by Mia Ford
Right, of course. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, and after a few minutes, I realized I had screwed up the order completely. I sighed in frustration, ripped the checklist off my pad, and started over again. I needed to keep my head on straight. There was no logical reason for me to be thinking about the guy, especially since I knew he’d be gone within a couple of days.
Maybe convince Hank to go extra slow on the repairs?
Stupid. Very stupid. I crumbled up the second checklist after I had realized I’d written in two dozen flowers of a kind I did not even have yet. This was getting ridiculous. Sure, he was hot. Fucking hot, for that matter. The eyes, the jawline, the way he looked at me when I talked, hanging on my every word. And the fact that his eyes hadn’t wandered south was definitely a plus.
And my God, an actual mind to go with it. I had come across my fair share of handsome men who had nothing up top other than a burning light bulb. But Chance was different. Intellectual. Knew his books, his history, almost as if he had stepped out of a commercial for the perfect Saturday night date. And a sense of humor, too. Sure, a bit on the sarcastic side, but definitely funny enough to keep me smiling all afternoon.
I had missed that. It had been so long, way too long, in fact, and the whole day had felt like something out of a dream. Like I had somehow fallen asleep at the motel and had dreamt through everything that had happened. I would wake up any minute now, realize that nothing had been real, and that the stranger in room number seven was just your regular douche who couldn’t stop staring at my breasts or ass.
Only, that wasn’t going to happen, was it? I wasn’t going to wake up. I wasn’t dreaming.
I tossed the clipboard to a side, leaned in on the table of pots and sighed. I blew a strand of hair out of my face and ran my hand across my brow, massaging my neck softly. If I wasn’t going to get any work done, I might as well call it a night. A good book and the comfort of my bed. That’s what I needed.
And less thinking about Chance, dammit.
Chance Sabbatical. I realized I had never asked him for his last name.
“What’s your story, Mr. Sabbatical?” I asked myself as I made my way into the house, kicked off my shoes and rummaged through the kitchen for anything to snack on. There was still a little iced tea left, and I poured myself a glass before heading upstairs with my book.
I undressed slowly, my eyes closed and my mind striking up images of Chance’s hands pulling off my clothes. I felt a slight shiver race through me at just the thought of it, and quickly brushed the image away. I crawled into bed, turned on the night light and began to read Bridges of Madison County.
The farmer’s wife had just decided to sleep with the traveling photographer… The words on the page sent my thoughts swirling back to Chance.
This is ridiculous.
But it was hard to shake the thought of Chance away.
I turned in bed, pulling the covers tighter around me and closing my eyes, trying to concentrate on nothing else but the sound of my own breathing.
He’s here for only a few days. Won’t hurt, would it?
I had no idea, but there was not a single part of me that was willing to find out. My time with Earl had turned me off all men, and even the thought of dating someone, or eventually sleeping with someone, made me shudder. Earl had not just been a terrible husband, but an even worse lover. It was all about him, all the time, and I couldn’t count the number of times I waited until he was asleep so I could finish off what he hadn’t. It was like sleeping with a wooden board that happened to have an extension slamming inside me.
I had a feeling, though, that would be quite different with Chance. With that last thought in my head, I slowly fell asleep.
* * *
I woke up to the sound of someone repeatedly slamming on my front door. The sheer aggressiveness of it made me jump out of bed, quickly reaching for a shirt and shorts as I silently hoped it wasn’t someone coming to give me bad news. My heart thumped in my chest, and my mind immediately went to Chuck and Martha. Had something happened at the motel?
It was only when I heard Earl shouting from outside did the worry ease.
But only a little.
What the hell is he doing here?
I made my way down the stairs, and stopped halfway down, suddenly aware that an angry Earl never meant anything good. I thought about calling the Sheriff, then remembered that nothing would happen in that department. The least the man would do was drive over and tell Earl to go home. The restraining order meant nothing when pitched against Greene money.
Still, it’s better than nothing.
I tiptoed the rest of the way down, then made for the telephone. Earl continued to hammer at the door. “Open this fucking door, Ashlyn!” he yelled. “Open up or God help me I’ll break it down!”
The phone rang a few times before the deputy picked it up. I quickly told him what was going on, my eyes glued on the front door as Earl began throwing his weight against it.
“Hold tight, Ashlyn, I’ll send someone over right now,” the deputy was saying just as the door flew open and slammed against the wall so hard, the glass broke.
Earl was red in the face, nostrils flared, eyes wide and wild. It took him a few seconds to register that I was only standing a couple of feet away from him, then he came for me.
“You fucking whore!” he yelled. “Who was that guy, huh? Who the fuck were you toting around town?”
Earl grabbed me by the arm, and I forcefully pulled away from him, pushing him back angrily.
“Get the fuck out!” I screamed. “I’m going to put your sorry ass behind bars for this, you son of a bitch!”
