Single Dad Boss: A Small Town Romance

by Kara Hart

  “She wants you to fight for her! She wants you to take control. Women are complicated. Sometimes we mean what we say and other times we mean the exact opposite. I'm telling you, Colt. As a woman, I know for a fact she wants you to be there still. Take control. Be a man!”

  This was total projection. I knew just how much Bowen and her had been together lately and it wasn't much. Still, she was probably right. “I guess I was little quick to get mad about everything.”

  “There you go. Now what're you going to do to get her back?” She eyes me intensely. A slight crease forms against her lips.

  “I'm going to buy her flowers?” I say it more as a question than an answer because at this point I don't know what the hell in supposed to do at all.

  Her head nods slowly. “…and?”

  “I'm going to tell her how I feel?” I ask her. She nods again.

  “And?” Damn, this woman was really laying it on me.

  “I don't know, Arianna. I'm going to cook her a nice, expensive dinner?” I look at Bowen for support, but he's just leaning back in his chair, smiling to himself. Apparently he was getting a lot of enjoyment out of this.

  Underneath the table, I text her.

  I'm sorry for flipping out. How about I make it up to you? Dinner tomorrow?

  She doesn't respond. She's probably asleep, I reason, even though it's only about eight o’clock. Arianna slams her palm down on the table and quickly stands up. “You're going to tell her you love her!”

  Whatever expression I once had, has now turned into a frown. “Love?” I ask. Wasn't it a little soon to be thinking about the L word? I mean, I liked the woman, but I wasn’t thinking about marriage and settling down just yet.

  Bowen, the asshole that he is, bursts out laughing. Arianna looks at him angrily and he immediately shuts up. “I'm serious! You love her don't you?”

  “I don't know. We haven't exactly been on a date yet.” I sigh. “We had that night at the Memorial Day Festival. I guess that's something.”

  “See? That’s so romantic! You don't know how much I would kill to have something like that.” She's glaring at her husband who is now glaring at me. Uh oh, I've stumbled into enemy territory. Abort, abort!

  “What're you talking about? We both went to the festival together,” Bowen says, shaking his head at me. I mouth the word “sorry” and take a quick sip of beer.

  “Oh, that's right. You left me with the kids so you could go get drunk with your Navy brothers. I'm so sorry for not remembering clearly.” She slams the plates down into the sink and storms off toward her room. “Men never listen. Goodnight, Colt.”

  “What was that about?” I whisper, glancing at the hallway.

  “Man, you got me in the God damn doghouse. Why'd you have to bring up that woman? I didn't think she was that big a deal to you.” He gets up from his chair and opens the front door to his porch. He motions for me to come outside with him.

  Outside, the smell of cedar and smoked pork fills the air. It's a beautiful night sky, complete with a full moon and set of shining constellations. The sound of crickets cuts through the foresty suburbs and the whole town is at peace. Somewhere, Lena is out there, probably pissed as hell at me.

  Here I am, feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I overreacted the other day. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh. I just felt like we had something more than friendship. I mean, I didn’t think we were necessarily at that next step, but I was really starting to let go with her.

  “She's a big deal,” I say to him. “I didn't think she would be, you know? I didn't plan for it. But, I won’t deny it. She's a big deal.”

  Bowen takes another sip of beer and exhales as the carbonation hits the back of his palate. “Well, old friend. My wife’s right. If she's a big deal to you, go get her back. It won't be difficult. Trust me, the woman likes you a hell of a lot. I can tell.”

  I appreciate words, but I didn't exactly come to talk about women tonight. “Look, man. There's some shit I have to tell you about. Better brace yourself.”

  “Is she pregnant?” he asks me, eyebrows arched and strained.

  “What? No. I mean, not that I know of. Jesus, man.” I can't help but laugh.

  He sets his beer down and faces me. “Then what is it? Something worse than that?”

  “You know, for a father of two, you don't exactly sound like you love kids,” I say.

  “I love mine.” He shrugs. “But all the rest of them are annoying as hell. You couldn't even imagine what birthday party sleepovers are like.”

