“You do?” she asks.
“I don’t plan on staying here forever. I never have. I was just waiting until I figured out what to do next.” In response to my confession, Scarlett releases the arm that’s holding her head up and falls back into her pillow with a smile.
Now that I’m wide awake and staring at her, I’m left waiting for a resolution to this conversation, but Scarlett is the queen of half sentences and partial thoughts. “Okay, well nice talk,” I tell her.
“I’m not done talking yet,” she says.
“Oh, well, I just figured since you were closing your eyes and pulling the sheets up—”
“Shh,” she says.
I drag my chair across the floor, making way too much noise. “Are you playing more games with me, Miss Scarlett?”
“What?” she asks.
“Do you even know what you just said?” I ask her.
“Yup.”
I close my eyes and place my forehead on the armrest of her bed. “You’re making me crazy.”
“You’re making me stay in a hospital bed all night,” she replies.
“You got knocked down by a pig,” I remind her.
“I got knocked down by a freaking pig, Austin. This town is dangerous.”
“And you didn’t hit the thing back. I’m kind of proud of you.”
“I was unconscious. Don’t think I won’t be on the prowl for Betsy Blue when I get out of here.”
“Darlin’, I would not recommend beatin’ up a pig in this town,” I tell her.
“Why not? Is it like the town mascot?”
“No, but it’s a blue-ribbon-winning pig.”
“What?” she asks with shock. “Who the hell rates pigs?”
“This town,” I say as if the answer is obvious.
“Well, she should have her ribbon revoked for breaking out of her pen and almost killing someone.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” I tell her.
“So is having a pig with a ribbon.”
“Okay, fair enough,” I give in.
“I’m going back to sleep in this comfy, cozy bed,” she grumbles.
“Goodnight, darlin’.”
“Goodnight, Austin.”
I wake up in a hospital room with an ache in my neck, and no one in the bed next to the chair I’m still sitting in. I shake my head around to snap out of my grogginess and look around the room. What the—what time is it? I look up at the clock, waiting for the numbers to clear up from my blurry vision, and I see that it’s eight.
I get up and head down the hallway, wondering why no one would have woken me up, especially Scarlett. I move around the front desk and find Scarlett in a johnny, her good hand holding the thing shut on her behind, while she and Daisy are deep in a conversation.
“Uh,” I say, scratching my head. “Good-mornin’ … ”
“Did ya sleep well?” Daisy asks, snickering.
“Sure.” Something’s going on, and I’m not sure I like it.
“Your hair looks like you stuck your finger into an electric socket,” Daisy tells me.
“My hair may be standing up, but Scarlett here is wandering around the halls in a piece of fabric with no backside.”
“You can’t see anything,” she says.
I close my eyes and smile. “Sure, I can, darlin’.”
“Rude. No, you can’t,” she argues.
I reopen my eyes because if she’s going to try and prove me wrong, I’m going to have myself a look, and that thing is definitely see-through. “Just so you’re aware, and I’m not trying to have a bicker-war about it with you, that thang is see-through. I can see every … damn … thing, darlin’.”
She shrugs. “Whatever, stare all you want.”
Relentless. I drop my arms onto the counter and throw my head down because I’m wiped out after working a full day, then taking care of Scarlett, followed by spending the night in a chair. Thankfully, I do have the day free, but I think Scarlett has to work later today at some point. “How’s your head feelin’?” I ask her.
“It’s fine. I don’t feel anything.”
I raise a brow at her statement. “You don’t feel anything, or it doesn’t hurt?”
“Same difference,” she argues.
“No, not exactly.”
“Ugh, why are you so grumpy? Do you need some caffeine or something?” She snaps at me.
“Yes, please,” I tell her.
“I have some spare clothes in the locker room. I’ll grab them for you,” Daisy offers Scarlett. I almost forgot that Scarlett’s clothes were covered in dirt and pig spit. If only I saw what she looked like when she came in. They had her cleaned up by the time I got to the hospital.
“Oh, thank you so much. I’d really appreciate it. The clothes I came in with are sealed up in a bag, and I’m not sure I want to open it … ever,” Scarlett says.
Daisy shakes her head with wide eyes. “That’s why I’m offering.”
Scarlett follows Daisy into the staff room, and I take a seat in the waiting area. I’ve never actually sat out here and looked in at all the action from this angle. Besides the reception desk and the triage area, everyone’s moving around, looking like they’re in a busy train station. If I were a patient, this might make me a bit uneasy.
“Hey bud,” Clara says as she grabs a stack of folders from Daisy’s desk. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waitin’ for Scarlett,” I tell her.
Clara comes over and takes a seat next to me. She slaps the stack of folders down on my lap and sighs. “Don’t let this one go, okay?”
For Clara to say this to me, it means something. We’ve both selflessly wanted the best for each other over the years, and it’s nice to know that mutual feeling is still intact. “You think so?” I ask her.
“You are back to the Austin I once knew … way, way, way long ago when you had a smile that could never be taken away. I’ve waited a long time for that Austin to come back, and it warms my heart to see you like this.”
