Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’m happy for you, Raine.” I already said that, but it’s true. This was the right move for her, and the timing was also impeccable.
“Thank you. It was the right decision. For so many reasons.”
I nod again. She doesn’t have to elaborate. We both know.
“So how are you?” she asks.
“Good, actually. Callie is engaged to Donny Steel, as you know, and I’m actually seeing his cousin. Brock.”
“You and Brock Steel?”
She cocks her head, and her lips… I think they’re trying to smile but not quite getting there. She doesn’t look unhappy. Or jealous. She just looks…like she doesn’t get it.
Which, of course, she doesn’t. She’s not bisexual. She likes only women, all the time.
And that—the fact that she doesn’t understand me—led to our breakup more than anything else.
“Yeah. Brock Steel.”
“Great. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you. He’s a good guy.”
“But isn’t he one of the Rake-a-teers? I believe you’re the one who coined that term.”
“I did, and he is. I didn’t say we were serious or anything.”
“Oh. I see.”
Except it’s clear that she doesn’t see. But that’s okay. We’re no longer together.
“How about you? Are you seeing anyone new?”
“Not yet. I haven’t had a chance to breathe, with getting my book up and running at the new place. I’m so lucky that they already have such an established clientele. Since I own a share of the business, I get first dibs on new appointments.”
“How do the others feel about that?” I ask.
“It doesn’t really matter how they feel. I own the place.”
That means they don’t feel great about it. This is classic Raine. She has her ideas, and she doesn’t budge—hence her lack of understanding about my bisexuality.
“That’s great,” I say. “You’ll be rolling in the bucks before long.”
“I know. This is actually what I always wanted. I needed to get out of Snow Creek.”
Raine grew up here like I did. She’s several years younger than I am, but she didn’t come out until a few years ago. I was her first real relationship, which is probably a big part of why she couldn’t accept the fact that I like both women and men.
Snow Creek is a small town, and our LGBTQ population is tiny. In Denver, she won’t have any problem meeting another lesbian. This was a good move for her.
“So… You and Brock Steel…”
Interesting. I figured we had laid that subject to rest.
“Like I said, we’re not serious.”
“You think it could get serious?”
I hope so.
I might be carrying his child.
The words hover in the back of my throat.
But I don’t say them.
“I wouldn’t mind,” I say. “He’s more than just a womanizer. He’s actually a really good guy.”
“All the Steels are pretty good people,” she says.
Interesting perspective for her, and it makes me think… “Hey, I have a question for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you know that the Steel family had a lien on the salon building here in town?”
“Yeah, I think I recall something like that on the paperwork when I bought it.”
“And you didn’t think anything of it?”
“My dad was helping me with all of that,” she says. “I figured if he didn’t mind, I didn’t mind.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“How did you even know that?”
“Callie and Donny have been doing some research.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Steel family stuff, I guess.”
She seems to buy my response, thank God. I may have just said something I shouldn’t have.
Sadie brings the lasagna, and Raine digs in.
Which means we don’t have to talk.
And that’s fine with me.
I finish up my salad and garlic bread, drain my water glass, and stand. “I need to get back to work. It was great to see you.”
“You too, Rory. Have a great day, okay?”
“You do the same.” I force a smile, and then I realize it’s actually not forced.
I’m totally over Raine, and I’m totally in love with Brock Steel.
God help me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BROCK
My dad never laid a hand on Brad or me when we were kids. There was never a threat of physical punishment.
But if we got our father angry enough, he put his fist through a wall, not unlike I did in his office recently.
And then?
He’d make us fix it.
I fixed a lot more holes in drywall than Brad did. Brad was the good son. He knew when to stop shooting off his mouth to our father.
So did I. I just chose not to.
Dad would get a look on his face—his features would go rigid, almost to stone. His lips would tremble slightly—very slightly—and pent-up rage would ooze from him. It was so palpable, sometimes I swore I could see it. The truest sign, though? His cheeks. They’d go from ruddy to blazing red, like a flare of fire.
Red Joe, Uncle Talon and Uncle Ryan used to call it.
When Brad and I saw Red Joe emerge when we were kids, we knew it was time to shut up.