Ex, Why, and Me (8 page)

“Duh.” She tossed her head, her red hair floating around her face as she giggled. “Livestock is way more important than a root vegetable.”

“It’s a food chain thing?”

“No, silly.” Brandy leaned forward. “Livestock pageantries usually offer a bigger crown.”

Michelle slapped her napkin against her mouth.

“It’s the least they could do,” Brandy confided, placing her hand on Ryan’s wrist. “When I was competing for Junior Miss Swine—”

Michelle choked and coughed. Hard coughs that made her eyes water. Or maybe she was coughing to hide the fact that her eyes were already watering.

“They made us do the one-hundred-yard dash riding a pig. Can you believe it?”

Ryan didn’t glance in Michelle’s direction when he heard her chair legs scraping the floor. “Is that right?”

“I won that race.”

“I have no doubt.” Otherwise she wouldn’t have mentioned it.

The redhead leaned forward, giving him a front-row view of her ample cleavage. “Do you know how hard it is to ride a pig bareback?”

He was at a loss. “I’m guessing not as hard as getting a saddle on them.”

Michelle bolted up. “Excuse me,” she said, her mouth against her hand as if she was covering a yawn. “I didn’t realize how tired I am. All the events really wore me out. I think I better turn in.”

“The hunt organizers picked up your overnight bag from your mom’s house and brought it here,” Annie said as she headed back to the kitchen. “I put it in the first room to the right.”

“Thank you. Good night everyone.”

“And, Ryan,” Annie added, “I put your backpack in the second room to the left.”

Ryan looked at Michelle and she couldn’t quite hide her smile. Separate bedrooms? Did Homer and Ida sleep in separate rooms? Was this any way to conduct a romantic legend? Weren’t they going for the Sexiest Couple title?

What was he thinking? He should have known better. It was sexy, Carbon Hill style. These organizers needed to cut him some slack.

He froze when he felt Brandy’s toe creeping up his leg again. Ryan sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Michelle had expected the knock on the door. Soft but firm, as she predicted. She had lain on her bed, desperate to go to sleep, but couldn’t. All because she knew Ryan was going to pay a visit.

She sighed and got out of bed. Michelle tiptoed to the door, wincing at the pain in her feet. She wasn’t listening to her mother’s fashion advice ever again.

She leaned against the door. “Who’s there?”

“Who are you expecting?” Ryan asked. The gruff tone should have made him sound grumpy, but she found it very seductive.

“I already gave at the office.” She pushed off the door, wondering why she got up in the first place. Or why her heart did that crazy flip-flop thing. She hated that. Really, she did.

“Come on, open up.”

She watched the doorknob twist as he tried to open the door. “Whatever you are selling, I’m not buying.”

“Michelle.”

“Unless you are under five feet and selling cookies.”

“I can pick locks, you know.”

She didn’t know, but she believed it. Michelle swung the door open. “Don’t you dare!”

Whoa, he looked good. Michelle stared at him, taking in everything. He had recently taken a shower and his wet hair was dark and slicked back.

But what really got her attention was that Ryan wasn’t wearing a shirt. His damp skin gleamed under the hallway lights. She itched to rake her fingers down the lean, compact muscles.

Her gaze dragged down the arrow of dark blond hair that dipped past his drawstring pants. The very pants that hung dangerously low on his narrow hips. One pull of that string and…

Be strong. He was good-looking, but he was false advertising. Remember that.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Ryan’s smile hitched to one side. As though he knew what she was thinking. Feeling. Wanting. “To look at your feet.”

She curled her toes against the hardwood floor. Her feet suddenly felt cold. Naked. Vulnerable. “Why?”

He revealed a first-aid kit and rattled it. “I asked Annie for it, so you might as well use it for your blisters.”

Michelle took a step back. Okay. She hadn’t expected this from him. It was sweet. Thoughtful.

She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. There had to be a catch. “Thank you.” Michelle didn’t reach for the box, wondering if there were strings attached.

