Chapter 8: Ashlyn
The minute I got home, I made straight for the greenhouse. I needed to keep myself busy, to get my mind off of Chance. It had been so long since the last time I had had a proper conversation with someone, and although the man was literally a stranger, talking to him almost felt like I had been talking with an age-old friend.
I went straight for the flowers in the back, grabbing my chart and quickly marking off with flowers I would be taking to the motel tomorrow. My mind kept wandering back to Chance, a part of me wondering if maybe I should change the lilies in his room for something a little more colorful. Maybe a stronger scent if he was going to keep smoking in there.
Which shouldn’t be something you’re thinking about.
Right, of course. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, and after a few minutes, I realized I had screwed up the order completely. I sighed in frustration, ripped the checklist off my pad, and started over again. I needed to keep my head on straight. There was no logical reason for me to be thinking about the guy, especially since I knew he’d be gone within a couple of days.
Maybe convince Hank to go extra slow on the repairs?
Stupid. Very stupid. I crumbled up the second checklist after I had realized I’d written in two dozen flowers of a kind I did not even have yet. This was getting ridiculous. Sure, he was hot. Fucking hot, for that matter. The eyes, the jawline, the way he looked at me when I talked, hanging on my every word. And the fact that his eyes hadn’t wandered south was definitely a plus.
And my God, an actual mind to go with it. I had come across my fair share of handsome men who had nothing up top other than a burning light bulb. But Chance was different. Intellectual. Knew his books, his history, almost as if he had stepped out of a commercial for the perfect Saturday night date. And a sense of humor, too. Sure, a bit on the sarcastic side, but definitely funny enough to keep me smiling all afternoon.
I had missed that. It had been so long, way too long, in fact, and the whole day had felt like something out of a dream. Like I had somehow fallen asleep at the motel and had dreamt through everything that had happened. I would wake up any minute now, realize that nothing had been real, and that the stranger in room number seven was just your regular douche who couldn’t stop staring at my breasts or ass.
Only, that wasn’t going to happen, was it? I wasn’t going to wake up. I wasn’t dreaming.
I tossed the clipboard to a side, leaned in on the table of pots and sighed. I blew a strand of hair out of my face and ran my hand across my brow, massaging my neck softly. If I wasn’t going to get any work done, I might as well call it a night. A good book and the comfort of my bed. That’s what I needed.
And less thinking about Chance, dammit.
Chance Sabbatical. I realized I had never asked him for his last name.
“What’s your story, Mr. Sabbatical?” I asked myself as I made my way into the house, kicked off my shoes and rummaged through the kitchen for anything to snack on. There was still a little iced tea left, and I poured myself a glass before heading upstairs with my book.
I undressed slowly, my eyes closed and my mind striking up images of Chance’s hands pulling off my clothes. I felt a slight shiver race through me at just the thought of it, and quickly brushed the image away. I crawled into bed, turned on the night light and began to read Bridges of Madison County.
The farmer’s wife had just decided to sleep with the traveling photographer… The words on the page sent my thoughts swirling back to Chance.
This is ridiculous.
But it was hard to shake the thought of Chance away.
I turned in bed, pulling the covers tighter around me and closing my eyes, trying to concentrate on nothing else but the sound of my own breathing.
He’s here for only a few days. Won’t hurt, would it?
I had no idea, but there was not a single part of me that was willing to find out. My time with Earl had turned me off all men, and even the thought of dating someone, or eventually sleeping with someone, made me shudder. Earl had not just been a terrible husband, but an even worse lover. It was all about him, all the time, and I couldn’t count the number of times I waited until he was asleep so I could finish off what he hadn’t. It was like sleeping with a wooden board that happened to have an extension slamming inside me.
I had a feeling, though, that would be quite different with Chance. With that last thought in my head, I slowly fell asleep.
* * *
I woke up to the sound of someone repeatedly slamming on my front door. The sheer aggressiveness of it made me jump out of bed, quickly reaching for a shirt and shorts as I silently hoped it wasn’t someone coming to give me bad news. My heart thumped in my chest, and my mind immediately went to Chuck and Martha. Had something happened at the motel?
It was only when I heard Earl shouting from outside did the worry ease.
But only a little.
What the hell is he doing here?
I made my way down the stairs, and stopped halfway down, suddenly aware that an angry Earl never meant anything good. I thought about calling the Sheriff, then remembered that nothing would happen in that department. The least the man would do was drive over and tell Earl to go home. The restraining order meant nothing when pitched against Greene money.
Still, it’s better than nothing.
I tiptoed the rest of the way down, then made for the telephone. Earl continued to hammer at the door. “Open this fucking door, Ashlyn!” he yelled. “Open up or God help me I’ll break it down!”
The phone rang a few times before the deputy picked it up. I quickly told him what was going on, my eyes glued on the front door as Earl began throwing his weight against it.
