Gable (18 page)
The next week passed slowly but I made the most of it, catching up on homework and emailing assignments to my professors.
One afternoon when I’d been extremely bored, all caught up on classwork, Amy was working and Bodhi wasn’t answering his texts and Dad had nothing for me to do, I’d finally listened to the voicemail Gable had sent. It’d taken me ten minutes of staring at the unheard message on my phone then another ten trying to think of something else to do, anything, before finally playing it.
Scout, it’s me.
And I clicked it off.
God.
God!
I couldn’t do it, so I set my phone on the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out the tattered vampire romance book I’d read in high school of which I’d earmarked the pages that had all the hot sex scenes on them and that book was earmarked to death. That kept me occupied (and more than a little horny) for the next couple hours until it was time to make dinner.
~*~*~*~
When I’d gone to dinner at The Ranch with Dad the week before, I’d run into Sarah Rudd who’d been co-captain with me our senior year in basketball. She was now attending Gonzaga and majoring in sports medicine. Before she’d left the restaurant, she’d gotten my number and said she’d get hold of a few of our fellow classmates that she knew were in town for Thanksgiving and we could all meet up.
So the next night I went out to the only bar in town, The Liquor Lounge (where the owner never ID’d anyone), meeting up with several friends from high school who I hadn’t seen since graduating.
“Scout!” Sarah called out when I walked in.
I gave her a huge hug then made the rounds doing the same with everyone else.
Jordan Cummings had been the beauty queen of our class and was now modeling for several different clothing chains as well as taking college classes online, Wink (yes, Wink) Roberts who’d taken technical classes our junior and senior years was now working as a diesel mechanic for a large farm equipment company, Brady Calhoun had gotten a football scholarship at Oregon and had flown home for a day before he had to go back for practice and then the big game with Oregon State that weekend, and finally Porter Taylor was home from Princeton where he’d received about a million academic scholarships because the guy was a friggin’ genius and had led our academic team to the state championship two years in a row.
We’d had a blast reliving old times, practically drinking our weight in alcohol and laughing ourselves sick at some of the ridiculous things that we’d done or that our fellow classmates had attempted during our last three years together.
When we’d left, we’d all wished Brady good luck in the game Saturday then exchanged phone numbers promising to stay in contact.
The next afternoon I attempted listening to Gable’s voicemail again. I mean, gee, it’d only taken me forty-eight hours to make another attempt. Not bad. So I pulled up the voicemail then held my breath as I clicked on it.
Scout, it’s me. Please listen. I’m an asshole. We really need to talk. Please call me. Please? I’m sorry about everything.
Hm.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. Man, I must really have been making big strides in the mending of my mangled heart.
So to review his message: he admitted was an asshole, good to know, he wanted me to call him, not gonna happen, and he was sorry. Well, he could go tell it to the brunette he’d been dancing with at the club for all I cared.
Yeah, I know, I was still being a baby, but hey, I figured I had about one more hour to pout then it was time to start acting like a mature adult and move on.
~*~*~*~
“Holy shit, this stuffing is good,” Heath said as he jammed another forkful into his mouth.
“Thanks,” I answered. “It’s a new recipe I found online. It’s mostly like Mom’s but there’s a couple more things added to it.” I smiled at him, happy he and Holden could make it home to have Thanksgiving dinner with Dad and me. Heath had brought his new girlfriend, Jocelyn, and I loved her immediately because the minute they arrived, she’d headed straight to the kitchen to help me prepare everything.
I’d gotten up at six that morning to put the turkey in the oven and smiled when I’d looked out the kitchen window to see great big fat snowflakes falling lazily from a gray sky. I’d stayed up to help Dad around the farm some, feeding and watering the horses then helping him to repair a fence. Good times. Once we’d gotten back inside, the snow had started falling pretty heavily and we’d worried that Heath and Holden wouldn’t be able to make it, but they had. Holden had flown from Moscow, Idaho, down to Boise last night and stayed with Heath then all three had piled into Heath’s four-wheel-drive pickup truck and driven the four and a half hours here without any incident, so thankfully, the snow had been no problem for them.
After eating, we’d sat at the table for a good hour after eating, talking about what was going on in everyone’s lives and I realized how much I’d missed them. We laughed so much my stomach hurt, especially when Holden told us about how he’d gotten his case notes mixed up during a mock trial. He said he’d been going on and on during his opening argument about how his (fake) defendant hadn’t committed the crime of poisoning the plaintiff’s prize-winning pot-belly pig when the trial had actually been in regard to a case where a rather corpulent man was suing an airline for the size of their seats being too small and he hadn’t been able to take the flight because he couldn’t sit comfortably. When Holden said that in his argument he’d referred to the pig several times over so it’d sounded as if he’d been talking about the plaintiff, I’d about fallen out of my chair, crying with laughter. Oh, God, it was just what I needed, to be with my family and forget about all the shit I’d been dealing with.
Afterward, everyone helped clean up then they all went to the living room to watch football. I wasn’t particularly interested in any of the games that Holden was switching channels back and forth to, I told Dad I was going to get the tractor and clear the drive. From his turkey coma I heard him mutter (unnecessarily, I might add) for me to dress warmly and to watch the ditches on either side of the driveway. Good grief. I’d cleared the damned thing for years, but I yelled out an “Okay!” throwing in an eye roll as I put on my parka, beanie, scarf and gloves and headed to the barn. The tractor had a heated cab, so once I got inside and it warmed up I could take my coat off, but in the thirty yards I had to walk to get to the barn, I appreciated the coverage.
