Not everyone is as reserved as Helen. I’ve been interrogated by multiple locals from the married couple who own the bakery, to the manager of the bar and grill.
Red Lake doesn’t have much—you have to travel thirty miles if you want to spend a day shopping—but there’s a convenience store, post office, mom and pop hardware, a boutique, and two restaurants. One serves traditional Texas cuisine, while the small Italian bistro serves the best carbonara I’ve ever tasted. But the highlight of my shopping week comes from the farmers’ markets held every Tuesday.
I pull up on a side road in Helen’s F-Pace Jaguar. I tucked away my poor van in the garage, sulking as it stares at the three cars made for every occasion. She has the traditional soft-top sports car, this more practical vehicle, and another undisclosed car resting under a dust cover. I haven’t pried, but I am curious.
I get swept away into the crowd, working my way down the list from Helen and adding a few items for myself, which I pay for out of my earnings. Helen doesn’t insult me by trying to pay for everything. It’s not that she wouldn’t, but it’s a recognition that I need control and to be independent.
My arms are full with paper bags as I emerge from the market and cross the square toward the car. My chin balances against an apple that looks like it wants to make a break for it.
A shadow falls in front of me, making me freeze. A six foot blond-haired, blue-eyed Adonis smirks at me.
“Hey, Cleo, let me help you with those.”
Samuel Davis, breaker of hearts and chaser of skirts—according to Helen and the ladies who spill the town’s more risky gossip every Tuesday at the book club.
I shake my head. “Thanks, I’m okay.”
“I’m aware you’ve got this, woman, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help,” he utters as he hooks his arm under one bag and relieves me of it. I sigh.
Samuel holds the bag hostage as he walks by my side to the car. He opens the trunk and deposits the bag inside before folding his arms and leaning against the car.
“So, this is week four,” he starts. I roll my eyes. “And it’s a Tuesday. Which means when we bump into each other on Friday, it will be the eighth time I’ve asked you out. There’s only so much rejection a man can take before it becomes personal.”
I place my bag in the trunk. “There’s a solution to that.”
“Yes, you give in.”
“No, stop asking me out.”
“I prefer my solution.”
I don’t think this man has ever been refused before, and why would he? He is charming, gorgeous, and charismatic. And for that reason, completely terrifying. It’s not his fault I react this way to him. He likely isn’t harboring a deep-seated need for control and abuse, but my mind doesn’t recognize logic. No, when it comes to the male species, I’ve sworn off them for the foreseeable future. Perhaps forever. The risk isn’t worth it.
He clutches his heart like I’ve wounded his ego. “One date. I bet I can sweep you off your feet and make you fall in love with me in one night, Cleo. Give me a chance?”
I shake my head, my lips twitching as I climb into the car. He holds the door open and waggles his eyebrows at me. “Is that a yes?”
“Nope. You listed every single reason the answer is no, and always will be no.”
He blinks as I tug the car door free and slam it closed.Sorry, Sam, my fucked up heart and mind aren’t the place for yoursunshine and smiles. It would eat that goodness in you and twist it until you hated me.I’m better alone. Nobody could ever love the fucked-up woman I’ve become. There’s no one strong enough to deal with the nightmares that stalk my every waking moment.
CHAPTER 14
HONOR
Treat ‘em mean, and hopefully, they will get the hint.
This is what I want my later years to look like. A group of giggling women bonding over spicy books and good food.
Marie pats the vacant spot on the cream sofa next to her. “We have enough nibbles now, Cleo. Come sit and share your thoughts on this week’s book with us.”
I glance at the round glass table chock full of delicious snacks. She’s right, there is nowhere else to fit anything.
Helen raises a brow. “That’s an order.”
The four women burst out laughing. Helen, my boss. Marie, the governor’s wife. Liza, a retired kindergarten teacher. And Rosa, a semi-retired vet. They are always immaculately dressed, with makeup that takes years off their true ages.
“Let me get my copy,” I mutter before retrieving it from the pool house and returning to the group of women. Helen started gifting me with whatever the book of the week was, saying I had to read it so we could discuss it before Tuesday evening.Sharing your thoughts with your boss on spicy scenes is the new normal for me. I stopped blushing after she told me I was sheltered if I’d never experienced a piercing. I informed her I would not be getting pierced down there for anybody, and she corrected my silly notion that it would be me getting pierced.
