“You’re pretty wise, Ruby. I like how you combined superficial fashion advice with high-quality life advice.”
“It’s one of my special gifts. I’m a complicated individual.” She shrugged with a grin. Then with her eyes narrowed, she pointed a finger at me. “Just don’t make me hunt him down and say yes for you. That offer still stands,” she added. Offer? It felt more like a threat to me.
“Oh, I know it still stands. Don’t worry. I want to do this. I think I’m ready for a change. Or at least, I want to be ready for a change.”
“You deserve more out of your life,” she declared. “You’re the best aunt in the world. You’re always there when I need you. I’m going to be there for you, Sabrina. I promise. I’m going to be just like Rupert Everett in My Best Friend’s Wedding.”
“Oh, freaking great, Ruby. So, we’re going to dance together at Wyatt’s eventual wedding to some blonde bimbo? Typical for my life,” I teased. I grinned at her and sipped my wine.
She threw a pillow at me. “Crap, no. I’ll be like—like a fairy godmother. Bibbidi bobbidi boo.” She reached out, booped my nose with her finger, and burst out laughing.
“Thank you, Ruby. You’re always there for me too.” I smiled at her.
Her face softened. “Well, I love you. I want you to be happy.” She stood up. “I’m going to bed. But, wish me luck. You’re not the only one who might end up with a date. Homecoming is coming up. And I have my eye on Trent Buckley.”
“Weston’s friend? Good luck, sweetheart. I love you too.”
She nodded and beamed at me before turning to leave.
I finished my wine and stood up to search my closet for the red sweater Ruby mentioned. I found it and held it in front of myself as I stood in front of the mirror. I imagined what it would be like if Wyatt asked me out. What would he say to me? Would I be able to say yes to him? Or would I struggle for words and say nothing like I did this morning?
I had managed to talk to him at the park though. I couldn’t believe that words had actually come out of my mouth. How had I done it? It must have been a fluke borne of this insane day. Maybe Mercury was in the seventh house of the rising sun, or something else astrological or possibly even scientific, like high tides or a full moon or chem trails seeping into my pores and changing my brain waves around…
I couldn’t think straight anymore.
I inhaled a huge sigh. I couldn’t even remember what we’d talked about. The kids! We had talked about the kids. I probably said something dumb. Maybe he didn’t want to ask me out anymore. What would be worse—if he forgot about me, or still wanted to go out with me?
This was my constant struggle. Did I want people to know me and maybe not like me? Or did I want people to be completely indifferent toward me and not know me at all? If I could figure that out, then I could change my life. If I could figure out why I was such a freak, it would be a miracle.
My stomach lurched as I stood there and contemplated what I wanted from my life. Then I thought of all the possible ways in which I would eventually humiliate myself in front of Wyatt and it lurched with intent. I tossed the sweater on my chaise in the corner and ran for the bathroom.
After I finished throwing up, I sent a text to Mrs. MacIntyre and told her I had the stomach flu. I crawled into bed. Dread filled my heart as I thought of waking up to see my cowardly face in the mirror. I pulled the covers over my head and fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Eight
Wyatt
It was early morning. I was in bed, something tickled my chin, and I felt purring against my chest. No, I did not have a hot date last night. Mel had stretched out on her stomach perpendicular to me on my bed to breathe down my neck. Her cat, Princess Buttercup, was the one purring. That’s right, I was spooning a cat and being poked in the face by a five-year-old girl.
“Daddy, are you awake?” She poked my cheek more insistently, then tapped me on the forehead.
No, five more minutes.
All I wanted to do was stay asleep and continue my dream. Maybe wake up alone and rub one off. Was that too much to ask? I was sporting some serious wood under these covers—didn’t I deserve to get rid of it the fun way? Plus, my dream was still playing like a movie in my brain, starring one hot assistant librarian named Sabrina.
“Daddy, I want waffles for breakfast. But I want the kind Grandma makes—out of a bowl. Not out of the freezer like you make.” She used a finger to pry open one of my eyelids and at the same time, my alarm went off on my phone. I checked the time. Shit. I must have pressed snooze a few times in my sleep.
