Shrinking Violet (a Colors novel)

by Jessica Prince

  “Jesus, Navie. Not tons,” I defended.

  “Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re definitely not lacking for female company, is that better?” she asked sarcastically.

  A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. “A little.”

  “Anyway.” She laughed. “You’ve never come home excited about another woman before. You’ve never talked to me about any of them. It has to mean something that you actually shared about this Cassidy woman with me.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is, you clueless ass, that you care about her. It’s not just physical. It’s not just sex. You actually like her. I’ve never seen you like this, Carson. Don’t give up on her just yet. So she shot you down; so what? You’re the most persistent guy I know. If anyone can change a person’s mind, it’s you. Make her say yes.”

  “And what if I can’t, huh? What if she really doesn’t want me, Navie?”

  “Then she’s a fucking moron, and she doesn’t deserve you,” she stated vehemently.

  Christ, I loved that girl. The best day of my life was the day Navie walked into it, giving me the family I’d always craved but never had.

  Reaching out, I pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you, you know that?”

  “Of course you do.” She pulled back and beamed her bright smile up at me. “Now, I’m going to bed. I’ve got school in the morning.”

  She started down the hall, stopping to look back at me over her shoulder. “I love you, too, you know. You’re the best brother I never had, and I’m thankful every day that you’re in my life.” And with that, she disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  I felt that niggling sense of hope trying to push its way to the forefront and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to beat it down.

  After cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, I went to my room, having just enough energy to strip out of my clothes and face-plant into bed. I needed to formulate a new plan of attack when it came to my not-so-shrinking violet. Something in my gut told me Cassidy was either going to be the best or the worst thing that ever happened to me. I just had to pray I could handle the aftermath of whichever one it turned out to be.

  Fucking hope.

  Two days had passed since that breath-stealing kiss Carson laid on me in the parking lot at Miller’s, and not having seen him since was beginning to wear on me in a way I never expected. I hated how we left things that night, how his eyes were so sad as I climbed from his truck.

  “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”

  My little tornado came barreling into my bedroom with energy to spare as I laid in bed, trying to get my bearings. I hadn’t had my caffeine yet, so I was seriously dragging. I laughed as my Doodle Bug jumped up and down on my bed, bouncing me around with her.

  Sitting up on the bed, I grabbed hold of Willow and pulled her down, tickling her until her little girl laughter filled the entire room. “Good morning, sunshine.” I leaned down to blow a raspberry on her belly, basking in her hysterical giggles.

  “Mommy, make me Fwench toast!”

  “What do you say?”

  “Pwetty, pwetty, pwetty please!”

  “All right, Bug. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”

  I watched as she scampered off, my chest expanding as I listened to her singing voice echoing down the hallway. There were so many things in my life I wished I could change, so many decisions I wished I could undo, but the one thing I could never, ever regret was having that little girl. Willow made me strive each and every day to be a better person.

  I dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a sheer, floral top with a pale pink camisole underneath. Throwing my hair in a sloppy bun on top of my head, I slid my feet into a pair of brown leather sandals and made my way downstairs

  When I rounded the corner and saw Willow digging into a bowl of cereal, I let out a good-natured huff. “Bug, I thought you wanted French toast?”

  “Unca Kal said ceweal was cool,” she told me through a mouth full of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I looked over to Kal to see him ducking his head closer to his cereal, trying to conceal a laugh.

  “I’ll take some French toast, if you’re still offerin’.” Zeke, my uncle’s foreman, and a few of the other guys who worked at Willow Ranch were sitting around the kitchen table, eating breakfast. It wasn’t unusual for Milly or I to cook meals for all of the guys; some of them even lived on the ranch in the houses on the property.

  “You want French toast, I suggest you learn how to cook, Zeke,” I teased.

  Zeke was a decent enough guy, kind, funny, and he adored the ground Willow walked on. He’d asked me out a few times over the years, but I never viewed him as more than a friend. There was no interest there for me. Nothing like the zing of awareness I felt the moment Carson walked through the back door into the kitchen. Snatching the door to the fridge open, I stuck my head inside, hoping the cold temperature was enough to get rid of the bright red flush that covered my cheeks and neck at his arrival. The memories of the kiss we shared came crashing down on me like a two-ton boulder. My entire body prickled with desire.

  “Good grief, girly. Close the fridge before you let all the cold out,” Milly huffed.

  Hesitantly closing the door, I slowly turned back around. To my dismay, the cold had done nothing and I felt my blush burning bright. I kept my head down, peeking up through my lashes inconspicuously—or so I thought—to see Carson taking a seat at the table with the rest of the guys and Willow, pouring himself a huge bowl of Raisin Bran.

  As I made a cup of coffee, I willed myself to calm down and act normally. I cleared my throat and looked up to meet Carson’s gorgeous gaze. My breath hitched just slightly. “Good morning, Carson.”

  “Cassidy,” he offered with a polite tip of his head and a smile so small I almost missed it. That was all he said, just one word. One stupid word and a barely there smile. My stomach sank. I turned away and took a sip of my coffee, noticing both Uncle Kal and Aunt Milly looking at me with strange expressions painted across their faces.