“I just don’t know if she feels the same, Clara, but I appreciate you sayin’ that. I do.”
“Oh, she feels the same. She’s just showin’ it a little differently.”
“What if she wants to leave?” I ask her as if she might have some magic answer I haven’t thought of yet.
“Offer to go with her. Don’t chase, not like your pop told you to. Just offer. It’s different. Trust me, okay?”
Clara gives me a hug just as Scarlett clears her throat. “I am ready to get moving.”
“What in the hell are you wearin’?” My eyes hurt from the neon colors she’s got on. Pinks, greens, and yella’s. She’s like the damn sun.
“Hey!” Daisy shouts. “Don’t insult my clothing.”
I force a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s just ... so ... beautiful.”
Scarlett thinks it’s funny, so I shake my head and drop the subject. I realize I prefer her taste in clothes over Daisy’s, though.
“We’ll catch you guys later,” I tell Clara and Daisy.
The second we get outside, Scarlett starts some kind of strut and I can’t help but laugh. “What are you doing now?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you need to be comfortable in your own skin?”
“Yeah, but that ain’t skin.”
“Whatever. If I’m going to be dressed like one of your cheery people from down here, I’m gonna do my best to act accordingly. I wouldn’t want to insult Daisy’s wardrobe,” she says with a laugh.
“It’s like that bump to your head gave you a mood lift or somethin’.”
“Nah, I just feel a little freer.”
Maybe it’s because she let out what she was keeping in last night, or maybe it’s because I was still there for her even though she isn’t sure she can stay here. Whatever the case, I can’t help but look forward to whatever comes out of this girl’s mouth next. She’s like a jack-in-the-box, just waiting to jump out and surprise the hell out of me when I least expect it, a
nd I love that part about her. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell her.
“Me too. Thank you for staying with me last night. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t. I asked you if I could stay, though, and you said yes.”
“I don’t remember that,” she says.
“I’m guessing there are quite a few things you don’t remember about last night then.”
“It’s probably better that way. I still remember I got run over by a blue-ribbon-winning pig, though, and that’s enough for one night.”
“True that,” I agree.
“Oh, and I remember telling you why I have control issues.”
“Noted that too. All is good, Scarlett. No need to worry, darlin’.”
“Austin?”
“Scarlett?” She keeps on walking, even though I can hear there’s something loaded moving through her head just by the way she said my name.
“I know I’ve known you for just a little while, but I think I might love you, and I just wanted to tell you that.”
I grab her arm. “Hold up. Maybe your concussion is worse than we thought. You’re going to tell me you love me a day after getting pissy that I didn’t ask you to be my girlfriend?”
“I already said you’re too late,” she says.
“For what?” I ask, kind of baffled. No, I’m more than a little baffled. Where is this coming from?
“The order in which things usually happen,” she says, schooling me on relationships.
“Well then, get this, Miss I Control Everything. I think I loved you first, and there ain’t nothing you can do to change that.”
Scarlett stops walking and turns to face me. “I’ve pushed you away, teased you, tortured you, acted kind of nice a few times, then repeated all those things, and you think you love me?”
“That’s the thing, Scarlett … you think that’s what you were doing, but all along, you were just being you, and yeah, that’s why I—know I love you. You are an amazingly strong woman, and sometimes I just want to watch you because there’s never a dull moment.”
“Well, not every woman in this town is lucky enough to be knocked off her feet by a pig named Betsy Blue, so I’ll agree with you on that.”
She is never going to let this poor pig off the hook.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Scarlett
A MONTH LATER
“Two days, that’s all,” I tell Austin.
“Yeah, but they might just offer you the job right then and there,” he says, trying to sound strong and supportive.
“My stuff is still here. You’re still here.”
Austin pulls my bag out of the back of his truck and places it down on the curb. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“What’s that?”
“I know you’ve mentioned not wanting to be chased, but I didn’t run you out of this place, did I?”
I grab ahold of his shirt and pull him toward me. “You couldn’t do that if you tried, Austin Trace. For the first time in my life, I’ve wanted to be with someone as much as humanly possible. I should never have told you not to chase me, but I shouldn’t force you to chase me, either.”
Austin combs his fingers through his messy hair. “Yeah, it would make things easier if women didn’t force us to chase, especially those who indicate they don’t want to be chased, when they secretly kind of do. Do you have any idea how confusing y’all are?”
I press up on my toes and gently touch my lips to his. “You have me all figured out, so you have nothing to worry about,” she says with a quick wink.
“Not really. I’m still learning as I go with you. Somehow, I think you’re the type of person I could know my entire life and still not have you figured out at the end.”
“Just how I like it. Got to keep a man guessing.”
“I’m going to miss you, darlin’.”
“How much?” I ask him with a smirk.
“A lot. So, in case you feel the same way about me, I bought you something so you don’t get too lonely. It’s in your carry-on bag.”
“What?” I place my hand down on the zipper of my shoulder bag, looking at him with question. “What is it?”
“You’ll see,” he says. His smile worries me, so I unzip the bag and shove my hand inside, feeling something long, smooth, and covered with silicone. Oh, God.
