Color of Loneliness (28 page)

Susie growls. “I know. I get so out of control sometimes, and I just piss myself off. I am really and truly sorry. Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. I promise to be good in the future.”

Myra rolls her eyes. “Sure. Until tomorrow.”

“Probably. You know me so well. So what happened last night that was so bad?”

Myra sighs, shivering at the memory. “It was awful,” she mumbles.

“What?”

Myra quickly tells her about calling Dylan about the tarp, Derek showing up and trying to kiss her, and Dylan arriving on her doorstep.

“Mr. Angry Shit-faced Asshole showed up? Okay, I might need to get a pacemaker or something because my heart skipped a beat there for a minute,” Susie says excitedly. “What’d he do?”

“Derek swung at Dylan and missed so Dylan punched him and broke his nose.”

“Holy shit.”

“Then Derek got a punch in on Dylan and busted his lip, but then Dylan knocked him to the ground and started beating on his face. It was scary.”

“Why, oh why, couldn’t I have been there?” Susie whines. “I always miss out on all the good stuff. Did you drool over that fine man beating the shit out of that skeezball?”

“No, I was terrified.”

“I swear I would’ve lost a pair of panties over that one. Maybe two pairs. Oh hell, I’d have probably thrown my panties at his gorgeous head. So what happened next?”

“Nothing, really. Derek left and Dylan fixed the tarp and went back home.”

“And is Derek now in jail?”

“No. Dylan asked me if I wanted to call the police but I said no.”

“
Myra
. I have to agree with Dylan on this one. You should’ve called the cops and had that scuzz sent to jail.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to.”

Susie sighs heavily. “Well, I’m at least glad you’re safe. You need to start packing a gun.”

“I have a gun, or I should say guns. You do remember what my dad did for a living, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Well, make sure you keep one ready and available.”

“I will.”

“So, do you want to hear about
my
Valentine’s Day?” Susie asks.

“Sure.”

“Well, Jeff showed up from work with a card and a bouquet of roses that he bought at the grocery store. He’s so predictable and does the same stinking thing every year. And get this. He bought me the exact same card as he did last year.”

“No.”

“He sure did. I thought it looked vaguely familiar so I went and pulled out my cards that I have saved and sure enough, it was the same stinking card. Why can’t he be like Desmond? Desmond is so romantic. Desmond would never stop at the grocery store on his way home from work.

“So anyway, I tried to act all happy about it, but I was just pissed. And don’t ever go to the dentist on Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but I made that appointment six months ago, and I must have been drunk when I did because they should just let dentists have that day off. Make it a dentist’s holiday or something because my teeth and gums hurt so badly that I could barely chew my food.

“So after dinner, we got home and had our lovely three-minute ‘V’ Day sex, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Not. And then we went to bed, and when I got up this morning…”

Myra interrupts her. “You know what? You should be thankful that you have Jeff. He may not be the most romantic guy in the world like your stupid fictional character in that book you read, but he loves you. And maybe he doesn’t last long in bed because he’s just so attracted to you that he can’t control himself. Have you ever thought about that? You need to be thankful that you have a good man. You’re incredibly lucky.”

Susie doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “God, you’re right, Myra, I am lucky, so lucky because Jeff
is
a wonderful man. Sorry I ragged on him like that. I do love and appreciate him; I just have that problem with the shit spewing. What’s going on with you today? You seem different.”

Myra closes her eyes and sighs. “It’s nothing. I just, last night was rough on me, that’s all.”

“You want to talk some more about it?”

“No, not right now. Listen, I’m going to work on my writing for a bit. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, hon. You’re not mad at me, right?”

Myra sighs. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay. Because I could never handle it if I upset my VBB. I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too,” Myra says before she hangs up.

She stands there for a minute, thinking. Finally, she walks slowly to her Grampie’s gun case and unlocks it. Pulling out a small handgun, she loads it with bullets and puts on the safety.

* * *

Dylan starts measuring the section of the decking they are going to replace just as Ray climbs back on the roof.

“God, Myra is amazing,” he says. “That woman is so damn hot, but I can’t figure out why she won’t go out with me. I never have a problem with the ladies; they’re usually always panting after my dick. I’m going to have to come up with a new approach.”

“Keep your damn mouth shut. I told you not to talk about her like that.”

Ray snickers. “You just don’t know how to get the ladies. I do. I always seal the deal.”

Dylan can’t help but be pleased that apparently Myra wasn’t impressed with all that stupid shit Ray gave her for Valentine’s Day. As Dylan picks up his measuring tape, he licks his swelled lower lip and thinks that Ray might be the next motherfucker that he beats the shit out of.

* * *

Myra listens to the guys pounding away on the roof for the rest of the day, but she doesn’t see or hear from either of them. She packs up some boxes, works on her writing, and gets some much-needed laundry done.

Her stomach growls loudly and when she glances up at the clock, she realizes that she forgot to eat lunch. Walking into the kitchen, she pulls out some veggies to make a salad. As she starts to cut a tomato, she accidentally slices into her thumb.

“Ow,” she mumbles as she reaches for a paper towel.

Hearing a knock on the door, she keeps the towel wrapped around her thumb as she heads to the front door. Peeping through the window, she sees Dylan. Her heart speeds up when she opens the door.

“We’ve got the tarps down again to keep the wind out.” He looks down at her hand. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” Myra mumbles.

