With One More Look At You

by Mary J. Williams

  "Cindy wasn't ready to have sex. You knew it. Accepted it. Claimed you were okay with waiting. If that changed—if you couldn't keep your dick in your pants—you should have broken up with her. Then you could have dipped your wick without any consequences. Except for a possible STD."

  "I used a condom, asshole."

  "That's something." Forbes gazed—unseeing—across the empty gymnasium. "You know it was a mistake. And it won't happen again. Right?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Then why the hell didn't you keep it to yourself?"

  Aaron hung his head, his hands clasped behind his neck. When he spoke, he no longer sounded angry. Tortured was the best word to describe it.

  "I thought a confession was the right way to go. Now I realize that my main goal was to make myself feel better. Cindy is so understanding. So forgiving. I…"

  "You thought she would take you in her arms and tell you everything would be okay."

  Jesus. Forbes blew out a long breath. The man lived in a deluded dream world.

  "She cried, Forbes. Quiet tears. They ran down her cheeks, her eyes staring at me as if I'd ripped her heart out." When he looked at his big, wide-palmed hands, they shook. "Maybe I did. I'd rather she had hit me with a sledgehammer. That kind of pain I could deal with."

  "Do you want platitudes or the hard, honest truth?"

  Aaron braced himself, giving Forbes a short nod. "Let me have it."

  "You fucked up. Literally and figuratively. Cindy should roast your nuts over an open fire—with you still attached. She should forget you ever lived. Burn your memory from her consciousness. Find somebody better. At this point? That wouldn't be hard."

  The only sound Aaron made was a whimper muffled by the fact that his face was buried in his hands.

  "All that said, I believe—because she loves you and she is who she is—Cindy will forgive you. Eventually."

  "You do? Really?"

  Hope—even without any real evidence of its existence—was better than a double dose of Prozac.

  "Give it time. And Cindy space. If you're lucky. And you keep your nose clean. I predict she'll be your date at our prom."

  "It's going to be a long, lonely three months."

  "That's what sports are for." Forbes flipped Aaron the baseball. This time, he caught it with ease.

  Heading toward the locker room, Aaron slung his arm around Forbes' shoulders.

  "If you were my girlfriend, how long until you forgave me?"

  "Me?" Forbes grinned. "Never. I would hang your roasted nuts on my rearview mirror for the world to see."

  For the first time all afternoon, Aaron laughed. "Gee, thanks."

  Forbes chuckled. "No problem, buddy. That's what friends are for."

  COLD DIDN'T BEGIN to describe the weather. So much worse. Arctic. Frigid. Half asleep and shivering, Sophie checked the end of her nose, expecting to find an icicle instead. Nope. But a near thing.

  Snuggling deeper under the covers, she checked the digital clock near her bed. Or she tried. The screen was dark. Next, exposing as little skin as possible, she tried turning on the lamp that sat on the end table. Nothing. She wasn't an expert, but it didn't take an electrical engineer to deduce the problem. The power was out. Sophie felt her body temperature dropping by the second.

  Bailey was curled at the foot of the bed. Snoring lightly, he seemed happily oblivious to the lack of heat.

  She had several options readily available to her. She could stay as she was. In reality, the chances of her freezing to death before morning were slight to none. However, even if she survived, she didn't have to spend the rest of the night miserable and sleepless. Gathering extra blankets from the closet and heavy socks from the top drawer of the dresser, she would warm up. Eventually.

  Rather than wait, Sophie rolled out of bed, bracing herself. Yikes. It had to be below zero. The house was equipped with an emergency generator. According to Maeve, it was supposed to automatically come on in the case of a power outage. Obviously, that hadn't happened. Hopping from rug to rug—avoiding the hardwood floor—Sophie made quick work of grabbing what she needed. The socks. Her fleecy robe. Her Christmas gift from Maeve, a hand-knitted hat and matching half gloves done in a cheery red yarn. Sophie considered changing her pajamas bottoms for sturdier jeans but didn't want to take the time.

  "Are you coming with me?"

