Notes in Love

by Hetherington, Megan

  “Please, Lacey?”

  Seems Lacey’s not interested in discussing last night as she continues to ignore me and dips a spoon into the yogurt and ladles it into a bowl.

  I rake my hand through my hair. What the fuck is wrong with her? Why is she acting like this?

  Then I zero in on the spoon. It shakes. She shakes. And the question shifts to me. What am I doing, and why am I being like this?

  I clear my throat and prepare my body for stepping up to her and hugging her tight. Whatever has happened and made her like this can be fixed. It’s what my mom says, “nothing is too bad it can’t be fixed with a hug”.

  With a clang, she drops the spoon in the bowl and turns to me. “I am not one of your cheap hookups,” she says each word quietly and with a tremor.

  A black scarf flashes over my eyes. “What?” I bellow.

  She steps back, cowering in her skin.

  I launch forward and grab her shoulders, desperate to tell her that’s not how I see her. Eager to know why she would even say that. Nothing happened between us last night. I stopped before I even started. It was obvious she didn’t want me. Either she’s not ready or doesn’t see me that way.

  She bites down on her lip, and I clench my jaw when I see tears mist her eyes.

  I’ve done this to her.

  I’ve given off some shitty vibes that make her think I’m only interested in one thing. And nothing more. That she means so little to me. And then I fucking call her out for it.

  I’m the shittiest fucking loser around.

  “I don’t think of you that way,” I say, softly.

  She shirks her shoulders free of my grasp, picks up the bowl and rushes out of the kitchen.

  I slump against the counter, looking out across the kitchen to the yard.

  Amber strolls over the lawn, barefooted, trailing a hand through the long-stemmed flowers that nod near her waist. It’s a small part of our lands that is manicured and not given over to nature. A place for women. A place I don’t venture in. And maybe that’s it; I don’t understand women. And here is another case in point. I need to stop trying to go back to how I was before. I should stick to hookups with girls who want the same thing as me. Everything and then nothing. Where communication is simple. No complications.

  I lean over the counter, my hands in fists and my head hung. Slowly, I swing my head from side to side.

  Even those hookups are becoming complicated. Take Louise the other night as an example. And I can’t say that is the only time that has happened—a hookup wanting more.

  Then there’s Lacey. Since she came on the scene, I’ve found I have a different need. To have a conversation. To curl up and watch TV with someone. To join me on a horseback ride up to the mountains or alongside the creek. To share moments like those in the cowshed last night.

  I raise my head to the ceiling with the stark realization. That’s never gonna happen. I will never have a relationship like that again. I give off a vibe, one I’ve perfected for so long. I’m a one-night stand type of guy and it pulses through my pores like a pheromone.

  I bang on the counter, shifting the energy both inside and out.

  Last night with Lacey lying at my side, I should have just enjoyed it for what it was. Instead, I pushed her to a place she didn’t want to go. One minute I was sliding my hand around her shoulder and on toward the sweet-smelling valley between her breasts, and yeah, I’ll admit I was desperate to suck on the cherry nipples that poked through the delicate lace of her bra. The next moment she froze like a dessert. As if it was the last thing she wanted. As if I was the last thing she wanted.

  I stopped. Of course I fucking stopped, I’m not some kind of rapist. The look in her eyes was enough to tell me I had gone too far. So I slid my hand back and pulled the comforter over her breasts. Tucked her under my arm and held her close until we both fell asleep.

  But this morning she was gone, leaving nothing but a faint smell of bubblegum from her shampoo and creases on the pillow. But she was gone. And that triggered my reaction this morning. It’s not her fault, it’s entirely mine.

  It’s too much to leave this as it is so I race up the stairs, two at a time, and bang on her bedroom door. My forehead rests against the cool wood, waiting for her to respond.

  “Lacey,” I murmur onto the mahogany.

  There’s a scraping of wood on the floor and the lock turns. I step back and take a deep breath.

  Slowly, the handle dips, and my stomach does too.