  “Well, I think this is a little worse than that,” I admit.

  He just smiles and says “Lay it on me, brother.”

  I breathe in the cool air and tell it to him straight. “Somebody broke into my cabin the other day.”

  A thousand questions fire off at once. “What? When? For real? Is everything okay? Man, if they took anything, I'll kill ‘em.”

  “Nah, it's not like that. It's worse. They didn't take anything. They just kind of trashed the place. You know, they flipped over my furniture. Real creepy shit,” I tell him.

  He's listening intently now and I can tell he's ready to change his locks. “Some kids or something? People fucking with you because you're the scary old man with the cabin and mechanical leg?”

  I frown. “No. They left a note on my fridge. It was typed out and neat. Said ‘I know what happened in Afghanistan.’ Real basic and shit, but definitely unsettling.”

  He stopped drinking completely when he heard this. “You think they really know?”

  I rub my eyes, feeling the stress creep in my body. “Who fucking knows? All I know is they’re fucked up enough to break in and tape something like that to my fridge. I can only begin to guess who it is.”

  Bowen gulped loudly and his breathing quickened. “What happened over there … It's classified. We’re the only ones left in this town who know about the mission. It has to be a prank. It has to be.” He’s starting to get frantic, which in turn makes me feel anxious.

  “That's why I told you, man. I'm not sure what the deal is, but we should be careful. Who knows what this person is capable of? Maybe he found Akron and reached out to him. Who the hell knows? All I'm saying is, lay low for a while and be careful of who you talk to.”

  “I'll keep an eye out,” he says to me, with this heavy look of fear in his eyes. “Way to make a vet scared stiff. I'm going to be up all night now.”

  I chuckle softly, even though the reality of the situation isn't that funny. “Yeah, well. Don't put your finger on the trigger, Bowen.”

  We sit in silence and think about everything. I've said all I need to say, which is about two hours too much. Of course, he can't stop wondering who did it.

  “You don't think…” he whispers to himself.

  “What?” I ask him. Clearly he has something on his mind.

  He shakes off the thought and waves his hand in the air. “I don't know. I'm probably wrong.”

  “Come on, man. Spill it. You clearly got something important to say.” I know what he’s going to say. I knew it from the get go. It's part of the reason why I didn't mention it to him earlier.

  “I'm just saying, man. What if it's her? That Lena chick? Or, shit, what if it's her sister? She's kind of crazy, right? It's not that weird to think it could've been her.”

  Is he serious? Lena was just as surprised as I was when she saw the damn note. It couldn't have been her. “It's not her.”

  “How do you know? Like, really know? The woman’s a journalist, right? I'm just saying, man. It wouldn't be that out of the ordinary for a journalist to swindle a Navy boy.” He’s acting as if he is really onto something, pounding his fist into his knee.

  “Settle down. You'll wake your wife,” I say. I don't even want to entertain his ideas. They're too dangerous to my mental state right now. “I know who it is. It’s Elijah. Her ex-boyfriend.”

  “Elijah? Who?” he asks, losing me in the process.

  “The guy I almost knocked ou
t at the fair. Remember?” My beer is empty so I toss it loudly into the trashcan. The night’s almost over. I can feel it. But it’s not wasted.

  “That scrawny little guy? Him? He doesn’t know shit,” he says. But he doesn’t know what kind of shit a “scrawny” guy can be capable of. The way he looked in my eyes that night at the fair. It wasn’t fear that shined back. It was determination and revenge. Now I was on his hit list and I wasn’t going to get off that easy. It was time to fight.

  “He works for the local paper. Soon enough, he’ll get promoted, take a job at the Washington Post, and the story will go far and wide. As long as he wants Lena to suffer, we’ll suffer with him.”

  Right at the moment, my phone vibrates against my leg and when I pull it out, Lena’s texted me back. Finally, dammit. Except, all she replies back with is

  I’m busy.

  I write back. Cancel your plans, baby. I’ve got something I need to tell you.

