couldn’t exactly say no when the bookings started coming in.
The crunching sound of gravel reaches my ears and I glance at my watch. Deric and Dex took the truck to go pick up three new four-wheelers less than a half hour ago, an investment for our expanding needs. They can’t be back already, and there are no tours for the next two days while the Rangers work to trap the injured bear before it attacks someone.
I walk around the building in time to see Ava’s Prius hauling ass up the gravel, sending rocks flying in every direction.
Great.
It is precisely what I don’t need. I’m already having a hard enough time blocking her out of my thoughts, now I have to deal with her in real life too?
“You have no right! Do you know that?” she starts yelling before she’s even closed her door all the way. The look on her face is like I’ve never seen before. Her cheeks are flush with anger and her eyes have a startling intensity. I’m sure that anger is for me, but I can’t seem to help my reaction to this woman.
God damn it, she kills me.
“What are you talking about?” I answer as she stomps forward—as much as anyone with a boot on their ankle can stomp.
“You! You don’t get to decide what I have room for in my life or what world I do or don’t belong in!” She’s stopped in front of me and heaving, her chest rising and falling with her angry breaths.
I blink, caught off guard by the directness. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. That’s probably territory for your new boyfriend, Mr. Sweater Vest.”
She narrows her eyes. “No, actually. It’s up to me—not any guy, boyfriend or not!”
“So he is your boyfriend then?” I ask, desperate to know even though I hate myself for how pathetic the question makes me sound, but I can’t help it. I just keep replaying the scene over and over in my head and wondering if they’ve gotten together since… if he knows how soft the skin is on the inside of her forearm, or how she wrinkles her nose to stop from giggling when you kiss the spot right under her ear.
Fuck. What’s wrong with me?
“You don’t get it, do you? You think I’m that shallow I’d move on just like that? That I’d just forget about you in two seconds flat?”
“Certainly looked that way,” I answer stubbornly, not wanting to give in to the hope that’s creeping up on me. “Besides, he’s exactly the kind of guy you want. I’m sure he’ll give you the perfect, tidy life you want.”
“Damn it, will you stop?” She jabs a finger into my chest. “Just stop being so blind. You don’t get to decide who I am or what I want. I do, and I want you. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but why does it have to? Sure, you’re grumpy and moody and you push me away constantly because even though you think I’m the one who is afraid of everything, you’re actually scared too. I don’t care. Because, even with all that, you’re thoughtful and smart and a thousand times sexier than any person has a right to be. You take care of me when I get in over my head and you push me when I don’t want to push myself. And I’ve wanted you since I was old enough to know that I wanted boys. So… there it is... deal with it!”