“You need any help?” he asked, his bright blue eyes dancing with hope.

“I can manage on my own.”

His eyebrow arched. “Even the hard-to-reach places?”

One hard-to-reach place was flaring to life. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She reached for the kit and tried to do a quick grab and go, but Ryan proved quicker. His hand encircled her wrist before she could close the door.

His grip was gentle, but insistent. His thumb rubbed against the jumping pulse at her wrist. She knew it was a matter of moments before he drew her against him.

Michelle reluctantly looked up. She saw those dimples and her knees weakened. Okay, one kiss, but that was all she could allow.

“Sweet dreams,” Ryan murmured and dropped his hold before turning away.

Michelle stared at him, openmouthed. What was that all about? He could have gone in for the kiss, press her against him, but he didn’t. All he did was get her a little hot and bothered and walk away.

Michelle stiffened and her jaw snapped shut. She was tempted to aim the first-aid kit at the really defined muscles in his broad back.

Stop looking at him.
Michelle swung the door shut and locked it with the flick of her wrist. He
had
gotten her interested. With incredible ease. After all that vowing that she would never sleep with him.

Rat bastard. At least he knew to carry Band-Aids.

Michelle hobbled back to her bed and perched herself on the mattress. She had put on the last of the Band-Aids when she heard a soft knock on one of the doors outside.

“Hey, Ryan.”

Brandy? Michelle’s head bolted up. What was Brandy doing visiting Ryan?

Well, duh. Michelle rolled her eyes on that one.

She heard Ryan’s voice, low and murmuring, but she couldn’t make out the words. Michelle craned her head in the direction of her door, hating the fact that she was considering peering through the keyhole.

Not her business, Michelle reminded herself as she heard Brandy whisper. She had no intention of sleeping with Ryan, so it really didn’t matter what was going on there.

But why were they still standing at his door? Were they going to talk all night?

She didn’t care. Michelle snapped the first-aid kit closed, set it down by her bedside table, and resolutely turned the lamp off. She slid underneath the bedsheets and pounded her pillow a few times.

She really, truly didn’t care. It had nothing to do with her. She didn’t feel the need to interrupt them. Or stop them. Or pull Brandy by her red hair and drag her far, far away.

She heard Ryan’s door close.

Michelle’s heart stopped. At least, she thought it was Ryan’s. Her breath hitched painfully in her throat.

And then she heard the indignant stomp of Brandy’s bare feet.

Michelle slowly released her breath as her pulse pounded in her ears. She really shouldn’t care. She didn’t want Ryan anymore.

No, that wasn’t true. Michelle curled the pillow tightly under her head as she thought about it. She didn’t
want
to want Ryan. And it was more than just that one night.

Or was it? Was she refusing him a second chance based solely on that disaster? She’d been telling herself it was because of how he had destroyed her confidence. It had taken her a while to rebuild, so why give him a second chance to destroy her again?

Could the truth be something more…shallow? Michelle turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t like that possibility. She wanted to be someone smart. Admirable.

But was she holding a grudge against Ryan simply because her first time was the worst time?

And she couldn’t hold him fully responsible. She had been too eager, thinking only of herself and her rite of passage. She knew that now.

Well, what was done was done. There was nothing else she could do about it. Even if she had the opportunity, she didn’t know what she would do differently for her first time.

Okay, probably a different setting, Michelle decided as she closed her eyes. But at the time she had wanted somewhere private and memorable. Something different so she would have a story to tell.

Maybe that was where she went wrong. She should have let Ryan take her to his bed. She should have done something common. Normal. Like the missionary position, or the backseat of a car. Or do the ultimate cliché and join the Mile High Club.

Michelle smiled sleepily over that idea. Her first time would have been infinitely worse if she had tried to have sex in a bathroom that could barely fit one person.

She imagined there would be a lot of fumbling and interesting bruises afterward. It would be a tight fit, pressed against the shallow sink and Ryan. Or maybe against the accordion-style door, praying it wouldn’t burst open as he drove his cock into her.

