Silver Player: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “Should I call her Grandma?” Sadie asks, and my heart pinches.

  “I think you can call her whatever you’re comfortable with.” Mrs. Harrington does seem rather formal, and Elaina seems improper, but as she doesn’t call Billy dad, I think calling his mother by the title grandmother might hurt a bit.

  “All of this is just a ruse so you and Billy can go on a date,” Sadie says, surprising me.

  “It’s just dinner,” I clarify, putting in an earring, the string of bracelets on my wrist clattering together as I lift my arm, and I catch Sadie’s eye in the mirror.

  “But you like him, right? You like each other?” Sadie hesitates, and I’m overwhelmed with how complicated my relationship with Billy has become.

  “Sure, we like each other,” I assure her. United front, I tell Billy all the time.

  “But I mean, you like each other like each other?” she repeats, wanting more of an explanation, and I wish I had answers for her other than it’s complicated. “Do you think you could love him?”

  “Oh Sadie.” My eyes leap up to hers in the reflective glass. “Would that be weird for you? Your father and your aunt? Not to mention, no one can predict love. It just happens, and I’m not certain Billy’s a love kind of man.” He seems sensitive and passionate, but love? I think he gave his heart to Rachel and whatever happened with her, she kept it when she left.

  “But it could happen,” Sadie continues. “You could fall in love, move in together, and I could live happily ever after with both of you.”

  Oh boy.

  “Is that what you want? To live with both of us?” I hesitate. “I know it doesn’t seem ideal to go between homes, but I don’t think Billy and I could ever live together. We’d kill each other.” I humorlessly laugh at the thought. “Besides, he has a house, and I have this apartment. I like my place.” I look around my small room. It isn’t as grand as the Harrington house, but it’s still my home. Not to mention, neither Sadie nor I have been to Billy’s place. It’s like it’s some big secret man cave.

  “I’m overdressed,” I mumble to myself in hopes to change the subject. Swiping my long, silvery hair behind my shoulders, I then nervously smooth my hands down my black dress. Snug at the bodice, it hangs fuller from the waist down to just above my knees. The sleeves are long, and I worry I look like I’m attending a funeral instead of a night out. This dress is almost too formal for just dinner, but the dark material contrasts with my eyes, making them stand out. I sigh. I’m overthinking this.

  Could you fall in love with him?

  The question is not that strange to ask as I feel like I’m already falling.

  “He’s going to love it,” Sadie says, standing behind me, and I take her in through the reflection. She’s almost as tall as I am, willowy and thin with that jet-black hair and those Harrington eyes. I see it more and more since Elaina mentioned it. Sadie’s a beautiful girl if only those eyes didn’t still glimmer with sadness. “He’s going to love you.”

  “Sadie,” I drone.

  “What? I’m sixteen. I know these things.”

  I want to ask her what she knows about love, but I remember all the crushes I had when I was her age and all the boys I thought I loved.

  “Maybe I should stay home,” I interject. I’ve hardly seen her all week. “We could order pizza and watch a movie.”

  “No,” Sadie says a little too forcefully. “I mean…I think Billy’s really looking forward to this.”

  Is he? Has he said something? What does she know? The questions curl around my tongue, but I refuse to ask like a teenager. I hate to admit it, but I’ve been looking forward to it myself. The last date I had was with Chad before I moved to Blue Ridge three long years ago. I’m not complaining. The bookstore is my life, but still.

  A knock on the door stills us both. Nerves ripple through my belly again, but Sadie gives me a reassuring smile through the mirror.

  “He’s going to love you,” she sing-songs as she rushes around me to answer the door for Billy.

  I follow Sadie, and my breath catches when I see Billy. He’s wearing a blue blazer over a light denim shirt and dark jeans. He looks amazing. Sadie and I each grab our jackets, and as Billy holds the door for us to leave, he stops me with a hand on my forearm. The smell of him overwhelms me. Cloves and spice and my mouth waters for a sip of him.

