Security Risk

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “Wow.”

  “No one ever turns around,” Ridge answers. “Everyone focuses on the sun, and they miss the beauty behind them.”

  The sky continues to darken, losing the muted colors. I lean back in the seat and sigh. Unless Ridge pulls another sunset out of his ass, the show’s over for tonight.

  “This also seemed like a good way to ask you what’s really going on.” Ridge grabs the steering wheel and keeps his eyes out the window.

  I sigh. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “The beginning is always a good place.”

  “The beginning happened a long time ago.”

  I tap a knuckle on the side window and decide to get it over with. “I met Mario four years ago, right after college graduation. His family owns a chain of restaurants. Pizza, pasta, you know? My mom and step-dad took me out to a celebration dinner and a server spilled an entire plate of spaghetti on me.

  “Mario comped our meal. Had new clothes delivered to the restaurant so we didn’t leave, and by the end of the night had my number in his phone.” Now that I’m talking the words come easier. The darkness of the car shadows Ridge, and I stare out the window almost forgetting he’s here. “Mario felt larger than life. I’d never been swept off my feet in such a way.”

  The car goes silent for a moment as I get lost in the early memories of our relationship. The flowers, the sweet talk, the romance.

  “Well he isn’t here now, so I assume it changed.” Ridge brings me back to the present.

  “You could say that.” I laugh, but it’s humorless. “I’m not sure when it went south, but we’d been driving in that direction for a while. The fights, other women, staying out all night.” I end there but continue to list all the other activities in my head. Late night phone calls, random visits from his employees, the ever-growing stacks of cash hidden around the house. The temper. The yelling.

  “What made you get in your car and drive half-way across the country?”

  And here comes the climax of the story. “One night Mario came home drunk and pissed. We argued over something — I don’t remember what. Only the ending is important. That’s the part where I found myself lying on the kitchen floor after he hit me.”

  Ridge tenses beside me. “He hit you?” his angry voice fills the truck. “When?”

  “A few weeks ago. I couldn’t come to Aunt Gertie’s funeral with the black eye, but as soon as he thought everything was fine I left a note and bolted.”

  “And the guy in the parking lot today, was that him?” The beam from the light house hits the truck on one of its passes, highlighting Ridge. His tense face looks fierce, not someone you’d want to mess with.

  “Mario? No. One of his employees. He left a note on my window.”

  “What kind of note?” he asks.

  I shrug. “It said seventy-two.”

  “Seventy-two what?”

  I shrug again in case he missed it the first time. “Who knows? He’s called a few times. I suppose I have three days to answer one of them.”

  “That’s everything?”

  Subconsciously my hand falls to my jeans pocket, my palm rubs against the USB drive still safety tucked away. “Yup.”

  Now that Ridge knows my history, I brace, ready for him to take me home rather than on this promised date. What man in his right mind wants to get wrapped up in whatever I’ve got going on? Especially with a girl he just met. Ridge puts the truck in reverse and backs out of the parking spot. Here we go.

  “Are you taking me home?” I ask.

  “Nope, now we go to dinner.” Ridge pulls on to Main Street and we travel for a few hundred feet before he pulls into a parking lot beside a huge blue house. Clara’s Bed and Breakfast.

  He parks the truck, turning it off this time, but doesn’t take off his seatbelt. Instead he leans closer until he’s highlighted in the brightness from the parking lot light. “Whatever this is.” He moves his finger back and forth between us. “I want more of it. Let’s see where it goes.”

  “So you’re not going to run for the hills?”

  He laughs. “Babe, very little would make me run for the hills. Most certainly not your beautiful ass.”

  “You’re into my beautiful ass?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Very.”

  What’s the proper response here? Offended or flattered?

  Probably offended, but fuck it, Ridge is hot and he likes my ass. I’m going with it. Compliment.

  “Have you eaten here before?” Ridge asks moving on like it’s every day someone calls my ass beautiful. Doesn’t he understand we should stop and mark this on a calendar somewhere?

  “Once, for their Sunday brunch.” I stick my hands in my lap not sure when we’ll get out of the truck.

  Ridge stares at me. I fiddle with my purse and when I raise my eyes again his piercing, blue ones are still locked on me. “What?” I ask when I can’t handle it anymore. Do I have crap on my face or something?

  He leans back against his truck seat. “I’m curious to what your plan is. Is Pelican Bay a time out for you? Fix up the house, sell it, and then head back to Oklahoma?”

  “Oklahoma? No. I’m never going back. There’s nothing there for me.” It pains me to say it, but the words are true. Even my mother lives a different life, far removed from me. “As long as I find a job before my money runs out, I don’t plan to leave.”

  “How much do you have saved?”

  My eyes fall to the small purse sitting on my lap. “A couple thousand.” Give or take, right?

  “Are you walking around with it in your purse?” Ridge sounds horrified at the thought.

  “What? No. Why would you think that?” Seventy-five thousand wouldn’t even fit in my purse.

  “Because you looked at your purse and then answered me.”

  “What are you, a human lie detector?”

  “It’s part of the job.” He grins. “If you have a large sum of money in your purse, you shouldn’t. Keep it in your house or better yet put it in the bank. If you’re worried about security, you can use my safe or ask me to install a system at your place.”