The encounter would be clumsy but wild. Daring. Her imagination took hold and wouldn’t let go. They wouldn’t have room to do anything but mate. No fondling, no suckling. Just…

Well, she would expect something more. There was plenty of room to give Ryan pleasure. She vividly imagined all the ways she could make him go wild. But while she could make his eyes roll backward one hundred and one ways in a room the size of a postage stamp, she couldn’t imagine finding much satisfaction with very little movement.

But what if she’d promise to be extremely still as he dipped his fingers inside her? He would know her response by watching her face closely. Watching her pupils dilate, her lips part, her skin turning pink.

She wouldn’t be able to part her legs too wide, though. And she couldn’t bump too hard against the wall when she came. Although, the way the planes bounced and rocked, maybe the passengers would think it was turbulence.

She’d have to be very, very quiet. That was nearly impossible for her when it came to sex. But only whispers and stifled moans for the Mile High Club. People walked past the lavatory. Call bells chimed and the flight attendants were everywhere. She would easily be found out.

But she would give it a try with Ryan. There would be nothing to hold on to as he drove into her. Nothing but him. She’d hold on tight and burrow her head into his shoulder, muffling her moans as—

Michelle jerked awake and lifted her face from the pillow. Her heart raced. Her breasts felt heavy and tight. She rested on her elbows and looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. Where was she? She stared at the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains.

Bed and breakfast. Treasure hunt. Morning. Phone!

Michelle cricked her neck as she whirled around and saw her cell phone lighting up on the bedside table. She grabbed for it, almost dropped it, but caught it before it hit the ground.

Her head dangled inches from the floor as her feet were flailing in the air. Michelle punched the talk button.

“Hello?” she said in a raspy voice. She realized she held the phone upside down and righted it.

“You are on the front page of the
Carbon Hill Herald,
but I’m not cutting it out for the scrapbook. First of all, it’s not your best side, and it gives you a double chin.”

“Mom?” She bolted up.

“But no one will notice that because the picture shows you kissing Ryan Slater!”

“Uh-oh.” Michelle scooted away from the edge of the mattress.

“In color.”

“Mom, it was part of the hunt.” Okay, technically it wasn’t, but how would her mother find out the truth?

“You are slipping him tongue.”

Michelle winced. She didn’t want to have this conversation with her mother first thing in the morning.

“What are you doing with this Slater boy?”

“Ask Danny. He’s the one who got him for me.” When cornered, always blame the older brother. The technique had worked well in the past.

“Now listen to me, Michelle Louise Nelson. You keep your eye on the prize.”

“The treasure chest?” Since when did her mom care about this scavenger hunt?

“No.” Her mother’s voice dipped low. Michelle knew the woman was about to blow. “Your career.”

“Oh, that.” How did they get on this topic? What was she thinking? They
always
got around to discussing her career plan and goals.

“This Slater boy is a charmer. He will distract you. You don’t want a guy to slow you down.”

Michelle nodded and slowly moved into a sitting position. “Okay, Mom.”

“That’s what happened to me. I was going to travel the world and—”

“Then you met Dad on your first stop and that was that. I know.” She knew all about her mom’s grand dreams dashed by an unexpected pregnancy. “I have to go.”

“Did you listen to a thing I said?”

She had been listening for years. She was sure some of it stuck and was embedded into her DNA. “Yeah, I got it. Bye!” She hung up and flopped back onto her pillow.

But some of the things her mom said did make sense. Should she start listening to the woman? Michelle glanced at her swollen feet.
Nah…

Michelle strolled around the backyard of the bed and breakfast as everyone else ate their morning meal. She hoped she didn’t appear rude, but she was unwilling to handle conversation with Brandy. About Brandy. Brandy all the time. It was enough to give her indigestion.

She noted that the weather was warmer and took that as a good omen. She had already found something unexpected this morning. Walking around the Wirts’ farmhouse, Michelle got a better sense of Homer and Ida.