“Austin … ”
“I named it Betsy Blue, just for you,” he says, falling into a fit of laughter.
“You bought me a vibrator and named it Betsy Blue? Are you kidding me?” I pull my hand out of the bag and slap him. “What if it causes the metal detector to go off?”
“Take a picture?” He shrugs with a smile. “Just promise you’ll think of me when you use it.”
I put my hand over my eyes. “Well, I can assure you I won’t be thinking of a damn pig, Austin.”
“Good, then my plan worked,” he says. “Have a safe flight, darlin’.” Austin wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him real tight, giving me a kiss that steals my breath. His lips don’t break away from mine, but there’s a painful moan rumbling deep in his throat, one that rocks me to the core. “Come back to me.” His whispering words move through me, causing a dull pain my chest—something I haven’t really felt before.
“I will be back in two days. Two.” He kisses me once more and regret floods through me. I don’t want that interview, but I need to know if I’m worthy of the job.
Austin walks me to security and stands with me in line until he can’t go any further. “Call me when you land, darlin’.”
“I will.”
“Be careful with your arm. You haven’t started therapy yet. Got it?”
“I got it,” I tell him with a laugh. “Go, go, I’ll be fine.”
I check through security, thanking God that TSA didn’t feel the need to dig through my bag.
I turn to see if Austin was watching and waiting for a show, but I only see him walking away, and I wonder if I truly have it in me to watch him walk away for good because I don’t think I do. I’ve never had trouble telling people to give me space, leave me alone, or just disappear altogether, but he’s different.
The bubble I have built around myself feels big and lonely. It’s like he’s been inside of my bubble with me this last month or so, and now that I can stretch out and take in everything around me, I feel like I’m lost when he’s not with me.
I go through the motions of making my way through the terminal and up to my gate. Thank goodness Brendan is picking me up from the airport in Boston because I’m going to need a hug when I get there.
A seat next to the check-in booth is free and I sit down and stare out onto the tarmac as they prepare the plane. I find myself wondering what made me want to be in the hospitality business, but it’s all I’ve known since I graduated from college. It just kind of happened, unplanned. That’s how I like to live—how I liked to live. I don’t know what I want now, and that’s scarier than just letting life happen.
I enjoy the fast pace of the job, and I like people watching. Plus, feeling in charge is nice, and the money isn’t so bad now that I’ve moved up the chain a bit. Blah. I have to snap out of it and go with the flow of my life. I was meant to get this interview and I’m meant to go through the motions. Whatever happens after, happens.
I’ve managed to zone out long enough that the flight attendants are calling all passengers to board the plane, so I look at my ticket and walk over to the collector. I hand the agent my ticket and head down the narrow, enclosed bridge to the plane’s opening.
I’m one of the last people to board the plane, but I checked my bag so I don’t have much with me, which is good. I take my aisle seat next an old man who’s reading a newspaper. I slouch back to get comfortable and pull my earbuds out of my purse.
“Going home or visiting?” he asks immediately.
A talker. Fabulous. No one would ever guess that I work in the hospitality field. “I’m not sure,” I tell him.
&nbs
p; “Well, then, you must have quite the story.” The guy looks like Santa. I can’t think of a better way to describe him. He’s even got the jolly, pink cheeks that look like they’re stuffed full of candy. I try not to focus on the fact that his shoulder is leaning up against mine and probably will be for the next few hours. My poor bubble.
“I don’t know if it’s a story, or just that I just have trouble making life decisions,” I chuckle and pull out the airline magazine from the pocket in front of me.
“I hear ya, kid. My daughter lives in South Carolina, but my girlfriend lives in Boston.” His story sounds way more fascinating than mine.
“How old is your daughter?” I ask.
“Sixteen,” he says. The man seems a bit old to have such a young daughter but to each their own.
“That’s a tough age I’ve been told.”
“It’s the age where she needs her mom—the woman who moved down to South Carolina just to make my life a little more challenging.”
“Did she remarry?”
“Yes, she did,” he says with a sigh.
“I see the problem,” I tell him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to my girlfriend and try to persuade her to move down South with me. If it doesn’t work, I suppose I’m not worth enough to her.” He shrugs. “What are you going to do?” I can hear in his voice that the poor man is hurting. He sounds out of breath just telling me about his situation. At least I don’t have a kid in my mix. That would add a whole new level of complication I probably couldn’t handle.
“Life can be unfair sometimes, but I’m certain everything happens for a reason. Although, I’ve noticed lately that life likes to be kind of sneaky and not show you the reason up front. It makes everything a gamble, you know?” I tell him.
“You’re a smart woman. I hope my daughter has the same kind of head on her shoulders that you do. Your parents must be proud,” he says.
I hold in the laughter, sparing him the woe is me story. Instead, I smile to end the conversation and glance down at my magazine.
The wheels hitting the ground cause me to jump. That was a good nap I wasn’t planning on. I should try reading plane magazines more often I guess. I pull my phone out of my bag and turn the airplane mode off, so I can text Brendan to let him know I’ve landed.
The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 78