The Ranger’S Obsession

By Patricia A. Gray

Theres more to the uniform than meets the eye. And no one wears it better than Troy Linden, a tall, rugged forest ranger who calls the mountains of Big Bear, California his second home. A true nature lover, Troy is totally committed to his job. His social life, however, is another story. Despite the rangers appealing exterior, there are few women able to penetrate his dark layers and bypass the occasional demons. Only his best friend, Christine, has stuck with him since childhood. For her, Troy is the ultimate buddy and big brother. Yet that title comes with a price.

Although Troy has developed quite the fondness for his former tomboy, Christine doesnt share his feelings, no matter how hard he tries. Hes getting real tired of being thought of as a blood relative. So he makes sure he spreads the love around to othersbut beware to those who want to take it further.

Christine is just the opposite and dates with a purpose. Her continued quest to find love aggravates Troy who does whatever it takes to keep her single. But when she manages to attract a potential mate, the ranger realizes hes losing his hold on her. And thats not acceptable. After all, if he cant have her

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491737224

Patricia A. Gray

Patricia A. Gray is the author of thirteen novels including The Loner, Ridder of Vermin, and The Seared One. A graduate of the University of Alabama, she lives in Southern California with her husband, daughter, and Chocolate Lab, Reddington.

Book preview

THE RANGER’S OBSESSION

Copyright © 2014 Patricia A. Gray.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3723-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3724-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3722-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014910429

iUniverse rev. date: 07/08/2014

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

For those who’d rather be in the mountains

Acknowledgments

A s always, thanks to all the readers who continue to support me with each endeavor. Most have been with me since the beginning from Nathan’s badboyisms in The Loner through Mathias’s multiple acts of crudeness in A Grudge to Share. I appreciate your loyalty and commitment as we all wait for Hollywood to put one of our misunderstood heroes on the big sc reen.

But until that happens I want to recognize a few who keep on this road with me:

The various employees at my workplace continue to amaze me with their encouragement. There are too many to mention but you know who you are…especially Robin, Carol, and Lori who listen to the war stories. There’s also much support from some of the ladies in Correctional Ed; could it be that many of my characters might have benefited from time spent there? Thanks to all the employees, past and present. You are the best!

I especially want to say thanks to Lisa and Donna who helped me decide to write about Troy, the forest ranger, and not Derek, the cruel chemist I was considering. Not to fret—he’ll probably come around later!

Eileen helped me research the San Bernardino National Forest with maps and gave much appreciated input involving the roles of rangers. Thanks, Eileen! Man those lookouts!

Thanks to my best friend Laura who has always been there for me through all the books and long before. I know she’s still waiting for Choices to be published (my first manuscript). Maybe someday.

Of course I can’t have a forest ranger as a protagonist without giving thanks to the men and women who patrol our public lands and national parks, helping us appreciate the beauty and diversity that is our Golden State and preserving it for generations to come.

And finally, I want to acknowledge the support and love from my family: Carlos, my husband, and Josie, my daughter. You are everything for me.

Chapter One

W hy won’t you marr y me?

I don’t wanna.

You said you would. You said we could play wedding. You said. I played your stupid war game. Now you gotta play mine.

The little boy instantly pouted and folded his arms in frustration. No fair.

"Yes, fair. It’s my turn, Troy. It’s my game. And we’re playing wedding, and you gotta say I do because that’s what happens in a wedding—"

He was staring into the monitor, the laptop on his legs, as he sat on the couch remembering that day with the little girl next door like it was yesterday. Damn her. She always tried to get her way. He smiled at the picture he’d taken of her a few months before when they had gone hiking in the San Gabriel Mountains, up Route 39 near Azusa, California. It had been hot and she’d looked like hell that day in her boyish tee-shirt and cut-off denim shorts, her long, black hair pulled in a ponytail and frizzy from the growing humidity that had come when the afternoon mountain storms had popped up. In fact, they’d had to leave unexpectedly when one had caught them by surprise. He remembered them laughing as they ran back as fast as they could to reach the truck before the brunt of the storm was upon them. But they hadn’t quite made it and the sky opened up, soaking them before they could get inside the vehicle. Once there, they kept laughing and laughing—

Troy?

