Chapter 5
Destiny
Riding next to Jorgein the four-wheeler is a sensual joy that borders on torment. The heat of his body seeps into mine everywhere we touch. Arm. Thigh. Hips. If we’d been alone I have no doubt I’d make some sort of move to express my interest and see where that might take us. I’m not one to sit back and wait for someone else to make the first move if I’m interested. I go after what I want.
From the sideways glances he gives me, and how he tries to inch away, I’m convinced the attraction isn’t one sided. We’re facing a couple months of filming ahead, so I can wait. For a short time anyway.
For now, I attempt to focus on the tour by making notes in my work journal. I hope later I’ll be able to decipher my scribbling. Between the bumpy ride and my wild emotions, the pages are a mess.
Oh my gosh, the ranch is beautiful. So different from the lush east coast landscapes and mountains, the rolling, grass-covered hills are soothing. Even with neighbors and towns so far from each other, I can almost see why someone would want to make a home here.
During the tour, Alice rattles on about the history of the area and the ranch, and I make note of a number of ideas for the human interest features the network sometimes includes in the programs. Hell, I’d do an entire show or even a series of shows just about the area. Maybe I’ll pitch that idea to the big wigs.
After the tour Alice gathers her family and Micah introduces us to his extremely pregnant wife before we pile into a pair of pickups to head into town for supper. Jorge wastes no time climbing into the rear seat of Alice’s extended cab truck, situating himself between her two kids. Coward.
It doesn’t take long to see the main parts of the town. I discover where I can drop off my rental car. Alice promises me the use of a ranch vehicle should I need it, and soon there’ll be plenty of production vehicles around. No need to waste the network’s money on a car I won’t drive because I’m afraid of getting lost again.
We end our tour of town at Bailey’s, a truck stop they tell me is famous for their burgers. My stomach rumbles when we open the door to the aroma of grilled beef and French fries. Jorge’s eyebrow arches when I order a huge burger with both fries and onion rings. Once my malt arrives, it’s so thick and creamy I need to use a spoon to enjoy the first taste and I moan as the cool, malty chocolate slides down my throat.
He”s intently watching me so I lick a bit of ice cream from my lower lip. There’s a flash of interest before his dark eyes narrow. I’m not able to interpret his reaction because our meals arrive and we dig in.
Intent on the delicious food, I don’t notice right away everyone’s watching me chow down. When I do, I drop the fry I was planning to dip in my malt and pat at my lips with a paper napkin.
Jorge clears his throat and asks the question I’m pretty sure is on everyone’s mind. “In my experience, most hosts don’t eat like that before shooting starts.” He glances at his own loaded burger. “At least not the women. How do you stay thin enough for television and eat like that?”
Micah’s wife, Dilyn, wraps one hand over her belly. “I’ll take any hints you’ve got. I’m afraid I’m going to have a miserable time getting my baby weight off.”
“You’ll always be perfect,” Micah says then chuckles. “Taking care of your goats will give you plenty of exercise.” He lifts her hand and places a kiss to her palm.
My palm tingles in response and I chance a look at Jorge. He’s staring at me again, although this time I see questions and concern in his gaze.
I focus on him while I speak, starting by answering the unspoken question. “I’ve been asked variations of this question my entire life. I do not have an eating disorder. As a girl, I was extremely thin and nothing my folks or the doctors had me eat made any difference. My metabolism just runs in overdrive. Some kids ease out of the condition when they hit puberty, but I didn’t. At least I grew some curves.”
Jorge chokes on the water he just sipped. After coughing behind his napkin, he shrugs. “You surprised me.”
“Why? Because a skinny girl grew curves? And let me tell you, mister, before you ask, these are all mine. No padding, no fillers, no fake—” I stop right before saying boobies and glance at the kids who have scarfed most of their meals and are now playing games on their phones. Whew. “You know what I mean.”
Alice laughs loud enough other patrons of the café look, grin, then go back to their meals. “I had a friend in grade school like that. So, you can eat whatever you want?”
“Pretty much. In fact I need to eat frequently, even if it’s just a snack, in order to keep my weight where it is.”
“You need anything while you’re here, just holler,” Alice says. “In fact, I’ll show you where I store the guest basket items so you can grab what you need whenever you need a refill.”
“Oh, please don’t go out of your way.”
She shakes her head and tosses a ‘don’t worry about it’ wave in my direction. “Not a problem. If you have a sweet tooth, I’ll introduce you to one of the ranch wives tomorrow. She loves to bake and will keep you in cookies, cakes, whatever.
“The bakery here in town is good, too. Best whoopie pies you’ve ever tasted.”
Jorge frowns. “What’s a whoopie pie?”
Alice’s eyes grow wide. “You’ve never had one? We have to remedy that and stop on the way home a pick up a few.”
Her husband shakes his head. “Too late, hon. Bakery’s closed. You know he’s only open until mid-afternoon. And he almost always sells out of your favorites early.”
