Being in a male infested profession hadn’t really helped her cause. For the first six months here she’d gone through contractors like cheap toilet paper, each one chapping her ass before she kicked him to the curb and moved on to the next. As much as she hated everyone knowing her business back home, at least they knew what she was capable of and it kept them in line.
Here, she was fresh meat in a small town where everyone knew everyone and no one ever left. She’d heard rumors there was a bet in the bar downtown about who would manage to get in her pants her first. She could give them a hint. None of them.
Paul seemed to be one of the only nice guys around here. Actually, he was one of the best men she’d ever met. In a dad sort of way. Too bad he didn’t have a son.
Rounding the last corner, she straightened and made sure her gait was smooth and long, her strides even and consistent as she focused on not falling on her face.
Actually, that might not turn out too bad for her. It could end with the only man to strike her interest in years finally coming closer than half a field of soybeans away to make sure she was okay.
As good as that sounded, she wasn’t ready to risk the end of her fantasy just yet. Maybe he was as wonderful as she’d made him in her mind, or maybe he was just a creep with a bet in at the bar.
Thirty uneventful minutes later she was jogging back up the driveway. The front door flew open and Maddie and Charlie stood staring at her with wide panicked eyes.
“What’s wrong?” She picked up her pace.
Maddie’s chin quivered a little. “Daphne’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Daphne wasn’t the world’s most motivated canine and physical activity had never been a strength of hers.
“She had to go out and I was trying to get ready so I walked away and when I went back she was gone.” The words came out jumbled and on top of each other as Maddie started to cry.
Mina wrapped one arm around each of her children and led them inside. “We will find her. She won’t get far.” She unhooked her headphones and dropped them on the entry table. “Get your phone and call me if she comes back. I’ll go find her.”
**************************************
Thomas leaned back against his tractor and picked at the pod in his hand. With the highlight of his day over there was no reason to stand in the field pretending to look at beans anymore.
It was a sad state when a man got up before dawn to check on perfectly fine beans just to watch a woman run past his farm. It was worse than sad actually. It was stupid. And pointless considering he would never try to talk to her. A strange man approaching a woman in a deserted place would probably end up with a face full of pepper spray. Or a kick to the nuts.
Thomas laughed out loud. He’d almost forgotten his mom’s story about the woman with the wicked front kick.
What was her name? Shit. He couldn’t remember. Ball-Kicker… Ball-Destroyer was more like it. Part of him wanted to meet her just to shake her hand. The other part wanted to stay the hell away. Far away. Any woman with that much spunk was certain to be a handful.
It was surprising he hadn’t heard of her before now. Gossip ran rampant around here and personal business didn’t stay personal long. He’d been on the wrong side of the grapevine twice now.
Maybe this time he could finally use it to his advantage. Ask around and figure out who she was. See if he could find something out without having to go through his mother. Just out of curiosity.
He tossed the mutilated soybean on the ground and was just about to climb back on his tractor when a noise had him turning around. A good hundred pounds of fur came tearing through his field, headed right for him. Before he realized what happened, he was flat on his back and getting more action than he’d seen in a depressing amount of time.
“Dammit Daphne!” Just as he was losing the battle to keep the big dog’s tongue out of his mouth, she was being dragged off him.
“Oh my God. I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay. She just surprised me.” Thomas leaned up on an elbow and started to stand. He glanced up to make sure Miss Daphne wasn’t gunning for round two and almost fell back down.
“Do you need help up?”
He’d never been this close to her before, but he knew her in an instant. Her cheeks were still flushed from her morning run.
“No. I’m good.” He tried to get on his feet as quickly as possible, but by the time he was up, Daphne was dragging her master back across his field.
“I’m so sorry.” She waved at him as she struggled to control the big dog.
He waved back. “It’s okay.” By then, she was far enough away he was the only one who heard.
He wiped his sleeve across his face trying to get the dog slobber off before it dried on his skin. He wasn’t sure if his little make-out session was worth finally getting to see her up close for less than five seconds.
Who the hell was he kidding? He would have let Daphne tongue kiss him.
**************************************
Thomas cut the engine of the John Deere just as his mom reached his side. “Where have you been this morning?” She squinted at him. “And why are you covered in dirt?”
“I went to check on the beans.” In one quick, frequently executed move, he swung his large frame over and off the tractor. “Someone’s dog got loose and I helped them catch it.” There was no reason to give his mother any more information especially the part about the someone being a woman.
“And you ended up covered in dirt, how?” Nancy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.
“It was a big dog.” He shook his hands through his hair, trying to knock out anything that might be hanging on.
Nancy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Do you have time to help me with something?”
The question was rhetorical. It always was. And until the weather cooled off and the fields dried up, he had nothing but time. He could find things to do, but why try when his mother was so good at doing that for him?
“You know I do.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to assume.” She started to walk away heading to her back deck. “I mean, maybe you’ve found a woman to spend some time with.”
Finding a woman wasn’t the problem. And he could name more than a couple who’d be happy to spend a little time with him. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted something more. Unfortunately, history taught him he wasn’t good at telling the difference between the two.