  Lifting his head, Bailey sighed. Content where he was, he didn't understand all the fuss. But without Sophie, the bed just wasn't the same. The picture on the wall—a painting of the original homestead—rattled from the force of Bailey's paws hitting the floor. Wide awake, he trailed behind Sophie as she pulled a thick quilt from the closet, on her heels as she hurried from the room.

  The house was pitch black. Using her memory, she kept one hand on the wall as she maneuvered down the hall, before carefully descending the staircase.

  Maeve stayed the night at her sister's place in Cloverdale. Sophie hadn't seen hide nor hair of Forbes. He rarely spent a Saturday night at home. That meant in all likelihood, she was on her own.

  Entering the kitchen, Sophie felt her way along the counter, finding the drawer by the sink where she knew Maeve kept a flashlight. She sighed with relief, clicking it on.

  "If you're ever alone and the power goes out, report it right away," Maeve had told Sophie, showing her where to find the list of emergency numbers.

  The phone was mounted on the wall near the refrigerator. Sophie dialed. Naturally, it was an automated system asking for her address and the reason for her call.

  Sophie wanted to say, "The power is out, and I'm freezing to death, jerk. Why else would I be calling at this time of the night?" But she refrained. Barely. She left a brief message stating where she was located—and that the power had been out for at least an hour.

  Almost the second she hung up, the phone rang. Sophie yelped in surprise. Bailey yelped in sympathy. Laughing, she patted the dog's head, picking up the receiver.

  "Hello?"

  "How you doing, kid?"

  Jerry. She should have known one of the ranch hands would be in touch.

  "Fine. Cold. The generator didn't come on."

  "I know. There were some problems last time it ran. Newt planned on getting it fixed, but… Well, the reason doesn't matter."

  Sophie didn't need Jerry to finish. But…? Who else but Joy. Newt had let a lot of things slip since getting tangled in her mother's web. The backup generator was the least of it. She appreciated Jerry's tactful attempt to spare her feelings. He didn't know that it wasn't necessary. When it came to Joy, Sophie was pretty much numb.

  "I called the power company, and I was about to head into the living room to start a fire."

  Jerry laughed. "I told Maeve you would have everything under control."

  "Maeve called you?" Why not call Sophie and eliminate the middle man?

  "Don't be offended. She was concerned. The snowstorm turned out to be bigger than originally anticipated, and the power is out all over. Maeve figured Forbes would stay in town. He didn't make it home, did he?"

  "No."

  Sophie always heard when Forbes arrived. He stepped on a squeaky floorboard directly outside of her room when passing, no matter the time. She was pretty certain he did it on purpose.

  Sophie's knew it was her own fault. When they had been on better terms, she had mentioned that she was a light sleeper. Forbes seemed to get a lot of enjoyment from using that confession against her.

  "Maeve was afraid you might be spooked all alone in the big house. I told her you were made of tougher stuff than that."

  "I'm not alone. I have Bailey. We were about to build a fire and hunker down in the living room for the rest of the night."

  Hearing his name, the dog pressed his large body against Sophie's leg, a look of adoration in his eyes. Smiling, she rested her hand on his head, giving him a scratch behind the ear.

  "Sounds like you have everything under co
ntrol. But I promised Maeve check on you. I can come over." Jerry paused for a beat "If you really want me to."

  "How soon can you get here?"

  "Well, I…" Obviously, Sophie's answer had surprised Jerry. "I have to get dressed. My truck is under a foot of snow, so I'll have to walk. Then—"

  Sophie burst out laughing. She had grown fond of Jerry and Mike to the point she felt comfortable teasing them.

  "Stay where you are. I don't need anybody to hold my hand."

  "That's what I told Maeve." Jerry gave a relieved chuckle. "If anything happens, Mike and I are a phone call away. Hell, if push comes to shove, stick your head out the window and yell. One of us will hear you."

  Sophie couldn't imagine needing anything, but it was nice to know the two men were there. Jerry. Mike. Maeve. For the first time in her life, she had people who cared what happened to her. People who worried about her wellbeing. Imagine that.

  "Don't forget to pick me up in the morning before you head out to feed the cattle."

  "Are you kidding? You've become my go-to driver. Not too fast. Not too slow."

