CHAPTER TEN
Dustin’s phone buzzed with texts all morning long, but unfortunately, all of them were from Theresa. He ignored the first few, like he always did, and then when they didn’t stop, he blocked her without bothering to read any of them. He wasn’t interested in hearing what she had to say.
It was probably time to get a new phone number, he reckoned.
There wasn’t a single text from Annie, though, and that struck him as strange. Last night had been . . . well, he’d broken one of his own rules about dating. Treat ’em like a Good Time Girl. Have fun but never get serious, and never take it past kissing.
Yeah, he’d broken all those rules last night. He’d slept with Annie and lost his heart in the process. Then again, he suspected his heart hadn’t really been his since the moment she’d looked up at him, eyes shining as her arms went around one of Old Clyde’s dogs. There was just something pure and sweet and good about her that called to him. She wasn’t fake or pretentious. She was the type of girl he’d never get tired of, never wonder what she was thinking or if she was lying. She was real and honest and he loved that. When he was with her, he didn’t feel that nagging restlessness. He just felt calm and peaceful. Happy.
Maybe she was just sleeping in. He’d probably tired her out. Biting back his proud smirk, he focused on the cattle ahead of him as they herded them toward a nearby pasture. He wasn’t going to think about sex while working. He wasn’t. He had to focus, because if he let the cattle drift away, Jordy’d never let him hear the end of it.
He still thought about Annie, though. Annie with her soft red hair spread over the sheets. The freckles that he’d kissed. The way she’d sighed when he’d touched her breasts—
A horse rode up next to him and a cowboy hat smacked him in the arm. “Where’s your fool head, idiot?” Old Clyde bellowed at him. “You’re letting the damned cattle wander everywhere.”
Dustin glanced around. One or two had split off from the group, but the dogs were rounding them up. “It’s fine, Clyde. They’re rejoining the herd.”
“It’s fine for Jordy, maybe. It’s not fine for you.” He scowled at Dustin from atop his horse, the pinto as calm and unruffled as ever. That was Clyde for you—all scowls and barking conversation, but the best damned trained animals of any ranch he’d ever been on. “Where’s your head?” the old man demanded again.
“Hey, I heard that,” Jordy called from across the way. He was on the other side of the cluster of cattle, making sure no one wandered on his end.
“Of course you heard it. I wasn’t being quiet!” Clyde bellowed, and then smacked Dustin with his hat again. “Pay attention, boy. If you’re just gonna sit around and daydream, you can go back to the ranch.”
“I’m fine,” he promised, grinning. He was more than fine. He was great, really.
By lunchtime, though, he was less great.
No texts from Annie. He’d have settled for a damned smiley face, but she hadn’t even sent that. Frustrated and tired of waiting, he texted her, instead. You up?
No response.
The afternoon passed with excruciating slowness. Dustin flipped between worry—was she okay? Was something wrong?—and anger. Was she blowing him off now? Had he come on too strong and she’d decided it was too much for her? He sent another text, and another.
When he got out of the shower, she still hadn’t responded, so he tried a different tactic.
DUSTIN: If you’re there, respond to this please, or I’m calling you.
I’m here, came the immediate reply. I just don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.
He frowned to himself, sitting on the edge of the bed and absently patting Moose’s big head as he texted. What’s wrong?
ANNIE: You should know.
He should? I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart. Tell me what’s bothering you.
ANNIE: I think the thing that’s bothering me the most is that I don’t understand people as well as I understand animals. I just don’t understand why you’d think this is okay.
DUSTIN: What do you mean?
ANNIE: You know what I mean. Now leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you ever again.
He texted her again. No response. Cursing aloud, Dustin called her this time.
His number had been blocked.
He didn’t get it. What had changed since he’d left her this morning? Irritated, he got dressed, shoving his feet into his boots before throwing on a T-shirt. “Come on, Moose. We’re going into town.”
A half hour later, he pulled into town. The Painted Barrel Hotel was lit up as usual, but when he went up to Annie’s room, there was no answer. Frustrated, he headed down to the front desk. Constance, a nice older lady who knew Clyde from back in the day, was behind the desk. “Hello young man,” she told him sweetly. “Who are you looking for?”
“Hi, Constance. I’m looking for Annie Grissom. She’s not answering her door.”
She typed on the computer with one finger, peering at the screen. “Oh, she checked out earlier today. She was with all those movie people. They’re done now, you know.”
“I know,” he managed politely, and gave her a winning smile even though he felt like snarling. He made polite conversation with her for a few minutes more, then excused himself and went back to his truck.
Dustin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking.
His number had been blocked. She didn’t leave an address. She really, really didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Normally he was the one chasing a woman, but it seemed every time he got close to Annie Grissom, she pushed back.
