“Eleven o’clock.” I nod in response, and luckily, I’m saved by the ringing of his phone. “See you Sunday.” Dear old Dad isalready answering his call, giving me his back, and I’ve never been more thankful.
The only problem is, now I’m riddled with worry, and I need to make a call of my own. I pick up the receiver on my desk and punch the ten-digit phone number with pent-up anger, which is directed at one man.
“Hey, Willow,” the woman on the other end of the line answers on the second ring.
“Hi, Brenda, how’s grandmother doing today?” I ask the nurse who sits with her during the day and most times at night. When shit hit the fan and grandmother started forgetting things and who we were, it came out of nowhere. It also hurt me to the bone when she would call me my mother’s name. I put on my brave face, made a doctor’s appointments, and when the diagnosis came, well, it took me by surprise. My mother disappeared deeper into her wine, and that’s when I found out that whole trust situation. I didn’t have a say when grandmother was put into a memory care facility, and a piece of my heart went right along with her.
“I wish I had better news to give you; she’s finally resting for the first time today.” There goes my idea of visiting her when I’m through with work. On days like these, it’s better for her not get riled up all over again.
“That’s okay. I’ll call tomorrow, and maybe it’ll be better. Worse comes to worst, I can sneak by when she’s sleeping just to have my eyes on her, even for a moment.” Brenda makes a humming noise.
“I think that’s a great idea. If anything changes, you know I’ll call you. Especially if she wakes up in a good mood.” We talk about a few things, mainly about grandmother, but I also ask how she’s doing and make a mental note to pick up a few of her favorite snacks and drinks for when I see her next time.
I place the phone back in the cradle after we say our goodbyes. I’d have loved nothing more than to see the one woman who makes it worthwhile to deal with my father. Okay, fine, he holds the purse strings. He’s also held it over my head that he could put her in a facility, one that I’d never approve of.
Instead of getting back to work, I slump over. My forehead meets the wood desk, and I close my eyes. Honestly, I’d bang my head against the tabletop if I were any place but here.
“Hey, you okay, Willow?” That voice.Hisvoice. Deep, raspy, and rough around the edges.
“Hey, Jace. Could be better, but I think that’s normal for most days and for most people.”
“No kidding. Looks like you could use a drink.” He nods his head for me to move from away the desk.
“Are you asking me to have a drink with you?” I stand up, straighten my clothes, close down my computer, grab my purse, and walk toward him. Even if he isn’t asking me, one thing is for certain: I’m leaving for the day.
“Yeah, peaches. I’m asking you to have dinner with me. You game?” I should say no. I should turn the other way. I should do anything besides this. Except when he places his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the hall, and he drops his voice to a softer level, nearly whispering in my ear, everything disappears.
Including my common sense.
2
Jace
“Where are we going?” Willow is in another one of her fancy outfits, a far cry from what I’m wearing. My usual work clothes consist of a blue chambray shirt, work-stained jeans, and boots. Today, she’s wearing a black top, unbuttoned at the top, with short sleeves that’s flowy enough that when I look down at her, I can see the purple lace of her bra. I’m also awarded a spectacular fucking view of her tits. Pretty sure whatever scrap of material she has on beneath her blouse is barely holding the beauties up. One tug, and they’d be freed, and my hands would be right there to catch them.
“Depends on where you want to go. There’s Oak & Brew, The Social, and another bar that can get kind of rowdy.” She scrunches her nose at the last one while also remaining quiet about the other two.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I have my car, and driving after a couple of drinks isn’t a bright idea. Not like there are a whole lot of car services that would take me home,” she mumbles.
“I’ve got one other option.” Might be better for both of us in the long run. The last thing I need is for others to run their mouths, and while in the past, I’ve been known to love ‘em and leave ‘em, that isn’t the case anymore and hasn’t for some time. Shit gets old. You realize your friends, even your best friend, are settling down, with your sister at that, and you realize havingsomeone to call yours is better than finding someone for the night.
“What’s that?” I get lost in her hazel eyes, lashes fanning the pretty irises, and I notice the light smattering of freckles along her nose and cheekbones. She really is beautiful.
“There’s always my place. You can leave your car here or follow me, whichever you prefer. I can’t say that a hired car will drive you home, but you can stay for however long. Not asking for anything more than conversation, a couple of drinks, and a meal.” I don’t point out that it looks like she could use a friend. Hell, we all could, but after dealing with her father a few times and hearing how he talks to others, I think it’s safe to assume he probably treats her just as badly, if not worse.
When we make it out the door of the plant, the sun is setting over the horizon. The sky is showing off tonight with its vivid oranges, purples, and pinks, except nothing compares to the woman I have beside me. Fuck, if this is what Colt and Locke feel, it’s no wonder they’re wrapped around their woman’s finger.
“Your place. Definitely your place,” she reiterates while digging through her bag to find her keys.
“Sounds good to me. Got a place not far from here with a view of the river and a lot of solitude,” I tell her so she knows what she’s getting into. I’m not one to live in a high rise in the center of town. Even where the steel mill is located, it’s full of neighborhoods, some on a bit of land, some on zero lot lines, and I knew from early on it wouldn’t be for me. I need the wide-open spaces, with no neighbors for miles and no street lights.
Nothing but the stars, the moon, the cicadas buzzing, the birds chirping, and everything else nature intends to show us.
“That sounds like a dream,” Willow surprises me by saying. It shouldn’t, but the way she carries herself makes one believe she likes life a certain way. The fancy clothes, the designer bags,and the way she keeps to herself. Seems maybe I’ve got Willow Ashford all wrong.
“You opposed to steak?” I ask, thinking about firing up the grill.
“As long as you don’t cook it to look like worn leather and it tastes like char. I’m a medium rare kind of girl, in case you’re wondering.”