  Between the hotels, gas, food, and supplies I’m a little over a thousand down from my initial withdrawal from Mario’s safe. I have a lot of money left, especially when you consider there’s no mortgage to pay, but I’m also jobless with no idea how long until I get one.

  “Think about it.” Ridge leans over giving me another lingering kiss, our tongues not dueling, but caressing one another in a sweet drawn out moment. “Let’s go eat.”

  **

  Ridge stops his truck beside my car in the gravel driveway and my eyes squint to check the porch and do a quick scan of the yard. Thankfully there’s no one waiting for me this time. I need to get rid of the rocker. Then people will stop seeing my porch as the place to hang out.

  Ridge opens his door and then jogs to my side opening mine. It’s a move he’s done all night and one I’m sure I’ll never tire of. He grabs my hand and we walk up to the porch together.

  Dinner consisted of two medium rare steaks with a Caesar salad on the side, Clara’s specialty. It’s nice Ridge and I are food compatible. I love food. It’s an important part of my life.

  Ridge once again filled the restaurant with his presence, but unlike all those times I ate at overpriced places with Mario, I never felt like I was there for aesthetic reasons only. The conversation was great. As expected, Ridge knew everyone in the restaurant. Tourist season hasn’t started yet, so the locals are out in force. Pearl and Roland were delighted to see us together. What with Ridge “helping me acclimate to town.” Pearl’s words not my own.

  “The half the town who didn’t see us out tonight will know first thing tomorrow morning once Pearl activates her phone tree,” I say and brace for Ridge’s reaction.

  “You’ve learned about the town phone tree already?”

  “Katy says I’ve been a hot topic since rolling down Main Street Sunday night.”

  Ridg
e grabs me at the waist and pulls me a step closer. “Don’t be fooled. Roland is just as bad. He’ll be at the hardware store when the doors open ready to tell the old guys who drink their morning coffee there.”

  “Really?” The idea horrifies me. Don’t these people own televisions? How is Ridge and me eating dinner together the best gossip they can dish out?

  He chuckles and squeezes me tighter. “They can tell whoever they want. I don’t care. Let them talk. I’m okay with it. Are you?”

  Not really. It has nothing to do with being okay with Ridge. It’s more along the lines of I don’t want anyone in town to notice me. Picking small town America might have been the wrong decision if my main goal was to go unnoticed. “I’m cool with it.”

  “She’s cool with it,” he says to the roof of my porch and laughs.

  Our lips meet. Ridge’s body warms mine through my sweater despite the cool chill in the air. The kiss ends before I want it to and Ridge steps back. I contemplate asking him inside, but ultimately he decides for both of us.

  “The answer is no.”

  “What?” He didn’t even hear my question.

  “For the question you were about to ask.” I tense in the dark, but he keeps talking. “Listen, Tabitha. I’d love to come inside, but I plan to take my time. I want to make sure you’re really in this before we go to the next step.”

  “Why?” I’m aware of the three thousand reasons hooking up with Ridge would be a horrible idea, but is he?

  “Because once we do that.” He motions into the house. “There’s no going back for you and me.”

  A phone rings somewhere behind us and I jump, surprised by the sound. It’s been so long since I heard an actual phone ring.

  “You should get that,” Ridge says moving his head toward my house.

  The phone rings again.

  In my house.

  I don’t have a phone.

  At least I don’t think I have a phone.

  “Right.” As soon as I figure out where there’s a hidden phone.

  The ringing stops.

  Ridge runs a single finger against my jaw line. “See you tomorrow, Tabitha.” He places a quick kiss to the side of my forehead and jumps off my porch taking all three steps at once.

  The phone rings again and I hurry to shove my key in the door intent on finding it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The front door shuts behind me, but I barely hear it. I’m on the hunt for the elusive phone. I head into the kitchen but quickly turn. The ringing is louder in the living room. I walk by the rolltop desk and stop. There wasn’t a phone on the main surface when I left, but I roll it up to double check.

  Nothing.

  There’s another ring and my eyes fall until I open the lower right side drawer. In the middle of the deep bottom drawer, the one normally reserved for hanging files, sits an off white-yellow colored phone. The old style with the receiver and dial buttons on the front.

  “Hello?” I pick up the receiver hoping I haven’t missed the caller. A long phone cord twirls, following me. Obviously Aunt Gertie’s answer to being able to walk around the house while on the phone.

  The line is quiet for a moment and then, “Tabitha, is it you?”

  “Amy?” How in the hell did Amy get the number to the phone hidden in the rolltop desk like Gertie was a super spy?

  “You don’t have voicemail on this number. Not that you’d answer it either since you haven’t returned any of the like three thousand I left on your cell phone.” Amy always was prone to over exaggerations and not overly smart.

  “I don’t get signal out here.” I try to get in a few words while she stops for air.

  “Where are you that you don’t get cell service? Did you leave America?”

  “No.” Even if it feels that way at times. Still here, but I entered the twilight zone. “How did you get this number?” I spent most of this morning changing over utilities to my name, but it looks like I need to hunt down the phone company too.

