Demise of a Self-Centered Playboy

by Piper Rayne

  Holly’s lips tip down while I picture a disappointed little boy with a mop of brown hair.

  “The next time, they got him a cat. He almost smothered the thing. He kept it on a collar and leash. He wanted that thing with him all the time. He’d squeeze it so hard, I thought its eyes would pop out. As soon as it got old enough, it would hide from Denver.”

  “Denver and pets aren’t compatible,” Ethel agrees.

  I wonder how long they’ve been friends?

  “Worst was Glacier.” Dori shakes her head. “It wasn’t Denver’s fault, but everyone kind of made fun with him and told him it was.”

  Ethel joins the conversation. “They got a shelter dog, and of course the dog couldn’t pee without Denver standing guard over him. He ran away after a month and no one ever saw him again.”

  I take the meaning of each story and add on his parents dying and finally figure out what Denver’s so scared of. He doesn’t want to love anyone or commit to anything because he doesn’t want his heart broken either. We have the same fear. That’s what Holly meant in the bathroom.

  “My Denver loves hard and fierce, or at least he used to. But he acts like it’s a deadly disease now. So when I asked you if you liked him, I meant do you like him enough to fight for him. I see the way he looks at you,” Dori says. “The way he’s been caring for you just like that goldfish, the cat, and Glacier the dog. But he’s probably not going to admit it without a little help.”

  I push away my club sandwich. This is not what I came here looking for. I wanted to know if I should sleep with him. Some conversation with other women who, at one time, had to have felt torn. I know Harley and Rome’s story is different and with a lot more baggage, but at some point, she had to decide to trust him. And Austin and Holly had to learn how to mesh a personal and professional relationship.

  I definitely didn’t want to know that Denver is like a wounded shelter dog who’s been returned time and time again so that he no longer trusts or believes that people won’t disappoint him. That does nothing to stop me from sleeping with him. If anything, I want to hug and kiss him and tell him what a great guy he is.

  “Is this why you’ve stayed out of it with them?” Holly asks Dori.

  Holly’s partially right. Since the family dinner, Dori has disappeared. From the stories Phoenix tells, it sounds as though Dori has a hand in every Bailey couple. I kind of figured she saw something between Denver and me and backed off because I wasn’t the right fit for her grandchild.

  She sets her spoon down beside her bowl. “Every couple needs something different.” Dori touches Holly’s hand. “So I’m going to ask you again, Cleo, do you like Denver?”

  I swallow, and all their eyes land on me. “I think I do.”

  “Think?” Ethel says.

  “Do. I do,” I correct, and Holly and Harley laugh.

  Harley reaches across the table. “I know it wasn’t what you were looking for when you came here, but I think it still answers your question.”

  Lucky for us, Dori stops the waitress to ask about dessert.

  Harley lowers her voice. “The whole ‘sleep with him now and figure it out later’ thing isn’t really an option with Denver. At least not where you’re concerned.”

  That’s a gut check. If I’m so wounded, how could I ever hope to heal someone else’s pain?

  Twenty-Two

  Denver

  I’m in the office when Cleo barrels in with a brown box. “I brought you lunch.”

  I look up from the new logos the graphic designer sent over. We won’t be able to change all the signage at once, but the advance from Uncovering America’s Beauty will help. “Thanks.”

  “And I want to go to my dad’s. Will you come with me?” She must see my surprised expression because she adds. “If not, I can do it by myself. I shouldn’t ask you, it’s just—”

  I stand and round the desk. “How many cups of coffee did you have?”

  “None, I had iced tea.”

  “If you want to drive, I’ll eat on the way and we can go now.” I grab my jacket from the back of the door, and she smiles at me.

  “You’re going to let me drive your truck?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  She shakes her head. “No reason. Has anyone told you you’re a good guy?”

  Now I crinkle my forehead. “What’s going on?”