The grounds were unkempt, but with her untrained eye, she could tell that the enormous garden had been lovingly planned. The landscaping was much more formal than she expected from a Midwestern farmhouse, complete with sculptures and a rather ornate birdbath.

It was as if the struggle of their double life played out in the garden. Common household plants wrapped around a broken Grecian urn. The herb garden by the kitchen was designed in artistic geometric shapes, but impractical.

Instead of thick hedges or intimidating fences, the Wirts had chosen to border the garden with twisted, gnarled apple trees. She didn’t understand the choice and wondered if it was once again the struggle between their fantasy world and reality.

Michelle zigzagged between the trees, dodging the rotten apples. As she jumped over a decomposed fruit, she accidentally stubbed her toe on something hard. Michelle hopped back and swallowed a colorful curse.

She looked to see what she hit, kicking down the overgrown weeds, and discovered a marker. It looked as if it was made out of marble. She looked on the other side which faced the garden and noticed the word “Golden” engraved on it.

“That can’t be right,” she muttered to herself as she picked up one of the scrawny apples on the ground. She studied it before glancing up at the marked tree.

“The trees are in bad condition,” Ryan said, causing Michelle to turn around and watch him approach her. “I’m surprised they’re still standing.”

“I wasn’t looking at that. I was wondering about this marker.” She pointed at the small slab of marble.

“What about it?”

“Why is it marking this tree as a Golden Delicious?”

Ryan shrugged. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. Probably an heirloom variety.” She tossed him the apple in her hand and looked around the trees. “I don’t think any of these trees are goldens.”

“Maybe it’s marking where a tree used to be,” Ryan guessed.

“Why would they do that?” Michelle dismissed the idea. “They could have planted another tree in its place.”

“That tree could have been important to them. Like it was where they first did it.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Michelle made a face. “Tell me, do you have a plaque next to the pinsetters?”

His smile was slow and wicked. “I’ll get right on it, if it makes you feel better.”

“No, that’s okay.” An idea popped into her head. “Hey!” She nudged Ryan with her elbow. “Maybe this is where they stowed the treasure. Golden. Get it?”

Ryan scoffed at the possibility. “They wouldn’t be that obvious.”

“Unless they were playing mind games. Hide it in plain sight. Or make us think that we know they would hide it plain sight so—”

“Stop!” Ryan held up his hand. “What would be the point of putting it there in the first place?”

“There is a point,” Annie said as she came up from behind them. “But not the kind you’re thinking. That’s a grave marker.”

“Ew!” Michelle scurried away from the marker. Who had she been stepping on?

“For a pet,” Annie added.

“Are you kidding me? That marker had to cost a lot, even back then.”

“You never had a pet, did you?” the proprietor decided. “Homer and Ida adored their dog. I don’t know what kind it was. I think it was a mixed breed.”

“I saw pictures of the dog in the dining room,” Ryan said. “It looked like your average mutt.”

“That would be Golden. Or Goldie. They called her that as well.”

“So much for our buried treasure theory,” Ryan told Michelle.

“We really do suck at this, don’t we?” she admitted.

“Come on.” Annie gestured them to the house. “Everyone needs to get into the van for your next destination.”

“Let me go get my cell phone before we leave.” Michelle hurried ahead of them and ran inside.

“You know, if there was any treasure, it’s not around here,” Annie said. “I went through every nook and cranny when renovating the house. The yard is next, but treasure hunters have been here off and on through the years. They never found anything.”

“Michelle doesn’t believe there was a treasure,” Ryan said. “I disagree. I think it’s still around here somewhere, waiting to be found.”

“Huh. I’m with you on that, Ryan. It’s probably in one of those river bluff caves.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When Homer and Ida died, they didn’t have a lot of money in the bank. It has to be somewhere, right?”

“Unless they weren’t train robbers.” Hmm…Michelle was definitely rubbing off on him.

“They were. Ida bragged about it constantly to her sister, who happened to be my grandmother. Grandma considered calling the authorities just to stop hearing about the stories.”