Earl tried to grab me again, but I slipped away, running into the living room to put some space between us. I only needed to buy time. The sheriff would be here in five minutes, maybe less, and I had a feeling that with Earl actually inside my house, there wouldn’t be any excuses for not throwing him in a cell.
Earl lunged for me, his fingers wrapping tight around my elbow and pulling me to him. His breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, and I wanted to puke from the stench.
“Who is he?” Earl spat. “What, you think you can just walk around with some guy and I wouldn’t know? You think you could cuckold me like that, you fucking bitch?”
“Let go of me!” I screamed, kicking at him, but that only made him angrier.
“How do you think it makes me look, huh?” His voice boomed through the small space. “What do you think people are going to say about me? That I can’t keep my woman in check?”
“I’m not your woman, you fucking asshole!”
“You’ll always be my goddamn woman!” His hand came around quick and hard, my cheek instantly flaring up with the slap. The force of it sent me tumbling over, and I fell to the floor with a gasp. He grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and when I tried to punch him, he slapped me again.
“You’re fucking crazy!” I screamed at him, my mind racing, my head spinning.
This is good. He’s digging his own grave.
But at what cost? My cheek throbbed, and I could feel blood in my mouth from where I must have bitten my lip. There was a slight pain in the back of my head from where he had pulled me by the hair, and my arm was already starting to bruise.
And he wasn’t letting up.
Earl grabbed me by the waist and hurled me onto the couch. Before I could even register what was happening, the weight of him crushed down on me, his mouth inches from my face, the stench of his breath filling my nostrils and making me gag.
“What is it, huh?” he asked, and I could feel something hard press against my thigh. Is he fucking serious?
“Get off!” I tried to push him away, but he pinned my hands down over my head, adjusting himself so that I couldn’t knee him where it hurt.
“You missed the feel of cock inside you?” he hissed. “Is that it, you little whore? Is that what you need? A nice hard cock to make you feel all better?”
I wrestled against his
grip, but he was too strong, and the fact that he was drunk only made this worse. There would be no reasoning with him, no self-control of any kind. Right now I was dealing with the raw crap that was my ex-husband.
“I can give you that, you know?” He licked my cheek, and I squirmed against him. “I can make you scream again, just like old times.”
“You never made me scream, you fuck!”
He slapped me again, this time so hard I felt I would black out completely. The only thing that kept me conscious was the sound of ripping fabric as cold air hit my naked breasts, and hands tugging at my shorts, trying to pull them off.
The old me, the meek little girl afraid of her shadow, would have just gritted my teeth and let him have his way. But not now, not this me. I was never going to be abused by this cocksucker ever again without a fucking fight!
I kicked out, fast and hard, not caring where I was kicking or what I would hit. Earl’s scream of pain was enough to let me know that I had definitely hit the right spot, though.
He tumbled off me, both his hands grabbing his crotch, and rolled away, calling me a dumb bitch all the while. I pushed away from him, wishing that somehow the couch would just swallow me whole and keep me safe until the police arrived. The siren blaring in the distance seemed to still be too far away.
I looked down at my shirt, torn down the middle, and the shorts that were now almost around my knees. He was going to rape me!
A burst of anger shot through me. I pulled my shorts up as I pushed off the couch. “You fucking asshole!” I screamed and kicked him hard in the ribs. “You fucking son of a bitch!”
I don’t know how long I kicked him, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, because before I was fully satisfied, arms wrapped around me and pulled me away. I kicked and fought against my captor, screaming at the top of my lungs to be let go. I wanted to kill Earl. I wanted to kick at that smug face until nothing was left but a bleeding mask with the shape of my foot in it.
“Calm down, Ashlyn, we got this!” the deputy grunted in my ear, struggling to keep me away from Earl, who was curled into a ball on the floor with blood coming from his nose.
I didn’t calm down. Not by a long shot. The minute I was put down on my feet, I made for Earl again, screaming with renewed rage. Hands pulled me back and held me tight, and I watched in frustration as a second deputy knelt down and checked on the groaning mess that was my ex-husband.
“It’s over, Ashlyn, we’re here,” the deputy whispered as he fought to keep me under control. “We’re here. He isn’t going to hurt you.”
When the second officer brought Earl’s arms around his back and cuffed him, I finally calmed down and broke into tears.
Chapter 9: Chance
“She’s still not here.”
I snapped my head around just as Chuck handed me a mug of coffee and a plate of pie. “Thanks,” I said. “Who’s not here?”
Chuck smiled knowingly and shook his head at me.
It couldn’t have been more obvious, come to think of it. I had woken up early, knowing Ashlyn usually made her rounds at around ten, and had been waiting in the office patiently for her arrival.
I’d had a blast the other day, and was actually hoping to invite her to breakfast, maybe convince her to show me a little bit more of the country side. The truth was, I couldn’t care less about Ludwig, and sightseeing was probably going to take me twenty minutes, tops. I could probably be through the entire town and back at the motel before she was even done replacing the flowers. It was the company that I craved. I wanted to be with Ashlyn in every conceivable way.
