Chapter 8: Robyn

After Micah takes his turn in the bathroom, he comes out dressed in a pair of gray sweats and… nothing else. My gaze locks on his torso, which is a work of art. He has abs. Like real abs. He’s muscular and solid. His chest is bare, no hair.

He turns off all the lights except the one on his nightstand. I try not to stare as he peels off his sweats and tosses them aside, leaving him in a pair of black boxer shorts. His legs are long and muscular.

He sits on the edge of the bed and stares down at the floor, at his bare feet. “Robyn,” his voice is quiet. “Please take the bed.”

“I told you, I’m not kicking you out of your bed. I’ll be fine over here.”

We’re at an impasse, and I can hear the frustration in his voice. I bite back a chuckle when I think his problem is that he’s not used to women telling him no .

There’s got to be a first time for everything, buddy. Get used to it.

With a huff, he reaches over to switch off the lamp on his nightstand, casting the room into deep shadows. He lies down and sighs heavily. Again, I struggle not to chuckle. I think our sleeping arrangements are an affront to his sense of chivalry.

We both lie in our respective beds for a good while, neither breaking the silence.

Even though I’m comfy and warm, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Ricky, wondering what he’s doing. Part of me wants to call him, just to check on him, but I know I shouldn’t. He’s still sending me text messages begging me to come back to Denver and go through with the delivery. And then there’s the whole tracking device issue. If he had anything to do with that, he should be ashamed of himself.

Sighing, I turn over, hoping a different position will change things. I rearrange the pillow and pull the blanket closer. Nothing helps.

I hear movement coming from the bed. Micah tosses off his bedding, climbs out of bed, and walks over to me. Without a word, he yanks off my blanket, scoops me up into his arms, and carries me to the bed.

“Micah! What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep knowing you’re on the sofa.” He sets me down on his mattress, which is still warm from his body. “You’re taking the bed, and that’s that.”

When I open my mouth to protest, he points his index finger at me. “I don’t want to hear another word about it, Robyn.”

He walks away, and a moment later, he’s back with my phone, which he sets on the nightstand. “I imagine you’ll need that.” Then he’s gone again, and I hear him settling down on the sofa.

Part of me wants to march over there and read him the riot act for manhandling me like that. I should grab my stuff and return to his office to sleep, but the thought of that tracking device stops me cold.

And another part of me is distracted by the fluttering in my belly. I’m in Micah’s bed.

As I roll onto my side, I detect his scent on his pillow, a combination of faint cologne, soap, and the man himself. He has no right to smell so good. And no right to be so bossy. Who does he think he is to decide where I should sleep?

“Are you warm enough?” he asks, his voice low. “I can get another blanket if you want one.”

“I’m fine.” Suddenly, exhaustion catches up with me. I snuggle down into the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. The only thing that would make this moment better would be if he were sharing it with me. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Morning comes way too quickly. My alarm goes off when it feels like I just went to sleep. My eyes are tired and gritty, and I just want to sleep the rest of the day away. But of course I can’t. I have a job to go to. With a groan, I stretch my arms and legs wide. Micah’s bed is huge—it must be a king.

I glance over at the sofa just as Micah sits up. He looks as tired as I feel.

“Dibs on the bathroom,” I say, with far less enthusiasm than last night. I hear him chuckling as I grab my backpack and race into the room.

“I can see how this is going to go,” he calls after me. “You’re a bathroom hog. That’s what you are.”

I wash up and dress quickly in my only other pair of clean jeans. I’ll need to do laundry this evening. I should go shopping for a couple more pairs of jeans and some warm tops. I pull on a sweatshirt, clean socks, and my sneakers.

When I come out of the bathroom, Micah’s in the kitchen staring at the coffee maker. He’s put his sweats back on, but he’s still barefoot and shirtless. I try not to ogle him, but it’s hard.

“Staring at the coffee maker won’t make it work faster, you know,” I say.

He smiles. “Well, it sure can’t hurt.” He heads for the bathroom. “I hope you left me some hot water.” Micah’s clearly not a morning person.

I stand by the coffee maker with my cup, ready. As soon as it stops dripping, I pour a cup. I find sugar in an old-fashioned sugar bowl in a cabinet. I find French vanilla creamer in the fridge.

I’m sitting at the table, sipping my coffee when Micah comes out of the bathroom. He disappears into his closet and reemerges a few minutes later, looking strikingly handsome in a pair of black jeans, a dark gray Henley, and a pair of black boots. He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.