Ryan smiled. Sibling rivalry at its best.

“But I know Ida was proud of her double life,” Annie continued, “so I don’t feel guilty about advertising it. I’m going to use the romantic legend to get some business for this place.”

“Good idea.”

“I hope it will bring in a profit soon. It’s not easy operating a B&B in the middle of nowhere. Come to think of it, it’s not easy doing any kind of business in Carbon Hill.”

“You guys.” Michelle hurried down the steps and went directly to the phone sitting on the hall table. She rapidly punched in the numbers, but didn’t put the phone to her ear. “Do you hear a phone ringing?”

Ryan and Annie listened. “No,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “What’s going on?”

“Have either of you seen my cell phone? It was on the bedside table and it’s not there.”

“I’ll go ask the others,” Annie offered, “but we have to leave in five minutes with or without the cell phone.”

“I’ll come help you.” Ryan ran up the steps. They needed that phone. It was the only way they got through yesterday. “When was the last time you used it?”

“This morning. My mom called me.” She tossed back the bedcovers and looked under the pillow. Michelle lifted the mattress. “Anything?”

“No.” He looked under the bed, but it was completely empty. “You didn’t take it outside?”

“Nope.”

“Jacket?”

She patted down her pockets. “Nothing. Let’s check the other rooms—starting with Brandy’s.”

Ryan grabbed her arm before she stepped out of the room. “You think Brandy took it? Why would she do such a thing?”

“Oh,” she said with a sad smile and patted his cheek. “What it must be like to live in Ryan World.”

“You’re calling her a thief.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

“But you have no proof!” Ryan pointed out.

Michelle looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “I don’t need proof. I know she’s behind this.”

“Ryan? Michelle?” Annie called up the stairs. “No one has seen the phone. I’m sorry, but we have to get going.”

Michelle sighed. Ryan rubbed her back, noticing every swell and dip his hand glided over. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. It wasn’t true, but she didn’t need to know that.

“We can’t use my cell phone anymore. How is that going to be okay?” She looked up at him, her brown eyes holding a weak glimmer of hope. “Do you have one?”

Ryan shook his head, feeling very unsophisticated. But he didn’t need a cell phone since he spent most of his time at Pins & Pints. Anyone who needed to reach him called the bowling alley.

“I should have known Brandy would do something like this,” she said, her voice a low growl as she hurried down the steps. “I should have kept my guard up.”

“If I find the phone, I’ll meet up with you and give it to you,” Annie said.

“Thank you,” Michelle said with a tense smile. “Here’s the number. I tried calling it, but I didn’t hear it ring. The ringer might be off, which”—she cast a dark look at Ryan—“is something I never do.”

“We don’t know if it was stolen,” he pointed out. “Or if Brandy is behind it. For all you know, the batteries could be dead.”

“Just keep her away from me,” Michelle said as she strode out of the house.

“Oh, sure thing,” Ryan called after her. “But who is going to keep her away from
me?”

“Where are we going?” Margaret asked as the bed and breakfast’s van turned into the downtown area.

“Back to the square,” Annie said, slamming on the brakes as the light turned red. The brakes squeaked and hissed ominously. Ryan was beginning to miss Lucifer.

“The square?” Clayton asked, clutching the shoulder seat belt as the van shook. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Annie glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’m sure you’ll figure it all out once I drop you off and give you your next clue.”

Annie screeched to a stop in front of the makeshift stage where they had first started the hunt. She hit the emergency lights and turned around to face the teams. “Okay, everybody out.”

Ryan helped everyone out of the van, but he noticed Michelle was very quiet. She hadn’t said one word about maniac drivers. Nothing about starting at square one. He hated to say it, but he could really use a snarky word or two. It was as though her head was not in the game.

“Okay, everyone. Here is your next clue,” Annie said as she handed the sealed envelopes to the men. “Do not open until I give the go-ahead. Ready…set…go!”

Ryan ripped the envelope open and pulled out the card. “Track the Knights’ warnings to the Graveyard.”