  She’s trying really hard to act as if everything’s normal, but she’s practically bouncing from one foot to the other. “I want to heal. I’m sick of it weighing me down. I need to feel him again instead of just the loss of him.”

  “Okay.” I pick up the brown take-out box and toss her the keys. We lock up the office. Nancy’s at lunch, so I’ll text her on the ride. “I forgot to tell you, Nancy made us cold brew this morning.”

  “She did?”

  “Well, she poured coffee over ice.” I shake my head.

  Cleo laughs. “She’s really trying.”

  “Yeah. I think she misses her role. I never really knew what it was.”

  We climb into the truck and sitting in the driver’s seat makes Cleo look like a child. “You want a book or something to sit on?”

  “Haha.” She starts the truck, puts it in reverse, and I almost choke on my sandwich when she accelerates back. “You have touchy gas.”

  I raise my eyebrows like “Whatever you say.”

  Fifteen minutes later, my truck is parked in front of Chip’s house for the third time with Cleo next to me, but she seems determined this time. We climb out, and I follow her to the door of his cabin-style house.

  I put my hand on her back, and she stills with the key in the lock. “Are you sure?”

  She looks at me, and I want so desperately to kiss her and assure her that I’m here to catch her if she falls. “I’m sure.”

  Covering her hand with mine, we turn the key together. The doorknob turns, and the door opens. The scent of stale cigarette smoke accosts us first, but Cleo doesn’t seem to notice.

  She stands in the entryway that’s pretty much the family room. The green-and-red plaid couch-and-chair matching combo sits in front of a television. His paper and a pair of his reading glasses are next to the chair on a TV tray. A kitchen table has a bouquet of fake flowers in a vase. The small kitchen is neat and organized. In all the times I was here this place was never this clean or organized.

  “Do you think someone else has been here?” I ask.

  Cleo looks at me. “Did you come back after he went to hospice?”

  I shake my head.

  “I came once to clean the kitchen when he was still in hospice care, but the table was overflowing with books on Alaska and planes.” She walks in farther, her curiosity now overriding her fear of being here in the first place. Opening up the fridge, she finds a small cake and half gallon of milk. She sticks her hand in. “It’s cold.” When she shuts the fridge and opens the freezer on top, she pulls out an ice cube tray. “These aren’t even completely frozen yet. This is weird.”

  She heads to the back where his bedroom and bathroom are. “The bed is made, and I know I didn’t do that. I’d been thinking I had to clean the sheets but couldn’t do it.”

  I stare at two bins stacked on the kitchen table. A label in Chip’s handwriting on the top box says, “Important papers box number one.” What must it be like to know you’re leaving this earth?

  I’ve imagined what my parents’ thoughts might have been right before their snowmobile hit the tree. Did they cling to one another? Think of all of us? Did they think that this might hurt or know that they were going to die? Or did it come out of nowhere and they were laughing and then all of a sudden there was nothing?

  To be able to plan things out as Chip was able to… I’m not sure which way is better. Especially because as much as I admire Chip, his daughter is still searching for her place in this world. She never found peace with their relationship, and now she has to do it by looking through his things. Isn’t a death bed made to seek forgiveness from the on
es you’ve wronged so that the person you’ve wronged can accept and forgive you because they want you to go in peace?

  Cleo comes out of the back room. “Someone else has been here. The bathmat is new and so are the towels.”

  “These are clearly labeled.” I point at the boxes.

  Her shoulders fall. “I don’t understand. I mean, did he hire a cleaning crew? I’m so confused.” She almost looks disappointed that she can’t do it herself.

  “Do you want to go through the boxes?”

  “I want to find out who else has a key to this house. Was he dating anyone?” she asks, then spies something on the mantel of the fireplace and she moves over to it.

  I’ve seen the picture before, but it was always in his office. It’s of a young Cleo standing at the side of a local river and holding a fish up that she caught.

