by L. B. Dunbar
“Well, that happened fast.” The bitter undertone is not settling well with me. Louisa and I shared one coffee, and I don’t owe her an explanation about my complicated relationship with Scarlett.
“It was great to see you again,” I say, trying to remain polite while cutting off the conversation.
“If you’d ever like to get coffee again, or anything else. We could have a drink inside . . .” She points over her shoulder to the front door. Swaying on her feet, I’d say she might have had a few already.
“Louisa, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Coming here tonight suddenly feels like the worst idea, and I’d be turning on my boot heels for the truck if only I’d driven.
“Friendship hug, then,” she squeals. Throwing out her arms, she steps into my space and wraps them around my waist again. Natural instinct has me giving her a tepid pat on the back before looking up to find Scarlett watching us.
“Scarlett?” I did not see her car in the lot. Then again, I hadn’t thought to look. Releasing my arms from Louisa, she slides to my side, keeping her arms around my waist.
“Oopsy. She caught us,” Louisa mewls like a spoiled teen, and the color in Scarlett’s face turns to ash. She turns back for the door while I rip myself free of Louisa, no longer feeling sorry about that coffee date gone wrong.
“Scarlett,” I call out, following her retreating back. Once inside the dim-lit bar, my eyes need a second to adjust from the bright evening outside. Scanning the place, I easily find Scarlett by that gorgeous hair and step over to the booth where Rita sits across from her.
“That is not what it looked like,” I blurt.
“Uh-oh,” Rita mutters, lifting her cola and taking a long sip from the straw. She glances at Scarlett across the table, who is not looking up at me. Half-finished burgers rest on their plates. I’m interrupting their dinner, but I need to explain myself to Scarlett. Rita reaches for her purse. “I should give you two a minute.”
“Don’t go,” Scarlett whispers across the table to her friend. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Scarlett hasn’t seen her friend because she’s been with me, but right now, I don’t trust that she won’t run before I can say what needs to be said. Finally, Scarlett looks up at me, her face still washed of color.
“Just let us finish our meal. We can talk when I get home.”
Home. At least she still thinks of my place as her home.
I nod, biting my tongue as I turn for another booth two down from Scarlett and Rita, where my brothers sit. Practically throwing myself on the bench seat, I cup my head in my hands, and a beer slides between my arms.
“What the heck happened?” Canyon asks, and I give him the quick rundown of Scarlett seeing me with my arms around another woman.
“You know you don’t owe Scarlett anything,” Blade states, back on the screw Scarlett bandwagon. “It’s not like you’re married to each other.”
My arms fall to the table with such a sharp thud my beer wobbles in the glass. “We’re parenting partners.”
“What the hell is that?” Blade asks.
“You aren’t going to marry her?” Canyon questions at the same time.
“Of course, I’m not marrying her. We all know how proposals work out for me.”
“But this is different,” Canyon reminds me. “She’s pregnant with your kid.”
Maybe. I close my eyes, feeling sick inside. Maybe Scarlett’s correct. Maybe I’m too ambitious to want a baby that might not be mine. The second I question myself, though, I know I’m wrong. Sprout is mine. It’s something I feel in my bones.
“I don’t need to marry her. Scarlett’s still . . . been through a lot lately. We don’t need to rush.” Canyon’s brow furrows as he’s watching me while Blade mutters, “Oh no.”
Glancing up, I notice Redd Bottom making a beeline for our booth with Dillard on his heels.
“Gentleman. How’s it hanging, Bull?” He chuckles. “We got to see your mucky backside on television again. I never can look away from a man working his cows.” His salacious voice implies every nasty word he isn’t saying.
“Got time to watch television, Redd?” Blade interjects. “Business must be bad this year.” Redd’s expression sours at Blade’s slur. Redd makes statues out of wood stumps. The man is dangerous with a chain saw. It’s an art form, but I have no idea how he makes a living off it. Redd’s been known to use his art as an excuse not to help out on his family’s land.
