My eyes sharpen. “I don’t get to see what they look like?”
He chuckles. “That’s part of the fun. It’s just a pseudonym and a personality quiz. It pairs you with someone compatible. It’s likeLove Is Blind,but a dating app.”
“Are you on it?” I ask.
He nods. “Yep. And it makes sure to connect to your social media so that any relatives are ruled out automatically.”
My eyes skate over to Dolly. I know she’s on a dating app, but I don’t know which one. The reminder of what Rosie told her about uploading photos of her on the boat in her bikini makes me think it’s probably not the anonymous one with no photos.
Bummer.
I tap the screen to life, seeing that he has, in fact, made several compatible connections for me. The personality charts show a shadow of a woman with no distinct features, but there are bullet points telling me more about each one. Duke started the chats with three of them.
One of them says,I would take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring your own snack.
The next one says,Do you have a name? Or can I just call you mine?
The last message says,Let’s skip this part and just get married.
I snort, shaking my head. “These could be men for all we know.”
He throws his head back with a bark of a laugh. “You have to upload your driver’s license to prove you are who you say you are.” He stands, stretching. “Look, I don’t care if you’re single and miserable and alone forever. I just think you should give it a try. You’re in this big house with no one to share it with. I get that you don’t want Keely here, but I worry about you.”
“You’re single and alone, and I’m not barking about how you need a woman to fulfill your life.”
He grabs his ball cap, placing it on his head. “I’ve got my family. Pops, Dolls, Holden, and Rosie just around the corner. It’s not the same. But once it’s just me in the big house, I’ll be ready too. And I just hope my friends are around to push me in the right direction.”
He walks over to where he left his boots in the foyer and puts them on. “Night, man. Take care of her.”
“I will. Night.”
The heavy wooden door slams shut behind him. Dolly doesn’t stir, apparently used to the loud noises of her family.
I don’t know how much time passes while I sit, watching her sleep. Her ebony hair is in a braid on her shoulder. The faded floral blanket she has tucked around her is one of my grandmother’s quilting projects. It’s made out of soft, worn cotton. She used to make the same blankets for the women’s shelter. I think she always hoped to see my mother when she went there, but it never happened.
To this day, I struggle with the memory of my mother’s death. I was only seven when I found her, and there’s a lot of gaps in my dark memories. She ran away with my biological father when she was pregnant with me. My grandmother never gave up hope, even though my grandfather swore he’d never let her live at Moonlight Ranch again. He left everything to me after she died and the state gave them custody.
I was raised with a clear message:The wrong man in a woman’s life will destroy her. The Redfords received the same cautionary tale each day they spent any significant time working for my grandfather at Moonlight.
I know his intentions were to raise us boys to be good, strong, dependable men. He wasn’t overly moralistic or religious, but he did believe in going to church every Sunday and following a strong set of classic Southern morals. He wouldn’t have been too concerned if I’d gotten a girl pregnant, but I damn sure would’ve been expected to marry her.
Dolly sighs, rolling to her side in her sleep. The new position causes the blanket to shift partly off of her, exposing her pajamas and the curve of her hip. The yellow fabric is patterned with white seashells.
The way she shattered on top of me from the rocking of the boat and my erection against her is going to haunt me for the rest of time.
I grab my phone, tapping the screen to life and skimming through the matches Duke already messaged for me on the dating app.
One of them replied, despite the stupid name he gave me.
@ropesandchainsexciteme:
Do you have a name? Or can I just call you mine?
@hairstylistkenzie:
You can call me whatever you want. What’s your name?
The app lets you choose a username to keep things anonymous for the first week, but apparently, hairstylist Kenzie isn’t concerned about it. I roll my eyes at the one Duke set for mine—@ropesandchainsexciteme.
