Stubborn Page 4

  “Omigod!” a girl shrieked. Fireworks were being launched across the field. A bunch of kids scurried over to the ruckus and huddled around.

  “Help! Somebody!” another girl cried. She was nearing hysterics, her hands flying in the air like an air traffic controller. Then multiple screams roared from the chaos.

  “Happens every summer. It’s always some fifteen-year-old,” Molly told me. “They get drunk and play with fire. That’s why Caleb’s here, aside from checking out the high school girls. He’s trained to be a medic. He gets in good practice over these bonfires. No joke.”

  “What do you think happened?” I asked innocently.

  I hoped it wasn’t Josh. Screams made the skin on my neck tighten, yet a dozen kids were still dancing and roughhousing around the fire.

  “Usually just eyebrow burns. Once a kid lost some fingers. It wasn’t too pretty. Wanna go and see?”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Did I want to see some kid all mutilated? “Sure.”

  There wasn’t much else going on. I would do anything to distract myself from thinking about the boy, the brothers, the yellow shirt.

  Molly shouldered her tiny body through the crowd and popped out in front of Caleb. The smell of burned skin permeated the air along with remnants of fireworks gone wrong. I stood tall above the mass of onlookers and focused my gaze. A shirtless Caleb was holding down the arm of a boy, while another guy with his back to me wrapped a T-shirt around a bloody wrist. The burned kid on the ground let out an endless groan. A girl sat behind him, tears in her eyes. She held the kid’s head on her lap, making rocking motions with her body. The boy screamed when Caleb lifted his hand.

  Everybody cringed.

  Caleb shot Molly a look. “We gotta lift him out. Get him to my truck. Somebody call 9-1-1. Make some room. Get outta the freakin’ way!”

  The other boy stood up tall and swung his hands out like a propeller.

  “Move!” he yelled forcefully.

  Adrenaline drove his deep voice. When his long arms flailed wider, an opening appeared. The sea of people parted and the two guys hoisted the kid off the ground. Caleb took his limp legs and the other boy slid his hands under the victim’s back. Over his shoulder, Caleb’s assistant crooked his neck and stared in my direction. His eyes burned through me, as if he could see inside my skull.

  “Somebody grab my guitar,” he shouted over the drone of voices. The Texan accent boomed.

  He was Gabriel.

  My eyes searched his striking face before he turned and hauled off through the shrubbery.

  Guitar? What guitar?

  I scanned the evacuated site. Bottles were scattered everywhere. A ring of logs necklaced the fire pit along with a couple dozen gallons of water. The guitar leaned on a shovel gouged into the ground like a stake. Flames reflected in the shiny face. My eyes tightened on the instrument. I stomped over and rescued it from the stand and then shadowed the crowd into the parking lawn.

  I located Molly standing beside a tailgate. Caleb had his fingers pressed on the injured boy’s neck, taking his pulse while the kid’s friends huddled around with frightened expressions. My eyes followed Gabe as he hopped in the silver Ford Raptor and started it up. The engine rumbled and then purred.

  “Who’s going with me?” Caleb barked. Sweat dripped from his temples to his collarbone.

  The kids eagerly raised their hands in unison.

  Gabe slid out from behind the wheel. “I’ll stay back. Take his friends,” he said elbowing his brother.

  I was amazed to see the two alike faces standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “Hop in guys.” They climbed into the truck bed. “Keep him covered. I’m gonna drive fast, so hold on,” Caleb warned and shook the side of the pickup truck. He reached over and gently nudged the boy’s leg. “Hang in there kid. We’ll be in town before you know it. C’mon Moll. Get in now.”

  He sounded curt.

  Molly and I exchanged a quick glance. She stuck her tongue out at Caleb’s back and made a foolish grin. “I’ll see you around, Avery. Good to finally meet you,” she shouted from the open window.

  Caleb’s truck blew out of the field.

  I waved, but my gesture was lost in the chaos. I held Gabe’s guitar in a haze of exhaust and darkness. The crowd simmered and thinned while several pickups peeled out of the field parading behind Caleb.

  Josh and Max were still absent.

  A voice at my back startled me. “Thanks for saving her.”

