At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(27)
“Hey, so Mom got it in her head that she wants to have a girls’ day.”
“Okay.” I raise the coffee mug to my lips. “When?”
“Today. She saw some garage sale ads in the paper this morning.”
“It’ll have to be girls plus Jonas, and that’s assuming I can get him out of bed.”
Since he started spending so much time at Wells Ranch, I practically have to drag him out of bed every morning. On the weekends, I typically let him sleep in and play video games. It is summer vacation, after all.
“Dad wants to take him fishing,” Blair says.
“All right, I’ll do my best to wake him up.” I haul myself off the couch with a groan and pad across the room. “I want you to know I was in the middle of a smutty book when you called.”
And I’d rather continue doing that than go wake up my grumpy kid.
She laughs. “Apologies. You can bring it for the long drive to Sheridan.”
“And have to explain the plot to Mom? I don’t think so. See you soon.”
It’s a full hour before Jonas and I are cutting across the small field that separates our street from my parents’. The tall grass is in need of rain, and it tickles my bare calves, catching on the hem of my knee-length sage green dress.
If you’d asked me at sixteen whether I’d choose to live within walking distance of my childhood home, I would’ve laughed so hard I’d herniate something. But when I walked out of the hospital with my dad carrying the baby car seat—equal parts devastated, embarrassed, and furious it wasn’t Alex—the last of my teenage angst fell away. Remaining in close proximity to my parents was the most logical option.
I’m two pain relievers and a bottle of water in, attempting to quell the headache Jonas is giving me. Since the moment he opened his eyes, he’s been vehemently whining about wanting to stay home and play video games instead. At first, I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling well after spending hours in the heat yesterday, but his skin’s no longer flushed, his temperature’s normal, and he inhaled three slices of cold leftover pizza for breakfast. He’s not sick. Just moody.
Blair’s leaning against her car when we arrive, and Jonas thankfully has the decency to say a quick good morning to his aunt and wave to my mom in the passenger seat. I ruffle his hair and urge him to find his grandpa with the assurance that he’ll have fun, and there’s plenty of time for video games tonight.
Since I slipped my Kindle into my purse at the last second before leaving the house, I take the empty seat behind Mom’s. If she can’t see me reading, she won’t ask what I’m reading about.
“I expected Jonas to be stoked about fishing,” Blair says, backing out of the driveway.
Granted, he’s been bugging Dad to take him since the local lakes thawed in the spring. But to be fair to Jonas, I can see why he might not be thrilled to fish two days in a row.
“He actually went yesterday, so I think that’s why he’s not as excited. I’m sure they’ll still have fun, though.”
My sister’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror with unsubtle shock written in her expression. “Did Alex take him?”
“No, uh…Colt did, actually.”
“I thought he was just giving Jonas chores to do at the ranch?”
“They’re kind of friends now. Normally I’d say a grown man being friends with a ten-year-old requires a call to the police, but it’s sweet. Jonas has been way happier and less teenager-y lately…until this morning, anyway.”
Pretending to be sidetracked with a snagged fingernail, I glance down at my lap and twiddle my fingers, thinking about the three of us eating pizza together last night. Looping, meandering, easy conversation full of unfettered laughter that lasted until well past Jonas’s usual bedtime. And after Colt left, I fell into bed weightless and sated.
“Who would’ve guessed Colt is the kid-whisperer?” Blair responds.
“Is Colt your new boyfriend?” Mom spins in her seat to ask.
“No!” I shake my head excessively, like a toddler refusing medicine, exacerbating the dull throbbing in my skull.
Blair looks over her shoulder at me. “That was an aggressive response.”
“Focus on the road, would you?” I gesture at the narrow, two-lane highway through the windshield, punctuating the oncoming traffic. “Jonas has invited him for dinner a couple times, so I don’t know what that makes us. Friendly, I guess.”
“Your father and I were friendly once,” Mom reminisces. “For four years before he finally made a move.”
“There’s something really sweet about being friends first,” Blair agrees, launching into her and Denny’s love story.
And now they’re talking among themselves, which is fine. It gives me the space to discreetly slide the Kindle from my bag on the seat next to mine. I’m hungry for a spicy romance to make the drive go by faster, wanting to lose myself in the love story—and the hot sex—I’ve been missing in my real life. With this book, in particular, there’s a thrill in reading about a single mom finding a sexy man to give her orgasms and attention and love. Not that I feel even a single sliver of hope about something similar happening to me. Reading romance is basically masochism.
My eyes don’t leave the small screen, despite every curve and bump and change in speed, but I read the same page twenty times. Unable to focus enough to absorb the words. And eventually, I give up.