Page 9 of Roped in Chaos
Oh, she’s a brat too?
“Be there. Don’t make me tell you again.”
It’ll be interesting to see if she listens. This is a dangerous game I’m starting, but right now I don’t care. How disrespectful does one have to be to talk to someone like that after their first encounter? It’s not like I have any say in the matter too.
I give her one last glance before I turn around and go back outside.
Chapter7
Ridin’ Solo
Esme
As soon as he exits the house, I run back up the creaky stairs and into the room I’m staying in. I slam the door shut and throw my back against it. Holy fuck, he’s hot, the way his shoulders fill out the white shirt. Muscles you can tell he didn’t get from working out in a gym, but from working outside every day, were bulging against the T-shirt. His ass filled out his jeans perfectly, something most women wish they could do, and he just…did it. His voice is deep, something that you hear from the voice actors who read spicy books.
He’s off limits, I have to remind myself. He’s the enemy. He’s the one who’s determined to ruin my life for the next two months. That doesn’t mean I can’t use the mental image of him and the rough sound of his voice for my spank bank, right?
I walk over to my bed and flop onto it. I reach for my phone sitting on the nightstand so I can call Hannah. When I swipe open my phone, I’m reminded of why it’s so critical I get this time over with, so I can get the hell away from everyone and everything- the picture of a knife to my throat, me completely passed out and unaware of whatever was happening to me. Chills overtake my body, and I shake to wring them out. I change the picture to something generic, but keep the original image in my camera roll to look back at later if needed.
After changing the image, I dial Hannah and she answers on the third ring.
“Hello?” she says.
“Hey, girl.”
“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days, I thought something happened to you too.” I hear her getting choked up, and I feel genuinely bad.
“I’m sorry,” I say guilty, “I just had to get out, and then his funeral?—”
“Wait. You had his funeral? You went alone?” Fuck.
“Uh yeah, I did. I’m in Oklahoma.”
“What the literal fuck, Esme?”
“I know, I’m sorry. Look, I’ve just needed to get some shit figured out, and uh- I needed a clean break for now, okay?”
She’s quiet on the other end of the line. I can tell she doesn’t quite know how to feel—I know I wouldn’t. I’d be pissed and sad and scared and understanding and all of it. I’ll make it easy on her.
“Hey, I have to go. I’m hungry and need to grab some food and explore and see what’s all around.”
“Okay…yeah. Text me?”
“Of course. Love you.”
“Love you.” And the line disconnects.
I throw on a plaid mini skirt because plaid is country, right? I pair it with a cropped white collar shirt and throw my shortest black heels on. Fuck, I need to go shopping. I slick my hair back into a ponytail, throw some lip gloss on, and smack my lips. I’m goingminimalisttoday, and for being on some dirty ranch I’m looking pretty cute. I set my phone up on a timer and snap some pics to Hannah as my first country OOTD. I throw my shoulders back and put my head up. I’m ready to do this thing.
I head down to the kitchen and see everyone is outside. I sit down at the kitchen island and wait for someone to come in and make some lunch. I scroll through social media and try to catch up on what has been happening while I’ve been off. It’s weird seeing everyone move on around me when I constantly feel like I’m spiraling. I can’t get my feet grounded, especially with me being on the run now. I can’t even tell anyone about the threats, I don’t want them to get hurt because I dragged them into it. I made enough of a mess already.
I spend a few minutes scrolling before Peter, Phillis, and Asher walk in. I perk up and watch them as they walk into the kitchen. They’re all laughing, covered in sweat and dirt like they just finished working outside. How could they be so happy after getting so gross?
“Whatcha doin’, sweetie?” Phillis asks.
“Oh, just waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