He looked up toward the feminine voice.

I thought we were going to the movies.

We are. He closed the laptop. I’m ready.

She frowned and quickly snatched the computer from his lap only to open it back up. Are you kidding me? Her again? This is like the third time I’ve caught you looking at her pictures—

"You haven’t caught me doing anything. That would imply I’m guilty of something."

The young woman’s frown quickly became a glare. Don’t pull your logical crap, Troy. You know damn well you keep obsessing over this woman.

Obsess is a strong word, Cassandra. He stared up at her, his face purposely blank. Besides, she’s my friend.

Yeah? And I’m your girlfriend.

Yes. I know the cast of characters.

Her light blue eyes grew icy as she glowered at the computer and practically threw it back in his lap. "Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to be ogling another woman while you’re with your girlfriend?"

Slowly, the man rose from the comfortable couch and set the computer down carefully on the oak-finished coffee table. He stood rigidly before her, straight like a tall pine, his tanned build towering over her. His brown eyes bordered on serious and showed little concern as he took a moment to run his hand through his brown hair, a lighter shade than his eye color, and pushed a strand away. It was getting kind of long and annoying. He’d better get it cut soon. Taking his time, he reached into the pocket of the flannel shirt that hung loosely from his broad shoulders and pulled out his phone. He held it up in front of her.

Would you prefer I take more pictures of you so that I can ogle you as well?

His sarcastic tone was evident, and she slapped at his hand. You’re missing the point!

He didn’t appreciate the physical contact. Rolling his eyes, Troy took a moment to return the phone to his pocket only to push by her on his way to a pack of cigarettes on his fireplace mantel.

Shit, but you make me want to smoke.

Indignantly, Cassandra followed him to the painted white brick and grabbed the pack from his calloused hands. So how many times are you going to mentally visit her when you’re with me?

He stared at his cigarettes in her tight fist. It’s my house.

Would you like me to leave so you and she can be alone?

Look, she’s my childhood friend, all right? I told you before. I’ve known her since we were eight. That’s like a quarter of a century. I’m not going to apologize for having a life-long friend.

The blonde sneered at the response and threw the cigarettes into the fireplace. She quickly turned her tiny but curvy form and flounced to her purse, her airy sundress moving with her exaggerated actions.

You know what, Troy? Three months ago I thought you were a pretty good deal: you were tall, kinda rugged, kinda sexy, with a cool job—

He had his back to her while he reached into the charred wood to retrieve his calming cigarettes. You’re talking in the past tense. None of that’s changed.

She watched him blow the ashes off the pack. "No, but now I know what’s wrong with you. You can’t go anywhere without your friend."

When she began to walk to the front door, he quickly caught up with her and grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly back.

That’s a lie. There’s nothing wrong with me, he hissed.

She tried hard to shake him loose. Let go of me!

For one lousy photo on a computer, you’re going to throw away everything we have?

What do we have, Troy?

We have a lot and you know it. What about last night? You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the multiple orgasms.

It’s nothing my vibrator can’t do.

He stared at her harshly, right before he tightened his grip on her small arm.

You’re hurting me!

"What about all the things we do outside the bedroom? Can your vibrator take you places? Can it hold a conversation with you?"

What conversations? You talk and I listen. There’s no conversation. With that, she finally pulled loose and opened the door to look back hatefully. "Save the conversations for your friend. She’s got twenty-five years on me."

