It Took a Rumor (12 page)

The sun was setting, but he had his phone on him for a flashlight if it got too dark. He picked up his pace until he caught sight of the tree line by the creek. He jogged until he reached the edge of the shallow creek, and followed it toward the Turner property.
 

Jake had left trash bags full of those poisonous weeds there. Tons of them. From the low light, Dallas could see that the gallant bastard had even gone to clean out the stuff on the Turner side of the fence. There were at least a dozen large trash bags, but Jake would notice if one was missing. He loved those cows like his own children, so he’d have made sure to count, not wanting any of the poison to make its way back to the cattle.
 

Dallas leaned back against a tree and pondered. He’d have to take some of the weeds out of each bag. Jake would notice a missing bag, but he’d not notice a little missing from each bag.
 

He couldn’t very well carry it by hand back and forth, so he’d need to drive the pickup out here. Trouble was, if he got caught, how could he explain himself?
 

This quandary kept him occupied for the better part of five minutes, and just as the sun dipped below the horizon, he had it figured out. Of course. The bags had to be hauled off. That was likely to be Jake’s first chore in the morning. He’d simply volunteer to do it for him. Show a little brotherly love.

Dallas smiled to himself. Brilliant. He’d get Ivy her sale and be off this property in a week’s time.
 

Dallas strolled back toward his house. It was full dark when he arrived and found Jake sitting on the back porch, three beers in.

Dallas plopped next to him on the steps and grabbed the fourth beer out of the six pack. “Where’d you run off to?” he asked.

Jake frowned at him. “Here. Been here the whole time.”

“Is that so?” Dallas asked, laughing at the lie. He twisted the cap off his beer and chugged half of it.

“Yeah, that’s so. You got something to say?”

“Nope. Not at all.” No sense pushing his luck. He didn’t really care where Jake had run off to.
 

Jake shook his head and finished off his bottle.
 

“So…what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?” Dallas asked, as casually as possible.
 

It must not have sold, because Jake gave him a funny look. “What are you talking about?”

Dallas shrugged and stared out into the night. “Just wondering what chores we gotta do first thing?”

Jake kept staring at him. “You were born and raised here same as me. If you don’t know what’s gotta be done by now, boy, you oughtta put together a resumé and find another job.”

Dallas laughed nervously. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just meant, you got anything needs done that ain’t been done yet? I mean, I know you were gonna fix that fence down by the creek.”
 

“I fixed that a week ago.”

“Yeah, okay.” He waited, but Jake was not forthcoming. “What about all them weeds you were wanting to dispose of?”

“I pretty much did all the work. Just gotta haul it out to the dump.”

“I’ll do that for you,” Dallas said.

This elicited outright laughter from Jake. “What’s your angle, man?”

“No angle. Just looking for something to do that gets me out of shoveling shit.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, well, you can do that
and
shovel shit.”

Dallas laughed, just to keep things light. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. With Jake’s suspicions aroused, he thought he’d better act a little more unconcerned. “I’m sure you’ll have it shoveled before I’m even awake.”

“Prob’ly.” Jake popped open another beer.

Dallas exhaled slowly. He wouldn’t say anymore on the subject. He finished off his beer and went inside.

I wanna see you.

Cody had sent the text ten minutes ago. He sat in Ivy’s abandoned barn, sure that Jordan wouldn’t refuse him. It hadn’t occurred to him that the kid might not answer.

After five more minutes, he dialed Jordan’s number. It went straight to voicemail. “It’s me. Call me. Please.” He hung up and waited.

The itch had grown unbearable. He regretted everything he’d said to Jordan. All he wanted was a moment with him. Just one moment. One fix.
 

His phone vibrated.
 

I’m not interested.

Cody stared at it.
I know that’s not true.

No more answer came. Cody sat leaning against the wall, uncertain what to do. At last, he texted again,
I’m at the barn. Jordan, I know you want this. Meet me, please.

It was as much desperation as he was willing to show.
 

