“Sure,” he says with a nod.
“And some leftover soup?” she asks, watching his face break out into a crooked grin. His eyes light up as he nods. She can’t help the happy smile that appears on her face in return.
Ray clears his throat loudly. “So, Myra, how long have you lived in Nyssa?”
Her smile disappears as she looks down at her shoes. “Um, I lived here as a child but moved to Philly for college. I stayed there after I graduated but just moved back after my grandfather died.”
She turns back to the counter and grabs the bread.
“Hm,” Ray says. “Are you dating anyone?”
Dylan mumbles something angrily, but she can’t quite make it out.
She clears her throat. “Um, no,” she answers, still not turning around.
“Awesome,” Ray says. “I’m not dating anyone either so this just works out perfectly, huh?”
She frowns when she hears Dylan make a loud growling sound.
Myra swallows hard and stays silent as she puts a bowl of soup in the microwave. Picking up the plate with Dylan’s sandwich on it, she walks it over to him, keeping her gaze averted as she quickly sets it in front of him. She can feel his eyes on her so she glances up. The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly.
She gives him a small smile back. After bringing the rest of the food and drinks to the table, she sits and they start eating.
“Will you go out with me?” Ray asks, causing Myra to choke on her food.
“Jesus Christ,” Dylan shouts. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”
Myra coughs as Dylan and Ray both watch her. Finally, she gets her choking under control and takes a drink of water.
Ray doesn’t give her a second to rest. “Well?” he asks as he continues staring at her.
“You need to shut your damn mouth right now,” Dylan says in a low voice, his eyes looking fierce.
“If I remember correctly, this is a free country, and I happen to think Myra is hot. So if I want to ask her out, I can damn well ask her out whenever and however I feel like it,” Ray says.
“You know what? You’re right. But I sure as hell don’t have to sit here and listen to your fucking mouth,” Dylan says as he stands, angrily pushing his chair back, and stomping out of the kitchen.
“I’m not feeling well,” Myra mumbles to Ray as she immediately jumps from her chair.
“Hang on a sec,” Ray shouts. Ignoring him, she runs up the staircase to her bedroom, quickly closing the door and locking it behind her.
* * *
Dylan stomps all the way out to his truck. Dropping the tailgate, he slumps onto it, and pulls out a cigarette. His hands shake as he tries to light his cigarette. Ray’s mouth pissed him off so much that he was barely able to control the urge to jump up from the table and punch him straight in the chops.
Blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth, his gaze drifts back towards the house as he wonders how she answered him. He hopes like hell she doesn’t go out with that shithead. She deserves better. After finishing his cigarette, he climbs back up on the roof, and starts tearing off shingles.
Within minutes, Ray moseys up with his ear buds in. Dylan stares at him long and hard, waiting for him to say something, but Ray only gives Dylan a hateful glare before he starts working.
They spend the rest of the afternoon tearing the roof off and tossing the pieces into Dylan’s trailer, not saying a single word to each other. Finally, Dylan decides to call it a day and motions to Ray.
“Eight in the morning. Sharp,” he says as they make their way down the ladder.
“So I won’t find your hungover ass on her couch again, will I?” Ray asks, his face breaking into a grin.
Dylan has that urge again. To sink his fist into Ray’s front teeth. He ignores him but can feel a vein popping out in his forehead.
“Eight sharp,” Ray repeats. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Sunshine.”
Dylan grits his teeth and starts loading his tools into the back of his truck, throwing them with a little more force than necessary. He feels a little better when he hears Ray’s truck exiting the driveway. Once he has everything secured, he walks back towards Myra’s porch. She steps out of the door just as he starts walking up the steps.
She stares at him with a small smile on her lips. He runs his hand through his hair and tries not to look at them. Her lips, that is. “I’m gonna leave my trailer here until we get the roof torn off, if that’s okay?” he asks.
She tucks her hair behind her ear and nods. “That’s fine.”
Dylan clears his throat. “Sorry about what happened at lunch. Ray embarrasses the hell outta me. I hope he didn’t offend you, or if, I mean, if you wanna go out with him, I, uh…” Dylan stumbles over his words having no fucking clue what to say. He just doesn’t want her going out with that dick. Ever.
Myra takes a small step towards him. “It’s okay. I went upstairs as soon as you left,” she says with a smile.
“You did?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to go out with him.”
Dylan takes in a deep breath. “You don’t?”
He steps closer to her.
Smiling, she shakes her head.
His gaze drops to her lips. He shouldn’t be looking at them but fuck it, he can’t help it. He has an overwhelming urge to smash his mouth against hers and kiss her until she can’t fucking breath. Swallowing, he takes another step closer until their bodies are merely inches from each other. His eyes search her face, taking in her beautiful skin, her pink cheeks and her eyes that look so warm and inviting.
He stares at her lips and runs his tongue over his, wetting them, his mouth gaping open slightly. He needs to feel those lips. Touch them. He desperately wants to know what they feel like. What they taste like. Leaning in closer, just a little closer, his breathing starts to increase. His eyes feel heavy and close… and…
“Myra, Myra! Oops, am I interrupting something?”