  With no greeting, she opens the door and steps back into the room. Her head hangs, avoiding my gaze. I follow her in.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurts.

  “No, Lacey, it’s me, not you. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. It’s only what you… it hit a nerve.”

  She backs toward the window, her blonde hair illuminated by the sun. I’m desperate to run my fingers through it and pull her in close. I’m no good with words. I want to heal everything in the way I know best. But that’s not appropriate. I fold my arms to curb my want.

  “But, where you go every evening. What Amber jokes about you—.”

  “It’s exactly that.” I fix my gaze on her. “A joke. But that’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s okay, Colt, you don’t have to explain.”

  “I do.”

  “No, really, it’s fine. I’m fine with it.”

  Slowly, I pivot my head back and forth in disagreement. “No, you’re not and you shouldn’t be.” I sigh. “I had mutual agreements with the women I hooked up with. None of us wanted anything more. A one-night stand of convenience. I’ve never used a woman’s company or trifled with her emotions. But all that’s stopped now.”

  She rests on the windowsill; her hands lightly grip the painted wood. Listening. Waiting for me to say more. It feels like I have a chance.

  “I… I have set a fence around myself when it comes to women. What Ellen did to me was unforgivable, but I should have chalked it up to experience and moved on. Instead, I harbored the pain and turned it into this dismal relationship I have with women now. And without explaining that to you, I can see how you would have thought that’s what I was doing last night. But that’s not how I feel… how this feels between us.” I’m in unchartered territory right now. I’ve never opened up to anyone about my feelings; the distrust and fear hit hard after Ellen left. I turned into somebody else to protect myself.

  “This?”

  Her question gives me hope. “You and me. Surely you feel it too?”

  Her eyelids flutter as if she needs to break my stare but can’t, so while I have her attention I continue.

  “I shouldn’t have moved on you like that.” I grunt at myself. That didn’t sound good. “I misinterpreted the moment.” I run my fingers through my hair. “This in no way impacts your position here and if you want to stay friends that’s good with me.”

  She turns her head away from me and my gaze drops to where she wrings a fist around her wrist. I’ve fucked up.

  “Colt.” She pushes off the window ledge and takes half a step forward.

  My heartbeat quickens while I wait for her to say more.

  “I’m sorry, I felt uncomfortable last night. Unprepared.”

  None of that makes sense, but I don’t respond. I don’t want to fuck up this moment.

  She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have led you on—”

  “No,” I say firmly. “You didn’t lead me on.” My chest grows heavy. Why does she think she led me on? “It was all me. I shouldn’t have muscled in.”

  She looks at her fingertips as they garner her interest. “Can we start again?”

  I sigh with relief. “From what point?” Hopeful for any answer.

  She shrugs. “Chocolate.”

  I smile. “I was hoping you would say that.” I lie, but grateful to take any second chance I am given right now.

  “I’m with your mom today, but maybe after dinner.” Her words are hesitant and I need to brush that hesitancy as
ide. A challenge.

  “Yeah, I’ve got stuff on the ranch too. Tonight sounds good to me.” That will give me time to think this over.

  “Colt, I…”

  I stand firm, waiting for her, anticipation and despair curdling in my stomach.

  “I do… like you.” She sucks in her bottom lip as if she’s nervous of my reaction.

  A smile teeters on my face. “I’m glad about that. Because I like you too.”

  She steps in and rises onto her tiptoes, brushing her lips onto mine.

  My stomach flips over with the shock and I bolt out of the door before I do something she is not ready for.

  Twelve

  Lacey

  As he walks from my room, tears sting hot in my eyes. I fall onto the bed and rub my hands up and down my face.

  Did I mean what I just told him? And that kiss—what was that? Did I repeat a scene from my past, where I would deal with an angry guy by pulling on every female instinct I have to avert a meltdown? I became the mistress of that. Coaxing. Soothing. Persuading. And is that what I just did?

