“Daddy.” She called out to him, jumping off the chair on the porch and rushing inside. Her father was behind the bar, polishing the glasses.
“Can I help?” She asked him, pouting her lips. She had been back home from college for over two weeks now and he still hadn’t allowed her to do anything around the house or the pub.
“I don’t need any help here, Ivy. Why don’t you go see what your friends are up to?” Her father turned his kind gray eyes to her. Ivy shrugged her shoulders and sighed.
“What friends? I don’t have any friends here any-more. They’ve all left.” She said, following her father’s every movement with her large green eyes. Her father smacked his lips, and continued polishing the glasses.
“You shouldn’t have quit college, Ivy. Look, I’m fine here, I don’t need your help. You should have stayed on and made something of your life.” He said, shaking his head at her. Ivy
sighed with a huff and turned from him.
There was some truth in what he was saying. The more-wise thing to do would have been to stick on in college and complete her Bachelor in Agricultural Science; but Ivy wasn’t interested in school. She had been pushing herself to do something that she didn’t want to do by staying on in college. Returning home to help her father was partially an excuse, because she also wanted to take some time off school to figure out what it was that she really wanted to do with her life.
It had been two weeks since, and she still had no clue.
Ivy walked up to the large ornate mirror behind the pub door to look at herself. Her blonde curls were in tight natural ringlets, and she had kept them loose around her face. Her eyes were large and green, and even without any makeup; Ivy’s cheeks were always a bright cherry red, just like the natural color of her lips.
She was full bodied, her breasts forming a high curve on her chest. She was small, but not petite and she always made an impression wherever she went. Heads always turned to look at her. Today she had chosen to wear a thin white dress, to combat the heat. The neckline plunged deep, revealing her cleavage. For shoes, she was in simple sandals. Ivy sighed as she ran her fingers through her curls and shook them out. What was she going to do with her days here?
None of her childhood friends were still around, they had all left town, moved to bigger cities, as had she initially. But college, academics, a traditional career, were not the things that Ivy was made for, and she couldn’t force herself to pursue them any-more.
She could hear her father tinkering about behind the bar, as she continued to stare at herself in the mirror. Her plump cheeks looked bright today, her lips were broad and pouty…Ivy Hart was concerned now that she was going to end up wasting her life away. Just like her mother had warned her against.
The thought of her mother made her turn to look at her father behind the bar again. She had never seen two people as much in love as her parents had been, and it immediately brought a smile to her face. But in a moment of desperate confession once, several years ago; her mother had told her that sometimes she felt trapped. Trapped by the love of her husband, and her own love for him. And it was that passion which had never allowed her to escape this place, leave and try and make a different life for herself. That she had always regretted not trying. But in most other moments, her mother was happy, in love and content.
But Ivy could never forget her mother’s confession about the dangers of falling in love with a small-town cowboy. That is who her father was, and that was the only life that Ivy knew. That was the life that she had tried so hard to get away from, by going to college but she couldn’t.
Something about this place, about this life had dragged her back. But she knew she had to find a way out, she needed to find her own passion in life and let that be the guiding light for a path out of this small sleepy desert town.
“Daddy, I need to find something to do.” She said, suddenly whipping around to her father again. He looked up from his polishing to raise an exhausted eyebrow at his daughter and sighed.
“There is nothing for you to do here, sweet child. You should have never come back. You should have stayed away from here, just like your mama told you to.” He said, and Ivy noticed the sadness in his eyes. She had no idea that her father knew about the things that her mother had confided in her.
Just as she was about to ask him about it, the doors of the pub creaked open.
Ivy and her father had both turned to the door in unison. The pub had barely been open for a few minutes, they weren’t expecting any customers to turn up this soon.
A man had walked in, his face was covered partially with a cowboy hat perched on his head, which he was slowly lowering. He walked stealthily, with purpose; and Ivy’s first instincts were to study him closely. In dark dusty jeans and a plaid shirt tucked in, the man had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even in the dim light of the pub, Ivy was quick to notice the sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes as he turned to look at her, and then he looked away.
Ivy instinctually straightened her back. His hat was in his hands now as he slowly made his way to the bar counter, towards her father. She could see his back, as he walked away from her. This man was tall, at least a foot taller than her and he looked like he was made of pure hard muscle. His back was wide and held taut against the fabric of his shirt.
“Hugo Hart?” The man’s voice rang loud through the silence of the pub. It sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine. His voice was smooth and deep, and even though she couldn’t see his face now, Ivy couldn’t control her desperate need to look at him.
“That’s me. And you must be Leon Cooper.” Her father was smiling at the man, he had pasted the polite customer face on, which he reserved for the pub. Ivy’s brows crossed, her father knew everyone in these parts, how did he not know this man.
“What can I get you?” Her father asked him, placing his hands on the counter and still smiling at the man.
Ivy was standing behind them, still several feet away from them, wringing her hands with desperation. She wanted to draw closer to him, she wanted to see his face, it was like an itching need all over her body to steal a look at him. She had no control over her brain any more.
“Oh, thank you but I don’t drink.” The man said, in that same calm deep voice, that made Ivy’s fingers tingle. Who was this man? What was he doing here? Which man in these parts didn’t drink alcohol?
“I see, what can I do you for then?” Her father asked him, the smile dropping slightly from his face. Nobody came into the pub for anything other than to get something to drink or eat, but this man seemed to be on a different kind of business. And Ivy’s father seemed just as confused as she was.
“I was hoping that you would help me spread the word locally, before I advertise in the newspaper.” The man said. He didn’t sound friendly, or even like he was comfortable speaking to her father. He sounded angry, arrogant and self-confident. But Ivy was still desperate to see his face. Just watching him standing in front of her, just tracing out the muscles on his back with her eyes, on the back of his legs…were enough to set her body on fire.
“Sure, what is it?” Her father leaned on the counter closer to him.
“I need somebody to take care of my house.” The man said. Ivy licked her lips, her heart was pounding against her chest.