“Well fine.” She crosses her arms and pouts but has a difficult time keeping a grin from her expression.
I offer a solution—because a whoopie pie really does sound delicious. “What if I go ahead and turn my car in early tomorrow morning? Hopefully someone will be available to show me the way into town and bring me back. I’ll stop at the bakery.”
“Whew, that’s settled,” Alice says and taps on the table to capture her kids’ attention. “Finish up, about time to head home. There’s chores waiting.”
After a unison groan sounding from the kids and all the adults except for Jorge and me, we finish our meals and return to the ranch.
I’m hoping for a chance to spend some private time with Jorge, even just on the walk back to our rooms, but he joins Micah and Alice’s husband on the way to the barn. Like he’s afraid to be alone with me or something.
Alice nudges my shoulder. “He’ll come around.”
“What? Who?” Dear god, I didn’t make a fool of myself over him, did I?
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Destiny. When I’m not a rancher, winery owner, business woman, et cetera, I’m a writer. Of romance.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Really hot, sensual romances.”
Confused, I tilt my head to stare at her. Where is she going with this?
“I’m an excellent observer. It helps with my writing, So I notice little things people do when they’re trying to attract someone. Don’t worry. I don’t think most people pay attention to subtle signals as they did in the past. And I won’t say anything to anyone else. Especially not to him. I will tell you though, he’s not unaffected.”
She steps back and brushes her hands together. “Now, since Jorge’s getting a taste of ranch life, how would you like to help me put the goats and chickens to bed? The goats are normally Dilyn’s responsibility, but she’s not the most mobile right now.”
“How soon until the baby’s due?”
“Doc says maybe a week or two. We’re on high alert.”
I really like these women, the whole family in fact. I can’t explain it, but I feel at home here and want to be a part of everything. More than I ever have on a shoot. How weird is that? I’m here now and I’ll enjoy these feelings while I can. “If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“What about the filming schedule?”
“Screw that.” My eyes wide for emphasis, I stare at Alice then join in her laughter. “Really, I mean it. I don’t care what the network execs say, if we have to shut down the whole thing for a birth day...we will.”
Alice touches my arm. “Come on then, let’s get the critters taken care of. I’ll introduce you to my favorite hen.”
Intrigued by what she’d said earlier, I hold back a second then ask, “Do you, uh, your books? Can I borrow some to read while I’m here?”
After the chores we share a few glasses of wine and lots of girl talk. The easy friendship reminds me what I’ve been missing while pursuing my career. In morphing into a smart-talking ball buster to fit the mold the network analysists said would become the next big star, I’ve forgotten myself, and who I planned to become.
At the beginning of my career I would have done almost anything to cement my spot in the lineup. Thankfully, I guess, all they wanted was for me to change who I am.
A dark night such as I’ve never experienced surrounds me when I finally leave Alice’s house. Standing in the middle of the road, I stare up into the black sky. There’s lights behind me from the ranch houses, and more scattered through the darkness, but not enough to chase away the night.
The moon is bright enough I can easily see the road. But I’ve never seen so many stars. Light pollution is definitely real. I wish everyone could experience this feeling of vastness, the endless depth of the sky.
Toting a bag filled with paperbacks and, yes, more snacks, I leave my contemplations of the universe and my minute place in it and enter my room. There’s no lights on in Jorge’s side of the building. Since David hadn’t returned from chores yet when Alice and I said good night, I assume the guys are still doing what guys do. I chuckle at the thought of the three of them perched on hay bales throwing back a few beers. Or whatever ranchers do during their rare downtimes.
Refusing to acknowledge the disappointment taking root, I grab a water from the mini-fridge and head into the bedroom. The rest of my evening is planned. I’m going to curl up with the book Alice suggested I read first and lose myself in someone else’s romance.
An hour later, the muted sounds of movement next door pull my attention and I realize I’ve been waiting for him to return. The walls are thick, so I don’t hear much, but just knowing he’s there relaxes the tense muscles in my shoulders. Dragging my focus back to my reading, I silently cheer for the characters when the man joins the woman in the shower. As things get steamy on the page, I hear the soft, barely there sounds of Jorge’s shower coming on.
The story people disappear, replaced by my fantasy of Jorge and me. Our bodies wet and slick with soap bubbles. Pressed close. Touching. Stroking. I can feel the firm muscles flex as my palms stroke over his fine ass and my fingers curl. Steam rises around us as he lifts my legs to circle his waist then fills me with his cock.
The book falls from my hands and I chase my arousal with my fingers. I’m so ready. It doesn’t take long until his name passes my lips on a sigh. So close. There’s a dull thump against the wall separating me from the ecstasy I need. Then the sound of a man’s deep, sensual groan. Reality? Imagination? Don’t know. Don’t care.
Arching against my flicking fingers and biting the side of my free hand, I hold back my vocal response as I spiral into a powerful release.
Jorge.