The Country Duet(46)
Dave may buy in bulk because he’s not a people person, but I’m throwing shit in as fast as I can to get the hell out of here. Dave zips up next to me, watching me throw in shakes.
“Think there’s a manager around?”
“No, Dave.” I toss in the last box. “Everything is already discounted here.”
“I’m going to find one.”
Before I have the chance to tell him no, he has the damn scooter in reverse, full throttle. The back of it slams into a pallet of food, sending it all tumbling to the floor.
“Ah, shit,” he mutters to himself.
Then in a blink of an eye, he’s going forward once again, turning it as hard as it will go, knocking more food off a pallet.
“Ah, shit.”
He doesn’t hesitate or stall, not worried about the mess he’s made before he’s off. He zips right along back down the aisle, telling people to get the fuck out of his way. There’s no telling what the man would do in a store this size unsupervised. I scramble, throwing the food back on the respective pallets, saying sorry to everyone near me. If I had to guess, I’ve said the one word at least five hundred times on Dave’s behalf.
Chapter 2
Hunter
Two and a Half Months Later
“I will not give or back off from my path in life.” -Phil Robertson
“Hey.” Claire settles in on the tailgate next to me.
Her game is strong, I’ll give her that. Only a few seconds drift by before her hand is on the top of my thigh and her head is on my shoulder. Burton sends me a wink from the bonfire.
“Claire.” I nod, continuing to stare forward.
“Figured since you’re going home tomorrow we could…uh.”
I turn to her, inching away. “Claire, we’ve had a good summer back here with the whole gang, but like I’ve told you over and over, there’s nothing more than friendship.”
As soon as Burton found out about Teale, he was on a mission to get me laid. Hell, he had a line of girls all summer for the taking. Claire is the most persistent one vying for my attention. I’m not like Burton, or other men for that fact, and don’t care to keep my sheets warm. I crave that deeper intrinsic connection, and I had it until it was gone.
Months later and still not a single word from Teale. It doesn't mean she hasn’t been on my mind every single second of the day. Life hasn’t been the same without her in it. Parts of me yearn to go back to her and beg her to leave her husband, but my pride and anger keep me grounded in my weakest moments.
Claire finally gets the message and hops from the tailgate. “I’ve always been in love with you, Hunter Yates.”
What the hell? We had a few short months dating in high school.
“I’ll be here when you get home next summer if you’ve changed your mind.”
I’m not a mean man, but I'm also not going to let Claire think there’s any way I’ll be coming back to her. I slide down from the tailgate, having enough of this party, then slam it shut. It’s not my sleek old girl, but my old ranch truck authenticated with rust.
I take a step closer to Claire, who has her arms folded over her chest. “Just going to be real blunt here, Claire. There is no us, nor never will there be. We’re old friends from high school who tried to date once, and that’s it. You got me? Yeah?”
She nods her head once before scurrying off back toward the bonfire. I don’t miss the scowl Burton sends my way. The level of frustration between the two of us is at an all-time high. He’s trying to help me, and I haven’t wanted anything to do with it. I need time. School, Dave, and managing the U of I feedlot will keep me busy enough and give my heart time to heal.
By the time I make it home, the house is silent with only the kitchen light on. Mom’s MacBook is wide open and catches my eye. I see her. My breathing stops the same time my entire world evaporates from underneath me. It’s an unfortunate accident waiting to happen, the kind you can’t turn away from and keep staring at it.
Teale’s megawatt smile with her gorgeous as hell hair piled messily on the top of her head and, of course, she’s sporting skinny jeans with designer boots. Her little girl is wrapped around her leg. She’s the carbon copy of Teale in a matching outfit with identical smiles and crazy hair. I notice the title of the blog, and I can’t help the surge of pride running through my veins.
“A Bushel of Humble.”
The tagline underneath steals the oxygen in my lungs. To dreaming with loved ones.
The sensor on the MacBook brightens, almost as if it’s a sign from the powers above to continue on or a warning from the devil himself. I take one last long look at Teale’s happy face then snap the lid shut. I don’t need to be reading about her dreams and her loved ones. Not tonight. Not ever.
The front door slams, distracting me from the blog at the perfect time. Abby comes in squealing with delight. She has shopping bags hanging from both of her arms. Quinn’s face is concentrated on the screen of her phone, followed by Mom and Dad who are deep in conversation. The four of them have been my rock this summer and my foundation and ground when reality was too much to face.
I catch Quinn by surprise, leaping for her phone and grabbing it from her with ease. Her reaction is a predictable one, but I’m swifter, holding the phone above my head.