Page 7 of Eggnog and Edging
We all laugh.
“Master plan.” Jolene refocuses us. “Let's figure out how we can get you out of your room Friday, and if that doesn’t work… Cullen better come through.”
Bellamie waves her hand. “I've got an idea. Can you play recordings of your vlogs, back to back, so the guys think you're in there making recordings and cooking?”
“They'll be busy with their poker game. I bet that would work.”
“Okay, let's call it a plan.” Jolene reaches over the seat to high-five me.
Chapter 4
Ryker
The first thing I did when I got to my stepdad's house for poker night was grab Starla's car keys from the key rack. I arrived several hours early just in case she got any crazy ideas to skip out early.
I don't think she’d be ballsy enough to drive to the Aubergine Affair while she's clearly grounded, but after seeing how mad she’s been since Dad told her she couldn't go to the auction, I'm not willing to put my money on that.
My ulterior motive is my true driver though. I can’t stand the thought of her selling her virginity in an auction, which, of course, I made clear in such an uncool fashion.
I pass her in the living room, and she glares at me again, not willing to make eye contact for more than a second. That’s how it’s been all week. I’ve tried to talk to her several times but she’s not having it.
I pretend that I'm here to help Dad with some remodeling ideas, but my presence is all about keeping an eye on Starla.
When Dad heads out to the garage, I head to the kitchen where Starla's making snacks for us. I take it as a good sign that maybe she's not too mad. Wrong—another glare when I get a drink confirms that she's still upset.
"Starla, I'm sorry about the other day. I didn't mean—"
"You made yourself perfectly clear… I shouldn’t fuck strangers. You win. I’ll have snacks ready for poker night. I just want to be left alone."
My heart shrinks. This isn't what my gifts were supposed to lead up to. Should I just blurt out that they were from me? Show her receipts?
"Get out of my kitchen, Ryker. I know my place." She keeps her eyes on the prosciutto and cheese she’s rolling.
On second thought, I should ease into the reveal or it might sound fake. "I don't believe that, Starla."
She slams her hands on the counter. "You don't believe that I know my place?"
I step closer but she shoos me away. "No, I don't believe your place is in the kitchen."
"Yeah, well, too bad Dad doesn't share your wild ideas."
Her dad got messed up hard when Starla's mom wanted a divorce. Her parents had an agreement that her mom was going to stay home and take care of the kids when they were little, and her dad was going to provide the income.
But things went wrong and he ended up with sole custody. He said he had to dial his career aspirations back, but you’d never know it by the multi-million dollar empire he’s built.
Starla loves cooking. She loves taking care of people. She'll be the best mom ever. There’s no need for Dad to force it.
I was probably foolish to think I stood a chance with her. We’ve always had a connection. At least I thought we did. Maybe I just saw what I wanted to see. The complication, other than how Dad would take it, is that I’ve seen her look at Cullen the way she looks at me.
Starla resumes her meat-and-cheese prep. “Why are you still here?"
Clearly this is not the right time to try to explain anything. I’d be wise to let her cool off. Nobody wants a secret admirer who goes from lavishing them with gifts to thinking they can tell them how to live their life.
Before long, Cullen and a couple of other friends show up. Starla acts totally normal, serving us food and drinks, although with less of a smile than usual. Then, when there's nothing else we could possibly need, she heads to her room.
While Dad and his friends load their plates while deciding if they want to play Texas Hold'em, Cullen pulls me aside. "We need to make sure she doesn't leave."
Telling him to fuck off would be self-defeating. "We need to make sure she knows who the gifts were from."
