Color of Loneliness (37 page)

“Look, can we put this shit behind us enough to finish the damn roof today?”

Ray doesn’t respond and pushes off the shed, stomping off. Dylan walks to his truck to unload the ladder, telling himself that he only has a few more hours and he can send that jackass packing.

* * *

Myra drops the curtain, relieved that Dylan and Ray didn’t get into a fight. She thought for sure she would see fists flying. And even though Dylan told her to stay in the house, she was prepared to dart out there at any moment.

Her cell rings.

“Hey.”

“Guess what I’m getting ready to do?” Susie asks.

“I have no idea.”

“I’m going to lunch with Lori from HR. Remember her?”

“Of course.”

“Well, she’s going to help me get back at Trent. I got to talking to her this morning and told her about how he went through my purse. She said there wasn’t really any way I could nail him on it because we didn’t have it on video, and he technically didn’t take anything. But she hates Trent and feels so guilty that she gave him your phone number. So she’s going to help me get back at that asswipe. I’ve got a list of ideas that I’m going to run by her today.”

“What ideas?”

“I was thinking of fire ants; the ones that sting. I could let them loose in his office and lock him in there. Or put a snake in his desk drawer – a big one of course and, possibly – I mean probably – venomous. I’d have anti-venom serum on-hand; I’m not that inhumane. But not for Trent, of course. Just in case someone else gets bit by accident.”

“Susie.”

“Hush. I’m not done. I’ve also been thinking I could maybe sneak a ghost pepper or two in his coffee. I saw a show on TV the other day about how they can cause blistering of the mouth and throat. Imagine how he’d feel shitting that out? That would be freaking awesome. Asshole blisters and hemorrhoids. My list goes on and on. So I’m going to run my ideas by her and see what we can come up with.”

“You can’t do that. You’ll get fired or sent to jail.”

“Eh. Probably, but, by God, it’d be worth it,” she says with a sigh. “Oh, I gotta go. She’s here. Bye.”

Myra shakes her head as she mumbles a goodbye and closes her phone.

* * *

Dylan pulls in a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares down at Myra’s new roof. Somehow, he and Ray got the damn thing finished without him having to kick off in his ass.

He climbs down the ladder and sits down in his truck, pulling out his business checks. He calculates Ray’s pay and writes him out a check.

“Here,” he says gruffly as he hands it to him.

Ray snatches it from him with a glare before stomping off to his truck.

Dylan sighs as he watches Ray back out of the driveway. It’ll be hard as hell finding another guy in this small town to replace him.

He stretches his back as he walks up to Myra’s porch. She smiles when she opens the door. “The roof’s done,” he says.

“Great.”

He nods. “Ray won’t be back.”

“Good,” she says, smiling.

“I can’t really do any more work until we get the shit we ordered for the kitchen and the bathrooms. I checked on it, and they’re still a couple of weeks out on delivery. So I’m going to take a few days off. I have to go to Boise anyway. For a family thing.”

Myra’s expression falls. “Oh. When?”

“In the morning.”

She hums, nodding, her gaze dropping to the porch. “Are you hungry? Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asks.

“I’d love to, but I have a six o’clock appointment. And I need to run home and take a shower.” She nods, staring down at the porch. He takes a step closer. “But I could be back around seven-thirty or eight? Is that too late?”

She looks up at him, her face lighting up. “No. That would be perfect.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, I’ll be back. Soon.”

“Great.”

“Okay. Great. Uh, I’ll see ya soon. Shit. I just said that, didn’t I? Damn it. I’ll just say… bye.” He scrubs a hand through his hair feeling like a stupid ass and hating that he can feel his face getting hot.

Myra giggles softly.

Dylan sighs as he climbs into his truck feeling like a fucking idiot as he drives to Elaina’s to get his back adjusted.