  She doesn’t text back quickly. She takes her sweet ass time. But I can see those three dots working overtime, letting me know that she’s typing something. Bowen tosses his empty beer and gets up from the chair. “I have to go to bed, brother. I got my wife to take care of. Call me tomorrow though. We have to take care of this shit now. If we don’t, it’s our asses that get thrown in the fire.”

  “Yeah. Talk to you tomorrow,” I say. He gently closes the door and I get up to walk on back.

  Soon enough, my feet are crunching in the woods and I’m half-drunk stumbling home. My cabin, my peace in the center of the lawless jungle, is now threatened by outside forces. By some punk named Elijah. I laugh to myself, and fall against a tree to take a piss. My phone vibrates.

  Fine. But no dinner. I’m not about to be wined and dined. We’ll finish up that interview.

  Fine by me, I think. From what I remember, our last interview was hot as hell. Her body, up against my bookshelf, the way she curled up against me, pushing me deep inside her. It’s all I want now, all I can dream about.

  Deal. See you around seven. I’ll be dreaming of that pretty face of yours.

  Of course, there’s no response and I don’t expect any either. She’s playing that hard to get shit. That, or she’s really over me. That’s something I don’t even want to think about.

  I’m just about to unzip my pants when I hear someone walking behind me. No one walks through these woods at night. No one but… Elijah? Sure enough, he’s standing right behind me. And he seems to be a million times more plastered than I am. His eyes are practically closed with drunkenness.

  “What do you want?” I ask him. “You come here to fight? To claim your territory? I’ve got news for you, you sick fuck. Lena isn’t anybody’s property. She’s free to reject and choose anyone she damn well pleases. Got it?” I don’t have any weapons on me. All I have are my fists. Believe me, I’m ready to use them if he tries anything stupid.

  “Don’t worry, Macho-man. I didn’t come here to fight or do anything rash,” he stumbles a little, but quickly regains his balance. “I came here to warn you. Stay away from her.”

  I laugh lightly at him because the whole situation, as tense as it is, cracks me up. I’m still holding my dick, propping myself up against the tree. I zip my pants up and ask “Or what? What could you possibly do to hurt me?”

  “You think I’m some weak, low-life loser. You don’t know anything about me. And you sure as shit don’t anything about Lena and I. We had something good. It was perfect. An editor and his writer, ready to take over the journalism world, ready to uncover some of the deepest and darkest truths in our society,” he says.

  “Is that before or after you fucked her sister?” I’m walking closer to him and he’s falling backwards. “What is it you’re after with me?”

  “I was drunk. But now things are clear. I know exactly where she stands. And I’ve been digging. I’m going to find out everything about you. I know something happened over there in Kabul. I know about your leg. I know about your little secret mission and how you left your friends to die back there. It was you and that Bowen guy, right?” When I move forward, he knows he’s gone too far.

  I grab his shirt and pull him against me, so he knows just who he’s dealing with. “You’re fighting against the United States Navy, buddy. It’s advisable you stay the fuck away.”

  He’s shaking and stuttering his words, but he’s not backing down. He’s seemingly ready to lose it all. “I’ve got informants. You hurt me, they’ll go to another journalist. There’s no running from your past, Colt.” The way he says my name is like a slithering snake. I throw him on the ground and walk away. It’s not worth the fight.

  “You can’t run!” He yells, “It’ll all come out, sooner or later.” He’s laughing and brushing the leaves off his shirt.

  Sooner or later. Our faces will be strewn across the front pages of every newspaper in America. We’ll be vilified and thrown to the wolves, all because of a misconception. There weren’t cameras, no way to prove what we saw and encountered.

  It was a fucking trap out there, and we walked right into the thick of it. Now I’m back in my hometown and it turns out, I’ve walked right back into another set-up.

  My phone vibrates and I check to see that Lena’s sent an emoji. A kiss face.

  Life is… Fantastic.

  106

  Lena

  My job, as important as it is, is soul-sucking and mindless at most intervals of the day. I’m stuck behind a cubicle, the sound of a dozen writers clicking away as the clock in the front of the room counts down the minutes and hours of the workday. I took this job so I could break open cases. I wanted to expose all of the hidden bad of this world, to take down those dirty politicians, and end the corruption that lies in the heart of our homeland.