As I’m mid-sip, I just point at the coffee maker.

He pours himself a cup, black, and joins me at the table.

“Is there a thrift shop in town?” I ask. “I’m going to need more clothes. I didn’t bring much with me. And is there a laundry mat around here? I need to do a load.”

He points to a door right off the kitchen. “There’s a washer and dryer in there. Help yourself. As for thrift shops, yeah. There’s one in town, two blocks from the diner. I can also drive you to Estes Park where there’s a ton of shops.”

“I’m sure I can find what I need at the thrift shop. I hate spending money on new clothes.”

Micah shakes his head, grinning.

“What?” I ask.

“I thought girls love to shop for new clothes.”

“I don’t. Everything costs ten times more new, and the minute you buy it, it’s used. I might as well find quality used clothes in good condition and save myself the depreciation.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He carries his empty mug to the sink.

I’m about to do the same when my phone chimes with a new text. Then another one. Both from Ricky.

Ricky: where the fuck r u?

Ricky: u need to come home

Ricky: Robyn your scarring me. Call me back or at least txt me

I’m thinking if Ricky was tracking my car, he’d know where I am, and he wouldn’t be asking. That means he’s not the one who’s doing the tracking. Verne is. Ricky might not even know about the tracking device.

“I don’t think Ricky put the tracking device on my car.” I hold up my phone to Micah, and he comes near to read the screen.

“It doesn’t appear that your friend is the mastermind.” Micah frowns. “And that’s actually bad news. I’m not too worried about your roommate. It’s the dealer I’m concerned about.”

Micah runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing out any tangles, and begins braiding. I watch him, amazed by how quickly and effortlessly he threads the strands.

I run back into the bathroom to brush my teeth and put my hair back in a ponytail.

Just before we step outside, I pull on my jean jacket.

“You need a proper winter coat,” Micah says. “And boots, a hat, scarf, and gloves. We could get snow any day.”

“Thrift shop,” I remind him. “Maybe after I get off work today?”

He nods. “It’s a date. Well, you know what I mean.”

When we step outside, the chilly air hits me hard, stealing my breath. We hustle across the yard to the shop and enter through the back door. Once we’re inside, Micah turns off the security system. “The code is 1208. It’s my sister’s birthday.” He shows me how to arm and disarm the system.

The office is dark, as we’re the first ones in. Micah switches on lights before he heads to the kitchen to put on the coffee maker for the others.

It’s six-forty-five, almost time for me to leave for work, when Margie pulls up and parks in front of the office.

She rushes inside. “Brr! It’s cold this morning.” She smiles at me. “Good morning, Robyn. Where’s your coat?”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“Well, you’re going to need something warmer than what you’ve got on.”

“Don’t worry,” Micah says. “I’m taking her clothes shopping today after she gets off work.”

While Margie’s seeing to the coffee, Micah and I head out. When we arrive at the diner, he gets out of the truck with me.

“I don’t need handholding,” I tell him.

He opens the diner’s door for me. “I thought I’d grab breakfast since I’m here.” He takes an available stool at the counter while I head down the hallway to the employee lounge to change.

Cara’s already in the women’s changing room. She has her Jenny’s Diner T-shirt on and is in the process of tying on her apron.

“Good morning,” I say as I open my locker.

She frowns. “You’re the girl with the bad transmission. My boyfriend told me all about you.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Tony. He works at Jackson’s Auto Repair.”

“Oh, right. Yes, that would be me.” Self-consciously, I hang up my jacket in my locker and change into a Jenny’s Diner T-shirt.

“Tony says you’re gonna be around a while.”

I nod. “Looks like it. I need to earn enough to pay for a new transmission. And now tires, too.”

“Where are you staying? At the motel?”

I hesitate. “Micah offered to let me stay at his place.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re living with Micah? Wow. That’s fast work.”

I tie on my apron. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.”

She scoffs. “Sure, he is.” As she walks out of the changing room, I hear her mutter, “It must be nice.”

I slam my locker door harder than necessary. I thought I’d left the whole mean girls thing behind when I graduated from high school. Apparently not. She doesn’t even know me, and she’s already coming to conclusions about me. Making judgements. It’s just like high school all over again.

I take a deep breath, stop to get a drink of water from the water fountain in the hallway, and head to the dining room. The doors have just opened, and there are only a handful of customers in the diner so far. I can hear Jenny in the kitchen talking to the cook. Cara is waiting on an old guy seated at the far end of the counter.

