by Codi Gary
He’d refused to break for the old bastard though. There had been a couple times that he’d prayed his dad would just kill him. That was something his dad couldn’t make them cover up or hide and at least his mom would be safe.
Women didn’t ask him about the scars and if they did, they were not so politely asked to leave.
The one therapist he’d gone to had asked him why he didn’t blame his mom for the abuse, and he didn’t have an answer. His dad had never hit him when she was home. He often wondered if she knew, or if his dad had done it this way to hide it from her, knowing that Dustin wouldn’t say anything. It had started at twelve, and he’d been too old to go crying to her, especially when he knew she got it worse.
But when he was fifteen, he’d had enough. He’d shot up six inches and put on about fifty pounds of muscle over the summer. One afternoon, his dad had come after him for mouthing off, and he’d been ready.
Only he’d almost put the old bastard in the hospital he’d beat him so bad. Dustin had told him the next time he touched him or his mom, he wouldn’t get back up off the floor.
His father hadn’t had him arrested, maybe because he’d known that his dirty secrets might come to light. His father had taken off to their beach house in Mexico and when he’d come back several weeks later, Dustin had moved into the guest house. He’d spent the last three years he lived there barely speaking to his father.
If he had continued to hurt Dustin’s mom, Dustin had never seen it, so she’d either hidden it well or his dad had taken his threat to heart. Dustin didn’t talk about what happened with anyone, so when Rylie had stood over him, watching him sleep and seeing his scars, he’d been struck down with a vulnerability he’d never known. And he’d hated it. He’d felt powerless and he’d wanted his power back.
And the only way he knew how to do that was with anger, sarcasm, and sex.
But Rylie had run. He’d seen the flare of interest; she couldn’t deny that she wanted him, but she was just so damn good. Way too good for him.
He hardly remembered fucking Paula last night. She’d just been available and he’d wanted someone. Anyone.
Rylie wouldn’t be a convenient lay, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to push her skirt aside earlier and slide up into her. He could still feel the curve of her ass in his lap, the warmth of her skin coming through the fabric of her skirt.
Dustin reached down and gripped his aching cock in his hand. Her lips, so pink and lush, just a few inches from his. He’d almost done it too, but something had held him back.
Respect. He respected Rylie, even liked her. He wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t use her.
Think about her when he was jacking off? He could do that.
He pumped his dick several times, imagining what she looked like under the hot pink dress she’d been wearing. Was she the type of girl who wore matching bra and panties? He imagined she was.
When he finally found release, he took several deep breaths, knowing deep down that this would never be as good as the real thing.
Too bad, asshole.
This is as close as he’d ever get.
Chapter 9
Later that night, Rylie got wasted, which she never did, especially at a client’s wedding. She was the epitome of responsible, but after this morning with Dustin and the flowers she’d found on her car today after lunch, she’d needed a drink.
Or five or seven. She’d lost count after a while.
She didn’t know what to do about Asher. He’d left flowers and a note that read I need you on her windshield. He hadn’t signed it, but she recognized his handwriting. She’d told Dustin she didn’t need a restraining order, that they didn’t work, which was true, but Asher wasn’t taking the hint and she didn’t know how to make it any clearer that it was over. She was emotionally drained and stressed.
And then there was Dustin. He’d come into work after their interlude and acted as though nothing had happened. She had no idea how he could do that, but it was maddening.
Thus the liquor to chase her troubles away.
They’d already seen late night talk show host Anderson Grady and his barely legal bride, actress Gwendolyn Thomas, into their limo and most of the guests were trickling out. There had been a guy in the corner giving her the eye most of the night, but when she hadn’t given him any signal, he’d moved on to one of the other bridesmaids.
Which was perfectly fine, because she was over men. As far as she was concerned, the entire male species could go suck a dick!
Rylie made her way to the parking lot, and climbed into her car, but she knew she couldn’t drive. Hell, she could hardly walk.
After retrieving her phone from the middle console, she dialed Marley. When it went straight to voicemail, Rylie ended the call, then squinted at her phone screen. She scrolled through her contacts, trying to make out the blurry names.
She stopped on Dustin’s, and she hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was ask for his help, but she didn’t really want to sleep it off in her car and have someone see her looking like a hot mess. And there was no way in hell she was calling Kelly or Asher.
With a sigh, she hit the green phone icon and waited for him to answer.
It rang several times and by the fourth, she almost hung up.
“Hello?” he said.
She opened her mouth to say hi, but that wasn’t what tumbled out. “I just want you to know that you behaved abomibly…adomably… You were a meanie pants and if I wasn’t out of options, I wouldn’t be calling.”
Several beats of silence before he spoke. “Rylie? Are you drunk?”
“Stupid question. Course I am drunk. Thus, the call.” She knew she was slurring but couldn’t seem to fix it. “So, will you or not?”
“Will I what? You haven’t asked me anything, just insulted me.”
