Greer stared at the blanket of snow covering the ground and the muddy road that spoiled its beauty, like someone had taken a postcard, crumpled it, and walked all over it, marring it with their touch.
The sign he was looking for was nowhere around. A daisy couldn’t bloom in winter.
1
Kentuckygirl: Want to chat?
Sharpshooter: Sure. What’s up, Kentuckygirl?
Kentuckygirl: Nothing. I was bored and just looking for someone to talk to.
Sharpshooter: Why don’t you have a picture on your account?
Kentuckygirl: I work in a large office. Some of my co-workers go to this site, and I really don’t want them talking about me in the lunchroom.
Sharpshooter: Can’t blame you. I’m a private kind of man myself. What part of Kentucky do you live in?
Kentuckygirl: Central.
Sharpshooter: I live in Treepoint, Ky.
Kentuckygirl: I’ve heard of it. Never been there. Do you like living there?
Sharpshooter: I love it here. Do you like where you live?
Kentuckygirl: Yes. You ever visit Lexington?
Sharpshooter: No, too busy for me. Tell me something about yourself.
Kentuckygirl: Ok. Morning is my favorite time of day, but I like the night, too. Sometimes I like to sit outside and watch fireflies.
Sharpshooter: Ever catch any and put them in a jar?
Kentuckygirl: No, I want to watch them, not kill them.
Sharpshooter: What type of music do you like?
Kentuckygirl: Pop.
Sharpshooter: Country all the way.
Kentuckygirl: What do you do for a living?
Sharpshooter: You first… Anything that involves law enforcement?
Kentuckygirl: I’m an IT manager. You?
Sharpshooter: Self-educated botanist.
Kentuckygirl: That’s interesting. What kinds of plants do you study?
Sharpshooter: A variety. Right now, I’m trying to crossbreed some that are indigenous to Kentucky.
Kentuckygirl: You sound smart. Only thing I know about plants is how to kill them.
Sharpshooter: Seems we don’t have much in common. Nice talking to you, Kentuckygirl.
Kentuckygirl: Nice talking to you, too. Bye.
Chatroom Closed.
Sharpshooter: Why did you change the picture on your profile?
Kentuckygirl: I don’t know. I thought it was better than a shadowy outline.
Sharpshooter: Why a daisy?
Kentuckygirl: I guess because I was talking to you and it made me think of my favorite flower. Is it too lame?
Sharpshooter: I don’t think it’s lame at all.
The sound of the truck had her lifting the corner of the curtain to see outside. Carefully peeking through the curtain, Holly saw Greer climbing out of Diane’s car. He had stayed the night with her again.
Greer considered the woman his girlfriend. She considered him her toy. Despite his brothers’ and sister’s repeated attempts to beat the fact into his stubborn head, Greer refused to see that the woman was a slut and used him when she needed something. Like for a fuck buddy, or money for whatever bill she needed help paying, or a new purse she wanted.
Sickened, she watched Greer close the car door then walk around the car to bend down to talk to Diane through the open window. Holly dropped the curtain when she saw them kissing.
“Hurry up, Logan. You’re going to be late for school.” She picked up a cloth to wipe down the new kitchen island that Tate had installed.
Dustin picked up the small backpack sitting on the back of the couch as Logan rushed out of the bathroom.
“I’m ready.”
Holly stopped cleaning the island as she breathed in the strong cologne. Dustin’s eyes had started tearing up, and not in emotion.
“Uh, son, did you spill some of Greer’s cologne on you when you were brushing your teeth?”
Logan stared up at his father sheepishly. “No, I want to smell good for school.”
Dustin sat Logan’s backpack down on the couch. “I think we need to go wash some of that off.”
Logan’s lips tightened. “But I want to smell good like Uncle Greer.”
The object of his adulation came in through the door, and Holly paused in loading the dishwasher. Greer hadn’t even bothered buttoning his shirt’s first couple of buttons. His faded jeans were becoming threadbare, the uneven hem sagging across the top of his boots. She hastily dropped her eyes to the dishwasher, pressing the buttons to start the new machine.
Holly made sure never to let her eyes linger on him for too long. She had learned as soon as she had moved in with the Porter family that Greer used any and each opportunity to use his sarcasm on her. Lashing out at her had become his favorite sport, no contest, until he hit a nerve.
“Any coffee left?”
Holly didn’t answer him, letting him go to the coffee pot to check for himself.
He came to an abrupt halt. “Did a skunk get in here last night?” Greer went to the window, opening it.
“Logan decided he wanted to wear some of your cologne to school this morning,” Dustin explained. “I was taking him to the bathroom to make him wash it off when you came in.”
“Throw the cologne away when you’re in there.” Greer’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Damn, I’m surprised I got laid last night smelling like that.”