When the snow had started coming down earlier, Dad and I had attached the snow blade to the tractor just in case, so once I reached the barn, all I had to do was jump in the cab, start that sucker up then get to clearing. Our driveway was pretty long, around a tenth of a mile, and I smiled at that knowing it would take several sweeps to clear it all, which was fine by me because I needed some mindless work to keep my brain occupied. Cranking the radio almost as loud as it would go, I began the mundane but blissful to me task of clearing the snow.
On my third pass, I was rocking out to some Seether when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Twisting in my seat, I pulled it from the back pocket of my jeans... and almost drove into the ditch at what I read.
Text Message—Thurs, Nov 28, 3:06 p.m.
Gable: You look damn sexy driving that huge thing. So badass, Priss
Holy shit.
He was here. Oh, my God. Gable was at my house. In Idaho. On Thanksgiving. And he was texting me.
Holy shit.
My heart seized as I frowned down at my phone not knowing what to do next. But I was proud of how cool I was being not having jerked my head up to look around to see where he was. Nope, I just continued driving as if I hadn’t a care in the world, although I did tinker with the idea of doing just that, continuing to drive until I hit the main road then heading to the highway and seeing how far I could go, ala Forrest Gump except for driving and not running. But since that wasn’t really feasible, I kept playing it cool, even though I was one-hundred percent freaking out on the inside.
My phone buzzed again but I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. God, I didn’t have time for any of this. I was doing a good job at getting over him. I didn’t need him bothering me. I mean, hell, if he wanted to come clear to Stone Springs, Idaho, on Thanksgiving to text me that was his business. I could just as easily not respond to his text whether he was here or ten thousand miles away.
I turned around at the top of the drive nearest the house planning to make my way back down to the end for one more pass when I saw Gable in the black pickup truck I’d first seen him in and he was right in the middle of the road facing me and right in my way. Again, I toyed with an idea that really wasn’t appropriate, but I must admit the thought about driving the tractor toward him and not stopping did bring a small smile to my face. But as it was, I sat there, he sat there and we had a visual standoff for a good minute before he grinned at me. Ugh. He next pointed at his mouth then back at me letting me know he wanted to talk to me.
Nope. Not gonna happen. (You might recall what I’d said earlier about the Pattersons being stubborn and bullheaded. Well, there you go.)
So being a Patterson through and through, I put the tractor in reverse and moved back up the drive toward the house, while Gable, of course, followed. Situating the tractor within ten yards of the house, I stopped it, shifted to first and turned off the engine. Then I jumped down from the cab and took off running for the front door of the house.
“Scout!” Gable yelled as he jumped out of the truck, running after me.
I screamed right before he tackled me to the snow-covered ground and when he turned me to face him, I hissed, “Get off me!”
“Not until we talk,” he snapped angrily as he glared down at me.
I glared right back at him wondering why he felt he had any right to be mad when he’d clearly been the one to screw everything up. And it was during my glaring that I saw that, damn it, he wore an olive green beanie and now him in a beanie became my new favorite thing ever. Shit.
When he didn’t move off me, I scowled up at him, thanking all that was holy that I’d kept my coat, hat, scarf and gloves on or I’d be frozen by now from lying in the friggin’ snow.
“We gonna lie here all day or what?” I said snidely, my eyes glowering into his.
“You gonna give me a chance to talk?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
“Sure,” I lied.
He narrowed his eyes at me probably trying to figure out if I was lying or not but then the idiot decided to trust me and moved off me, standing and offering a hand to help me up but I was already gone, running toward the house and in, slamming the door and locking it.
“What in the world,” Dad asked as he sat up in his recliner.
“That guy’s trying to get me!” I yelled at Heath and Holden who were on their feet in an instant, moving to the front door quickly to protect their baby sister from whoever was trying to get her. Holden yanked open the door and upon seeing Gable standing there, I shrieked, “Don’t let him in!” I got behind Dad’s chair, holding on to either side of the back of it hoping my brothers would tell Gable he needed to leave. Well, that or they’d beat the shit out of him for being such an asshole to me. Either worked. But now they’d both gone outside on the porch, closing the door behind them and I stood there trying to catch my breath, waiting to see what they were going to do.
And let me tell you, the disappointment, the betrayal I felt when I saw them both coming inside and bringing Gable with them, and not in a
We’re gonna kick this guy’s ass for trying to get you
kind of way, hurt my heart immensely. God. Whether they’re related to you or not, you just can’t trust men.
Dad had sat quietly as had Jocelyn waiting along with me to see how things would proceed, and when I let out a huff and started to turn and stomp upstairs to my room, Dad moved lightning quick, both his arms coming up to either side of his head and behind him grabbing my wrists that were on his chair keeping me there.
See? You can
not
trust men!
“Dad!” I protested trying to yank my wrists out of his hands, but he only clamped on tighter.
“What’s going on here, Scout?” he asked pulling me around to the side of his chair and looking up at me, still holding onto me.
I scowled
so
not wanting to discuss my feelings with my dad… or my brothers… or Jocelyn, whom I’d just met… or with Gable standing right there!
“Nothing,” I mumbled. “He’s just been harassing me and needs to leave.” I glared at Gable whose lips I saw tipped up as if he was trying not to grin. Ass.
Dad looked at Gable. “That the true, young man?”
Gable cleared his throat. “Well, you see, sir,” he began, always the man’s man, the big jerk, “I’m in love with your daughter.”
Wait.
What?
WHAT!
“But I messed up and hurt her.”
Well, jeez, Gable sure didn’t have a hard time with sharing his feelings in front of everyone and all I could do was stare at him incredulously.
“And now she can’t seem to find time to hear me out or get it into her stubborn head that I’m here to apologize for everything, apologize for acting as if I didn’t know she was who I was writing.”