  “Hey,” he says sheepishly as if he didn’t already greet me.

  “Hey, yourself.” I smile and then he leans in and corner kisses my lip.

  “I’m excited about tonight.” His eyes dance, and I’m ready to skip the formality of dinner and get to later, whatever later might bring.

  I’m in over my head here because for all my denial of the possibility of loving Billy Harrington with Sadie, my heart knows the truth. I’m already head over heels for him. Back against the wall, heart at my feet, willing to give him everything if I could only be assured that he wants me. If I could feel like this is more than casual.

  We drop Sadie off at the Harrington home and then head to The Patio, a famous steakhouse, and the only fancy restaurant in the area. It’s an old Victorian home converted on the lower level into dining areas. It’s private and quiet and dark. Billy and I have a small table in the back corner of what I assume was once a parlor. He knows the owner and jokes with the waitress who used to work for him.

  “Tell Braxton I want the best steak he has, especially as he stole you from me.”

  For some reason, the teasing tone in his statement unsettles me, and I sip my wine while they continue to banter. As the pretty woman with reddish hair and bright blue eyes saunters away, Billy looks at me.

  “What?”

  “Always a flirt,” I mock, trying hard to swallow the acid in my throat. He shakes his head and crosses his arms on the edge of the table.

  “Roxanne.” He exhales my name in frustration, but it also sounds like plea. “Am I at dinner with her?”

  “No.”

  “Then can we call a truce for one night? No, Billy is a player cracks. No, one-hit-wonder comments. Just you and me tonight. That’s it.” The plea settles to a near whine, begging me, and I swallow.

  “I’m sorry. Yes. Yes, let’s just enjoy each other.”

  His bark-colored eyes spark with the candlelight at that comment, and a salacious grin curls his lips I’m growing too familiar with. “That’s what I’m hoping. Enjoying each other.”

  The innuendo is evident, but I chuckle.

  “So I wanted to talk to you about a few things regarding Sadie. I was thinking—”

  Billy holds up a hand, and I halt speaking. “I’m going to make us sound like an old married couple, but can we please not talk about the kid tonight either? No Sadie conversation. Just us. I want to know more about you, Roxanne. What makes you tick? Where have you been for sixteen years? What do you want next in life?”

  I’m floored by the rejection of Sadie-talk but equally surprised at his questions. Brushing my hair over one ear, I glance down at my plate. How long has it been since I’ve talked about myself? I wouldn’t know where to start.

  “Okay,” I draw out. I have so much to say about Sadie, but I hold back.

  “Tell me about you before you came back here. Love interests. Things you did with friends. Anything. Everything.” He laughs as he lifts his beer and takes a sip. It’s almost comical how he’s drinking his beer in this other establishment, preferring the robust hops of his heritage to anything else.

  I nod and begin with things I consider factual—college, employment with the big chain bookstore, and then the dream to have my own place. I mention how I missed Blue Ridge after we moved and how sad I was at the loss of my mother, which feels strangely similar to Sadie’s situation. I don’t mention Theresa or Sadie, though. I stick to only me. Friends. Travel. And then Chad.

  “We were together for five years, and I thought he might be it. Not in a conventional way. He never asked me to marry him.” I shrug, dismissing my disappointment that he hadn’t proposed.
“I just thought we’d be this forever couple. Content and satisfied where we were at.”

  Billy’s engaged expression sobers a bit, and he nods like he understands, but his brows pinch like he has a question he wants to ask but doesn’t as I continue.

  “When I mentioned the bookstore, he always blew it off like it was just a pipe dream and never a reality. A fantasy for someday.”

  Billy nods again, his lips pursing in agreement.

  “Then when I told him I wanted to move to Blue Ridge and open a store here, he told me to follow my heart, but he wouldn’t come with me. His heart was no longer mine.”

  “He said that?” Billy asks astonished, brows rising.

  “Not in so many words, but pretty close.”