* * *

As soon as Dylan leaves her driveway, Myra makes a plan of action. She wants to make something special for him. After a look through her pantry, she groans when she discovers she’s going to have to go to the grocery store. She’s been putting it off, but she knows she can’t hide from Derek forever.

But first, she needs to call Jackie. She pulls out her phone and dials her number.

“You called me,” Jackie shrieks. “I think this is the first time. This is so great. I was just thinking about you. Have you had supper? I was thinking that I could stop on my way home and pick us up something to eat. What are you in the mood for? Chinese? Sandwiches? Burgers? I’m starving. I got so busy today with the bookstore and all that I didn’t even get a chance to eat lunch. It’s really weird that you can just forget to eat and then not think about it until way later when your stomach starts growling really loud,” she says with a giggle.

Myra sighs. Jackie drives her crazy, but she has a good heart. “Well, I hate this, but I was just calling to tell you that I can’t get together with you tonight. Dylan’s coming over.”

“Is it a date?”

“No. Not really.”

“What are you going to wear? You should wear something sexy, but not too sexy. I have a knack for clothes. I’ll have to go through yours sometime and see what all you have. I’ve only seen you in jeans. I hope you have more to wear than that. Maybe we could go shopping together some time, and I could help you pick out some new things. That would be so much fun. We definitely have to do that and…”

“Okay, okay,” Myra interrupts loudly. “Look, I have to go. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, all right?”

“Sure. Have fun. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

After they say their goodbyes, Myra slams her phone shut. She can’t believe how many words came out of that woman’s mouth in such a short amount of time.

Grabbing her purse, she heads for Marshall’s. She keeps a constant eye out for Derek, but he doesn’t seem to be working. She breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn’t see Lucia either.

She frowns when she turns down her street and sees a black car in the middle of the road with the brakes on. It seems to be stopped in front of her house. As she approaches, it quickly tears off down the road before she can get a good look at it. Her heart pounds as she wonders if it was Trent. But it couldn’t be him because he has to be back in Philly by now. It could be Jackie because Myra has no idea what kind of car she drives.

After she gets inside, locks all the doors and puts her groceries away, she calls Susie.

“Hey.”

“Dylan’s coming over for dinner,” Myra says immediately.

“No shit? Are you going to feed him and then power up his drill?” Susie asks with a giggle.

“No. He’s leaving tomorrow for a few days so I wanted to spend some time with him before he goes.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.”

“Have you seen Trent around the office?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Myra’s brows furrow. “Nothing.”

“I have to tell you about my meeting with Lori. That woman made me shred my
Traumatize Trent
list. I had some awesomely nasty things on there, too, because you know how completely devious my mind is. But when she mentioned jail time like you did, I tossed it. Anyway, I’m back to the damn drawing board. I’m going to have to come up with some lame shit to get him back with. But I’ll make it some seriously twisted lame shit. It’s just going to take some time to come up with a new plan of attack.”

“You need to just forget about what happened and move on.”

“Move on? Are you kidding me? That prick went through my damn purse. My private shit. My very personal private shit. Do you know what all I had in that thing? I had my new book in there that I bought to replace the boogered one. Plus, I had several magazines with Desmond on the cover. I had my stash of candy in case my blood sugar drops, and my tampons, pads, and I always keep a spare pair of underwear in there for emergencies. I hate that he saw all of that. It pisses me off.”

“You’re right. He did invade your privacy. Exactly how big is this purse of yours?” Myra asks, grinning.

“It’s not a purse, it’s a bag. And yes, it’s humongous. I got it at a yard sale. It takes up my whole bottom drawer, but I don’t care. I love that I can cram all kinds of shit in it. I could haul around my kitchen sink in there if I wanted to,” she adds with a giggle. “Ugh, I gotta go. I can’t wait to hear how your date went. Have fun.”

* * *

Dylan gets out of the shower and dries himself off. He wipes the steam off the mirror with his towel. He groans when he sees his messy hair. Leaning down, he opens the door beneath the sink, looking for some gel. He finds an old bottle that has a layer of dust on it. He puts some in his hair, trying to get that shit under control.