  Hearing Jerry's praise, a glow of welcome warmth spread through Sophie. Knowing what his answer would be, she couldn't help but ask.

  "I could ride on top, cutting the bales of hay and tossing them to the cattle."

  "The last time I told you why that wouldn't happen, you called me a chauvinist."

  "I left off the pig part," Sophie reminded him.

  "It was implied."

  "Jerry—"

  "Build up some more muscle. We'll talk again in the spring. Now, get that fire going and stay warm."

  Hanging up, Sophie thought about the hours she had spent in the weight room. It might not show through her clothes, but the full-length bathroom mirror told her that the time she had dedicated to working out was paying off.

  While her breasts would never be anything to brag about. And her hips were practically nonexistent, she certainly had some definition on her arms. On top of that, her stomach showed the beginning signs of a few ridges. One might say she was three cans short of a six pack.

  Sophie flexed her budding biceps. Nobody—especially Forbes Branson—would ever call her spaghetti arms again.

  The fireplace hadn't been used for several days. Too bad. It would be a lot easier if she could find some glowing embers to help her out. Sophie had never started a fire on her own. However, she had paid attention. Paper. Kindling. Wood. Picturing the order and method, she began.

  In the end, it was easier than Sophie imagined. Of course, it helped that all the tools were right at her fingertips.

  Sophie struck the match, setting it against a piece of crumpled-up newspaper. With a satisfied smile, she watched as the flames spread, catching the dry pieces of kindling. When she confirmed a steady and satisfying sound of wood crackling, she closed the screen.

  "If push had come to shove, I would have managed to split the wood, Bailey. And carry it into the house. Don't give me that look. So what if there's a blizzard raging outside? And I've never lifted an ax in my life? How hard could it be?"

  Bailey cocked his head to one side and waited.

  "I didn't say it would have been easy. I'm glad there is plenty of chopped wood right here. And a reserve pile neatly stacked in the garage. All I said was that I could have done it."

  "And cut off one of your fingers trying."

  Sophie heard the man's voice only a few feet away and acted on instinct. Blindly—remembering a move she had recently witnessed—she made a backward kick, aiming a sock-covered foot at his most vulnerable area. Not a direct hit. But it was enough to send him to the floor, clutching his balls.

  "What the hell, Sophie?"

  Picking up the flashlight, Sophie moved the beam toward the shadowed, groaning figure.

  "Forbes?"

  "Of course it's me. Where did you learn to do that?"

  "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

  Sophie felt a smug satisfaction. Television might be a vast wasteland, but it had taught her a thing or two.

  Bailey—always assuming some game was afoot—excitedly plopped his paw onto the same spot Sophie hit with her foot. When Forbes grunted, Bailey's doggy grin widened.

  "So much for man's best friend."

  "You didn't squeak," Sophie accused, not feeling the least bit sympathetic.

  "I didn't what?" Forbes carefully extracted himself from Bailey. He gave the dog's ear a "no hard feelings" scratch before getting to his feet.

  "The board outside my bedroom door? You always step on it when you pass by—especially when I'm sleeping." Forbes gave her a blank look. Hearing the words, Sophie realized how silly they sounded. All this time she assumed he had done it on purpose, hoping to wake her up. Finding out she was wrong bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Even to herself. Turning to stir the fire, she muttered, "Never mind."

  "Then it did wake you up." Forbes sounded pleased. "You never mentioned it, so I wasn't sure."

  "I knew it." Sophie resisted the impulse to bash Forbes with the fire poker. Part of her was mad. Part couldn't resist smiling. "That was a lousy thing to do."

  "The first time was an accident."

  "I'll bet."

  "Honestly?" Gingerly, Forbes moved next to her, holding his hands out to the now roaring fire. "Pure luck. Once I remembered you were a light sleeper?" He shrugged.

  "You decided to wake me up every chance you had."

  "Guilty." Forbes didn't sound the least bit repentant.

  Sophie gathered the quilt around her. "My mother told me to never tell the enemy anything that would make me vulnerable. It's my own fault that you had information to use against me."