“My wood’s got nothing to do with leisure time,” Redd defends.
“I bet your wood doesn’t get any leisure,” Canyon snarks to his beer as he lifts it for his lips. Blade snorts, and Dillard guffaws behind Redd.
“Did I see you with Louisa Miller in the parking lot?” Redd inquires, and I slam my glass back to the table.
“What do you want, Redd?” Blade interjects. Thankfully, he’s on the inside of the booth, or he’d be attempting to stand and drag Redd to the parking lot.
“Excuse me.” All heads turn to Scarlett, who’s standing just off the edge of the booth. Redd does a double take, and I know the feeling. He’s stunned by Scarlett’s beauty. Those wide brown eyes. That fresh, bright hair. Her creamy skin. Damn, she looks so good.
“Scarlett Russell.” She holds out a hand, and Redd swipes his against his jeans before reaching for hers.
“Redd Bottom.” Scarlett chokes and looks to us to confirm he’s not kidding. His name sounds like a cherry-colored ass. “How can I help you, pretty lady?”
Scarlett points at the seat beside me. “You’re blocking the booth. I’d like to slide back in by my man.”
Blade chokes. Canyon lowers his glass, and I sit up straighter. What?
Redd steps back, and Scarlett slides in next to me, catching my eyes for only a second before glancing back up at Redd.
“So, what are we discussing?”
“The dairy king and Louisa Miller in the parking lot,” Redd says, sounding proud of himself for putting me down.
“Oh, dairy king,” Scarlett whines, drawing out the term in a teasing voice. “And with Louisa Miller in the parking lot. Did she use jumper cables? This sounds like a hint in the game Clue.”
Scarlett pauses, batting her lashes while she insults Redd, who stands still. Her hand lands on the back of my neck and plays with the hairs tickling my nape. “But I like that dairy king comment. However, that program should have come up with something more original. Like rough rider, for the way he takes me in bed.”
What? I choke. Blade snorts, and Canyon just stares at Scarlett while she squeezes at my nape.
“Or even pussy pleaser.” She purrs like a kitty cat and shimmies her shoulders, squeezing her hands together before her chest. “Because he loves to cuddle, and he keeps me satisfied.”
Fuck. What the hell is she playing at? And why am I getting hard listening to her?
Her hand returns to my nape as if she’s claiming me, and Redd does not miss the motion.
“Yeah, well.” Redd swallows, fighting the effect Scarlett is having on him as her brown beauties laser up at him, and she continues to smile. “Bovine Bridegroom takes the win.”
“It did. That’s why I came up with it. I love alliteration.”
Redd’s eyes narrow, and I’m not liking the turn of this conversation. She came up with that label? Her hand drops to my thigh, squeezing at my leg.
“But we made a big mistake in naming Bull. We missed all the other delicious terms for him, and I’m lucky he was able to escape all those other women because now it’s my turn.” Scarlett looks at me over her shoulder, tightening her grasp on my thigh. “I’ve named myself Sticking-around Scarlett because I’m not letting Bull get away.”
Scarlett gazes back up at Redd. “That makes me the future dairy queen, I guess. Or would it be bovine bride? Perhaps I’m just a cowgirl to my cowman.” Scarlett leans forward as if she’s about to impart a secret to Redd. “But I don’t want to share my favorite position on Bull with everyone.”
She fuck
ing winks at Redd, and his mouth falls open. If he isn’t frustratingly turned on by now, the man is a monk. He blinks, fighting her spell and turning deep red to match his name.
“Well. I—” His stammering causes Scarlett to give a little wave with her fingers while the heat of her other hand seeps through my jeans like a possessive claim on me.
“Have a nice night, boys.”
Redd steps away from the table, and I watch his retreat. Dillard glances back over his shoulder and gives the table a thumbs-up as if he’s proud of us.
“What the hell?” I blurt.
“Damn, I knew I liked you,” Canyon states.
