“Agreed,” Ryder said with raised eyebrows. “So what are we doing tonight? Want to go grab a bite to eat one more time?”
“Sure.”
Stormy and Ryder left and stopped at a little restaurant just south of the downtown square. It was a newer spot and a lot of younger people went there, so Stormy was almost afraid to go. She didn’t want to be seen. She knew the entire town of Coleville knew her by name now. She was the young woman who married that bad ass biker gang VP who just so happened to be known for shady drug dealings. Stormy never asked, and Jett never told. She just pretended not to know what he did to generate income. She was happier that way, and he said she was probably safer that way.
She was loaded now, they’d all say. She was a millionaire. She was just using him. She never really loved him. People there thought he was a big time drug dealer, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He sold a little marijuana here and there and sometimes dabbled in gun trafficking, or so she assumed, but that was all she knew. She also knew how people in her town talked. She knew the rumors that swirled around that town like wildfire.
They took a seat in a corner booth in the back of the restaurant, away from the constant chiming of the front door as people came and went in droves.
“I think I’m going to have a drink tonight,” Stormy announced as she paged through the drink menu.
Ryder raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Good for you. I’m sticking with water. Someone’s got to be the sober one.”
Stormy kicked him playfully under the table.
“Ouch,” he teased. “Seriously though, drink as much as you want. I’ve got you tonight.”
She ordered some fruity, blue cocktail and sipped it quickly as Ryder sat across from her, nursing his water and reading something on his phone with sheer intensity.
“Anything good?” she asked. “On your phone, I mean.”
Ryder looked up. “Oh, just good, old Veronica. Up to her usual antics.”
“Oh,” Stormy said. She felt that bizarre pang of jealousy again but tried to stuff it down.
“She can’t understand that there are always going to be ups and down with our businesses,” he said. “Some months are better than others. She can’t just roll with the punches. She’s so high maintenance. Nothing like you.”
Stormy was shocked when Ryder compared Veronica to herself. She wondered if he meant to do that but decided she shouldn’t read too much into it.
“Thanks, I think?” she smiled.
“Nah, I just mean you’re a cool girl,” he said. “They don’t have a lot of girls like you where I’m from.”
Stormy was the quintessential girl next door and she always had been. She was average in height and build, and her long, dark, curly hair was rarely treated to hi-lights or anything special. Her face was never caked in makeup like Brooklyn or her little sister, Willow. She was perfectly happy in jeans and a t-shirt and the occasional dress. She was pretty low-maintenance, and she was never going to change that.
“Does everyone in California have blonde hair and implants?” Stormy asked.
“Ha,” Ryder laughed. “Not everyone. But it’s not unusual. You kind of get used to it.”
“Do you like that sort of thing?” Stormy asked. The drink was starting to get to her. Her face felt numb and her filter was starting to fade. Anything could come out of her mouth now.
“I mean, I don’t actively seek out girls who look like that, no,” he said. “But I wouldn’t discriminate. I tend to date women based on whether or not we click. The physical attraction is just secondary.”
“Do most guys in California like that stuff though?” Stormy asked with wide eyes.
“I don’t know,” Ryder laughed. “Why don’t you come out and see for yourself? I’m serious about that open invitation. You need to get out of Coleville. This place is not good for anyone.”
“You’re probably right,” Stormy said as she sipped the last of her blue drink. “Be right back.”
She stumbled out of the booth and ran up to the bar to order another fruity blue drink, making it a double. She was definitely feeling it now. The room was beginning to spin a little, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel nothing. The drinks helped clear her mind and made her temporarily forget the deep pain, loss, and trauma that still freshly resided inside her.
“Stormy?” she heard a familiar voice behind her. She flipped around only to be faced with none other than Hayden Goodwin. “What are you doing here?”
“Hayden,” she said, flabbergasted. “So we meet again.”