  Her fingers run along the frame and she picks it up. “I remember this day. It was the first time I’d caught a big fish and my dad tried to teach me how to clean it. I was so grossed out.” A sad smile tilts her lips. She shakes her head, clutching the photo to her chest.

  “Do you wanna sit down?” I wrap my arm around her waist because the longer she stands, the paler she becomes.

  She places the picture back on the mantel. “Denver?”

  “Yeah?” I crowd her, wanting to be here for her in whatever way she needs.

  “I want to leave,” she says softly.

  “Okay.”

  We climb back into my truck, but this time, I’m driving.

  “I think that was a success,” I say.

  “I think I choked,” she says, staring out the window as I drive through Lake Starlight.

  “You went all the way to the bedroom.”

  “Only because I felt like we were the three bears looking to find out who ate our porridge.”

  “It is odd,” I say. “Maybe we should ask Luther Lloyd.” Her eyes bulge out as I turn down the next road to take a back way to his office. “He should know, right?”

  “I imagine so.”

  Her mood improves with the idea that she’ll at least get the answer and a piece of the Chip puzzle will be solved. Cleo doesn’t like the unknown, and Chip’s life is a lot of unknowns.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re back outside of Luther Lloyd’s office with no answers.

  According to Luther, Cleo was given the only key. No one should be occupying the house without consent from her. He asked her a bunch of questions about whether she was sure it was different than after he went to hospice. As if she was delusional and maybe she was grieving and forgot she’d made the bed and cleaned up.

  “He thinks I’m crazy,” she says as we descend the stairs.

  “I know you’re not.”

  “Do you think he has another… child?”

  “No!” But I question whether I would know. He talked about Cleo, but for the most part, he was quiet about his personal affairs.

  “A wife?”

  “No.”

  I open my truck door, and she slides in. “Do we call the police?”

  I shut the door to have time to think about what to do. I round the front of the truck. It’s all so odd. Our police department isn’t huge, and maybe we’re jumping to conclusions. Maybe he did have a girlfriend who cleaned up but then stopped coming.

  I’ve already made our reservations for the trip to spread Chip’s ashes. We’re scheduled to leave tomorrow. I hope this new development won’t jeopardize that.

  I climb into the truck and start the engine, but Cleo’s still deep in thought. “We’ll still leave tomorrow. When we return, if we find something out of place, then we’ll alert the police that something is going on.”

  She nods. “Okay, that sounds like a plan. I hope it was someone he shared his life with. That would make me happy, because I was such a shitty daughter.”

  My hand touches her thigh, but I move it because we’re crossing those boundaries we’ve been doing so well with. Well, doing so okay with. I wouldn’t give us an A, but a solid C for sure.

  She yanks my hand back and covers mine with hers. “I need this right now.”

  I pull the truck to the side of the road and get out before walking around to her side. I yank open her door as she looks at me as if I’m crazed. Opening my arms, I wave her to me.

  She doesn’t wait, she unclips her seatbelt, and almost falls into my arms. I hold her as tightly as I can.

  “We’ll figure this out, I promise,” I whisper into her ear.

  She doesn’t cry or sob, but her body sinks into mine. I could hold her like this for days. After a few minutes, she steps back, and my arms feel empty.

  “There you go being nice again.” She laughs and climbs back into the truck, shutting the door.

  Realization dawns on me. My need to fix everything in her life, to put her above myself… I need to give her some space before I smother her, and she runs away forever.

  Twenty-Three

  Cleo

  The next morning we’re back at Lifetime Adventures, except this time Denver is packing my dad’s plane. The only good thing about taking Dad’s plane is that we’ll be able to sit side by side.

  “I’m bringing a tent just in case, but we can play it by ear,” he says.

  “Okay, but the cabins… are we…”

  He turns around from having his ass in front of my face, which wasn’t a problem for me. “Sharing, yeah. Sorry, but I’ll sleep on the floor or in the bathtub. We just don’t have the money for two—”

  I put up my hand to stop him. “No, of course not. We’ll figure out a few new rules.”