  Instead it’s click and submit, pray that your story is accepted, and move on to the next. The editors and staff don’t want you to push the envelope because if you do, all of the sponsors will pull out the next day.

  “What do you mean I’m off the story?” I exclaim inside of Peter, our bureau chief’s, office. Everyone can see us in here, behind the glass walls. My exaggerated gestures and his calm demeanor. It’s obvious what everyone’s thinking: don’t tempt the lion. He’ll bite your fucking head off.

  But I’m furious. This was supposed to be my story and now it’s been stolen from me. “Look, Lena. The story is good, but it needs more. A lot more. Elijah is the editor-in-chief here and he’s got a good lead.”

  “Big fucking deal, Peter. I had a lead too remember? Is a veteran who lost his leg fighting insurgent forces not enough for you? What else could you possibly want?” I’m fuming. Cut from my own story. Once again, Elijah has taken everything away from me.

  “Are you talking about that same veteran you’re in a relationship with? What’s his name again? Colt? It’s a conflict of interest, Lena. Elijah is writing the piece. End of discussion.”

  “Fine, whatever. I guess I was wrong to think this place would ever actually change. You know, what? I’m out of here. Fuck this.” I don’t even wait for his response. One second I’m inside the building with my whole life intact. The next, I’m out on the streets holding my box of things.

  Fuck. That may have been the wrong thing to do, but I’m not a girl who runs from her convictions. If they don’t want me to give them my all, then I won’t. I can figure out my own path.

  “Wait, Lena! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” It’s Elijah and he’s out of breath from chasing after me. I unlock my car and open the door, setting my things down on the leather in the back.

  “What the fuck, Elijah? Can’t you just leave me alone for one god damn second? Or is everything about you?” I ask him. I’m tired. I want to go home and sleep forever in the house I can’t even pay for now that I don’t have a God damn job. Oh, Jesus. I’m so fucking stupid. How could I be so stupid?

  “I just wanted to say… Well, I wanted to say I’m sorry. Okay?” He’s standing away from my door, breathi
ng rapidly. All I can think of is slapping his stupid face. So I do. I actually slap him.

  “Okay,” he mutters, holding his reddened cheek. “I guess I deserve that. I probably deserve more too. You can slap me all day if you want.”

  “Yeah, you’d like that,” I spit out angrily. I get back in my car and start the engine, but he stops me from closing the door.

  “Look, I’ll talk to Peter. You can get your job back. I’m sorry for ever messing with you. What I did the other night wasn’t fair to you. I know that now. I fucked up.” He’s playing some game, but for the life of me I can’t figure what his angle is.

  “You mean face-fucking my sister? God damn it, Elijah! When will you realize it’s not always about you? I quit because this job sucks. It’s a huge strain on my passion and it doesn’t allow me to push any kinds of boundaries. This place is a dead end for me. That’s why I quit. Happy? You got your way.” I’m practically pulling the hair out of my head. I'm so angry that I'm spinning. Like that carousel the other night, the night I felt so free and happy with Colt, I'm actually spinning. Only this is much more serious.

  “This isn't what I thought would happen. This isn't how it’s supposed to go.” He actually has the nerve to start tearing up.

  “Yeah, well. That's life. Deal with it.” I am beyond caring about his childish, selfish ways. I'm not his mom. I'm not his caretaker. I'm not going to let him walk all over me like everyone else. I close the car door, put the car in reverse, but he's still not moving out of the way. I honk my horn and roll down my window. “Move it, Elijah.” I'm calm. This time I don't let my anger get the best of me.

  That’s when he yells, frantically clutching at my car. “I know you'll see it my way. I'll get you back if it’s the last thing I do. I love you, Lena Skye!”

  All I want to do is to escape this. I want to run into Colt’s arms and have him protect me. I feel so stupid for acting like he was nothing, like he was just some friend to rest my shoulder on. He was more than that. It's so obvious to me now. Why did I act like such an ass?