She huffed in frustration. “I need a ride. Can’t drive.”
The line went silent and she called loudly, “Hello? Did you hear me?”
“Ask me nicely,” he said.
Rylie snorted. “Butt Ass.”
His deep laughter echoed through the phone. “Did you just call me butt ass?”
“Maybe.” He continued chuckling, and she said, “I like your laugh. Have I told you that?”
“Okay, I am definitely coming to get you; you’re being nice to me now. Where are you?”
She looked around, trying to piece her location together through her fuzzy brain. “In the parking lot of a church.”
“Which church?”
“Too many questions. You’re hurting my head.”
She heard tapping, as if he was texting, and the phone went quiet for several moments. Or longer. She might have dozed off before his loud voice woke her.
“What?” she moaned.
“I said I know where you are and I’m on my way. Just stay on the phone with me.”
“I’m not having phone sex with you if that is what you are asking.”
A bark of laughter exploded from the phone. “Who knew that sweet little Rylie Templeton got pervy when she’s had a few.”
“Corression,” she slurred. “I was telling you not to be a perv.”
“My bad. So, why did you get shit-faced anyway?”
“I needed one after the week I had.”
“Sounds like you had more than one.”
“You would be correct, monsieur.” She giggled and leaned her head back against the head rest when the world spun. “I always wanted to go to France. Learn to bake from a real French pastry chef.”
“Sober up, and I’ll take you.”
“Pshah, whatever.” She closed her eyes. “I always imagine France with a pink sky and fluffy white clouds above my head. And everyone sings like in the opening of Beauty and the Beast.”
“Yeah, no, it’s not like that at all.”
“You’ve been?”
“Yeah, I’ve been.”
“Bastard.”
“Wow, you also get hostile when you’ve had a few.”
It was suddenly so hot. She leaned her head against the cool glass of her car window, sighing in relief. “I’m just jealous. I’ve never been anywhere. I’m so boring.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I find you pretty interesting.”
She scrunched up her face, keeping her eyes closed. “Ha. Dirty man.”
“How was that dirty?”
“I don’t know, but it was. I can feel it in my bum.”
“I think you mean gut, sweetheart.”
Psychedelic lights were swirling behind her eyelids. “Mmmm hmmm.”
“You falling asleep on me?” he asked.
“Dah,” she mumbled.
“I’m two minutes out. Lock your doors.”
She didn’t know how long she was asleep, but when her door was yanked open, she screamed as she tumbled out. Dustin caught her with one arm before she hit the ground.
She glared up at both of his faces. “Dude, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
“I did, but you were passed out. I told you to lock the door,” he said.
“I forgot.”
“Okay, drunk girl. How about we get you some coffee and you can go home to sleep it off?”
Rylie’s stomach twisted painfully and bile rose in her throat. “Uh oh.”
“What uh oh?”
She pulled away from him in time to fall to her knees and vomit the contents of her stomach. The tea length skirt of her peach colored bridesmaids’ dress saved her knees from the sharp rocks of the gravel parking lot. Not her palms, though, which throbbed as the hard points dug into her skin.
Rylie felt warm hands rubbing her neck and back as she heaved. When the sick feeling finally passed, she rolled to sit on her butt against her car, not even a little sad that the dress would most likely be streaked with dirt and oil.
“Feel better?” he asked as he squatted down in front of her.
“Tired.”
“Well, come on. I think I have some wet wipes and mints in my car.”
“Middle console,” she murmured, her eyes closing.
She heard the car door open and a few moments later, Dustin was wiping a wet towelette across her mouth and chin.
She sputtered and held her hands up weakly. “I can do it.”
“It’s already done. Here, chew on this.”
She looked down at the white piece of gum in his hand and took it before slipping it past her lips. The sour taste in her mouth disappeared, and she almost sighed aloud as she perked up a bit.
He took her hands and helped her to her feet. She was still a little unsteady, but with his assistance, managed to sink into the seat of his car with a modicum of grace.
He slid behind the wheel and shut the door. “You want that coffee now?”
When she turned her head to look at him, the dome light gave him an almost halo effect.
“You’re an angel.”
He laughed again and she smiled. I really do like his laugh.
“Maybe I’ll keep you drunk. You’re a bit like a Sour Patch Kid. First you’re sour, then you’re sweet when you’ve got the beer goggles on.”
“Mmm, rum and coke glasses, actually. Open bar.”
“No wonder you’re sick.”
She couldn’t process what he meant so she just shrugged. “I’m sick cause I don’t really drink and I seeded my limits.”
“I think you meant exceeded, but I think it’s cute when you mispronounce things.”
She glared at him with one eye open. “A nice man would not make fun of me in my current condition.”
“Sweetheart, I think we both know I’m not that nice.”
She opened both of her eyes again to look at his profile. “You came and got me. That makes you kind of nice.”