“Let me out of the booth. I see someone I know.” The strain in Blade’s voice gives away all the sexual tension built up in him, and I hate to think he’ll sneak off to the restroom for a moment alone at the expense of Scarlett.
“I’m sorry. Was that over the top?”
Canyon laughs, and I give in to a chuckle. “I heard what he said, and Rita mentioned he’s one of those wankier guys who peaked in high school and can’t let go of the long-gone status.” Rita’s assessment hasn’t been incorrect.
“And I’m sorry about the bovine bridegroom title, but it was creative.” She smiles sheepishly at me. “But who was that guy?”
“He’s no one,” I dismiss.
“His family’s property borders ours, and he’s been after sharing land with us for years. He’s an ass,” Canyon adds. I shake my head to agree.
“I’m sorry he spoke like that to you because of me,” Scarlett says, lowering her eyes while her hand still remains on my upper leg.
“It’s nothing,” I admit because it wasn’t the worst of things.
“But it was still because of me, and I’m sorry. Again, I’m so sorry.”
I nod once, knowing we need to talk, and I want out of this bar.
“Finished with your dinner?” I ask, twisting to look over my shoulder and back at her empty booth.
“Yeah, Rita said she had to see someone about her charity work.”
“Let’s step outside,” I suggest, and Scarlett nods to agree.
“Will you need me to drive you home?” Canyon questions, narrowing his sights on someone across the bar. He’s really asking if he can stay a little longer.
“I can give him a ride,” Scarlett says, and Canyon turns back to her.
“Now that we all know you like to ride the bull . . .” His teasing voice falls away, and Scarlett laughs, covering her face.
“It was too much, wasn’t it?”
Actually, it was perfect. Scarlett stood up for me. Not that I can’t defend myself but calling me her man was nice to hear. Having someone take my side was also nice. Recalling what my dad said earlier, though, it wasn’t just someone, but a certain someone, and that made it all the better.
18
Them’s Fighting words
Bull
Once we step outside, Scarlett stops by the trunk of her car. Crossing her arms, she faces me.
“You remember that my husband cheated on me with another woman, right?” She pauses. The playfulness of inside is forgotten, and my early position recalled. “I want to believe I can trust you.”
My mouth falls open. “Says the woman paid to lie about others.” My bitterness returns, swirling inside me with a mix of conflicting emotions.
“Bull, I know you’re hurting, and after what I witnessed in there with red ass, I understand even more. But I’m going to break this down for you. First, I do trust you. You’ve allowed me into your home, haven’t taken advantage of me, and provided for me, which also encompasses care and concern for Sprout. But I don’t ever want to see you in the arms of another woman again. You need a hug, I’m your woman.”
My mouth falls open to protest, but Scarlett continues.
“Maybe you shouldn’t trust me.” Her voice turns distant as her fingers fist in the material at the sides of her dress. “Trust is earned, and I’ve done nothing to prove myself to you. But here’s what I have done. I’ve been in your bed every night, giving you my body and my—”
What? What else is she giving me?
“ . . . my faith in you, that you’re a good man wanting to do the right thing.”
My shoulders sag at the answer, and I find it’s not what I’d hoped she’d say.
“I hate the way that man just spoke to you, and I hate that it’s because of me.”
I shake my head with a bitter chuckle. “Scarlett, forget Redd. He’s a nuisance, but he’s harmless. It’s only words.”
“But you shouldn’t have to listen to such things.”
“I don’t.” Most days, I ignore Redd because he’s just as she called him, a red ass.
We stand in silence for a moment. She looks up at me while I avoid her piercing gaze as though she’s reading me and coming to some conclusions.
“Being a man of honor, I know you’ll understand that I need to know the truth about Sprout. Finding out the paternity of Sprout is more about me than you.”
“How?” I question.
“I need to know he has nothing over me. I don’t want him to think he has any right to our child, and a test will prove he doesn’t. And if the test proves he is the biological father, I need to prepare for battle because he will not go near our kid without one helluva fight.”
I scratch at the back of my neck, dumbfounded by the conviction in her voice.