  Gabe slid his hand under the strap and lifted the guitar off my shoulder. His electric fingertips grazed the back of my arm. A chill circled my neck and I shivered. I thought he did it on purpose. If I had been thinking straight, I would have offered thanks for his heroics on the train. But my brain was completely out of order.

  The headlights of a truck lit a semi-circle in the gloom. I turned to address Gabe. He was looking directly at me with his stunning hazel eyes. His forehead lifted in question.

  “What?” I said, but quickly understood.

  “A little X-rated for these parts, don’t you think?” He grinned, his face half shadowed.

  He boldly moved my bangs to the side. I couldn’t believe he was touching me—again.

  “I can’t read that one. And that’s just plumb spelled wrong.”

  I rolled my eyes and gave his hand a soft slap, even though I really wanted him to keep it there.

  “Work of an amateur.” He delivered his line with modest humor and a southern inflection. “I could do much better.”

  “Enough. Jeez. Like you’re the first person to notice.”

  “Hell, it’s right there for anybody to read. You don’t much like covering up your stuff, do you?” He snaked his grin.

  I couldn’t help but stare.

  “Exhibitionist, I think it’s called.” His brows lifted and his thick lashes fluttered.

  I bit my lips together and strived for some dignity. I didn’t like the teasing. “Call it whatever. You won’t be getting any more, so don’t be parked under people’s windows waiting.”

  Gabe’s eyes tightened. “It’s my parking spot. I was there first.”

  He tipped his head to gaze down his perfect nose. He was definitely more boyish than Caleb, yet solemn at the same time. I could have stared at his chiseled features all night.

  “I think I can take care of that.” I crossed my arms over my shirt. “I have connections.”

  He cast a shady look. “Ya think? Well, mine are way bigger than yours.” He shot a glimpse over his shoulder, distracted.

  Two headlights and a pair of fog lights drove into the field. Gabe grabbed my arm hard and pulled me out of the way. A beastly Humvee pickup truck nearly plowed us over. It slammed the brakes and stopped cold three yards back and killed the engine.

  I fixed my eyes on Gabe’s face. His disgusted gaze cut away. A cautioning chill traveled up my spine. He released his hold.

  Who was trying to run us down?

  “His royal highness,” said a mocking voice, answering my thought. “All hail Hunt.”

  Somebody giggled.

  I glared curiously as a girl in a sundress and cowboy boots climbed out of the flashy vehicle. Her long hair bounced about her shoulders. She tossed her head until every loose strand fell behind her. A man came to stand at her back. His broad shoulders stood out like a padded football player. He forced her to stand still, curling his hands around her arms, as if to make a territorial statement. I hated guys who did that kind of thing. Plus, he looked way too old for her.

  A handful of people ran up to greet the celebrity duo.

  “Who’s that?” I sensed the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  “Nobody you’ll ever need to know.” Gabe turned his back on the couple.

  As I pondered his words, the man stepped away from the girl and approached us. A scowl painted Gabe’s features, deep creases forming between his eyes. I blinked and the guy’s nose was in Gabe’s face.

  “Looks
like we missed the party.” The guy tossed his words to the girl in the sundress as he leveled a menacing grin at Gabe. “And who’s this?”

  He looked at me and stretched a hand around Gabe’s shoulder where the guitar hung. Gabe’s arm snapped up to stop him and slammed the unwelcome hand down with force.

  “Chill out buddy,” the man sneered.

  Gabe swung the guitar around in his arms and faded into the shadows. Just as abruptly, the man walked away.

  “Boo!”

  My shoulders jumped to the sky.

  Josh smiled, clearly amused with himself.

  Max stood back, glaring at the Humvee with the machine gun hanging in the back window. I swear it looked like something Rambo would carry. Stuff like that probably wasn’t even legal where I was from.

  “Where’ve you been?” Josh asked. “Make any friends?”

  I crumpled my eyebrows together. “Where have you been? Are you trashed already?”

  “Nope. Yup. Maybe.” He angled his head toward his friend and slurred, “Has I been drinking?”

  Max chuckled.