I looked at my watch, the cheap Timex my mom had given me for high school graduation, then back out at the road leading up to the motel, slowly sipping on my coffee. It felt strange to be anticipating someone’s arrival this much. The last person I had looked forward to meeting was the CEO of a small company we had purchased a few years back, and the only reason then was because she was hot as hell. We eventually came to an agreement, and she came screaming my name.
But this was different. I wasn’t even thinking of Ashlyn that way, which struck me as odd. All I wanted to do was have a cup of coffee and talk, which sounded pretty lame in my head, but didn’t change my attitude towards it. If Alice could see me now. She would probably ask me where I had left my balls.
“Isn’t she usually on time?” I asked Chuck, no longer trying to hide my anxiety.
Chuck laughed. “She doesn’t really keep any specific time,” he said. “She should be here by now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to skip a day. Sometimes you just wake up and don’t really feel like doing anything.”
That didn’t sound like Ashlyn, though. Yesterday she had been full of life, ready to take on anyone and everything. It didn’t seem like her. Granted, I didn’t really know much about her, and who was to say that she hadn’t decided to kick back and relax for a day. Still, it felt odd.
“If it’ll make you feel any better, I could give her a call,” Chuck offered.
“That’s okay,” I said, although I did like the idea.
“No, you’re right,” Chuck said, picking up his phone and sliding his finger across the screen. “Martha would have called her by now. No hurt in checking up.”
I stood up, downed the rest of my coffee and stepped outside to light a cigarette, but stopped myself before putting fire to the tip. The only other tenant in the motel had made an appearance today, sitting by the pool, hurriedly scribbling something in a pad on his lap. I toyed with the idea of going for a swim to kill the time, or at least build an appetite before I passed by the diner again.
“Hey,” Chuck stuck his head out the door. “No answer. I say she’s probably still sleeping.”
I tried to act nonchalant, but I had started to worry just a little. I had no idea why, but it was there. Are you falling for this girl?
“I think I’ll check on Hank,” I said. “See how far he’s come with the truck.”
“In a hurry to get out of here already?” Chuck smiled.
“No, not at all,” I chuckled. “But I do have to keep moving if I want to make that meeting in Houston.”
Chuck only nodded and disappeared back into the office. I stuck the unlit cigarette back into the pack and made my way to Hank’s.
* * *
“Has it been two days already?” Hank asked when I stepped into the small garage. He had the hood of the Chevy up, but the real work seemed to be going into an old Ford Fairlane parked to one side. Tools littered the floor around it, and the engine hung dangerously above the hood, balanced on chains that seemed to groan in protest.
“Just checking up on the old girl,” I said.
Hank wiped his hands on his overalls and made his way to a desktop in the corner. His fingers flew across the keyboard at an impressive pace, and windows popped up and closed like a flash on the screen.
“Should be here in the morning,” Hank said, squinting as he read his invoice. “Like I said, UPS comes once a week. I could probably take my truck and pick it up if you’re in a hurry.”
“No hurry,” I said. “That’s fine.”
“Enjoying your stay so far?”
Hank slumped down in the chair in front of his computer and used his grease rag to wipe the sweat from his brow. Although the weather was warm outside, the garage itself felt like a furnace. I could already feel beads of sweat running down the line of my back.
“So far,” I smiled, when a sudden thought struck me. “That truck of yours, do you need it over the next few hours?”
“Thinking of going on a road trip, Mr. Ridder?”
I shook my head. “Want to check on a friend,” I said. “She hasn’t shown up today, and I’m a bit worried.”
Hank squinted at me for a few seconds, then nodded and tossed me a set of keys. “She gives a nasty kick when you start her up, so be careful,” he said.
“Thanks, Hank.”
“No problem,” he said. “Glad you’ve made friends
so quickly.”
I waved and walked out the garage.
* * *
I drove the way to Ashlyn’s from memory alone, although I knew that if I stopped to ask for directions, I’d be pointed the right way. I didn’t need to do that, though. As soon as I was off the main road and had managed to find the dirt road with the red marker, it was a straight drive all the way up to her house.
Her truck was parked by the side of the house, the tarp drawn and the back empty. I pulled up beside it, peering through the windshield at the greenhouse in hopes of seeing her moving about inside. The plants made it impossible for me to make anything out, but either way, the door was closed with the padlock still hanging from outside.
Maybe Chuck’s right. She could still be asleep.
“Then there’s no harm in making sure, is there?” I asked myself as I climbed out of the truck and slammed the door behind me, hoping that the sound would announce my arrival before I knocked on the front door.
I had barely made it up the front porch when she stepped out, the screen door swinging closed behind her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and her hair fell across half her face. She looked gorgeous, despite the fact that her smile seemed a little forced and her eyes didn’t shine as much as they had the other day.
You’re overstepping. You fucking idiot, maybe she didn’t want to see you today. Why are you acting like a love struck, high school nerd?