He’s watching me so intensely that if I wasn’t completely wrecked, it would make me nervous. Good thing I’m completely wrecked.
“I have my days, too, when everything seems to be working against us and I feel like I’m drowning and it’s time to walk away. But then I get a comment like this…”
I open the screen of my phone and click on the IG app. The most recent picture of Legend, who’s doing remarkably well with his recovery, pops up. Then I go to the direct messages, and quietly read, “Hi Mother Goose Rescue. I’m eleven and immunocompromised. Which means I’m homeschooled and don’t have any friends my age that aren’t in my exact same situation. It sucks. I just wanna tell you that I check your pictures every day. I love to see the animals you save. Pumpkin Spice and Hazel were my favorites, but I have a new favorite now: Legend. Because…” My voice cracks and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying. Exhaling, I start again, “Because he never gave up. Even when he almost died when his owner stopped feeding him. Whenever I have a bad day and want to give up, I think of Legend. If he can get better, maybe I can, too.” I put the phone down. “That’s why I do it.”
We sit quietly in each other’s company until Hazel gets restless and starts making noises again.
“Wait here,” Shane says and gets up. I watch his perfect round ass with the dents on the side walk out of the stall and disappear into the dimly-lit barn aisle.
A few minutes later, he returns with an acoustic guitar under his arm. Taking his place back on the stall floor, he cradles the guitar under his arm, leans over it, and begins softly picking strings. The tune sounds Spanish, the perfect sound to soothe an aching heart.
The music starts working its magic and Hazel takes a few steps closer to nuzzle Shane’s scruffy cheek. Shane looks up, our eyes meet, and his lips curve up softly.
Right here––see this moment? This is the moment I died. Write my obituary because I just died of lust for a man playing guitar to a heartbroken miniature donkey.
Hazel walks over to me and finally lays down. Cuddled against my leg, she lays her head on my lap and I pet her gently. She closes her eyes and sighs and the ugly tears I was hoping to save for later, to shed in the privacy of my room, fall down my cheeks. In minutes, I’m going to look like a bruised tomato in front of my dirty fantasy man and there’s nothing I can do about it. If you’ve ever seen a bruised tomato, you understand.
Shane puts the guitar down and slides his big hard body against mine. He throws an arm around my shoulders and I stiffen. It’s an automatic reaction. Not because I don’t want to melt into him, shove my nose into his clean pits, and inhale him like he’s coke and it’s the 80s again. Because I do want to do that with every fiber of my body.
It’s because I don’t trust myself to not fall for him hard. And when I say fall, I mean in love for all the wrong reasons. He’s just that tempting. And with my track record, it would turn into a disaster. I need to stay away from any man that elicits this degree of reaction from me and go after the solid citizens… like Tom.
“Don’t worry, I won’t think you’re hitting on me,” he says in that deep raspy voice of his, the sound vibrating in his chest and sending sparks to every part me where we touch.
“Good. Because you’re not my type.”
“Good. Because I’m a bad bet.”
But maybe just for now…
I let myself melt into him and he pulls me closer, his scent more intoxicating that Columbian cocaine. If I knew what it was like… which I don’t.
“Two minutes. Then you can leave,” I mumble. With my face plastered against his hard chest covered in an Army t-shirt, my eyes drift shut.
“Hmm,” is the last thing I hear.
Chapter 10
Turning points: the topic of today’s unauthorized TED Talk. Turning points can be both good and bad. The problems creep in when you’re not sure which it is.
The morning after Pepper’s passing, I awakened at dawn to find myself being nuzzled by Hazel and covered in Shane’s extra-large Army t-shirt. He must have stayed with me most of the night because I remembered sleeping against something warm and hard.
I’m not ashamed to say I took the t-shirt home and have been taking hits of his scent like a smoker takes a drag of a last cigarette before he/she gets ready to quit––with feverish, almost violent force. It’s been a few days and I’m just not ready to return it yet.
We’ve seen each other in passing since then. I’ve received a tip of the head when he comes and goes, but he’s kept his distance otherwise.
Aidan’s another story altogether…
“No. No. No. Godfather II is the better movie. There’s no question.”
I swear it’s like he just found out Santa doesn’t exist. I’m afraid to tell him I like Star Wars more than Return Of The Jedi.
I hand him the keys to the tractor. The composted manure is ready to be spread over the large pasture and Aidan informed me that since it’s a “man’s job,” he should be the one to do it. I giggled for an hour. Who did he think had been doing it until today? Billy?
“Personal choice, my dude. I like the original Godfather better.” I watch him climb the tractor in his board shorts and work boots. No shirt. Like… ever. “Quick question. What is with the nudity? Seriously, put a shirt on. If I wanted to see your naked chest––or any other part of you, for that matter––I’d pay twelve bucks at the theater.”
Looking down at me, he flinches, his blue eyes going wide. “Hey, not cool. Don’t body shame me. I’m already dealing with a lot right now for you to add this on top of it.”
Shit. I blanche at his hurt expression. I was joking, at least somewhat. It never even occurred to me that he was touchy about his looks and that the exhibitionism was masking feelings of inadequacy.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Aidan. I wasn’t body shaming you. I just… I was kind of joking. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. Your body is perfect in every way. Literally, it’s perfection.”
A wicked smile spreads across his face. “So you noticed?”
Gospel truth, I’m gonna kill him before his time is up here. Mona’s property is five hundred acres last time I checked. They’ll never find his perfect dead body.
“Start the engine before I’m the one forced to wear an ankle monitor.”
“You find me charming. Admit it.”
“I’m morbidly fascinated with your ability to take rejection and turn it into a win.”
“I’m an actor, Tweetie. I’ve had plenty of practice with rejection.”
I highly doubt he’s ever faced rejection. The sunlight catches his eyes at the right angle and turns them into glittering pools of Caribbean blue.
“Wait, don’t move. You look great sitting up there. Let me take a few pictures for Cruella.”
He gives me a lopsided grin and tips back the rim of his straw hat, squinting one eye into the light. “Cruella?”
“Jules…” I flash a tight smile. “Please don’t tell her.”
He laughs. Then he strikes a serious pose and I snap away. Aidan looking pensive. Aidan looking off in the distance. Aidan laughing as he pulls the rim down over his eyes. The camera loves this man, this much is true.