After dinner he’d casually mentioned he was going for his walk. He’d established a nightly habit of taking long walks just for this purpose. Sometimes he used the time for peace and quiet. Other times he used it for hookups. But since it was a habit, his family never questioned it.
 

After listening to his Dad, Cody had a lot of frustration to burn off, and he wanted to burn it off on Jordan.
 

The sun sank slowly, darkening the barn. Cody closed his eyes and sank into the ache of unrequited need.
 

“What do you want from me?”

The words were spoken softly, in a deep, young voice. Cody opened his eyes. Jordan stood over him, holding a flashlight. Night had fallen. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” Cody admitted.

“Fuck you. I said as much to you last week and you…you hurt me, Cody. I’m not like you. I don’t do hookups. I thought we had something real.”

Cody stood and looked down at Jordan. He brushed his knuckle along the newly grown stubble of his jaw. “You trying to look tough with this?” Cody asked.

Jordan didn’t smile.
 

Cody did. “I like it. Makes you look older. More experienced.”

Jordan’s blue eyes softened in the glow of the flashlight.
 

He’d shown up. Cody took that to mean he was still interested. That he still had feelings. So he leaned in to kiss him.

But Jordan backed up. “I won’t let you use me.”

Cody straightened and rolled his shoulders back. “What are your terms?”

“Terms?”

“Yeah. What do you need from me to be with me?”

Jordan let out a laugh and fell back a step. “Is this how it works? Negotiation? I want to date like normal people, Cody.”
 

“We’re not normal people.”

“Sure we are. What about Harry and Martin. They’re married. Nobody bothers them. They’ve got lots of friends. They go to parties and bars together. Chad Baker…he’s gay. Openly. Goes to bars to hook up. Even goes to that other church on Sundays.”

“They don’t have Gideon Deathridge for a father. I’ve stayed under the radar for almost thirty years, I’m not about to rock the boat now. I like you, Jordan. A lot. I wanna keep seeing you. But if you think there’s some chance of the two of us having a ‘normal’ relationship, then I…I just feel sorry for you. You’re never going to have that in this town.”

Jordan shook his head and started walking toward the door. “Then goodbye. I don’t want to do this with you.”

Cody grabbed his arm, panic seizing his throat. “Please,” he begged before he could stop himself. “I need this. I need you. Please, Jordan.”

Jordan’s eyes welled. “If you want me, you can ask me on a date like a man. We’ll go to dinner, have a few drinks, and fuck like animals in the back of your truck. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be your dirty little secret.”

With that, he left, and with him, Cody’s breath. Cody sank to the ground, leaned against the wall, and waited for the pain to pass. It didn’t, though, not entirely. It swelled like a mushroom cloud and then shrank back to a small ache, but it didn’t disappear. He stood and walked back home.

Molly paced the floor, staring at her phone. He hadn’t called or texted in days. Days. Was he finished with her?

The light in the sitting room was dim, which fit her mood. She was going crazy, desire and fear warring within her. This was a need. A fundamental need. She’d become hooked on Boone Deathridge and now he was withholding from her. She’d texted him a dozen times. Left six voicemails.

“Honey, is something bothering you?”
 

She looked up. Richard stood at the edge of the room. He rarely came in. Through some unwritten agreement they’d decided that this room was her private space. Richard had always respected that. “I’m fine,” she said.

“You seem distracted. Upset.”

“No, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Honey, I’m worried.”

“Well, don’t be,” she snapped.

Richard stepped into the room. He took her by the arm and led her down to the sofa. “I’m worried about us.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I think you know what’s wrong.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!” she snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply, struggling to control her temper. “I’m sorry,” she said more calmly. “I just need some time alone.”

Richard sighed. Instead of leaving, he leaned back in the chair. “One of my jobs as a pastor is to counsel people. I counsel a lot of couples. Molly, honey, something’s not right between us, and I don’t know what. If it’s something I’ve done, I wish you would tell me.”