  “Great. How about you?” I asked, hopeful Max could drive us home. I didn’t have a clue how to get back to Meggie’s in the dark.

  “I can drive. I didn’t have a drop. Swear on Jim Morrison’s grave.” Max crossed his finger over his faded Metallica T-shirt. “I learned my lesson last weekend. Sloshy Joshie—not so much.”

  I pinned my fists on my hips. “Are you even old enough to drive?” These boys were so immature.

  Max gave an insulted look. “Are you serious?”

  “She’s not from around here, remember? We both got our licenses last year. And for your information, I only had a taste of a beer and I can drive just fine.”

  I shook my head. “Let’s go. Max is driving.”

  I scanned the lot for a beat-up white Chevy and unwittingly locked my gaze on the pair with the Humvee. Longbranch Oil Co. was silkscreened on the side of the vehicle. The preppy-looking man had a thick neck and a roaming eye. He looked directly at me, but not at my face, while conversing with some muscled groupie.

  The girl grabbed my attention and smiled guardedly. We exchanged a nod, even though I knew her burly boyfriend was eyeing me like candy. The way Gabe had bolted signaled a warning deep in the pit of my stomach.

  * * *

  The ride back to Williston was much more thought-provoking than the ride out.

  “You meet my sister?” Max asked as he tapped his thumb on the wheel. “She’s a trip.”

  “I met her. Caleb too,” I replied, distracted. I felt an urgent need for answers. It was one of the things I most despised about being in a new place. “Who’s the guy with the jailbait and the Hummer?”

  Josh laughed. “Yup. Jailbait, really funny. He’s like ten years older than her. Lucky creep.”

  I whacked his knee really hard. “That’s like you dating a five-year-old.”

  Max snorted his laugh.

  Josh blushed. “He’s Hunter Barrett. Everybody calls him Hunt. He’s a snake, an ass. That’s what my ma calls him. Actually, she called him an ass-wipe last night.”

  It was my turn to laugh.

  What did Meggie have to do with a guy like Hunt?

  “No good, dirty, rotten, skuzzy, piece-a-you-know-what is more like it. See that M1A rifle he’s got? It was probably loaded. What a freakin’ showoff,” Max added. “The girl’s Jordan Halverson. She’s my sister’s sorta-boyfriend’s younger brother’s ex-girlfriend.”

  I processed the tidbit for a long moment. Had I heard him right? “Gabe’s ex?” I said aloud.

  And what was a sorta-boyfriend? They looked pretty close to me.

  “Yeah. Ya know him?” Josh sounded surprised as he messed with the manual-operated window, winding it all the way up and all the way down. A welcome breeze gusted in.

  “We met.” I felt a twinge of butterflies at the mention of Gabe. I never expected feelings like that to happen to me, especially in North Dakota. “I haven’t figured him out. What’s with him?”

  There was never a better time to get the dirt.

  Josh frowned in thought.

  “Where do I start?” he said dramatically, enunciating each word. “Jordan’s from Williston. She’s super hot. She and Gabe were together for like a year before it happened.”

  I heaved a sigh and resisted rolling my eyes. “Before what happened?”

  “The accident,” Max said. “Eli’s accident.”

  I blew out my breath. “Now who the heck’s Eli?” Were we still talking about Gabe? I wanted to know his story.

  “He was their older brother. Gabe and Caleb and Lane’s older brother. He died last fall,” said Josh with considerable glumness. His voice lifted. “You meet Lane? He’s cool. He’s like a big brother to me.”

  “No. Not yet,” I responded, greedy to get back to the story. I was sure I would recognize him if I did. “What happened to Eli?”

  “He and Hunt were driving Jordan home from some party and they flipped Hunt’s truck and Eli got thrown and he died on the way to the hospital. Hunt says Eli was driving and Jordan corroborated. Nobody who knows him believes it. Then Hunt stole Jordan from Gabe. It’s a long story. Gabe and Eli were really close. He’s kinda messed up now. Ma’s been torn up about Eli too.”

  My heart fell a few inches in my chest. I hadn’t expected to hear that. “Oh, I had no idea.”