Dylan’s head snaps back quickly, as he takes a step aside just as Jackie runs up onto the porch. He blinks, dazed, as Myra’s neighbor grabs her in a tight hug.
“Hey,” Myra says. Her eyes catch his over Jackie’s shoulder.
Dylan looks down at the ground. “I gotta go,” he mumbles as he races off the porch to his truck.
He blows out a quick breath and runs his hand through his hair before he backs out of the driveway. He knows that if that damn Jackie hadn’t shown up, he would have most definitely kissed the shit out of those goddamn delicious-looking lips and maybe dragged her into her house to do some other things to her that he would’ve regretted. Good thing that annoying woman showed up like she did.
He needs to get some damn control over himself and keep his distance from Myra in the future because she doesn’t need to deal with someone like him and his shitload of problems.
Distance.
Dylan nods to himself because he most definitely knows how to do distance.
CHAPTER 13
BEIGE, ALOOFNESS
“I thought you weren’t going to be back for another week or so?” Myra says to Jackie, but her eyes follow Dylan’s truck down the road.
“I know, I know. Isn’t it just so exciting? Mom and dad helped me out, and we got everything done way faster than I originally thought we would. I brought a few boxes of stuff with me, and the moving truck is supposed to be here in a couple of days. I just absolutely couldn’t wait to get back here. Of course because I missed you, but I’m just so ready to, like, start over. Do you know what I mean?” Jackie’s eyes shine as she stares inquisitively at Myra.
“Yeah, I do,” Myra says quietly as she holds open the door for Jackie. Her head turns slyly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dylan’s tail lights. Her shoulders dip slightly when she only sees a deserted road.
“So, what’s going on between you and Dylan, huh? It was looking all hot and heavy there for a minute before I came along and rudely interrupted. I can’t believe I did that
. I feel so bad.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything. He was just, uh, telling me something about the roof.”
“Sure,” Jackie says with a snicker. “That’s exactly what a conversation about a roof looks like.”
“It’s the truth…” Myra mumbles.
“I’m so sorry I interrupted. I’m always doing stupid things like that. I just feel terrible about it. I didn’t realize what was going on until I was practically on the porch. I’ll try to be extra careful next time. Can you forgive me? Please?”
Myra internally rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive because you interrupted nothing.”
Freezing from standing out on the porch with no coat on, Myra walks to the couch, grabs a blanket and drapes it around her shoulders. “Want something to drink?” she asks.
Jackie shakes her head as Myra sits down. “I just drank one of those energy drinks,” she says, as she starts rocking back and forth onto her tiptoes. “I needed something to keep me awake on the boring drive over here plus I wanted to have some extra energy to get a lot of stuff done today, but it’s got me so revved up right now, I’m about to explode. I wish I had a trampoline to jump on. Or I might need to go jogging or something to burn off all of this excess energy,” she says before giggling hysterically.
Myra doesn’t laugh because Jackie should be banned from all energy drinks.
“Well, I’m going to go start unpacking my boxes and get settled in. This is going to be the greatest thing ever, us being next door neighbors and best friends. I’m just so happy. Wait. That didn’t sound right. I mean I’m really devastated that my grandpa died and everything because I don’t mean I’m happy that he died. I just mean that it’s neat how things have worked out so we can be near each other. This was meant to be.”
Myra stands, thankful that she won’t have to endure any more Jackie for at least a little while. Jackie hugs her hard before bouncing out the door and down the stairs towards her house, constantly looking back and giddily waving the whole time.
Myra sighs as she closes the door, shaking her head.
* * *
Dylan winces as he takes his coat off and half listens to Elaina’s babbling. “Ah, mi querido, I’m so sorry you fell through that roof. You have to be in so much pain. I’ll get you whipped back into shape before…”
She stops talking when a phone starts ringing.
Dylan’s brows scrunch up as he stares at her. “Oh, sorry,” she mutters as she shoves her hand into her cleavage and whips out her cell phone.
His mouth drops open because he can’t figure out how she squeezed that phone in there. He tries to cover his smile as he quickly averts his eyes away from her flower-covered, extremely large rack. “I need to take this,” she says before she turns and walks towards her desk, rapidly speaking in Spanish. Dylan doesn’t understand a word she says.
Elaina smiles when she returns, looking flustered. “Sorry. Now, you said you have some bruising from the accident? Let me take a look.”
Dylan stands and turns around, pulling up his shirt. “Ah, what a mess. Just when we were making such good progress,” she says.
He grimaces as he situates himself on the table. But within minutes, he moans when he feels her hands on his back.
“Other than falling through a roof, what else have you been up to? Did you get some rest over the weekend?” she asks.
“God, that feels good… no,” he mutters.
Elaina leans her elbow gently into his back. “No?”
He takes in a deep breath. “My brother and his family showed up.”
“Really? Where are they from?”
“Boise,” he grunts.
“Did you do anything special?”
He snorts. “You mean other than my sister-in-law dragging us to fucking church on Sunday?”
“Church?”
“Yeah.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember the name.”
“Oh. I go to the Catholic church over on Main. Did you at least enjoy it?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
He pauses, taking in a deep breath. “Because if there is a God, he sure did a damn good job screwing me over.”