“Well, thank you. You’re going to turn my head with compliments like that.”
“As long as it isn’t while you’re driving, that’s okay,” she mumbled.
His pleasant chuckle was the last thing she heard before she passed out again.
* * * *
Dustin parked the car in front of Love on the Corner gas station and leaned forward so he could see Rylie’s face. She was dead asleep and there was even a trail of drool running from the corner of her mouth to her chin.
It’s really weird that I find that adorable, and not grotesque.
Dustin locked the car doors and went inside the gas station. He waved at Maggie Welton, who had been hired after Marsha Hornsby had quit the month before to run off with a truck driver. He only knew that because nobody could keep a secret in this town.
He filled two large cups with a combo of white mocha and caramel lattes. It tasted good to him, and he added a couple packages of doughnuts to the purchase.
Maggie was working the cash register, and she flashed him a wide smile. She was a couple of years older than him, and was a tiny little thing. She had married her high school boyfriend, and had two children she loved to talk about. Every time he saw her, she was showing someone pictures of them on her phone.
“Hey, Dustin! Big plans tonight?”
“Just heading home, Maggie. How is Mike and the kids?”
She beamed at him. “They’re great. Makayla is in kindergarten and I cannot wait until they are both in school full-time so I can get normal daytime hours. Working nights is killing me.”
“I bet.”
She rang up his items and he swiped his card.
“Hey, I heard that Rylie Templeton is living with you,” she said in a hushed tone.
Dustin paused as he was putting in his pin. “Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, you know this town. People talk. They say that she dumped Asher for you.”
Dustin hit the green button on the power pad and clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t believe everything people say. Rylie’s just renting my pool house. We are coworkers. That’s it.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad. Rylie is a nice girl. She’d be good for you.” Maggie lowered her voice again and asked, “Do you know why her and Asher did break up?”
Cause he’s an abusive dick head.
“No idea. It’s none of my business, but I’ll tell her you asked after her when I see her. You have a good night now.”
“You too.”
Dustin walked out the dinging door and went around to the passenger side. If Maggie looked out and saw Rylie in his car, he didn’t give a shit. Sweetheart’s citizens gave the term “nosy neighbor” a whole new meaning.
He tapped on the window and Rylie jerked awake. “I come bearing gifts. Want to unlock it?”
She opened it, reaching up to take his purchases. She seemed more alert thanks to her little nap. Which was good considering a couple times she’d groaned and he’d been afraid she was going to hurl again. The last thing he needed was puke to permeate the carpet of his car.
She looked into the bag and grinned sloppily. “Doughnuts?”
Dustin shrugged a little sheepishly. “It sounded good.”
“Oh yeah.”
He headed around the front of the car to the driver side. He took a drink of his coffee as he walked, wincing as he burned his tongue. He forgot how hot the powdered coffee and water combos were; it had been so long since he’d had one. Probably high school.
He preferred his Colombian dark roast.
Once he was behind the wheel, he turned to Rylie. “Home then?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really tired anymore.”
“Wanna head up to Buzzard Gulch and take a walk?”
He had no idea why he’d suggested the old mining town. It was dark and secluded. Creepy. Maybe because it was just another connection be
tween them. They were renter and rentee, coworkers, business partners.
The only relationships they hadn’t formed were friendship and lovers.
“Sure. I could use the fresh air,” she said.
Dustin put the car in gear and they headed out of town, up the hill that led to the ghost town the Kents had owned until recently when Marley, Kelly, and Rylie had convinced him, forcefully, to split the deed and work on restoring it for a wedding venue. They hadn’t started the renovations. They were still in the planning stage, but Dustin was excited about it.
“Why did you decide to work at Something Borrowed?” Rylie asked.
Dustin shrugged. “Just looking for something to do.”
“But you don’t have to. If I didn’t have to work, I wouldn’t. I’d just bake and read all day.”
“Believe me, it gets boring having no purpose. That’s why you see rich people on that TV show, Shark Tank, getting involved in other people’s businesses and such.”
“But why a professional groomsman? Why not something tech-y? That’s what you studied, right?”
Dustin hesitated, knowing he couldn’t tell her the entire reason. There was no way straight as an arrow Rylie would appreciate him admitting to writing a tell-all about Something Borrowed. “The money’s good and I look smokin’ hot in a tux.”
“Oh, geez, we need to find a witch to shrink that big head of yours.”
Dustin parked in front of one of the partially burnt buildings, and flipped on the dome light before he reached across to grab his package of doughnuts. “If you were being honest, you’d admit it.”
“That you look smokin’ hot in a tux? You’re all right.”
“You mean all right all right all right?”
“Ugh, no! That is a terrible McConaughey impression.”
“I thought I delivered it.” He opened the package of doughnuts and took a big bite of one. He could feel the powdered sugar sprinkle over his chin.
“You’re going to get that all over your car,” Rylie said.