His eyes were cold. It’s just a fucking picture—

The slamming of the door caused him to step back, his gaze darting to the framed black and white photograph that was shaking with the force of her slam. He had taken that picture up at Big Bear. It was the middle of winter, and the pine branches had held the crystalized ice and patches of snow so beautifully. It was both royal and sinister on the sunless day. He paused to tap out a cigarette and slid it between his lips, then put the pack in his pocket next to his phone as he reached to adjust the crooked picture. Stepping back farther to admire it he nodded and then walked into his kitchen off to the right. He didn’t really visit his cooking area much except to heat an occasional TV dinner or grab a piece of fruit or, better, grab a beer from the fridge. Plus it wasn’t the most inviting of rooms in his house with its overabundance of white from the cheap, white counters to the white appliances, the ones he barely used. But he found a reason to visit now as he turned on the stove and put his mouth to the gas to light his cigarette. He rose and inhaled deeply, enjoying the taste of the nicotine. It had been days since he’d had the pleasure. He was trying to quit, but something always made him come back to the filthy habit. He remained in the stark kitchen and took deep drags.

From there, he saw the laptop on his coffee table. Perhaps she would’ve been less upset had he been staring at a man.

Troy smiled, keeping the security between his lips. Casually, he reached into his pocket for the phone. Like an egoist, he snapped a picture of himself smoking and sent it off with the caption:

Lasted only four days this time.

Her phone vibrated on the couch and she picked it up, suddenly grinning with the visual of the handsome man and his pathetic fixation.

She sat across from him later that night in his old, rusted Ford pick-up, the windows open and the warm summer breeze relaxing.

So why’d Cassandra leave you?

Troy stared out over the hood and chewed viciously on his gum. She didn’t get me.

That’s always your excuse. The woman tapped him on the shoulder. It was tight, firm like his expression. What’d you do this time?

I didn’t do anything, Christine. Troy pulled out his gum. I need to smoke.

You don’t need those things, she said, beating him to his glove compartment and grabbing the cigarettes. She looked at them in disgust. How is it such a strong, smart guy caves when these things are around?

The devil in me. He took them from her and found his lighter.

Christine raised a dark eyebrow, her green eyes searching for mischief. This one was around for not even three months. Damn, Troy, you’re like serious repellant to women. How come you can’t hold on to one?

Because they’re idiots, he said, shaking his head while he puffed on the cigarette.

They’re not all idiots.

Trust me, they are.

Then stop picking idiots.

Silently, he kept puffing.

You’re ruining my air quality, y’know. She pointed outside. Let’s hoof it somewhere.

Where?

I don’t know. Let’s just walk. It’ll make you feel better.

She always knew how to make him feel better. He supposed that’s why she was his best friend for the last twenty-five years. And yet, that’s all she was. That time she had wanted to play wedding when they were eight was as close as he had gotten to being anything more than friends. He probably should’ve just agreed with her then and not been so difficult. Of course at the time she was just the annoying next door neighbor growing up by the foothills that were situated in Riverside, California, bordering on its neighboring county and close-by city, San Bernardino. And here they sat, back in that same neighborhood. They hadn’t made it far from the houses they grew up in. They always revisited the older neighborhood when they could. It was like neutral territory.

Troy watched her opening his truck door before he had even agreed to go with her anywhere. Now at thirty-three, she could still be annoying. Shoving the cigarette in his mouth, he shook his head and stepped from the truck, the hinges squeaking when he shut the door.

The coyotes will be out soon, he said, noting the darkness and eerie glow cast upon the foothills before them, yet with no moon in sight.

They won’t bother us. She giggled, grabbing his arm to pull him along. Besides, I know I’m well protected with you, Mr. Forest Ranger.

He rolled his eyes, keeping the cigarette between his lips as he spoke. You know how to handle yourself up here. You don’t need me.

She stopped him and frowned. Knock off the pity shit, Troy. It’s a broken record. You’ve got a lot to offer. I mean, look at you. You have nice eyes—though sometimes a little mean—and you have a good nose, long and straight, and your jawline is just about perfect—

Are we describing me or some kind of hunting dog?

She ignored him. And speaking of hunting, you’re big and tough and outdoorsy.

Outdoorsy?