He followed behind, stopping behind as she pointed at the far corner of the deck. “Something shoved the lattice back on this side and gets up under there and scratches at the basement window.”
“Maybe it’s a secret admirer.” He rounded the corner and crouched down. Little claw marks marred the dirt where the lattice used to meet the ground and, just as Nancy said, the lattice was shoved back far enough something the size of a raccoon or opossum could scoot through.
Nancy laughed above him. “I doubt that.”
After his father’s wandering eye came to light, Thomas’ mother decided if one man didn’t want her, no man would want her. Not only did her convoluted way of thinking not make a lick of sense, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. She turned just about every male head in town, including some of the married ones.
He squinted up under the deck she’d tricked him into building for her last summer. “I think I need a flashlight. See if I can see anything up under there.” If he hadn’t had to rush when he put it up last year he would have dug the lattice down into the ground, but finding Nancy with a pile of composite wood, a circular saw, and a YouTube video on how to build a deck hadn’t given him much choice in the matter.
The screen door slammed as Nancy ran into the house, returning less than a minute later with a heavy, metal flashlight. Thomas recognized it immediately. Over the years, he’d seen it countless times, gripped in his grandfather’s hand. Now it was in his, bringing on a small tug of sadness. It was the s
ame tug he felt every morning when he went into the barn in front of his mom’s farmhouse and climbed onto the tractor, sitting in the same seat where his grandfather sat. Tilling the same ground he tilled.
“Can you see anything?”
Leaning on his elbow, he swept the beam of light toward the basement window where Nancy said she could hear scratching. “It’s hard to tell. The ground is a little uneven.”
“So what do we do?”
“We?” Thomas stood and handed the flashlight back. “I think you could use a pet. Give you something to do.”
“Maybe you’re right. I could get some goats. Start making cheese.” Nancy leaned against the rail, a dangerous look of contemplation on her face.
Nancy needed more to do like she needed a hole in the head. Any dirt Thomas didn’t plant in, his mother did. To the point she couldn’t handle it herself anymore. What she needed was a man besides him helping her, but pointing that out would only invite her opinions on his own situation so he kept his mouth shut.
“No goats.” Thomas headed to the side of the house where he’d parked the tractor. Looked like he’d be spending today with his mother too. It was a good thing he didn’t have another woman in his life. This one took up all his time.
“Let me put this away and we’ll go get some more lattice.”
FOUR
Thomas crossed his arms and waited. It was time for a come to Jesus talk and he wasn’t leaving until he’d said his piece.
Rich had to know he was coming and he wouldn’t be leaving until he saw the whites of his eyes. If that meant getting the cops out here for a well-check, then so be it.
Thomas pounded on the door. He would give him five more minutes. Calling the police was a last resort. This was family business and he wanted to keep it that way, but Rich wasn’t leaving him many options.
He’d managed to get enough information out of Beth to know Rich needed his help. She wasn’t very forthcoming. Probably just as tired of this as Thomas was. What he did get out of her made his heart sink. That’s why he was here now, giving Rich no other option than to face him. They could handle this. They’d done it before. Everything would be fine again.
Finally, the sound of footsteps. Loud footsteps, tromping through the house. Seconds later, the door jerked open.
Thomas was not prepared for the sight that confronted him. Growing up, he and Rich were almost always mistaken for the brothers they might as well have been. As kids, Thomas was always taller and a little leaner. Rich had dark brown eyes while Thomas had blue. Other than that, they were two tanned, tow headed boys running around the farm. They had the same wave to their hair, matching square jaw lines, and identical thin, straight noses.
In recent years, the differences grew as Rich suffered from the effects of a desk job. While Thomas was out working in the fields keeping his arms strong and his body toned and tanned, Rich was inside behind a computer eating crap and getting soft. Without the sun to lighten it, his hair was now two full shades darker than the wheaty blonde of Thomas’.
Those changes, crappy as they were, Thomas was used to. That was the Rich of recent years. The Rich who stood before him now, was nothing like either Rich. This was another Rich. One he’d hoped to never see again.
He was down thirty pounds, conservatively. He was unshaven and unkempt. His clothes were wrinkled and stained. The worst part was his eyes, sunken and hollow, staring vacantly at Thomas.
“What the hell Rich?”
The question seemed to snap Rich out of his daze. He stood up straight and began raking his fingers through the hair wildly sticking out of his head, before trying to smooth down the front of his wrinkled shirt.
“Hey.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose then wiping his hand down the leg of his pants. “What are you doing here?”
“I left you like five messages telling you I was coming.” He nodded over Rich’s shoulder. “Can I come in so we can talk?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Come on in.” He stepped back and let Thomas slide past him onto the intricately laid travertine tile of the entryway hall. Rich closed the door quickly, locking the deadbolt.
“Are you alright?”
Rich shuffled barefoot past him down the hall and headed toward the back of the house. Thomas followed, waiting for an answer.