  Do what you want, Chad said with a shrug, nonchalant and complacent, like my leaving or staying meant nothing to him one way or the other.

  “Here’s the thing. I don’t think people should settle, and I had. I didn’t want to be content or mildly satisfied, but live my best life, and that meant moving here. Walking away from Sadie was difficult, but Sadie also wasn’t mine to keep. She is my niece. My sister’s daughter as Theresa would remind me if I stepped too far out of line with her.” I’d settled here as well. I was content to be the aunt when I really wanted my own daughter. I shrug again, fearing I’ve said too much. “I needed to do something for me. Something that made me happy.”

  Billy stares at me before slowly sitting back in his seat. His eyes focus on my face, taking me in, and I wonder what he sees. He’s called me stunning, but he hasn’t commented on my dress tonight other than to say I look nice. I don’t need his approval, but I appreciate it all the same.

  “It’s strange how much I think you get me without knowing everything about me.”

  What?

  “I wanted the pub because I wanted something for myself as well. While it meant proving something to my parents and even Rachel, deep down, I needed to prove to me that I was good enough. I could do this…thing…for me, be successful on my terms, and in the end, be happy.”

  I smile. I do understand. I don’t know why he’d need to prove anything to his ex-wife or his family, but I get it.

  Silently, I wonder if that’s where all the women come into play. Was he trying to prove something to himself there as well?

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Chad, but he’s a fool. And it isn’t love if you can’t accept each other’s dreams.”

  Is he speaking from experience? Did Rachel reject his dream?

  “So you lived with Chad, huh? And what was that like?”

  I tilt my head, wondering what he means. People live together all the time outside of marriage.

  “Would you ever consider living with a man again?”

  “Like roommates?” I scoff, laughing at the thought.

  “Something like that, sure. I guess.” His expression shifts. Does he really mean as roommates or perhaps he means in another manner? Either way, I don’t understand why he even asks, but I’m quick to answer.

  “I don’t think I could do it again, not without a promise of more.” My head lowers as I feel awkward having this conversation with him, but it’s a good reminder we aren’t anything more than…friends. We aren’t romantically involved. We’ve had sex. It’s how Billy does things. “With the store and now Sadie, my life is pretty full, though.” The words fall short. I’m missing a sliver of something deeper, and I know what it is, but I won’t be sharing that reality with Billy.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sadie. The pub. I’m good.” He doesn’t sound convinced either, leaving me wonder what sliver is missing for him.

  Our dinner arrives, and he oohs and aahs over the steak, moving our conversation out of serious-zone to carefree-casual. Dinner ends on a more rambunctious tone as Billy can’t believe I’m not a fan of any particular sport.

  “Baseball?”

  I shake my head.

  “Football? Georgia State?”

  Nope. Another shake.

  “Oh my God, are you human? Everyone loves a sport. Something. Hiking. Walking, even.” He laughs more as I continue to twist my head side to side. “Then how the hell do you stay in such good shape?”

  I stare at him. “You think I’m in shape?” I choke a little on the laughter coming from my throat.

  “Yes.” He drags out the word and widens his eyes, glaring back at me.

  “I get winded going up the back stairs,” I tease.

  “Well, I know one sport you’re good at…” His suggestive tone softens, and I stare back at him, anticipating his next word, and then he mouths it to me. Sex.

  Just because he’s triple-crowned or World Series’d or whatever in the activity doesn’t mean I have.

  “Are you serious?” My voice squeaks as it rises, drawing the attention of a couple seated near us. I lean forward as if I can hide myself behind my wine glass, and I lower to a whisper. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious.” He wiggles his brows, which makes me laugh again, and then he lifts his arm for the bill. He isn’t answering me, and the lack of response leaves me anxious. Is this what he expects? I’m not opposed, but it seems so obvious. Who sleeps with a man on the first date? Oh, right, I’ve already slept with him, so is this just a formality? Why am I thinking all these things?

  Could you love him?

  I’m overthinking all of it.