  A shiver passed through my torso. My expression sobered. Any animosity Gabe harbored toward Hunt was completely understandable. He lost his brother and his girlfriend. I was surprised he didn’t throw a punch at the thug.

  “So that guy Hunt is in the oil business?” I changed the subject on purpose.

  “His family owns tons of land and one of the two biggest companies out here. Half of Williston works for Longbranch Oil Company—LOC. Hunt got his dirty fingers into it when his dad sorta retired and now he thinks he’s king of the Bakken empire.”

  * * *

  When Josh and I arrived home, I didn’t see the shiny black pickup parked under my window. I kept expecting him to drive up as I watched anxiously for lights in the forever darkness. He never came home. I stayed awake for hours, wondering how Hunt stole Jordan from Gabe. I imagined Gabe having to take orders from him in the oil fields.

  I woke to the crowing of a rooster from a nearby farm. I stretched away my tiredness, got slowly to my feet and started to the window. I flashed a downward glance and caught sight of him.

  A rush of elation filled me, and I couldn’t help but smile at Gabe, spread out on the bed liner with a book in his hands. He had a foot propped up on the side of the truck and a tarp rolled under his head. He looked up just as I approached the window. My breath hitched in my throat and I stepped back.

  Were we going to have a morning ritual?

  Was I going to spend my entire summer waking with breathless anticipation, looking forward to his leggy poses?

  My best friend, Janie, would not have believed me if I told her a boy was making my heart jackhammer. She teased I was like a Venus flytrap. Interesting and magnetic on the outside and downright man-eater on the inside. She was always razzing me about all of the guys I shot down and spit out. I had never encountered one who made me feel so alive. I didn’t even know how it happened.

  I wanted him around.

  I wanted to see his eyes again. My thoughts were so loud in my head. I started humming to shut them up.

  I shed my nightclothes and pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a wrinkled tank top from my bag. I hadn’t found the motivation to unpack. I grabbed a half-eaten roll of Mentos and chewed one furiously. Stumbling over my own feet, I tore down two flights of stairs and pushed open the front door.

  The stuffy morning air slapped my face awake. On the porch I smoothed my shirt and restrung my ponytail. I was acting like a giddy tween with little self-control, running to catch a glimpse of the cute paperboy on his BMX. I drew in a cleansing breath and flattened my bangs, hoping Gabe was still t
here. I hadn’t even brushed my teeth. What was I thinking? What was I doing?

  What would I say?

  It didn’t matter. He was gone. I walked down the path acting as if I was enjoying a morning stroll to the office. I tightened in for a close look as I slinked past the pickup cab. I paused for a beat and gave a nosy look in the window. On the seat was the guitar from the field. Piled on the floor were stacks and stacks of paperbacks. Some with their covers ripped off. My curiosity ignited further.

  What did he read?

  When I got to the office, the bell on the door jingled in my ear. I scowled, annoyed.

  Josh’s eyes jumped up. “Just roll out?”

  “Where’s Meggie?”

  “Snoozing. She doesn’t feel well. I think she’s lactose intolerant or gluten sensitive or hung over. It’s always her stomach, but she keeps on drinking milk.”

  “Or maybe she is a closet drinker,” I joked tactlessly.

  My aunt was a confirmed teetotaler like my mother.

  “So what are you doing? What should I do?” I stole a glance out the picture window above the desk. The black truck hadn’t moved. My heart revved a little faster.

  Josh smiled out of the side of his mouth. “Take a look. It’s the cable bill for the coop. I can see who ordered pay-per-view. Get a load of this one. Oh-la-la.”

  His mind was swimming in the gutter again.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. What can I do? Really.” I wanted to get busy, distract myself.

  “Take these dirty towels to the laundry room and put them in the washer. Take the dry towels out of the dryer and bring them here to fold and put on those shelves there. Then pull the trash containers to the curb over by the mailboxes and take the mail out before the mailman comes while you’re at it. Ma can’t stomach the post office-turned-ATM no more. She hates seeing everybody collecting their royalty checks from their oil wells.” He pounded his chest like Tarzan. “Get working.”

  My breath blew hard. “Yes sir. Where’s the laundry room anyway?”