You could be one of those guys who models outdoors stuff: clothes, boots, fishing gear. She paused when he frowned. You’d look fantastic modeling a pair of jeans and maybe a Polo shirt. You’re clean-cut, yet you’re kind of dirty. It’s like you go both ways.

I don’t go both ways, Christine. Let’s get that straight right now.

The woman shook her head with his obstinacy. All I’m saying is you haven’t found the right woman yet.

Sure. He took one last puff and put out the cigarette between his fingertips.

She cringed with the obvious pain he must’ve felt. I hate when you do that.

I’m not going to litter, he said, shoving it in his pocket. I may be a closet smoker but I’ve sworn to protect our resources.

Okay, Smokey the Bear.

He glared, following her up the rocky path. That reminds me. Did I tell you I thought about getting a tattoo?

You’re not the type.

I could be.

No matter; you can’t have one at work.

I can. I just can’t show it.

Where are you going to put it, Troy? On your ass?

I could. That’s the one part that’s always covered up there. That or near my crotch.

Christine laughed and grabbed his hand to pull him onward. So what kind of tattoo do you want?

Smokey the Bear smoking a cigarette.

She stopped and made a face in the little light surrounding them. You would totally get fired if they saw that.

They won’t see it. The only time I pull down my pants is if I’m taking a piss. He bit his bottom lip provocatively. Or if I’m asking for a promotion.

I thought you said you didn’t go both ways.

I didn’t say a man would be fucking me. We have a lot of women on top.

She smiled. You’re so bad. But seriously, what if there’s a ranger in the bathroom at the same time and he sees the tattoo and tells your supervisor?

We have a code of honor. Like cops. He wouldn’t rat me out.

I dare you to get one.

You know I will if you dare me.

Remember when I dared you to grab that stuck-up cheerleader’s ass in junior high and you did? You got so busted.

Yeah, he said, almost fondly. I got in trouble but it was worth it. We started dating after that. He pursed his lips in thought. Now that I remember she was pretty easy.

I know she was. Why do you think I picked her?

Man, Christine. I have you to blame for losing my virginity at thirteen.

She began to breathe deeper with the climb. That bitch was your first?

And my second and third and then I lost count.

Shit. What was I thinking?

That’s right. You’re the one who turned me into a whore. He stopped to catch his breath and he looked back down the hill with how far they’d traveled.

Of course. It’s all my fault. But if it makes you feel any better you’re always a gentleman with me.

Her words were true, and it didn’t make him feel any better. He’d always honored her wishes to stay friends, despite his growing affections. It was hard as hell, too. Sure, at first, she’d been nothing more than the tomboy next door: the little girl who was like a guy. She was rough and athletic and sometimes foul-mouthed. She’d been annoying in the beginning but soon started feeling comfortable. She always listened to him when things were bad. And she was never short on advice whether he wanted it or not. She was the perfect friend. Until that night he’d seen past the tomboy…at the high school winter formal. She had transformed from like a guy into a beautiful, young woman. Troy would never forget it. Sadly, he was there with some stupid slut whom he’d later screw that night only to realize what he had with Christine all those years was better. But it was too late. She had chosen an asshole hood hardly worthy of her. Troy remembered how much he’d hated a kid he didn’t even know. And the minute he saw the guy put his mouth and hands on her, his best friend, Troy was out for revenge. Later, he found the guy alone and beat the bloody pulp out of him, leaving him in the vacant field behind the school where no one would find him any time soon. Troy had kept quiet after that. He never said a word to Christine about how he felt or what he had done. And he continued playing the gentleman. But only with her.

He glanced up at his tomboy. She was a few feet ahead of him. Even in the dark, he could see her perched there like some victor because she was in the lead. She had one hand confidently on her hip and the other pushing her long hair behind her ear. She was signaling him with her finger like one of those sea sirens—a pale and voluptuous thing with long, silky black hair on the thick side. Troy stopped where he was and examined her outline again in the form-fitting tee-shirt she wore. Okay, not voluptuous: she was skinnier, but the fine curves were in all the right places. She could easily tempt him from her spot on the rock.