“Hold tight, Ashlyn, I’ll send someone over right now,” the deputy was saying just as the door flew open and slammed against the wall so hard, the glass broke.
Earl was red in the face, nostrils flared, eyes wide and wild. It took him a few seconds to register that I was only standing a couple of feet away from him, then he came for me.
“You fucking whore!” he yelled. “Who was that guy, huh? Who the fuck were you toting around town?”
Earl grabbed me by the arm, and I forcefully pulled away from him, pushing him back angrily.
“Get the fuck out!” I screamed. “I’m going to put your sorry ass behind bars for this, you son of a bitch!”
Earl tried to grab me again, but I slipped away, running into the living room to put some space between us. I only needed to buy time. The sheriff would be here in five minutes, maybe less, and I had a feeling that with Earl actually inside my house, there wouldn’t be any excuses for not throwing him in a cell.
Earl lunged for me, his fingers wrapping tight around my elbow and pulling me to him. His breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, and I wanted to puke from the stench.
“Who is he?” Earl spat. “What, you think you can just walk around with some guy and I wouldn’t know? You think you could cuckold me like that, you fucking bitch?”
“Let go of me!” I screamed, kicking at him, but that only made him angrier.
“How do you think it makes me look, huh?” His voice boomed through the small space. “What do you think people are going to say about me? That I can’t keep my woman in check?”
“I’m not your woman, you fucking asshole!”
“You’ll always be my goddamn woman!” His hand came around quick and hard, my cheek instantly flaring up with the slap. The force of it sent me tumbling over, and I fell to the floor with a gasp. He grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and when I tried to punch him, he slapped me again.
“You’re fucking crazy!” I screamed at him, my mind racing, my head spinning.
This is good. He’s digging his own grave.
But at what cost? My cheek throbbed, and I could feel blood in my mouth from where I must have bitten my lip. There was a slight pain in the back of my head from where he had pulled me by the hair, and my arm was already starting to bruise.
And he wasn’t letting up.
Earl grabbed me by the waist and hurled me onto the couch. Before I could even register what was happening, the weight of him crushed down on me, his mouth inches from my face, the stench of his breath filling my nostrils and making me gag.
“What is it, huh?” he asked, and I could feel something hard press against my thigh. Is he fucking serious?
“Get off!” I tried to push him away, but he pinned my hands down over my head, adjusting himself so that I couldn’t knee him where it hurt.
“You missed the feel of cock inside you?” he hissed. “Is that it, you little whore? Is that what you need? A nice hard cock to make you feel all better?”
I wrestled against his grip, but he was too strong, and the fact that he was drunk only made this worse. There would be no reasoning with him, no self-control of any kind. Right now I was dealing with the raw crap that was my ex-husband.
“I can give you that, you know?” He licked my cheek, and I squirmed against him. “I can make you scream again, just like old times.”
“You never made me scream, you fuck!”
He slapped me again, this time so hard I felt I would black out completely. The only thing that kept me conscious was the sound of ripping fabric as cold air hit my naked breasts, and hands tugging at my shorts, trying to pull them off.
The old me, the meek little girl afraid of her shadow, would have just gritted my teeth and let him have his way. But not now, not this me. I was never going to be abused by this cocksucker ever again without a fucking fight!
I kicked out, fast and hard, not caring where I was kicking or what I would hit. Earl’s scream of pain was enough to let me know that I had definitely hit the right spot, though.
He tumbled off me, both his hands grabbing his crotch, and rolled away, calling me a dumb bitch all the while. I pushed away from him, wishing that somehow the couch would just swallow me whole and keep me safe until the police arrived. The siren blaring in the distance seemed to still be too far away.
I looked down at my shirt, torn down the middle, and the shorts that were now almost around my knees. He was going to rape me!
A burst of anger shot through me. I pulled my shorts up as I pushed off the couch. “You fucking asshole!” I screamed and kicked him hard in the ribs. “You fucking son of a bitch!”
I don’t know how long I kicked him, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, because before I was fully satisfied, arms wrapped around me and pulled me away. I kicked and fought against my captor, screaming at the top of my lungs to be let go. I wanted to kill Earl. I wanted to kick at that smug face until nothing was left but a bleeding mask with the shape of my foot in it.
“Calm down, Ashlyn, we got this!” the deputy grunted in my ear, struggling to keep me away from Earl, who was curled into a ball on the floor with blood coming from his nose.
I didn’t calm down. Not by a long shot. The minute I was put down on my feet, I made for Earl again, screaming with renewed rage. Hands pulled me back and held me tight, and I watched in frustration as a second deputy knelt down and checked on the groaning mess that was my ex-husband.
“It’s over, Ashlyn, we’re here,” the deputy whispered as he fought to keep me under control. “We’re here. He isn’t going to hurt you.”
When the second officer brought Earl’s arms around his back and cuffed him, I finally calmed down and broke into tears.