The house seemed so dark. As he passed the rooms at the front of the large house, Thomas glanced in. The living room on the right was filled with overstuffed beige furniture and a piano where Rich’s daughters loved to plink out chopsticks. Every blind in the room was shut tight.
Across the hall, was a formal dining room Thomas had never seen used. A large, dark stained table was centered under an elaborate chandelier. Like the living room, each blind was closed. From what he could see in the dim light managing to slip through the tiny gaps between the tin slats of wood, both rooms were immaculate.
As the entry hall opened up into a great room with soaring ceilings and a two-story stone fireplace, Rich turned to him.
“Want something to drink?”
Rich was stalling, but since Thomas wasn’t quite sure the best way to start this conversation, he let it slide. “Sure.”
The kitchen sat directly to their left, open to the great room on one side with a butler’s pantry at the other connecting it to the dining room. Like the two front rooms, this part of the house sat in darkness. Shades pulled and curtains drawn, the only light glowed from a small pendant above the sink.
Rich made his way to the French door stainless steel fridge, pulling out a bottle of cranberry juice and setting it on the grey and white swirls of the marble counter top. “This okay?”
“That’s fine.” Thomas watched as he retrieved two tumblers from an upper, open front cabinet and set them beside the juice, the glasses clinking softly as they hit the counter and each other.
Rich filled each tall glass half way with the crimson liquid. Thomas held his breath and waited, afraid he knew what was coming next. Rich opened the freezer and Thomas let his breath out in a long sigh as disappointment tugged at his gut. Pulling out the vodka bottle, he turned to Thomas and raised his eyebrows in question.
“No. I’m good.”
Rich filled the other half of one glass with the icy vodka and tipped it against his lips, easily downing three quarters of its contents.
It was worse than Thomas was expecting. Past the point of hiding. Past the point of caring. Hopefully not past the point of no return.
“Where’s Beth and the girls?”
Rich stopped halfway across the kitchen, one arm outstretched holding the virginal cranberry in Thomas’ direction. He paused for a few beats, then continued on, stopping in front of Thomas and handing him the cool glass.
Taking a sip of the sweet tart juice, he watched Rich down the rest of his glass and set it on the counter, eyes fixed on the empty glass.
“Where’s Beth?”
“Oh, yeah. She, um. She took the girls to her parents for a visit.” Rich tried to take another drink from his empty cup. He was either already drunk or still drunk. It didn’t matter which.
Realizing he was dry, Rich crossed back to the fridge, this time pouring a much higher ratio of vodka to juice, barely tinting the liquid pink. Again, it took him seconds to down most of it. His throat had to be burning from the freezing temperature of the vodka, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Thomas took a step toward him. “What’s going on Rich?”
This wasn’t the first time Thomas had found him like this and as much as he hated it, it probably wouldn’t be the last.
“I don’t know man.” Rich set his glass down and leaned both hands on the counter’s edge letting his head hang to his chest. “Everything was fine.”
He wiped his nose on his shoulder and straightened up. “It was better than fine. It was fuckin’ great.” He stared across the darkened room and seemed to sober up a little bit. “It just got out of control.”
“Kinda seems that way.” Thomas
took the cranberry juice off the counter and slid it back into the fridge. He grabbed the neck of the two thirds empty vodka bottle. “Maybe getting rid of this would be a good way to start working your way back to fuckin’ great.”
Rich eyed the bottle in Thomas’ hand. They had been here before. Rich teetering on the edge, Thomas dragging him to safer ground. Last time he came kicking and screaming. Thomas didn’t imagine this round would be any different. To his surprise, Rich agreed.
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his hazy eyes, swaying against the counter. “But it’s probably too late.”
“Beth will be okay. She loves you.” He wrapped an arm around Rich’s shoulders, trying to offer support, physical and moral. “I’ll talk to her. She’ll understand. She’ll be back. She just needs to cool off.”
Rich stared at him blankly. Maybe he hadn’t sobered up as much as Thomas thought. It seemed to take a minute, but clarity returned. “Beth. Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I do.” Thomas patted his back. “Let me get rid of this and then we’ll get you in the shower. It’ll make you feel a hell of a lot better.” Crossing to the sink, he unscrewed the lid and poured the rest of the bottle down the drain. As he pulled open the drawer holding the recyclables, the extent of Rich’s problem stared him in the face. At least ten empty bottles just like the one he held in his hand filled the space to capacity.
He turned to find Rich leaned back against the counter with his eyes closed, beginning to snore. This was bad. Maybe worse than last time. And last time was bad.
**************************************
As Thomas drove away from Rich’s house he ignored the ringing of his phone. Nancy was calling for the fifth time. It was the last day of the farmer’s market and she’d asked him to come back early to help tear down her displays so she could take them home for the winter.
By the time she started calling, he was already late. He decided it was best to ignore her until he came up with a good excuse for his tardiness. He jumped in his truck and hauled ass for town hoping he could come up with something as he drove. So far he had nothing but the truth and he wasn’t quite ready to divulge. Hopefully Rich would get it together before he had no choice.
Run (Never Waste A Second Chance Book 1) Page 3