How are you going to keep your job if you keep smoking? she called. You’re totally out of breath and you’re a forest ranger. Trekking around is what you do best. You’re not getting any younger. You need to give up the closet habit.

He was glaring by the time he reached her. Remember I lost my mom five years ago; I sure as hell don’t need another one.

This is why you can’t keep a woman, Troy. You can’t take advice.

It’s criticism.

You can’t take that either. Not every woman wants to be told what to do.

I never tell you what to do.

Yeah, you do. I just don’t listen. With that, she winked and scurried up the incline like a jackrabbit running from a coyote.

He exhaled watching her from behind. She had such a perfect, tight ass that was especially nice in those denim shorts. His heart was pumping harder and it wasn’t just from the climb. He could totally play the part of the coyote and devour her to pieces.

C’mon, Smokey! she yelled out from above. Show me how well you run with that nicotine in your body!

Troy just stared, his hot blood growing instantly cold with her sarcasm. God, she was such a fucking nag, too. He sighed as he trudged up. Apparently he had assumed the role of masochist in their eternal friendship.

He stood in the men’s restroom at work the next day with his shorts down looking at his lower half in the mirror. He turned to the left, then the right; his future tattoo would look good just over his dick. No one but he and an occasional sleepover would see it, plus smoking Smokey would be a constant reminder of the side that kept him addicted and just slightly bad.

He heard the door open behind him. Quickly, he grabbed his olive green shorts to pull them up.

You and your friend wanna be alone?

Calming down, Troy exhaled when he saw it was his co-worker and nosy friend, Lyle, and not their supervisor. So he took his time zipping and buckling the belt which held his holster and gun.

We’re alone more often than not, he answered. Casually, he stepped over to the sink and rinsed his hands to run through his hair. Man, it’s hot out there today.

Lyle watched his fakery at the lavatory. You’re changing the subject. What do you mean you’re alone? You always have women. He motioned to the ranger’s crotch. That friend of yours sees lots of pussy. He walked to the urinal and unzipped his shorts. So what, it’s not enough for you now? Hope you’re not gonna change horses on me.

If I did, Lyle, you’d be my first stallion. You know how I love short, buff Latinos. Troy slapped him on the back, causing him to miss the bowl.

Shit, Troy, do you mind?? He finished and rapidly shoved it inside. What’re you doing here anyway? I thought you were patrolling over by the lake.

I don’t like it there. I’d rather hang out in the trees. I think I saw signs of a fungus in some of the pines today—

So tree rot gets your motor running? How can you not like it at the lake? With all the summer visitors and the young girls out there looking so fine in skimpy bathing attire sunning their buns on daddy’s boat?

The taller man frowned and buttoned up the top two buttons of his khaki shirt. You’re pretty much a creep, y’know that?

Call me what you will. But I’m not like you, Troy. I have to work harder for mine. I actually have to hunt them out. Yours just fall in your lap.

Hardly.

It’s true. They just come to you. Like flies to shit.

Troy glared with the comparison.

Damn, I’d kill to have your magnetism.

I don’t try.

I know. I’ve seen you in action. Or lack of action. It’s like you don’t even care.

I don’t. That’s the secret. He watched his friend pull off his hat and throw water over his head to cool off. It is too damn hot today, though.

Ninety-two. A heat wave hits Big Bear.

It’s crazy.

It sucks. Bring on the snow.

Then you wouldn’t see all the skin out there, Troy noted.

True. But snow bunnies are fun, too.

And how does your wife feel about your lusting on the job?

Lyle scowled, putting his hat back on. You know we’re separated, Troy.

I can see why. He made his way to the door.

"Hey, why were you checking lil’ Troy out?"

Troy stopped at the door and looked back. I was hoping you’d come in and tell me which side it looks best on. With that, he touched his holstered gun in a fond manner then left.

Lyle shook his head, wiping his wet hands on his heated face. Now who’s the creep? he muttered.