  Colt seemed fine to stop last night and respect my wishes, and I loved that about him. It made me feel safe. But this morning he was different, and when I said he made me feel like a hookup, his anger burst through. Maybe he’s just one of those guys that blames me for everything. I have plenty of experience with that. They have a hangover—it’s my fault. They lose their latest gamble—it’s my fault. They’re bored—it’s my fault. I pushed away his advances—.

  No, that’s not the Colt I’ve seen. The cowboy with the soft heart. If it was, I’d be long gone. I don’t need to get involved with another psychopath and I’d know one if I saw one, let alone accept an invitation to his bedroom.

  Sure, Colt has a reputation, but I’m not convinced that’s how he was with me. He said he’d stopped all that and that seems true; I haven’t noticed him go out after dinner for a while now. But he is certainly screwed up from Ellen leaving, although I get the feeling there was more to that than has been revealed. And I’m sure he’s determined never to have another meaningful relationship.

  It’s more likely the problem is me. My reaction to his emotion this morning. I’m thinking too much into it. I mean really, what would a night with a hot dude like Colt do to me? I could think of worse ways to begin to tackle some of my inhibitions and fears.

  I broke some of my self-erected barriers last night. Had fun with a guy. Stared at his body. Fanned my sexual desires. I should have let nature take its course.

  I mean, everything was great last night, perfect, even; I might have known it wouldn’t last and that I would ruin it.

  What would Amber do in this situation? Shrug it off, I guess. Or follow up on that kiss and enjoy a steamy night with the guy in question.

  Slowly, I uncurl and stand straight. Ruffling out my hair from the elastic band, I tug a brush roughly through it and pull it into a tight ponytail. I’ve been doing so well. I rub my hands over my eyes and grit my teeth. I’m recovering and healing and I can’t let this put me back. And anyway, why should it? This is a hot guy making a pass at me. Telling me there’s an attraction between us and inviting me to act on it. And maybe I should.

  But I can’t dwell on it all day; I need to go to Mrs. Corrigan.

  The front door slams shut and Colt strides out across the yard to the horse barns. Moments later he emerges, straddles Prince, and trots out of sight. Time apart today will give us both the space to think on what this all means.

  I take the uneaten bowl of yogurt downstairs and store it in the fridge for later. Then I scramble some eggs for Mrs. Corrigan and pile them on heavily buttered toast. She’s still in her sleepwear, so I wrap a blanket around her shoulders as she sits at her favorite morning chair to eat the toast and push the eggs around the plate while we chat about life on the ranch. I tell her of my horseback ride with Colt. And she opens up about the times she would take the three of them as children on horse treks and camp-outs. How Colt was always the sweetest with the horses, brushing them down, making sure they had the best pasture to graze on, and took enough water from the creek. Her eyes are alight with memories.

  For a good hour, I don’t even think about my exchange with Colt this morning. I’m lost in Mrs. Corrigan’s world and, like a TV show, it’s full of larger-than-life characters and an entertaining plot.

  I help her dress and she continues to talk about life on the ranch and I dare to ask her when it all changed. She speaks lucidly about her husband’s illness, but her memory seems to fade and the specifics become more general until eventually she clams up.

  Studying the bottles of medication, I give her the required dose and let her have a nap. I need to keep busy, do something while she sleeps. I glance at the book, Notes in Love, but it’s not fair to read it without her, so I forego that and research her symptoms and medication. It’s crazy, but I repeatedly stumble on the same theory and I decide to think it over with a walk through the orchard that extends up the side of the hill.

  Looking back at the ranch, I sit and take it all in. It’s like an oil painting, full of color and small strokes. I rest back on my hands and kick my boots off, wriggling my toes in the warm air. This is paradise, and to stay here is within my grasp. A nice job, a friend in Amber, a hot guy to hook up with. Yeah, paradise. Or is that a dream? My fingers are coated with gasoline, and nothing I touch can be mine without setting it on fire and razing it to the ground.

  Like toy characters from a children’s play farm, the ranch hands trot their horses back to the office to pick up their lunches. Colt stands out like a beacon amongst them. I watch him intently from the safety of my elevated position. Taller. Broader. Gracious and confident in his movements.