  Busted.

  “So,” I started, trying to move the focus off the uncomfortable interaction between Carson and me. “Kal, when you do think you’ll be ready to head over to the farmer’s market with me?”

  Uncle Kal slurped down the last of his coffee before setting his cup down on the table. “I’m sorry, baby girl. The tractor broke down on me again yesterday. I’m gonna need to stick around here and fix it. But I’m sending one of the boys with you in my place.”

  “I’ll go,” Zeke replied a little too quickly. “I’d be happy to help Cass out.”

  All at once, I noticed several things. One, Carson’s hands squeezing into fists so tight on the table top his knuckles turned white, and two, Uncle Kal kept looking between the two of us before finally answering.

  “No, son. I’ll need your help on that tractor. Carson, would you mind helping Cass out today?”

  I was both utterly humiliated and unbelievably gratefully for my uncle’s keen awareness all at the same time. I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss him or be swallowed up in a massive hole in the floor.

  Carson’s voice pulled me out of my musings. “Sure, I’ll help.”

  It was decided. First chance I had, I was going to lay a whopper on Uncle Kal’s cheek. God, I loved that all-seeing man. Unless things went south at the farmer’s market. Then I was going to hold him personally responsible.

  Willow’s little voice sounded through the room in the only volume that girl knew…loud as hell. “Mommy, guess what! Aunt Milly’s gonna take me fishin’ in the pond!”

  She hopped down from her chair and came bounding over, planting herself firmly in my lap. “That’s great, Doodle Bug. Are you going to catch something big to make for dinner?”

  “Yuh, huh! I’z gonna catch da biggest fish evew!”

  “Is that right?” I asked with the same amount of enthusiasm my daughter was exhibiting. It was so easy for
her excitement to rub off on you whenever you looked into her bright, smiling blue eyes. Her unwavering trust and love was enough to make each and every day even better than the last.

  “I can’t wait to see what you catch, Bug.” I stood with her in my arms and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Be sure to put lots and lots of sunscreen on today, okay, baby?”

  “Kay, Mommy.” She began squirming around, a clear indicator she was ready to be put down.

  “Gimme smooches and I’ll put you down.” I put her on the ground once she’d given me a loud, smacking kiss. Once breakfast was done and the dishes were rinsed, it was time to go. Butterflies took off in my belly as Carson helped me load the truck. It was going to be a long day.

  It would have appeared that awkwardly silent car rides were becoming mine and Carson’s ‘thing’. The nearly forty-five-minute trip to the farmer’s market was so full of tension, I’d reverted back to a nasty habit of mine whenever I grew anxious: biting my nails down to the quick. By the time we had the crates of jams, fresh vegetables, and homemade bread set up in our booth, I was wishing Carson would take pity on the both of us and just go back to the ranch.

  Finally, I’d had enough. I didn’t want there to be tension between us. Something in my gut told me Carson was a good guy, so I decided to try and break the strain that had formed.

  “Thank you for coming and helping me today. I really appreciate it.”

  For the first time all morning, he offered a genuine smile. “It’s not a problem, sweetheart, really.”

  A mother and her two young girls came by the booth, buying a few jars of strawberry preserves. I watched Carson from the corner of my eye as he placed the money in the lock box, a thoughtful expression on his face. What he said next shocked me.

  “I didn’t realize there was something going on between you and Zeke,” he said, keeping his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable the other night. If I’d have known, I never would have—”

  “What?!” I yelped, letting out a startled laugh.

  He looked up at me, his green eyes full of confusion. “You and Zeke.”

  I couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. It wasn’t that Zeke was a bad guy; I just had no desire to go there with him. At. All. “There is no me and Zeke. Seriously.”

  I actually enjoyed watching him grow wide-eyed. It was nice to see something in his expression considering how closed off he’d been all morning. “Oh. I just thought…”

  “He’s a nice guy, and he’s been a good friend since I moved here. He’s great with Willow and I appreciate that, but I’m not interested in Zeke like that.”

  I thought I saw a flicker of a smirk tilt his lips before it disappeared.

  “So, you’re not originally from here?”

  Talking about my past was always difficult, but I’d thrown out that breadcrumb about moving here because I wanted to try and give Carson a glimpse into my past. When I told him I wanted to be his friend, I’d honestly meant it. There was no way I wanted to fully open up about the person I used to be, but I felt I at least owed him something.

  “No, I’m originally from Washington. I moved here about four years ago. The lack of accent didn’t give me away?”

  He smiled, and I felt my chest tighten just a bit. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything…” he teased. “So four years…” I could see him doing the math in his head. Despite the apprehension growing in my belly, I opted for complete honesty.

  “I was pregnant when I moved here. My parents weren’t all that excited about having a knocked-up eighteen-year-old daughter, so they shipped me off. Milly’s my mother’s sister and the only other family I have. Texas was as far away from Washington as they could get me, so they jumped at the chance.”

  “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. “And Willow’s dad? What’d he have to say about it?”

  I cleared my throat, trying to decide how best to answer. “He’s not…he’s not in the picture.”