Once out of the bathroom, Troy walked down the short hall past his boss’s office, past the break room and into the large, open area filled with maps, models and information regarding the Big Bear area. The ranger station also had its share of desks, and for that reason he was anxious to get back outside and back to nature, his favorite place to be. He’d had to man those desks before and it wasn’t something he enjoyed. As he neared the door to outside he noted a new face at one of the small desks, young and female and perched in the corner like she was being punished. She looked miserable.

Have you been bad? Troy asked.

The girl made a face. Apparently. Are all the newbies forced to do paperwork on a glorious day like this?

There’s a lot more paper pushing than you think. We all have to deal with it. You’ll get through it.

I’m Annette. She held out her hand.

He paused a moment and found himself staring at her tanned hand. It was badly scarred. He delicately took it in his grip.

It’s okay, she said. It doesn’t hurt. It just looks sensitive.

Third degree?

I learned at an early age not to play with fire.

Hard lesson to learn, isn’t it?

I guess that’s why I wanted to work up here. It sometimes scares me. I wanna get over my fear.

We do have our share of fires. Mostly from careless campers. Idiots, actually, but since I’m a civil servant and trained to be politically correct I’m not allowed to use that adjective.

She laughed with his dry humor. It’s so true, though.

I’m Troy.

Nice to meet you.

He liked how she had freckles and deep red hair. It made her look fresh and innocent. She was cute. He figured she was mid-twenties at best. Too young for his taste. Not like Lyle who would do anything that bled once a month.

How long have you been with us?

This is my first week.

Don’t despair. It gets better. Once you get out with the people and the animals and the trees— He stopped and inhaled. The forest is my favorite. I love it. I could get lost there. I have, a few times. It was quite the initiation. He glanced down at her burned skin. Like you and your fire. Boy do I respect those trees.

The young girl smiled again. How long have you worked here?

Right outta college. Eleven years.

Really? I figured you for around twenty-six.

You don’t have to sugarcoat the age. I’m not a woman.

She was looking at his left hand. I wasn’t trying to flatter you. Just making convo.

He liked her candor. Good. Nice convoing with you. I gotta go.

She waved with her scarred hand. Hasta, Troy.

That made him smile. Hasta, Annette. He almost made it to the door but he turned back with a nagging thought. Hey, stay away from the short, brawny guy named Lyle.

Is he the one with straight black hair and stubby fingers?

Troy nodded. Yeah. Yeah he is.

She cocked an eyebrow. I notice hands. She gestured in his direction. Yours are strong. Rough. With long fingers.

His lower lip fell open slightly with the look on her face that accompanied the words.

But I’m just making convo, she added innocently.

Standing at the door a moment, he kept her in his line of sight, envisioning the new girl in a whole different environment. She seriously needed to be outdoors where she could pull down that restrained, auburn bun she kept neatly against her head. He knew the conservative style embodied what was expected of her as the newest forest ranger but, for his personal taste, that awesome hair would be best set free, perhaps loosening all the spice she had bottled up in that cute, little body—

Finally, Troy turned to leave. Maybe she wasn’t too young.

Just cut it off.

The young girl stood behind the man with her scissors in one hand and the comb in the other. So like how much?

Troy was growing impatient sitting in the shiny black chair with the plastic cape draped over him. It had yet to see any action like hair falling upon it. Just cut it so it doesn’t hang in my face but not so short I look like an Army drill sergeant.

Huh?

Oh God. He glanced into the mirror and stared at the girl who was way too hip for his liking. Are you old enough to do this?

A woman’s voice came out of nowhere. Cut off about three-quarters of an inch in the front so it doesn’t fall in his face, certainly nowhere near his eyes. He hates his vision obstructed in any way. Plus he has to wear a hat at work so he also hates when too much hair makes him get hat hair, because he likes to look good just in case there’s a woman around when he takes off his hat. Right, Troy?

Troy looked to his right at the unexpected visitor. He glared. Right, Christine.

She smiled naughtily. Take off about a half-inch all around the rest of him. As rugged as he looks, he’s very fastidious about his head.