He runs an electric razor over his stubble to shorten it. But when he runs his hand over his face and remembers Myra’s red skin from this morning, he decides to shave it off. After a close shave, he rubs his hand over his chin again and grins. It makes him feel pretty damn good about himself. He can’t remember the last time he shaved. It’s been forever since he’s given a rat’s ass about how he looks.

Opening the medicine cabinet, he looks for some cologne. Finding an old bottle he hasn’t used in years, he opens it and takes a sniff. “Shit,
”
he yells, feeling like he just burned his nostrils. He dumps it down the sink and tosses the bottle. He’ll just have to smell like good old fucking bar soap.

To get into his bedroom, he has to kick clothes and shit out of his way. Opening his closet, he chuckles as there are only two shirts hanging there. The rest are either piled on top of his dresser, under his bed, or hiding somewhere in the mounds of shit on his floor.

He grabs one of the shirts hanging up – a simple black T – and throws it on and finds a pair of jeans underneath a pile of clothes in the corner. It takes him about five minutes to find a pair of clean boxers, which royally pisses him off.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, he pauses for a minute, staring, and finding it damn amusing that he’s going to so much trouble for a woman. He used to go to this much trouble for Sabrina. He can’t believe how much he’s changed, both inside and out. If she could see him now, she probably wouldn’t even recognize him anymore.

As he grabs his phone and keys, he feels a strange excitement about getting to see Myra again even though he just saw her a couple of hours ago. That just confirms in his mind his pussy status and that he should be wearing a damn dress to her house instead of jeans.

* * *

When Myra hears a soft knock at the door, her heart begins to race. Peeping through the window, her breath catches in her throat when she sees the back of Dylan’s head. Closing her eyes and taking in a slow breath, she opens the door. Her mouth drops open as she stares at his clean-shaven face. She’s never in her life seen a more beautiful man.

His eyes slowly move over her body. “You look…” he says before shaking his head. “Damn.”

She clears her throat and smiles shyly. “Thanks. So do you.”

He gives her a crooked grin before he steps inside.

“Jesus, it smells good in here,” he says as he shrugs out of his coat. “What is that?”

Myra smiles as she takes his coat. “Steak Florentine with Mushroom Risotto. I hope you like it.”

He chuckles. “I have no idea what the hell that is, but it smells fucking delicious,” he says with a grin as Myra laughs as they walk into the kitchen.

“Just have a seat. Everything’s ready.”

“After you,” he says, holding a chair out for Myra at the table.

She giggles. “Why thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he says after he sits down across from her. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble cooking.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Myra says as she cuts up her salad.

Dylan puts his fork down and stares at her, noticing how her eyes sparkle. Her beauty makes his breathing difficult.

He clears his throat and quickly looks away. He could get lost in her eyes. He doesn’t like all the feelings and shit she stirs up in him.

They begin eating quietly. Myra watches Dylan dive into her food. She takes great pride in the fact that he so loves her cooking.

He moans. “Damn, you’re a good cook. I don’t get many home-cooked meals. This is great.”

“I like cooking, so I’m glad you enjoy it,” she says, unable to control the ridiculous grin on her face.

“It’s nice to have someone to cook for again,” she whispers. Dylan stops eating long enough to stare at her before he looks away. He hates to admit it but it feels good to have someone special, other than his mom, cooking for him again.

For the rest of the meal, they take turns telling each other stories from their childhoods as they eat. Myra tells Dylan about going fishing with her dad and Grampie and how she’d cry for the poor worms. Dylan tells her similar stories, like the time he got grounded with his brothers and sister because they put slugs in their dad’s work boots. They couldn’t use their video games for a month. Dylan and Myra talk, laugh, and bond over the course of the meal. Dylan knows something has changed in their relationship tonight and that thought terrifies him.