  Billy pays and leads me out of the restaurant with a hand on my lower back before helping me into his truck. I don’t normally wear heels, and I struggle with the running board.

  “Whoa,” Billy warns. “Don’t tell me you drank too much?” There’s real concern on his face when I look up at him and assure him I merely slipped.

  Once situated in his truck, he rounds to the driver’s side and hops in. He sits for a second, not pressing the automatic ignition. Slowly, he turns to me. “I don’t want to take you home yet. I’d suggest a drink at the pub, but I don’t want to take you there, either. I want to be alone, but I don’t want to imply anything despite my teasing at dinner. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you to my place.”

  His house.

  He told us a while back how he purchased an older home and fixed it up, taking his time to do each room himself.

  “It’s been a labor of love,” he admits as he pulls up before it. The rustic clapboard is a dark color, like most homes in the area. Immediately upon entering, we stand in a living-dining room combination with a thick, rustic brown leather couch and matching chair plus a large wooden coffee table on small wheels. The furniture might be too big for the space, but it’s comfortable. Inviting. He takes my coat and hangs it on a hook by the front door, and I marvel at how it looks as though it belongs on this peg with the inhabitant of this house.

  The ceilings are tall, and the walls are a soft gray. It’s very minimalist and clean, which surprises me a little. Billy leads me to a kitchen only a little bigger than mine but with state-of-the-art appliances in stainless steel and light pine cabinetry. It’s surprisingly fresh for a single guy, homey even when I expected something more mountain-man from him. We round a staircase, and he leads me upward to a casual loft area with a sofa and a television set.

  “This is where I spend most of my time.” It’s strange to imagine him here as I’ve seen him so often in my place. Two bedrooms and a bathroom are the other rooms upstairs. He leads me back to the first floor, and we turn right through a wide opening off the living room at the base of the steps. Looking over my shoulder, I note a sliding door closes off the space to the living room, and then I turn back to the room. A lush bed fills the space with thick log pegs for the four legs. On the other side of the bed is a patio door, and Billy motions me toward it.

  “This is my favorite place.” He flips a switch, and an enclosed porch comes into view. It’s all screens, but he opens the door and steps outside. “It’s cold but would you like to sit here for a bit? I can light the pit.”

  A cedar lovesea
t lacking cushions and two rocking chairs surround a firepit. It’s probably not safe to light it inside the covered porch, so I shake my head to the fire.

  “I can make hot chocolate.” He hangs his head, hesitant with the suggestion, and I smile despite myself.

  “I’d like that.”

  When his head pops up, his expression is like a child given a present. He steps forward and kisses my cheek. “Be right back.” Quickly, he returns and hands me a heavy quilt to wrap around myself. Sitting on a rocking chair, I absorb the peaceful quiet of a cold winter’s night. It’s so dark. Without the streetlights of town, I can’t see a thing outside the screen panels. A string of small white bulbs decorates the ceiling, giving the enclosed area an outdoorsy feel, like a springtime party.

  I wonder how many women he’s entertained here, and I hate the thought of being one of several.

  He returns with two thick mugs, whip cream peeking over the top.

  “No marshmallows?” I tease.

  “Not a fan.”

  “Really?”

  “Bad experience as a child.”

  “Another drinking story?” I tweak a brow as I blow at the steaming mug. His eyes narrow in on my lips, pursed as I release the air.

  “More like a holiday mishap. I tend to overindulge in things and one too many Peeps later, a rainbow of them…shall we say…revisited the Easter table.”

  I laugh. “Oh my.”

  “Yeah.” He smiles as he sips his hot chocolate and a white dot forms on his nose.

  “You have something…” I point at my own cold nose and twirl my finger around it. A thick fingertip swipes at the spot, and then he places said finger in his mouth, sucking off the sweet whipped cream. I watch, his finger lingering between those warm lips, and I swallow hard.

  As his finger recedes, we fall silent, surrounded by the lack of noise. “It’s very peaceful here.”