“Okay, okay. I’m awake,” I yawned.
She hopped up and ran out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
I lifted the covers and tried to will my erection away by glaring at it. When willing it away didn’t work, I tried bargaining: “Get lost. You can come back later.” I sat there for a minute and thought of stuff I hated—doing my taxes, scrubbing the toilet, cleaning up after Princess Buttercup’s toxic hairballs—until I could get up and get the girls ready for school.
I tapped on Mak’s door as I passed it. Mak had just turned nine and she was a hater of mornings just like me. “Mak, wake up, honey. Mel, are you dressed?” I hollered as I lumbered down the short hallway, rolling my shoulders as I headed to the kitchen. My body was always stiff in the morning from my football days. I needed coffee—a lot of it. And a good workout.
Mel answered first, “Not yet. I have to feed Princess Buttercup.”
“Okay, but give him his own food this time, only one scoop!” I shouted. “No more Froot Loops.” That was not a pretty mess to clean up, no matter how colorful it was.
I made it to the kitchen and froze.
“Look, Daddy,” Mel said.
I looked and immediately wished I hadn’t. Mel was at the kitchen island dumping waffle mix into a plastic cereal bowl. I almost laughed when the powder puffed out of the attached straw—almost.
“I’m making waffles like Grandma.” Mel had located the Bisquick. There were only so many places to hide shit in this kitchen and I was beginning to fear that I would have to hide everything from her.
“Dad.” Mak crashed into my side and wrapped her arms around my waist. “It’s so cold. I want to go back to bed.”
I returned her hug, and she sagged against me.
“Come on, ladybug, get dressed. Mel is cooking us breakfast.”
Mak looked at Mel and cringed. “You’re a mess, Mel.”
Mel stuck her tongue out in response.
I opened the freezer, grabbed a box, and put some waffles into the toaster with a pointed look at Mel. She crinkled her nose and ran toward her room.
“Girls, get a move on. We overslept today. Ten minutes left! You can’t miss the bus again; it makes me late for work.”
The waffles popped up. I spread peanut butter on them, and then folded them in half like tacos. Breakfast was served.
I turned back to the automatic coffee maker and reached for my cup to fill it.
“Daddy! I can’t find my shoes!” Mel yelled.
“They are right by the clothes you picked out last night!” I yelled back.
“I don’t want those shoes anymore!” she shouted. “They are making my socks get all bunchy.” Said shoe went flying into the hallway.
I sighed, set my still empty coffee cup down, and started down the hall. “Mel, no throwing things.”
“Yeah, you could kill somebody!” Mak shouted from her room. “What if you hit Princess Buttercup? Do you want him to die?”
Mel burst into tears. “I don’t want Princess Buttercup to die. I love him,” she sobbed.
“He won’t die from a shoe.” I entered her room and tried to soothe her.
She cried harder. “These leggings are itchy.” She pulled them down her legs and tripped over them as she threw herself at me.
I caught her and picked her up. “How about some sweatpants?”
“Okay,” she sniffed. “But only pink
ones.”
“Are you ready, Mak?” I shouted.
“Yeah, Dad!” she shouted back. “Yay! Waffle tacos.” I heard her say from the kitchen.
One down.
“How about these?” I bent over and grabbed a pair of pink sweatpants.
“And the hoodie too.” She was hanging on my neck. She laughed when I bent over again to reach the hoodie.
“You like that?”
She giggled some more.
I bent again—up and down—while I reached for a pink sock, then a T-shirt, then the other sock. She laughed the whole time. This should be a workout—maybe I could bench press her later.
“I want to touch the ceiling,” she said.
I lifted her over my head.
She placed her palms on the ceiling and beamed down at me.
Worth it. Every bit.
I put her down. “Hurry and get dressed, sugar. We can’t be late.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“I can’t find my backpack,” Mak announced when I’d made it back to the kitchen.
“On the hook by the front door.”
“Oh, yeah.” She laughed.
I couldn’t blame her; in this house it was odd whenever something was where it belonged.
“Is Mommy going to call us tonight?” Mel asked when she came out of her room.
