Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Seven

“That’s the third time in a row,” grumbles my dad as the phone rings during an early dinner. “River, will you please answer it and find out who keeps calling?”

Slowly, I push away from the table and avoid Emery’s eyes. It’s pretty obvious who is calling as they have been for the past few days and for some reason I’m always the one to answer. With clenched teeth, I grab the phone and press it to my ear while everyone at the table watches me closely.

“Hello?” I ask, unenthusiastically as I lean against the wall and stare at the window.

“River,” Alana says, trying to interpret the way a rock star would yell something over the crowd. “What’s up?”

“I’m eating dinner,” I mutter, glancing towards my father. He’s turned around in his seat, watching me with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, that’s cool. Is Emery there?”

“He’s eating dinner too,” I sigh, turning away from the table.

“Can I talk to him?”

I roll my eyes. She never takes the hint when Emery is busy, however he doesn’t seem to care as he watches me with curious eyes.

“Emery, phone’s for you.” A smile spreads across his lips as the words leave my mouth. A moment later I hand him the phone as he passes me and heads into the other room for some privacy.

“He better be telling her to call back later,” my dad mutters as I sit in my chair. “Actually, I have a better idea.” He rises to his feet and leaves his half-eaten plate sitting on the table.

“Where are you going?” My mom asks as my dad grabs his jacket. He starts putting his shoes on at the back door, muttering something we can’t here before he answers her question.

“To upgrade to the modern age,” he calls over his shoulder before shutting the door behind him. My mom gives me a look, wondering if I have any idea what he’s talking about. Strangely, I don’t.

By the time I’m finished eating, Emery still hasn’t returned to the dinner table. Every so often I can hear him laugh but other than that, I can’t pick up any more of the conversation. After my mom and I have finished the dishes, Emery is still on the phone laughing about a joke I don’t hear.

As I walk into the living room, Emery watches me, a smile on his lips as he sits in a chair by the wall. However he’s not smiling at me, he’s smiling because of Alana. When I sit down on the couch and grab a book off the coffee table, he either realizes I’m trying to eavesdrop or simply doesn’t want to be in the same room as me. Without so much as a wave or smirk, he returns into the kitchen, laughing at something Alana said yet again.

It’s been a while when Emery finally gets off the phone. I don’t put my book down when I hear him hang up, assuming he’ll come sit beside me on the couch. But instead, his footsteps don’t head towards me or the living room. I hear them grow more distant and then the back door creaks then slams as he heads outside for either a cigarette or just to be alone.