He looks into her eyes. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Myra’s brows furrow but she nods and steps to the side. “May I see it?” he asks as he holds his hand out.

“No, seriously, it’s nothing,” she says.

“Please?” he asks in a soft voice.

She swallows hard. “Okay,” she says, barely able to get the word out.

Dylan gently takes her hand in his and pulls off the paper towel. “How’d you do this?” he asks.

“Cutting a tomato.”

She watches his face as he continues to stare down at her hand. “Do you still have the peroxide and bandages?”

“No, it’s really nothing,” she says as she tries to pull her hand away from his but he holds onto it.

“I want to help. Where are they?”

She takes in a deep breath. “In the bathroom under the sink.”

He nods. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

As Myra walks toward the kitchen, her heart pounds hard. Taking in a couple of quick, calming breaths, she sits down. Within moments, Dylan pulls up a chair next to her and puts her hand in his lap. He looks over at her when their knees touch slightly. She scoots back, trying to avoid touching him as much as she can.

He looks back down at her thumb, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. Her mouth opens, her breathing shallow, as she watches him remove the paper towel and wet a cotton ball with some peroxide. “This will probably hurt,” he says softly as he looks into her eyes. Myra nods at him.

When he touches the peroxide-soaked cotton ball to the wound, she flinches, biting on her bottom lip. He murmurs, “Sorry,” as he gently cleans the wound and puts a bandage on it. He holds her hand in his and softly rubs her palm with his thumb as he stares into her eyes.

Myra yanks her hand back quickly. “Thanks,” she mutters.

“Myra, I, um I…”

She knows what she has to do. She can’t let this go on any further. “Look, I may sound crazy here because I might just be imaging it, but if there is something going on here it can’t happen, okay?”

Dylan’s brows pull together as he stares at her for a moment. “Why not?”

“Why not?
Why not?
I can’t believe you. What about Sabrina?”

Dylan jumps up, knocking his chair to the floor with a loud crash. “Motherfuck. How do you know that name?”

“Because…” Myra looks down the hallway towards the sound of someone knocking on the door. She looks back at Dylan. “Hang on,” she says before she walks quickly towards the door and peeks out of the window. Her mouth drops open as a startled gasp escapes her.

“Oh my God, this cannot be happening,” she mumbles, her heart beating so fast she fears it may fall out of her chest.

Dylan walks towards her, his face pale. “What?”

She doesn’t answer because she can’t breathe. She just shakes her head at him.

Dylan’s eyes narrow as he steps towards her and looks out of the window above her head. He looks back down at her with a crease in his forehead. “Who’s that?”

She stares up into his eyes. “It’s my… ex,” she whispers.

CHAPTER 15

EMERALD, JEALOUSY

Dylan stares at Myra’s panicked face. Just the mere thought that she has an ex leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, causing him to swallow heavily. He can’t even begin to digest this information because he still hasn’t recovered from what just went down in the kitchen. How the hell does Myra know about Sabrina?

Leaning forward, he glances out the window again at the prick standing on the porch. His jaw tightens as his fists clench at his sides. For some strange reason, he wants to hurt that man.

“Dylan?” Myra whispers. His eyes find hers. “Could you, I mean, is there any way you could stay for a few minutes?”

His forehead crunches up. “What for?”

Her face turns pink as she quickly tucks her hair behind her ears. “I just… please? Just for a few minutes until I can get rid of him.”

A dark laugh leaves his lips. “There’s no damn way I’m gonna stay here and help you make your ex jealous.”

“No, it’s not like that…” the guy knocks on the door again as she grabs Dylan’s arm. “I just, I need your help. Please?”

Dylan looks into her desperate, beautiful eyes and knows he can’t resist the woman. She has turned him into a pansy. “Shit. Fine,” he says before sighing loudly.

Myra’s eyes light up through her worried expression. “Thank you,” she breathes.

He runs his hand through his hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” Myra says. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

Dylan nods at her. He watches as she turns, takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

* * *

Myra holds her breath as she stares at Trent’s back. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. He slowly turns and smirks. “I can’t believe you moved to…” He trails off when his gaze lands on Dylan. “Who is this?”

“What are you doing here?” Myra asks. “How did you find me?”

Trent takes a step closer to her and lowers his voice. “I needed to see you. We need to talk. Privately,” he says as he narrows his eyes and glares at Dylan.

“We have nothing to discuss, and you didn’t answer my question. How did you find me?”

Trent snorts. “That was easy enough. I found a receipt for some stupid gift basket in Susie’s purse.”

Myra’s mouth drops open. “You went through Susie’s purse?”

Trent shrugs nonchalantly. “She was off on one of her food jaunts
,
so I took advantage. She’s so predictable.”

“You, you invaded her privacy. I know for a fact she keeps her purse in her desk.”

“So?”

“You can’t just go through people’s private things like that.”

“She wouldn’t give me what I wanted so I had to take matters into my own hands. Besides, I did nothing wrong. I didn’t steal anything, and I returned it just as I found it.”

“You did steal. You stole my private information.”

Trent ignores her and stares at Dylan. “Who are you?”

From behind her, Myra hears what sounds like a growl and some mumbled curses coming from Dylan.

“I want you to leave,” Myra says.

Trent rolls his eyes. “I just traveled over two thousand miles. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me. That’s the least you can do.”

“Are you fucking deaf?” Dylan shouts over Myra’s shoulder. “She told you to leave. If you don’t get your ass moving immediately, I’ll remove it for you.”