“Does he need to know? He doesn’t want you, Scarlett, and I don’t mean that to be hurtful. He’d only use Sprout.” I don’t know that man, but I know enough to sense he’d only use his child as a means to an end.
“I don’t want to tell him. I already told him Sprout wasn’t his, but I need to know the truth for me. I need to have proof it isn’t Shelton’s. I’d feel better knowing I’m not hanging onto a piece of him. But notice I said our child because in my heart, Sprout is yours. There’s a difference between being the father of a child and actually being a dad to a child. You’ll be Sprout’s daddy in every sense of the word if that’s what you want. That’s my gift to you. We promised to be partners, and unless you’d like to renege that offer, I’m staying put. If you don’t want me in the house, I can move somewhere close, but I think Vermont is the best place to raise our child. Our child. And this is where you live.”
She waves out a hand at me. Her eyes blink a few times, and I notice her swallowing hard before she continues.
“You don’t want to marry me, and I get that. It comes from fear, Bull.” Her voice softens. “Fear of being left behind. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being good enough. But I wish you could turn that fear into faith because I’m standing here, Bull, telling you that you are good enough. You are worthy of love. You are not going to be left behind by me. I accept things as they are, so I need you to accept me as I am. I made a mistake, a huge mistake, and I’m asking you to forgive me for it.”
She harshly swipes at the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.
“Bull, you’ve done more for me in the past few months than Shelton did in years of marriage. I fricked up, but I won’t give up the goodness you’ve done for me. I won’t pretend it didn’t happen because it did. You’re good for me. We’re good together, and together is how I want us to be in whatever form that takes.”
I stare at her as her chest heaves, and she brushes another tear off her cheek.
“I’m done now,” she says, crossing her arms and looking off in the distance.
Stumped by all she’d poured out to me, the only thing I can think to say first is: “Did something happen with Shelton?” When did it come about that she might have a custody battle with him?
“He called me this afternoon.”
The words are a sucker punch to the gut, and I step closer to her.
“What did he want?”
“He wants me to come to Boston.”
“Over my dead body,” I growl. Gripping her upper arms, I beg her with my eyes not to leave.
“Which is what I told
him.”
Scarlett told me how he wanted sex with her, and that’s why he’d shown up at the farm. He wanted her back because he was a horny bastard. However, he cannot have his wife back. He cannot have Sprout. They are mine.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to the top of her head. God, I’ve missed her. Instantly, one hand falls to her belly, and her hand covers mine. The thought of her leaving makes me sick. If she went back to Boston, would she think the farm wasn’t enough for her? Would she fall in love with the city again and decide Vermont was too quiet, too peaceful, too . . . anything other than the city? Would she want her old life back?
“Stay with me,” I whisper to her.
“I’m not going anywhere unless you go with me, Bull.”
Once we return to the house, I just need a minute, and I use checking on the cows as an excuse to get time to collect my thoughts. Scarlett certainly laid a lot on me in the parking lot at the Goat. First, her feisty spirit had me rocking a hard-on even as she schooled me with my fears. She was right about everything she said, but I’m still not certain I agree with her.
I want to be good enough.
I want to be worthy of her love.
I want her to stick around.
I take a long walk in the summer evening before returning to the house. Momentary panic seizes me when Scarlett isn’t in the guest room, but then I find her curled up on my bed. Standing beside it, taking a long minute to observe her, I fight the questions in my head. Should I ask her to marry me?
She said she understood why I haven’t and accepted how we are, but is it really enough for her?
“Bull?” she questions, her voice foggy. “You okay?” She offers no explanation for being in my bed.
I’m not going anywhere without you.
“I’m good,” I say, finding I partially believe myself. I have a few things of my own I’d like to tell her, but her sleepy state tells me now isn’t the time.
“Come to bed,” she whispers, and my chest caves when she holds out a hand, wiggling her fingers for me to take. Pressing a knee to the bed, I lower to my side, facing her. For a long minute, we stare at one another.