  “Your mom,” Amy answers, but she’s obviously upset by the disruption from all her scoffing.

  Amy, the girlfriend of one of Mario’s restaurant managers, is a bit high strung. We hung out about once a month on average, but she’s probably the closest person I had to a friend in Oklahoma.

  “Tabitha, you need to come home. Mario is crazy.” Amy finally catches my attention.

  My hand falls to my pants pocket. Ridge might have a point about being suspicious with my actions. “Is he still in Westford?”

  “Of course he’s still in Westford. Where would he be?”

  In a car somewhere while he watches Benny torment me? “What’s he doing?”

  I didn’t expect Mario to take the news well. I mean I did break up with him via a note. That’s almost as bad as a text message, but there weren’t many other options. Could I be as bad of a breaker upper as Katy thinks Ridge is?

  “You know Mario and his temper,” Amy keeps talking unaware of my internal thoughts. “Whatever happened between you two must have been bad. Chad has come home from work every day stressed out.”

  I pull the thumb drive out of my pocket and check out the small white device. Playing dumb seems like the best option. “Eh, Mario’s mad he got caught cheating. That’s all.”

  “Well, the man is apparently on the rampage. When are you coming back to calm him down?”

  “Calm him down? Why?” When did it become my job to stabilize Mario?

  Amy sighs into the phone and talks slowly like I’m a toddler. “Because you’re his girlfriend. You love him. It’s what you sign up for when you date someone with Mario’s temperament.”

  And that right there, folks, is why Amy and I never became closer over the years. “Mario’s moods are not my problem. He’s a big boy. He should learn deep breathing techniques or something.”

  “Tabitha, I’m serious. Chad’s worried he’ll start firing people. Who knows what will happen if you don’t get your ass back here soon.”

  Mario is not my problem anymore. Thank god for that. “I’m not coming back to Oklahoma, Amy. Mario will calm down in a few days.” I’ll stop in the hardware store and call him tomorrow. He’ll scream at me for a few minutes, throw meaningless threats around and move on. Just like he always does.

  “I hope you’re right. Otherwise we’re all fucked, Tabitha.”

  With those warm and fuzzy thoughts, we hang up. Amy promises to call me back if anything else important happens. Sleep takes a long time to come, but I fall asleep, the USB drive clutched in my palm. If Amy’s right and Mario takes this further, it’s my only bargaining chip.

  **

  I work to smooth down my bed-tangled hair after a night of tossing and turning. I’m up in time for Ridge to stop over for our morning meet up, but I’m not as happy about it as I could be. It’s too fucking early. How does he do this every day? Ridge walks in the back door, a mug held out in front of him. A peace offering as if he’s aware I’m not at my best this morning. He doesn’t make eye contact until I’ve had my first three sips.

  “Thanks.” I manage words and another drink. I’ve left his other mugs tipped upside down on a drying towel on the counter. Sooner or later he’ll need to take them back.

  “You don’t need me anymore, huh?” He points to the new coffeemaker on the other side of the counter still in its box.

  One of my purchases with Katy yesterday. I didn’t want to buy it. Who in their right mind would give up the possibility of a hot neighbor bringing you a steaming mug of coffee every morning? Not this girl. That’s for sure. But after I passed it at least three times in the store, I gave up and put it in the cart. I couldn’t in good conscience tell Ridge there hadn’t been a chance to pick one up once he found out where we’d been. And I don’t want him to think I’m using him for coffee… it’s just a perk.

  “I haven’t hooked it up yet.” The black little coffeemaker hasn’t left the counter since I slid the box up there last night, and I’m in no rush.

 
Ridge laughs. “I’m pretty sure today’s models are plug in and go. You went old school? Not one of those single cup makers.”

  “It’s a classic design. You can’t beat a classic.” Besides, I normally drink at least three cups in the morning. I need a whole pot for easy access.

  “Is Katy working today?” he asks all too innocently.

  “Yes…”

  “Good. I have to go out of town for a while. Probably a few days. There’s a job I need to check on. Stay away from Katy while I’m gone. Don’t let her get you into any trouble.”

  “Katy is sweet. She would never get me into trouble.” I laugh away his concern. You’d think he was worried Katy might talk me into joining a rock band and touring the country or being the getaway driver for a bank heist.

  “Katy Kadish once talked my younger brother into borrowing our dad’s backhoe to help dig a pond in her back yard.”

  I stare at him not speaking. It’s possible she wanted a coy pond. Some pretty rocks, a little waterfall, I already like the sound of it.

  “They were six,” Ridge continues.

  I giggle. “You can’t hold it against her. They were kids.”

  “She wanted to make a habitat for her pet alligator. Her mother went outside to find her and slipped in the hole Katy dug by hand. Fell and broke her wrist.”

  “Oh.” Not much you can say to defend that. “Did she have a pet alligator?”

  “No,” he deadpans.

  “Well I promise I won’t let Katy talk me into digging any ponds.”

  He rolls his eyes like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “I’m on my way to check on a person of interest for a client. If you need anything, call me. If I’m not available, it will ring to my office and one of the guys will help you.”

  “Nothing will happen.”