Elaina gasps and mutters something in Spanish. “Everything happens for a reason. You just need to have a little faith.”
“Look, I’m done with this conversation, all right? Just work on my back and no more talking.”
“Of course,” she says softly.
* * *
Myra stares at the tiny vertical blinking line on her screen, watching it flash over and over again. She can’t focus. Her thoughts are a million miles away from her story, focused on the look that a certain someone gave her earlier out on her front porch. The same look he had the night before when he was drunk. He should not have looked at her like that when he was sober. Like he wanted to ravage her.
She frowns because it doesn’t make any sense. Unless Dylan does this with all of the women he works for. He could be a cheater.
Leaning her head back against her headboard, she closes her eyes thinking back to how he looked at her. She knows he was going to kiss her. The way he kept staring at her lips with his mouth parted, his heavy breathing, the lust in his eyes. She shivers just thinking about it. And she knows what would have happened had Jackie not shown up. She squeezes her eyes tight and rubs her temples against that thought.
She needs to be stronger because she will not allow herself to be the other woman.
Sitting up and looking back at her laptop, she re-reads her last paragraph.
“The dust swirled in massive, billowing clouds around the black stallion as he came to an abrupt halt, his nostrils flaring from the exertion. The horse neighed and rose up on his back hind legs, desperate to charge forward. A swift yank on its reins calmed the horse immediately. The brim of the rider’s weathered cowboy hat tipped just enough to hide his face from view. Just as the dust settled, the cowboy slowly lifted his head to reveal green eyes flashing a fearsome anger. One thing was for certain. Someone was going to die today.”
Annoyed that she can’t type another word, Myra flips her laptop closed and sets it on her nightstand. Sighing and knowing that she probably won’t be able to sleep at all, Myra still switches the light off and snuggles under the covers; she has many thoughts to keep her company for the next few hours.
* * *
Dylan slams his hand on the alarm clock and, with a groan, flops back against his pillow. He only fell asleep about an hour ago after tossing and turning all fucking night. Then somehow – in that short hour – he managed to dream about somebody’s lips being attached to a part of his anatomy that happens to be hard as a damn rock right now. And to top it all off, he has to drag his tired ass out of bed and try like hell to avoid looking at those lips today.
Climbing out of bed with a grunt, he walks uncomfortably into the kitchen. He looks down at the source of his discomfort and wishes it would deflate. Flinging open the refrigerator door, he grabs a carton of milk and takes several gulps, pushing his naked body closer to the inside of the fridge, trying to rid himself of his massive hard-on so that he can go take a piss.
After putting the milk back in the fridge, he yawns and stretches, standing a little longer in the cold. He contemplates pulling out an ice pack and throwing it on his aching dick, but decides that might be a little painful. A cold shower would obviously do the trick, but he took a shower last night and sure as hell doesn’t feel like taking another one.
Within half an hour, he pulls into Myra’s driveway. As he starts unloading his tools, he tries like hell not to think about the beautiful lips inside that house, but that seems to be all he thinks about. A few minutes later, Ray pulls in beside him, but he keeps at his task and doesn’t bother looking up.
“Good morning, Sweetpea,” he hears Ray’s voice boom loudly, causing him to cringe. Dylan clenches his fists together before he turns around to face him.
His mouth
drops open as he stares at Ray standing there grinning from ear to ear, holding a huge bouquet of roses and a couple of balloons with hearts on them. Ray tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow at Dylan. “You did remember what today is, right?”
Dylan frowns.
“It’s Valentine’s Day, you ass,” he says as he lumbers off towards the house.
Dylan seethes as he pulls out a cigarette. Leaning up against the side of his truck, he blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth as he watches Myra open the door.
He knows Myra doesn’t want to go out with that stupid fucker because she said so, and it doesn’t matter who she goes out with anyway. But for some reason, he doesn’t like this. Not one bit.
Myra’s eyes meet his for a moment before she lets Ray’s sorry ass into her house and the door closes. Dylan pushes himself off his truck and starts to pull his ladder out of the back, but it gets stuck. He yanks and tugs on it so hard that he almost rips a rung off.
Leaning the ladder roughly against the house, his eyes narrow when he notices he bent the gutter. Climbing up on the roof, he starts tearing the shingles off as hard as he can, trying not to think about the two of them together in the house below him.
Ray shows up a few minutes later grinning like a dick and humming. Dylan somehow manages to maintain his composure and refrains from shoving the fucker off the roof like he so desperately wants to.
* * *
Myra looks worriedly at the clock. Part of her wants to eat lunch with Dylan again like she did yesterday – without Ray of course – and part of her doesn’t. She knows it would probably be best if she stayed as far away from him as possible because every time she gets near him, something inappropriate almost happens.
Her heart leaps into her throat when she hears a knocking on the door. Jumping up off the couch, she hurries towards it, hoping it might be Dylan. Her shoulders slump when she sees Ray standing there. “You’ve got me all to yourself for lunch today,” he happily informs her as he steps through the door.
Looking outside and not seeing Dylan anywhere, she turns back to Ray. “Where’s Dylan?”
Color of Loneliness Page 18