Are you done now?

I’m just trying to help you out, Troy. She began to walk away. I’ll be over here waiting for my haircut.

His eyes moved back up to the girl behind him and she nodded obediently.

When he was done, he shoved a couple of dollars in the hairdresser’s hand and went to pay at the cashier. There was his friend pretending to read some stupid hairstyle magazine.

You come here for a haircut? he asked.

Hey, it’s cheap. I’d do it myself but I’m getting too old for that. I might screw up and look horrific.

"You could never look horrific, Christine."

You tell me all the time I look like a witch with my pale skin and dark hair. How much more horrific can I get?

Some witches are very attractive, Troy noted, taking his change and sitting in the vacant chair next to her. Look at Samantha in Bewitched. Now there was a fine woman.

He was notorious for changing insults into compliments. She supposed that’s what had saved their friendship on more than one occasion.

I like the hair. Christine pointed to his head. She did well.

Only with your direction. I was quickly losing my patience.

Really? No one could tell, she said sarcastically, putting away the magazine.

He would ignore the tone. Hey, it’s Saturday. You wanna do something tonight?

Reaching for his thigh, she squeezed it. Believe it or not, Troy, I have a date.

His face went blank. Oh. A date, huh?

It happens sometimes. Somewhere, someone out there wants to take a chance on me. Go figure.

He pressed his lips together tightly as he contemplated the long night ahead. Hmm. A witch like you.

She still had her hand on his thigh and made sure she clutched it that much tighter, smiling when he winced ever so slightly. Watch out, Troy. I can be a Samantha, too. Hey, wasn’t that one of the girls who didn’t work out for you this year? I believe in January it was Samantha, then for Valentine’s Day it was Jody, and for St. Patrick’s Day it was Isabel, who hated green if I recall, and when the snow began to thaw you discovered Cassandra. Do you find any women down the mountain or are they all above a certain elevation?

He peeled her hand from his muscular leg and set it back on her lap. I have high expectations.

No you don’t. That’s your problem. She watched as another customer was called. Surely she’d be next. Wasn’t Isabel from Spain or something? I seem to recall you really enjoyed your month with her.

Rolling his eyes, Troy just nodded with her untimely memory.

So how many this year? Did I miss one?

No. You got them all.

"And yet it’s only August. I guess you were doing pretty well with Cassandra. You were just about three months with her. That had to be some kind of record."

Troy cleared his throat. Yes; I believe it was.

Pulling her hair out of its ponytail, Christine let it fall over her shoulders and threw the elastic in her purse, preparing herself for a good chopping of hair. When she glanced back up, she noticed he was staring at her.

Don’t let them cut too much.

"It’s my hair."

Oh, that biting tongue. It was not surprising she hadn’t found anyone in her many unsuccessful attempts at fraternizing with other men. And what about my record with you? he spoke up. All our years together. And you wonder why I keep rotating between women all the fucking time.

The old lady next to him looked over with his foul language. Troy acknowledged by nodding curtly.

Christine stifled a grin. He was always getting in trouble for his colorful language. Maybe next Saturday if this one doesn’t work out?

Then I’ll see you next Saturday. With that, Troy rose and winked, quickly walking out the door.

You bastard, she muttered, only to nod apologetically at the old biddy when she once again cast her look of disapproval.

There he sat that evening, alone in the reclining chair by the fireplace, wishing it was cold enough to light a fire and frustrated it was still probably in the eighties at eight o’clock at night. He glanced over at the book sitting alone and unread after starting it three months ago before he had met Cassandra. Once he was with her, she had kept him occupied and somewhat happy, especially at night, so he hadn’t needed the book to take his mind off how unsocial his social life normally was. Although it was looking more appealing that evening as he continued to serve his solitary penance for looking at that photo of Christine one too many times. Troy narrowed his eyes while they remained locked on the dog-eared paperback he bought years ago when he had tried to find a pastime besides screwing the wrong women.