  "I'm not the enemy, Sophie. And no offense? Your mother sounds like she was a crazy-ass bitch."

  "She had her moments," Sophie sighed. Still did.

  Enjoying the fire, they stood side by side in silence. Sophie wondered when Joy's crazy would smack Forbes in the face. Sadly—if history was any indicator—it was only a matter of time.

  "Dad and Joy will be home day after tomorrow. Barring any weather snafus."

  Forbes sounded happy at the prospect. Sophie's feelings weren't as cut and dried. Like Forbes, she had missed Newt. However, the time away from Joy had been the happiest of her life.

  After fifteen years, Sophie had been given three months of freedom. Unshackled from her mother's influence. One hundred and ten pounds of deadweight magically lifted from her chest. She couldn't go back.

  "About what happened before they left?"

  Sophie had come to terms with her part in letting it happen. It was either self-flagellation or acceptance.

  "Newt and Joy are married. End of story."

  "It's going to be okay, Sophie. You'll see. Dad and Joy had a great time. When he calls, he sounds happy."

  Sophie could have said a lot. But nothing that Forbes wanted to hear. Silently, she nodded.

  "If I tell you I'm sorry for calling you a bitch, can we end this ridiculous feud?"

  Because Sophie desperately wanted to be friends with Forbes again—plus the promise she had made to Maeve—she refrained from reminding him that to be exact, he had called her a selfish bitch.

  "Are you sorry?"

  "Yes."

  "So am I." Sophie didn't go into details. She was afraid her reasons would have started the fight all over again.

  It seemed that was that. All was forgiven if not forgotten. Forbes pulled two upholstered chairs up near the heat of the fire.

  "Sit. I'll be right back."

  "Where is he going?" Sophie asked Bailey. Curled comfortably into a ball, the dog didn't raise his head, snorting in the way of a response.

  It took a few minutes, but when Forbes returned, his hands were full. "Now that we've buried the hatchet—metaphorically, thank the Lord—I think we should seal it with a toast."

  "I don't drink."

  "Since you're fifteen, I should
hope not. Careful, it's hot," Forbes warned, handing Sophie a mug.

  Sophie wrapped her hands around it, sighing with pleasure as the heat suffused her skin. Tentatively, she sniffed at the contents.

  "How did you manage to make hot chocolate? Or anything hot for that matter?"

  "We have a bunch of camping gear stored in the basement. There's a battery-operated stove. Perfect for the wilderness—or a cold, snowy, powerless winter's night. I put the milk on to get hot right before you assaulted my… dignity."

  Sophie grinned behind the rim of her cup. "How is your… dignity? Better?"

  Forbes shifted in his seat, grimacing slightly. "I don't think you did any permanent damage.

  "I thought I was alone. Any damage—permanent or otherwise—you brought on yourself. What made you avoid the squeaky board tonight?"

  "After spending most of the day and night listening to Aaron cry in his beer, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and conk out. Letting you sleep seemed only fair. I might have made it until noon if my room hadn't turned into a deep freeze."

  "What happened? Unless it would be breaking Aaron's confidence."

  "Since everybody is bound to find out, he wouldn't mind me telling you part of it." Forbes let out a sigh. "He and Cindy broke up. Or rather, she broke up with him. I can't share the details. Suffice it to say, she had good reason."

  Sophie didn't know Aaron or Cindy very well. Giggly girls in the school bathroom described them as soulmates. The term made her roll her eyes. Soulmates? What did that mean? It certainly hadn't kept the couple together. Aaron had done something bad enough to get tossed to the curb. Forbes said the tossing was deserved.

  "Did he hit her?"

  "What?" Forbes' eyes popped open. "Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

  "In my experience—"

  "What experience?" Forbes made a dismissive motion with his hand. "You've never even been on a date."

  "I had a life before I came here." Sophie didn't know why she felt the need to defend herself. "And dating isn't the only way you gain experience. I've seen things you wouldn't believe."

  "Like what?"

  Things that would make his sheltered, country boy's hair curl. Sophie wanted to shock Forbes. She could have. However, all of her stories involved Joy, and that subject was off limits.