Molly tried to push the guilt away. Usually this wasn’t a problem with her, but this time, she couldn’t manage it. She fought as hard as she could, but still ended up weeping into her hands.

“Molly, talk to me. I promise, there’s nothing you could tell me that would make me love you less.”

“Oh, Richard!” she cried. She turned into his arms. He held her. Rocked her. Kissed the top of her head.

And then her phone buzzed in her pocket.
 

Boone waited until everyone was asleep. He hadn’t been planning on contacting Molly anymore. He’d been getting kind of bored with her, truth be told. But after three days and no luck at the bars that weekend, he was beginning to get the itch. Besides which, all the tension at the dinner table gave him that antsy feeling of wanting to run away or do something bad.
 

Granted, screwing the preacher’s wife had become rather blasé, it was still the baddest thing he was doing at the moment. He texted her and waited. After about fifteen minutes, she texted back.

Where do you want to meet?
She asked.

Motel?
 

Someone will recognize my car.

Use Ivy’s truck.

The phone rang. “Hey, beautiful,” Boone answered.

“Richard’s getting suspicious.”

“You want to cool things off for a while?”
 

“Honestly, Boone, I thought we already had. I thought you were done with me.”

He flicked a piece of lint off his jeans. “No, baby, of course not. How could you even think that?”

“It’s just you haven’t called—”

“I’ve been really busy. But I’ve been thinking of you the whole time.”

He heard her sigh. And sniffle. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’d thought she was cool, but if she was getting too attached, he should let her go. When she spoke again, it was in a soft voice. “Okay, I can meet you tomorrow night. I’ll see if Ivy can help me, and I’ll text you a time and place.”

“Perfect. I can’t wait.”

“Me, either. Boone?”

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know…you mean so much to me. So much.”

“Uh, yeah. You do too, babe. See you tomorrow.” He hung up, tossed his phone on the nightstand, and went into the bathroom to take a shower before bed.

Myra’s Blog

As promised, I have some inside information to share. But who would have thought Sunday would yield such drama?

Ivy Turner has now been spotted in public with two of the four Deathridge boys, which narrows things down considerably. Of course, Ivy is a modern girl. Perhaps she’s seeing them all. In any case, the most likely candidate is the bestower of a very public kiss…one Dallas Deathridge. Although it does appear to have been a goodbye kiss. Is our Ivy broken hearted? Or will she simply move on to the next brother? Time will tell.

But folks, that’s not what I want to talk about today. It’s come to my attention that there might be more to the Turner/Deathridge rivalry than a patch of land and a daughter of ill repute. I can’t say for certain, but my vast experience when it comes to angry, competitive men, says that there is a woman involved. Did the two men once battle over little Clara Deathridge? Or was it the lovely Penelope, rest her soul?
 

As always, I’m thrilled to hear from my viewers if anyone has information on this or any other juicy topics.
 

Ta-ta, for now!

Ivy’s relationship with Tim, her boyfriend from Tulsa, had been a practical affair. They’d spent two years having practical conversations and practical sex and practical goodbyes. It wasn’t in her nature to behave in a dreamy manner. But the next day, no matter how she tried, she could not come down off the high of being in Jake’s arms. So she stubbed her toe, locked her keys in her truck, forgot the main thing she went to the grocery store for, and just overall botched the day. Edna at work didn’t say anything, but she cast Ivy occasional, suspicious glances.
 

It was through sheer force of will that Ivy refrained from calling Jake, or even sneaking over to his ranch to find him and throw herself at him. No, she was determined to be a lady and wait for him to pay proper suit. Still, if she’d known what obstacles were about to present themselves, she might have thrown her principles to the wind and seized the impulse.
 

Her first hint of trouble happened that evening. At six, she started dinner preparations. It was a quiet time for her, her father still out with the cattle while she put together a heart-healthy dinner for him. Tonight it was a thin slice of marinated chicken breast with a side of arugula salad and whole grain croutons. The great thing about cooking for her father was that the meals were in line with her own dietary preferences. Although she did occasionally sneak out for a pizza now and then.