“No. She forgot she has kids,” Mak answered before I could. She stomped through the house to the front door.
I sighed. “I don’t know, ladybug. I hope so.”
“Will you remind her to call us?” Mel’s big green eyes shone with hope.
I sighed. I’d texted and called Isabelle every time she missed her calls with the girls, but she had not answered me—not once. We’d been back in Green Valley close to three months and they’d had only one brief call with their mother.
“I don’t think she’ll be calling tonight,” I admitted. Something had to give. I couldn’t keep making excuses for her. I couldn’t keep stringing the girls along with no real answers. I knew what feeling like you weren’t good enough could do to a person and I didn’t want that for my girls.
Mel’s face fell.
“But I’ll still try to remind her,” I promised. What else could I do?
“Thank you, Daddy.”
That smile, that hope in her eyes—it was going to kill me to see it gone later this evening.
I could shield the girls from a lot. Give me a homework problem to solve, a bug to squash, or someone to knock out. But there was no way to protect them from the hurt of losing their mother. There was no way to protect them from this pain. All I could do was be here to pick up the pieces, and it pissed me right off.
“Come on, ladybugs, it’s time to catch the bus,” I announced. “Backpack,” I reminded Mel when she ran for the door without it. She spun around with a laugh and ran back to get it. I slipped on my shoes and met Mak at the front door.
“She forgets everything,” Mak complained.
“Maybe she has a lot on her mind,” I suggested.
“I don’t think she has anything on her mind,” she shot back.
“Mak, not everyone deals with their feelings the same way. If you want to talk about your mom, just say something. Promise?”
She looked at me with sad eyes before hardening her expression and rolling her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
I knelt in front of her. “I love you. I’m lucky I get to be your dad.”
She blinked rapidly and looked away. “I love you too,” she whispered.
Mel entered the room, dropped her backpack on the floor, and ran at Mak and me with open arms. “I love y’all,” she said while trying to wrap us both up in her tiny arms. I gave her a squeeze then stood up.
“I love you too, Mel.” Mak sighed and returned her hug.
“And I love you both—the most.” I smiled at them and then snagged Mel’s backpack from the floor. I threw it over my shoulder and opened the front door. “After you, my ladies.” I swept my arm out as I held the door for them.
“Daddy, you are so silly.” Mel giggled and skipped down the front walk.
Thankfully, we made it to the bus stop on time.
When I finally made it back inside, I decided to skip coffee at home and go straight to the shower. I could grab a coffee with Jackson at Daisy’s Nut House on the way to the station. I shot him a text and we arranged to meet there.
I stepped under the hot spray. I let it beat down on my shoulders while I tried to stop thinking, worrying, driving myself crazy.
It was barely seven thirty in the morning and I already wanted to go back to bed. These sleepless nights were doing me in. I didn’t cope well when I couldn’t fix a problem.
I adjusted the water, closed my eyes, and let my mind drift. I smiled involuntarily when it drifted back to sweet Sabrina with the gorgeous red lips, long black curls, and intriguing wiggle in her walk. I had been thinking of her more than I would like to admit. That woman was a knockout, but she didn’t act like it. She had no game. Her game was so bad it became game. It was clear when I spoke with her that her shyness embarrassed her. It shouldn’t. It was hot. It attracted me like a damn magnet. It made me want to do something cheesy, like slay a dragon for her, or protect her from something, anything—everything.
She was shy, and I barely knew her, which probably made the thoughts running through my head inappropriate.
I hadn’t had a woman since Isabelle and that was over two years ago. I was due—more like overdue. It had been a long time since I’d had someone warm and soft in my bed. Princess Buttercup didn’t count. Plus, Sabrina also seemed to be sweet and sincere, and I’d never had someone like that.
I sighed and turned the water to cold.
I had to focus on my girls and that was okay. I needed to learn how to date and be a father. My girls came first, and they always would. I needed to find a woman who could understand that.
A woman like Sabrina.
The way her eyes lit up when she saw Mak and Mel at the park the other day made me believe that she might understand where I was coming from. The way she seemed to love her nephew like he was her own child told me she would be worth the effort to find out for sure.