I walk up to Micah, who’s seated at the counter, reading a local newspaper. “Has anyone waited on you yet?”

He puts the paper down. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

When Cara and the old guy burst into laughter, I glance their way to find them both looking in our direction.

“Something wrong?” Micah asks.

“No.” I turn to face him. “What can I get you?”

“The special, eggs scrambled, with links and toast. And coffee, of course.”

“Coming right up.” I grab a pot of fresh coffee and a mug and pour him a cup. “Your food will be right out.”

He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thanks.”

When I head to the window to turn in Micah’s breakfast order, Cara beats me there, stepping in front of me, nearly knocking me off balance. “Breakfast special, Charlie,” she calls to the cook. “Eggs over easy, with patties and pancakes.”

When she’s done, she takes a step back, her bootheel digging into my toes. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

I put in Micah’s order and say good morning to Jenny and the cook—Steve. While Micah’s food is being prepared, I go wait on some other customers who’ve just walked in. When the sheriff comes in, Jenny comes out of the kitchen to greet him and take his order.

A few more folks come in, many of whom I recognize from yesterday. They must have a lot of regulars.

After Micah finishes eating, he leaves cash on the counter and walks over to me. “I’ll pick you up at three, and we’ll hit the thrift shop. Do me a favor, Robyn. Don’t leave the diner without me. Not for any reason, okay? Just to be safe.”

I nod. “Got it. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

I pick up his check and find he left a twenty dollar bill. His meal was only eight, so that means he left me a hefty tip.

As Cara passes behind me, she eyes the money in my hands. “I see you got yourself a sugar daddy.”

Sugar daddy! Heat erupts in my chest as I turn to face her. “What is your problem? You know absolutely nothing about me.”

She gives me a smirk. “I know enough. You roll into town, and all of a sudden men are throwing themselves at you.”

“That’s bull. No one’s throwing himself at me.”

“Well, Micah’s throwing money at you. First the tow, then a new transmission, and now a brand new set of tires. And now I find out you’re living with him. Like I said, fast work .” She turns and walks away.

Jenny comes up behind me and lays her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let Cara get to you. She’s just jealous. Probably every young woman in this town has had her sights set on Micah at one time or another. Cara used to flirt outrageously with him whenever he came into the diner. It got so bad he stopped coming for a while. Things didn’t settle down until she got with Tony.”

Cara’s comment eats at me all day, and she goes out of her way to make things hard for me, getting in my way, accidentally taking one of my customer’s orders and giving it to one of her customers, making me look bad in the process.

When my shift ends, I head to the employee lounge and change back into my clothes. I’m still angry about the things Cara said. She doesn’t even know me, so why is she being such a bitch?

I meet Micah at the front door, walk right past him and push through the door out onto the sidewalk.

He follows me out. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

He’s right behind me. “You’re not acting like it’s nothing. Did something happen at the diner?”

“No.” Micah’s done enough for me. I’m not going to involve him in my petty squabbles. I gesture to the grocery store next door. “Mind if I stop in there to pick up a few things? You know, personal things.”

He gestures to the door. “After you.”

I’m still grinding my teeth as I walk into the grocery store. Sugar daddy, my ass.

Micah follows me into the grocery store.

“Micah, hi!” says the woman standing behind the sales counter. She’s probably in her early forties, with long curly brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. I do a double-take when I realize she’s holding a baby girl on her hip.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Micah says as he heads for the counter, motioning for me to follow. “Maggie, this is Robyn O’Neil. Robyn, this is Maggie Emerson—well, I guess it’s Ramsey now. She and her brother, Paul, own the grocery store.”

“Nice to meet you, Robyn,” Maggie says as she shifts the baby from one hip to another. “I hear you’re working at the diner now.”

I nod. “Jenny was kind enough to hire me as a server. I need to pay for a new transmission.”

Maggie winces. “Yikes. That sounds expensive. It’s a lucky thing Jenny had an opening.” She smiles at Micah.

“This is Maggie’s daughter, Claire,” Micah says. “I’m assuming if Claire’s here, then Owen must be, too.”

Maggie’s eyes light up. “He is.” To me, she says, “When I’m here at work, my husband stays home with the baby. But we had a big shipment of goods come in today, so he’s here, along with one of my teenage sons, Riley, to unload the truck.”

“You have a teenage son?” I ask. “And a baby?”

