“Ask Tita next time you come over. She took one look at Christian and told me it would never work. She was right.”
“Christian was a selfish, self-serving prick. That’s why it didn’t work out.”
“Yeah, he also had dark brown hair and eyes the same exact shade as mine, a medium complexion, and a pointy nose. We coulda been related.”
I swallow more laughter. “You may be overthinking it.”
“You’re not upset he’s getting married, are you?”
“Not even a little. The dogs pissed me off. He never wanted to have pets with me.”
Or kids. He wasn’t sure about them either.
In hindsight, we really were a terrible match. But who’s paying close attention to the important stuff when you’re twenty-two and meet a six-foot-five, two-hundred-twenty-five pound fireman with a movie star smile?
The ugly truth is that by nature, I’m tragically monogamous. I like being in a relationship. Being part of a team really is my thing, and the bigger the team the better. My L.A. therapist had a field day with that one. She said it’s because I was often left alone when I was a kid. Whatever the reason, I won’t apologize for it. And I’m not about to compromise. I’ve always wanted a big family and although I didn’t hide it from Jaime, I didn’t fight for it either. And to think if it wasn’t for the assault, I’d be married to him now.
“What about those poor dogs? They have to live with that cold bastard until the divorce. The good news is his hairline is receding.”
“Silver lining?” I chuckle and lean against the door jam now that all the angry energy has worn off.
“Super shiny silver lining.”
Aidan steps out of the Airstream and glances around. What in the love of all that is righteous and holy is this?
He’s wearing Arena swim trunks, the kind the pro swimmers wear, work boots, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. That’s it.
Jesus save me.
Raising his arms in the air, he grabs one elbow and stretches to the side, then he does the other. How a man that is physically perfect in every way could make my stomach churn is a mystery. Or maybe it’s a skill. I mean, it certainly takes effort.
“By the way,” I say to my supposed best friend, “next time one of your harebrained schemes involves me, know that there will be consequences that include you shoveling a lot of goat shit.”
“He’s the sexiest movie star in the western world according to People Magazine. It can’t be that bad.”
I take a surreptitious picture of the sexiest movie star in the western world in the midst of lighting a cigar and send it to her. The only reason I don’t run over and knock it out of his hand is that he’s standing in dirt, not a flammable piece of anything in his immediate area. Except his swimsuit perhaps.
“He’s about as sexually appealing as soggy oatmeal. I’m so turned on in his royal presence I’m ready to check myself into a mental health hospital.” It’s clear as crystal that Aidan is a monkey, and everyone knows monkeys and collies do not mix. “Remember what I said about the goat shit.”
“Smokey. Come in, Smokey,” Mona’s excited voice blasts out of the walkie talkie clipped to the back pocket of my overall shorts. “Smokey, this is urgent.”
I stop what I’m doing––picking crap patties out of the small animal paddock––and grab it. Meanwhile, Pumpkin Spice, one of the mini horses, nudges my leg and I fish a soft peppermint plop out for her. “Copy, Bandit.”
“Get your butt in here. Something happened!” Then she thinks the better of it, “Nothing terrible, I’m still alive, but get in here anyway! Out.”
I place the pitchfork in the wheelbarrow and push it to the paddock gate, closing it behind me. Not before Billy almost makes a run for it, however.
“Sorry, Billy. I have to go up to the house and you have to stay here.”
My little shadow. He bleats as I leave him and I do my best not to look back. I’m not strong enough. Love’s got a stranglehold on me and I’ll give in to his demands like I always do.
On my way back to the house, I spot Shane’s Cobra parked outside the guesthouse. It hasn’t moved since I last saw him a day ago, so maybe he shook off the writer’s block he was wrestling with the other night. Still no sign of Aidan or any willingness to put in the time.
Inside, I find Mona in the kitchen.
“Do you remember Donna Jo who I used to be friends with from card night?” Mona says the second I walk in, eyes bright and full of excitement, her body positively vibrating with energy as she pours coffee in a traveling mug. “The one that said she thought she saw Hank hanging out with Maggie when he and I was dating, but it ended up being a lie ’cause she wanted to date Hank and went about trying to break us up—and she did, basically. Anyway…” she takes a deep breath, “I was on Facebook looking at her posts, because I forgot to unfriend that bitch, and saw another post for a senior horse that some dude in Casitas Springs is giving away, but we have to go pick him up right now or he’ll ship him off to the killers.”
It takes me a minute to process everything she threw at me including the kitchen sink. “So we’re going to get this horse right now?”
“Right now.”
“Why the long story about Donna Jo?”
“Oh, I just wanted to know if you remembered the bitch.” She hustles around the kitchen island with two travel mugs in hand. “Can you believe what she did? Thank the Lord Christ I am not dating Hank anymore. He had a bad tendency to do this thing with his tongue––”
I put my hand up to stop her. “No. No more please.”
“Let’s go then. I got our jet fuel.”
She hands me my traveling mug and I follow her out to the ancient, baby blue Chevy pickup truck with the horse trailer attached. I hate to leave the animals unattended––even the one living in the Airstream trailer––but time is of the essence with rescues, and we don’t have any to spare from the sound of it.
It doesn’t take long to reach Casitas Springs. We drive down a bumpy dirt road flanked by brush on both sides.
“I saw a movie that started this way…” It was based on the very real story of all the women who have gone missing on the El Paso Mexico border.
“The one with the ball gags and handheld saws? ” She nods. “I saw it, too.”
The hell? I examine the woman sitting next to me. She looks so sweet and innocent most of the time and yet…
“I’m scared to ask what movies you’ve been watching.”
At the end of the dirt road is a tan-colored trailer home that’s seen better days, paint peeling off the siding, dust covering nearly every small window. The shack next door to it, the one I assume is the barn, is surrounded by old tires and a broken lawnmower rusted beyond repair. The tin roof of the shack looks ready to cave in any moment. My stomach somersaults.
“Because this doesn’t look suspiciously like a human trafficking operation,” I mutter under my breath, which my partner in all-things-good ignores.
As soon as we get out of the pickup, a large and very old dog starts barking at us. He looks like a cross between a lab and a black bear, except he’s so old his entire face has gone gray. Almost immediately, he gives up and plops back down on the landing to the trailer.