He stared at the message. No moment of recognition. No lightbulb moment. Nothing.

“What?” Clayton asked, his voice sounding more like a squawk. “This can’t be it. You seriously can’t expect us to figure this out from”—he looked down and counted quickly—“seven words.”

Good, Ryan decided. If a genius didn’t understand the message, it made him feel better.

Annie pressed her hand against her chest. “Hey, I didn’t come up with the clue. I just hand them out. Okay? Good luck!” She gave a jaunty wave, got back into her van, and swerved into the heavy traffic, eliciting a symphony of car horns and screeched tires.

“Track the Knights’ warnings to the Graveyard,” Ryan said in a whisper before turning to Michelle. He showed her the card. “Any ideas?”

She didn’t look at the message. “Nope. Not a one.”

Her lack of curiosity boggled his mind. “Are you planning to come up with one? Say…in the next few minutes?”

Michelle shrugged and dragged the toe of her tennis shoe against the sidewalk. “I got nothing.”

“You know,” Ryan said as he folded his arms across his chest, “you can do this without the help of technology.”

“How about if you come up with an idea?”

He came up with the one idea she would balk at. That should jump-start her brain. “I say we follow one of the other teams.”

She glanced over at them. “They look about as lost as we do. It’ll be the blind leading the blind.”

She didn’t reject it out of hand. He should use this to his favor. Ryan dipped his hand in his pocket to find a coin. “Okay, heads the Aschenbrenners, or tails, Clayton and Brandy.”

He stopped when he noticed Michelle was off in her own world. “Oh, look. We get to follow Brandy.”

Michelle didn’t respond.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Ryan asked. “This isn’t about the phone, is it?”

“I’m fine,” she said as she walked toward the park bench and plopped down, sprawling her legs in front of her. “Where should we go? You can lead this time.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, can I? Gee, thanks. What do you mean, this time?”

She looked at him. Her eyes didn’t appear confused or dazed. They looked blank.

“Don’t you remember yesterday?” he asked. “You wanted to go to the bank. You wanted to put together the replica without the benefit of light, and you wanted to get to the farmhouse without using the horse.”

“What’s your point?” she asked, each word and gesture dripping with fatigue. “That you come up with all the ideas?”

“No, that we are a team,” Ryan said. Why was he fighting this? She wanted to quit. No one needed to twist his arm to quit.

But he sensed it would be a mistake. He couldn’t give in. Not yet. Not until he figured out what was going on with Michelle. “We come up with the answers together. And we need to get the answer to this clue. Now.”

She sighed and leaned her head back against the bench. “Ryan, what is the point? We’re never going to win.”

She’d been saying that since the moment the hunt started. What had changed since then? “I vote for trailing the Aschenbrenners.”

“We’re just going to go through the motions,” Michelle went on as if he hadn’t spoken.

He studied her face, void of any expression, and wondered what caused this. Was it because of his proposition? No, she would have called it quits. Was it something bigger, like coming back home? Or was it smaller, like the hunt not going their way?

That had to be it. Everything always went her way. Michelle Nelson wasn’t familiar with failure. Now she was getting a taste of how the other half lived. It was good for her. “I get it now,” Ryan said, not caring that his voice took on a cold edge.

She frowned with disbelief. “The clue?”

“No. I get
you
now.” He sat down on the bench next to her. “This hunt has gotten too hard for you, hasn’t it?”

“What?” She sat up straight.

He gestured at the square. “You thought you could breeze in here, win this thing, and walk away without breaking a sweat.”

Michelle scoffed at the idea. “No.”

“And now it’s getting too hard. It’s requiring Carbon Hill’s golden girl to break a sweat.”

Her mouth sagged open. “Are you sniffing glue?”

“This hunt is making you work, and you can’t handle it. Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”

Michelle pointed her finger in his face. “Don’t tell me about work,” she warned him. “I know all about work. When every hour, every minute is focused on—”

He swatted her hand away. “Then you should be enjoying this. The hunt is a break from work.”