I shut the water off, quickly dressed, and headed out to meet Jackson at Daisy’s. Thoughts of Sabrina swirled through my brain as I drove. I couldn’t get her out of my head. Every day this week I had stopped by the library with no sign of her. Yet, I couldn’t make myself give up. Part of me wondered if my attraction to challenging women would always be my downfall.
“Hey, Monroe!” Jackson shouted when I pulled into the parking lot.
I got out and met him at the door to Daisy’s Nut House.
“So, is today the day?” He grinned at me as I approached. And I have to say that his grin was the shit-eating kind. I got the sense that Jackson liked to know about everything going on in Green Valley.
“The day for what?” I pretended like I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“The day to go to the library—again.” Maybe he wanted me to be shot down by Sabrina for the sake of commiseration. Or maybe he was just nosy.
We turned to head inside.
“Officer! Deputy Sheriff! Wyatt Monroe! Hey!” I looked over my shoulder to see a girl who looked almost exactly like Sabrina wave her arms wildly while walking toward us from the parking lot, followed by another familiar kid. “Weston, stop walking,” she said and grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was stuck in his phone.
I smiled. “Hey, Weston,” I greeted my niece Lizzy’s boyfriend. I’d met him a few times over the summer. He was a good kid.
“Hi,” he greeted me. “Wait—Wyatt?” He turned to the girl. “He’s the one?”
“God, you need to spend less time on your phone. The world—it spins all the time—not just when you’re looking, Weston. Or maybe, you should just be less slow,” she berated him. “I’m Ruby.” She held her hand out, and I shook it. “Sabrina is my aunt—”
“Ruby, stop. She’ll kill you,” Weston interrupted her. I couldn’t picture timid Sabrina killing anyone, much less losing her temper. But there was always more to people than met the eye. Weston’s statement only added to my intriguement—it should be a word—of Sabrina.
“Weston, shush. This whole thing is taking too long. And no, she won’t kill me because this never happened. Right?” She raised her eyebrows at me.
I raised mine back with amusement. “I won’t say anything.”
Jackson chuckled then narrowed his eyes in thought. “Ruby, your voice sounds familiar. Are you the producer of Cletus’ podcast? A teenage girl?” He scoffed.
She stepped back and looked down at herself with her jaw dropped in feigned amazement. “Holy crap, a teenage girl. That’s me, Ruby Adams.” She held her hand out and Jackson shook it.
“Is your middle name really Tuesday?” Jackson asked, oblivious to her sarcastic jibe. “And what about the dog catchers, are they going to be back on the podcast?”
Ruby turned red. “Cletus has a big mouth, dang it. And I’m not sure about the dog catchers. They aren’t speaking to Cletus or to each other at the moment—it’s so ugly, y’all. I’m trying to smooth it over—”
“Her middle name really is Tuesday,” Weston interrupted without looking up. He was scrolling through his phone again.
“Yeah, and that frickin’ song is all I hear in the halls at school now, thanks to Cletus and his big ol’ mouth,” she huffed.
“This is interesting. I feel like I’m back in high school. I’ll meet you at your locker later, Monroe.” Jackson slapped my shoulder and stood back to watch the scene unfold.
“I’ll be sure not to interrupt your kissing-Ashley’s-ass schedule, James,” I shot back at him.
Jackson grinned and rolled his eyes.
Ruby sighed impatiently. “Whatever, y’all. He needs a hint.” She looked at me. “Find a way to get Sabrina’s number and call her. She’s shy but she’ll be better on the phone. Her mind scrambles when she has to look people in the eye. I don’t know if it’s physical. Maybe her olfactory nerves affect her brain waves when it comes to talking to people. I’m doing my science project on it. Synesthesia and communication or being visually overstimulated when you are shy and get nervous. I haven’t narrowed it down yet and I doubt that Sabrina would let me study her anyway—I digressed! Shoot!” She pointed at me and continued, “And, no. I’m not going to give you her number. That would be cheating. That’s it. That’s the hint.”
Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Page 7