Was last night a lie, then?
He’d lain in her bed with her in his arms, and he’d felt . . . happy. Whole. Complete. For the first time in his life, he saw decades rolling past, with Annie in his arms. They’d train dogs or whatever she wanted to do. He’d move out to Los Angeles if she really wanted that, or maybe he could convince her to go on his boat once he bought it. They’d get a house together. Start a family. It didn’t matter that they’d been moving fast.
When things were right, you knew. You just knew.
He’d known Annie was right for him.
That’s why none of this made any sense. It felt like betrayal. It left him hollow inside and wondering if he’d read everything wrong.
Dustin tried her number again, desperate. Still blocked. Swearing, he wanted to fling the phone against the dashboard, but he didn’t. He buried his hands in Moose’s thick ruff and thought hard.
Facebook. Of course.
He looked up Annie Grissom. There were dozens of Anne, Ann, and Annie Grissoms on Facebook, but none were his Annie. He found one with a dog picture and when he saw a California city, he took a chance and sent a friend request. And waited impatiently.
Finally, he just sent her a message.
Annie, I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to talk to you. Did I hurt you? Scare you? That wasn’t my intent. Last night was special to me, and I thought it was to you, too. Please unblock me so we can talk. I’ll be waiting—Dustin.
He refused to believe that she’d just completely block him out. She wasn’t that heartless.
Annie rented a car at the airport so she wouldn’t have to deal with the airline’s dog policies—there were too many scary stories in the news for that sort of thing—and she drove back to Los Angeles.
It was a long, horrible drive and she pretty much cried the entire time. She stopped once at a chain pharmacy to get a morning-after pill, cried some more, and ignored the withering looks the old cashier gave her. Right now, she was feeling a bit like the whore of Babylon, and who was to say she didn’t deserve it?
She’d been messing around with another woman’s boyfriend, after all. And that made her cry even more, because she’d liked him so much that she’d wanted him to be the real thing. Now, though, she just felt used.
She took the pill and tried not to feel like the world’s worst seductress. It wasn’t her fault, she reminded herself. Dustin was the big fat liar in this situation. He’d really had her snowed, too. He’d seemed so nice and fun and genuine.
She was terrible at reading people, apparently.
The bitchy blonde at the store had been so pretty, too. She’d looked perfect, with artfully curled hair, expert makeup, and big boobs. Her skin had been tanned and flawless, without a single freckle. It was enough to make a pasty redhead vomit in envy.
She didn’t, though. She just kept driving. Of course Dustin had a gorgeous, perfect local girlfriend. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to go out in public with Annie. She hadn’t pushed it, either, because she just loved staying in, and wasn’t she an idiot?
“I hate men, Spidey,” Annie told her dog, glancing in the rearview mirror at him. “Except you. You’re all right.”
He just panted and gave her a happy look, clipped into his seatbelt harness in the back seat. Spidey was happy to be done with the movie at least. She was attuned to his moods, and he’d been calmer ever since they’d left the presence of the others. She’d found a small bare spot on the inside of one of his front legs and realized that he’d been stress-licking it and she’d been too wrapped up in Dustin to realize it.
So now she was a bad pet parent on top of being a bad judge of people. It just got worse and worse. By the time she hit the East LA Interchange, she hated Dustin and hated herself. She vowed she wouldn’t speak of this to anyone ever again. Not Katherine. Not her mother.
No one.
Wyoming was done. Finito. That part of her life was over. She never had to see Sloane or anyone from the set of The Goodest Boy ever again.
She certainly never had to see Painted Barrel or Dustin Worthington ever, ever, ever again.
After two days of driving and lots of breaks, she pulled up into the driveway of the tiny house in Culver City. Her mother’s car was there, and she suppressed a tiny sigh of frustration at the sight. Well, there was nothing to be done about that, either. Annie glanced over at Spidey. “We’re home, boy.”
For better or for worse.
Every day, Dustin watched his phone like a hawk. She’d call, he knew. She was angry over something, but at some point she’d tell him what she was so pissed about and then they could talk it through. She’d let him back into her life. She’d tell him where she’d gone. She’d answer the message he’d sent her on Facebook.
Something.
Anything.
But a week passed. Then two. Then three. Even though Dustin still had feelings for her, something hardened in his chest. He didn’t like that he felt like a fool. That she’d used him and ditched him. Maybe she had regrets over their night together, but it wasn’t his damn fault. She’d wanted sex as much as he had.
If she wanted to cut him out of her life, though, that was fine. He didn’t need a sweet redhead with freckles and a happy smile. He was probably better off alone anyhow—no one to tie him down.
Sometimes things worked out for the best, even if they didn’t feel like it.