  “Ah, Christ.” He let out a whoosh of breath. “He’s a sorry piece of shit, Cass. He doesn’t deserve either of you. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  A sad smile touched my lips as melancholy flooded my veins. “It’s okay, really. It’s for the best anyway.”

  “That asshole doesn’t deserve to know Willow. She’s amazing, Cass. You’re doing great without that fucker in your lives.”

  “She is kind of terrific, isn’t she?” I laughed, thinking about my little Doodle Bug. “She’s the only good thing I’ve ever done with my life.” I hadn’t realized I was gazing off into nothingness until I felt the slight pressure of Carson’s fingers under my chin, tilting my face to his.

  “Something tells me that’s not true.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My heart fluttered as I stared up into his penetrating gaze. I wanted so badly to think I was the kind of person he clearly viewed me as, but it wasn’t the truth. I lost all sense of time as we stood there, our eyes locked on each other. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me the way he was just then.

  A throat cleared across from us, shaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see a familiar face grinning at Carson and me.

  “Mrs. Anderson! How are you?”

  Mrs. Anderson was a short, round woman in her eighties who always made a point of stopping by my booth whenever I was at the farmer’s market. I’d gotten to know her over the years and adored her dry sense of humor and sharp wit.

  “Oh, I’m wonderful, darlin’.”

  I was still rattled from the intense moment I’d just shared with Carson. I took a small step away from him, trying to clear my head. “Mrs. Anderson, this is Carson Langford. He just started as Uncle Kal’s ranch hand. Carson, this is Mrs. Anderson, my best customer.”

  Mrs. Anderson gave me a sincere smile, the skin around her eyes wrinkling in the most endearing way.

  Carson extended his hand for her to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Dear Lord in Heaven,” Mrs. Anderson exclaimed, talking to me while keeping her focus pinned squarely on Carson. “Child, you got one fine specimen of man right here. I suggest you lock this boy up before someone steals him away.”

  I choked on my spit as Carson let out a loud bark of laughter. He brought Mrs. Anderson’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Maybe you could talk some sense into her for me,” he said with a charismatic wink. I had the distinct impression I was being ganged up on. “This beautiful girl here claims she wants to be friends. Can you believe that?”

  The little old lady scoffed in disbelief. “Girly, if I was twenty years younger, you can bet I’d be all over that. Have you lost your mind?”

  “Clearly, I have, Mrs. Anderson,” I responded dryly, not bothering to mention that twenty years would put her firmly in her sixties and still with one artificial hip. Carson snorted next to me, and I turned to see him trying his best to hide his laughter behind his hand.

  “I’ll take it into consideration,” I told her then attempted to change the subject. “Are you here to buy some preserves today?”

  “Of course, of course.” She turned back to Carson. “Did you know our girl here makes the best homemade preserves and bread in the entire county? Been telling her for years she should open her own bakery. She’d sell out every day, without a doubt. She’s a woman of many talents, our Cassidy is.”

  The mischievous twinkle in his mossy eyes as he looked at me made my skin flush and the area between my thighs tingle. Good Lord, my reaction to Carson was deliciously heady.

  “Hmm,” he hummed, keeping me pinned in place with his gaze. “I can’t wait to see where else her talents lie.”

  Ah, hell. I was in serious trouble.

  The rest of the day went better than I expected, considering how the morning had started. I sold out of all of my produce and most of my bread and jam. Carson and I talked all day long, making sure to keep the topics light. At one point, he tried some of my cinnamon fig preserves on a slice of fresh bre
ad and ended up buying three jars of the stuff. I quickly discovered that he was one of the easiest people I’d ever talked to. I enjoyed our conversations, but it wasn’t lost on me that every time I asked about him or his family, he quickly changed the subject, keeping the focus solely on me.

  We’d been sitting in the truck in companionable silence for ten minutes when Carson’s voice pulled my attention from the landscape passing by outside the window.

  “So, what made you name Willow after the ranch?”

  I grinned at the memory and turned my body so I was facing Carson fully. “Did Kal ever tell you the story of how Willow Ranch started?”

  “Kal doesn’t really strike me as the story-telling type.”

  “Maybe not to you and the rest of the guys.” I laughed.

  “Tell me the story.”

  I thought back to that day, shortly after I’d come to the ranch. I hadn’t been there for more than a week and had spent every day locked in my bedroom, depression eating away at me. Milly and Kal had done their best to try and make me comfortable, but I just couldn’t seem to pull myself out of the downward spiral. I had no friends, my parents had washed their hands of me, and I’d lost all the comforts of the home I’d known since birth. The self-loathing was a crushing weight that had taken up permanent residency smack-dab in the center of my chest. I couldn’t eat or sleep, and my aunt and uncle had grown increasingly worried about my health and the health of the baby.

  Finally, Uncle Kal had enough and stormed into my bedroom one day. The story he told me that evening resonated deep within me. It spoke to me in a way nothing had before and helped me begin the process of healing. I loved the idea of sharing that story with Carson.

  “It was Kal’s grandfather, Albert, who started up Willow Ranch. He was in his late twenties when he bought the first parcel of land.”

  “That’s kind of a late start, isn’t it?”