  Truth is, I’m done with the rules. After what Dori said, I decided to admit that I do like Denver and I’m done denying it. But there’s still the problem of how he feels about me. Attraction is one thing. Commitment is another.

  I’ve been taking his nurturing me to mean he cares about more than how good my ass looks in jeans, but what if he’s doing it because he likes to take care of others? Then I remember Dori’s words. Is it because he likes me too that he wants to make sure I’m okay? Ugh, maybe my life was better in Dallas when I was a loser who’d ruined my stepdad’s cattle farm, and everyone looked at me as though I wasn’t quite good enough.

  “Make sure to give me some notice, because I’ll need to mentally prepare to adhere to our rules.” His eyes light up with mischief, and my stomach ripples with warmth.

  “Hey, you two.” Nancy strolls into the hangar. “I made you guys a jug of cold brew to take with you.” She holds it out to me. It’s in a thermos, and not one that looks as though it can go hot and cold.

  I take it and hand it to Denver to pack. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re the best,” he says.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” I whisper to her as Denver goes into the plane to arrange all the gear.

  Nancy looks at me skeptically but steps away.

  “We’ll be right back,” I say.

  Denver nods and waves.

  When we’re a safe distance away, I stop her. “I want to redo the office. Nothing major, but at least get us two desks. I’m done with sitting criss-cross applesauce in the chair because there’s nowhere for my legs.”

  Nancy laughs.

  “So could you… and if I’m overstepping, please let me know.” I put my hands up in front of me in a placating gesture.

  “Cleo, I’m literally dying of boredom. Please, whatever it is, I’m happy to do it.”

  I chuckle. “Thanks. I was hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. So I have two desks being delivered. They should fit in the office. The biggest thing I need is my dad’s stuff gone. Don’t throw anything away. Maybe just box it up and we can go through it later?”

  “Sure.” She touches my upper arm. “It’ll all be handled when you come back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What you and Denver are doing with Lifetime Adventures is awesome. You two deserve to make this your own. I’m really proud of you.”

  I
can’t remember the last time a person said that to me. “That means a lot to me.”

  She hugs me. “I hope you stay.”

  I haven’t made a final decision on what I’m going to do. Right now I’m taking it as it comes. Besides, a lot will depend on what happens with the show. Everything in Lake Starlight feels right. My eyes linger on Denver, who’s getting out of the plane. Everything really feels right with him too.

  “I like it here,” I say to her.

  Nancy pulls back, her hands clasped on my upper arms. “You’re so much like your dad.” She points at my heart. “Always guarding that gentle muscle.” Her gaze wavers to Denver and back to me. “I wish everyone could just love. No game playing.”

  “In a perfect world.” I act as if I have no idea she’s referring to Denver and me.

  “Ready, Cleo?” Denver says, brushing something off his jeans.

  “Yeah.”

  “How many ugly retro snowsuits did you pack? Your luggage was heavy.” He laughs, and Nancy does as well.

  I hug her one more time. “See you Monday.”

  “Have a safe trip, you two.”

  Denver walks by Nancy and kisses her temple. “Thanks, Nance, but you know I’m an expert.”

  “Don’t jinx us,” I say.

  He stops at the door before pushing it open. “There’s no jinxing when you’re in my hands.”

  Nancy purses her lips and widens her eyes like, ‘How can you not fall for this man?’

  Ten minutes later, we’re side by side in the airplane, and I get to witness Denver do what he loves without peeking over his shoulder. There go my ovaries again, putting the man beside me at the top of their to-do list.

  We travel north, according to what Denver says over the radio. He’s much more vocal this trip, as if he’s giving a tour. I’m still awestruck over the ease with which he maneuvers the plane. He flies lower over the valley between two mountain ranges then comes back up as though he’s moving with the mountains and the terrain. Everything is flawless and makes me feel as if I could be sitting on a big comfy cloud gliding through the air.