“Two of them, in fact. Claire here was a late-in-life bonus.” She smiles as she leans in to kiss the baby’s blonde head.

A man comes through the back door pushing a dolly loaded with boxes. He’s a big guy with brown hair up in a topknot and a trim beard. He’s wearing a muscle shirt, and his arms are covered with tattoos. A teenage boy follows behind him pushing yet another dolly laden with boxes.

“Claire’s getting so big,” Micah says as he reaches out to the baby. She grabs hold of his index finger and smiles, showing off brand-new baby teeth.

“I’ll just grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things,” I say.

As I walk away, I hear Maggie whisper to Micah, “I heard about your new friend. Tell me all about her.”

I do my best to ignore them as Micah catches Maggie up to date. I pick up just a few things: tampons, shaving cream, razors, and soap that doesn’t smell like a pine tree. While I’m at it, I grab some bananas and apples, and I splurge on a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, as well as a six-pack of Coke bottles and a bag of mini chocolate bars.

Maggie rings up my purchases. “That’ll be thirty-two dollars and eighty-three cents.”

Micah automatically reaches for his wallet, as if he’s going to pay, but I catch his eye and shake my head. I pull the day’s tips from my pocket and count out the cash.

Micah grabs the grocery sack, leaving me to get the six-pack of Cokes.

“Thanks,” I say to Maggie as we head for the door. “It was nice to meet you.”

“See you around, guys!” Maggie says as we head for the door. “Micah, be sure to bring Robyn on Friday.”

“What’s Friday?” I ask as we set the groceries in the bed of the truck.

“A bunch of us get together at my sister’s bar on Friday nights. The folks who work at the Lodge, Maggie and her husband, me, Ruth and Jack. And Jack’s friends, if they’re in town. We eat and drink, shoot pool, throw darts. It’s nothing fancy. You’re welcome to join us, of course.”

I smile, thinking I’d love to see Micah in a social setting, letting his hair down, either figuratively or literally. “I’d like that.”

We walk a block and a half to a thrift shop. It’s small, but well organized and tidy. Micah follows me to the women’s clothing department.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Micah,” I say as I search through a rack of blue jeans. “I really am grateful. But you have to stop trying to pay for things. Like my groceries, for one thing. People are talking.”

“Who’s talking? And what are they saying?”

“Cara called you my sugar daddy today.”

He starts laughing. “Seriously? She’s one to talk. Tony spoils her rotten, buys her everything she wants. And she has very expensive tastes.”

“Yeah, well, she implied that I’m using you. I have a job now, so I can pay my own way. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but when you pay for things for me, it gives people the wrong idea.”

He sobers. “I’m just trying to help. But all right. I take your point.”

I pull a pair of ripped jeans off the rack. “I’m going to try these on.”

“Robyn, you might want to keep looking. I think those are broken.” Then he winks at me.

“Ha ha. Funny.”

I end up taking three pairs of jeans, four T-shirts, two sweatshirts, and two pairs of flannel pajamas with me to the changing room. Micah waits outside the door as I try things on.

“Throw what you don’t want over the door,” he says, “and I’ll put it back.”

“Thanks.”

“What size shoe do you wear?”

“A women’s eleven, or a men’s ten.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I realize he must have stepped away. He returns before long and hands me a pair of brown leather hiking boots underneath the door. “Try these on. They’re practically new.”

They’re a pair of men’s boots, but the size is right. I try them on, and they fit perfectly.

When I come out of the dressing room, Micah’s holding a teal women’s winter coat. It’s one of those expensive brands that’s rated for really cold weather. “How about this?” He nods to a shopping cart, where I see a pair of gloves, a knit hat, and a matching scarf.

“Wow. Now I have a personal shopper. That’s not going to get people talking.”

He grins. “I’m just trying to be helpful. There’s snow on the way. You need to be prepared.”

I try the coat on. It fits. So do the other items. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

I end up buying two pairs of jeans, three T-shirts, both sweatshirts, and the PJs. I take the boots, as well as the coat and accessories. The whole lot is just under fifty bucks.

Micah stands beside me as I check out, and he never once offers to pay for anything. We’re making progress.

“Thank you,” I tell him as we’re leaving the shop.

“For what?” He takes the two bags I’m holding and carries them as we walk back to his truck.

“For restraining yourself. You didn’t offer to pay for anything.”

He tries not to smile. “It was touch and go for a while, but I managed.”

I’m smiling as I climb up into the cab. The longer I know him, the more I like him. How is it this guy is still single?