  I think on what he said to me about how he is. It seems Ellen broke his heart, and he became addicted to hookups and casual relationships. Well, maybe that is okay. I can’t give him anything more than a casual fling because I’m not staying long enough. I can’t reveal to these people who I really am, and even if I did, Colt wouldn’t like me then. And whatever there is between us would end then for sure.

  Anyway, I’m sure once a heart has been broken it never mends the same. He distrusts women and that will never change. Ellen has seen to that. And to be honest, I’m happy for him to distrust me because that way I won’t disappoint.

  Thirteen

  Lacey

  Colt wasn’t at dinner again tonight; Blue said he was working late with the ranch hands. It’s calving season and they often work overnight to make sure their prized heifers are okay. I hope he doesn’t have to face another night like last night.

  Dinner is pleasant enough, but the time drags. I offer to clean up and, with a little persuasion, everyone accepts, although Amber must sense my motives as she asks me to make sure Colt doesn’t get to bed too late tonight. He’s promised to help her set up some jumps in the horse corral tomorrow morning. Her accompanying wink makes me smile and feel nauseous at the same time. It seems she has forgiven the treacherous way he took me on a horseback trek without basic instruction in the corral. I suppose there was no harm done. And I’m also sure Colt wouldn’t have been too concerned either. He exudes confidence and is sure anyone and anything in his care will come to no harm.

  When they’re all out of the way, I clean up and set to making a batch of oat bran muffins for the ranch hands to munch on in the morning. Maybe I can leave them in the ranch office tonight and check up on Colt. I clench the bowl tight in the crook of my elbow when I hear the front door open and close, and boots thud on the entranceway floor.

  Slowly, I beat the mixture in time to each weary step on the stairs. Colt will probably not bother coming down tonight. He sounds exhausted.

  I yawn at the thought. I’m tired myself; I lay awake for most of last night, not daring to move in case I woke Colt, then sneaking off to my bed and lying awake there too.

  Lost in my pondering, I slide a tray with the muffins into the oven and rest back on the counter, stif
fening when I hear Colt come downstairs. I’m used to the noise of his steps, they’re quicker and lighter than Blue’s and heavier than Josie or Amber’s. And they are the only ones that affect me.

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I turn to him. “Hey,” I say nervously, feeling like a giddy teenager. Furtively, I try to take in every drop of his delicious looking body, unusually clothed in a tight black tee tucked into his jeans.

  He smiles. A bold, eye-latching smile, which sends my body into a frenzy and creates a desperate need to get away from the heat of the oven.

  “How’s your day been?” I ask, finding it difficult to break his stare, which sucks me in deeper and deeper.

  He pouts his lips, and a sizzle simmers in his eyes; a warning something is about to come my way.

  “Long,” he finally answers with a husky tone. My knee caps quiver under the cover of denim.

  “I’m making breakfast muffins for the ranch hands.” I say chirpily, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet. “I promised I would bake some for them.”

  “Uhuh.” He rubs at his lips.

  “Thought they might need something to keep them going.” I stare longingly at his lips that have plumped under his touch.

  “Sure.”

  “Amber said they loved the brownies, but I can’t make them every day. They won’t thank me when their waistbands get tight.”

  His expression tells me he’s not listening, or at least not wanting to engage in such meaningless chit chat.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, cocking my head to one side.

  His jaw tenses and he nods with what seems like a reluctant action. His eyes smolder under hooded lids, and I feel like a mule deer about to be pounced on.

  “There’re leftovers from dinner.” I continue to openly avoid the obvious chemistry sparking between us.

  I fling open the refrigerator doors and stick my head inside to cool my heated cheeks. Without turning, I set boxes onto the counter and hope when I eventually quit stalling that he’s calmed down somewhat. But no such luck. He stands firm, his arms hang at his side and his gaze is fixed—like I’m the only thing for him to look at in this room.