CHAPTER TWELVE
Danica
“Did you bring the documents?” Gabrielle asked me later that night after I’d showered the scent of horse off myself, and Sam and I had dinner with my cousin and her kids.
Gabrielle made a delicious vegetarian bechamel lasagna along with Caesar salad and garlic bread. My cousin made the best lasagna, so I never said no to an invitation. Half the time, I invited myself.
We sat at her kitchen table, spinning our wine glasses around by the stems as Maverick and Damon did the dishes in the kitchen. Laurel and Sam were off in Laurel’s room, so it was just my cousin and me, debriefing about the last twenty-four hours.
I smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm. “Shit. No.”
“Text him.”
I shook my head.
Gabrielle gave me an incredulous look. “What? Why? Do you not have his number?”
I had his number. I’d texted myself from his phone the night he got Angel.
“Why are you making that weird face?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
“I … I’ll get them tomorrow. We’re going back over to visit the baby horse.”
“I don’t need the originals. Just have him scan them on his phone. That way I can send the copies to my friends and we can figure out how to help him.” She nudged my phone, which sat in front of me on the table. “Text him, you weirdo.”
I glared at her, then at my phone.
She pushed it even closer to me. “Danica St. Claire, you are thirty-two years old, text the boy you like.”
“Would you shut up?” I hissed at her, taking my phone. “And I don’t like him.”
“Then you should have no problem texting him and asking him to scan the documents so I can take a look.” She sat back in her seat, all smug, and took a sip of her wine.
Some people ran on coffee or chocolate; Gabrielle ran on arguments. She loved to argue. Loved to win arguments. And the way she sat back in her seat, with triumphant amber eyes glittering over the rim of her wineglass, told me she thought she’d won this.
Had she?
“I’ll just grab them tomorrow,” I persisted.
“Or, you could get them now. We could drive over there. I’ve only had one glass of wine.”
“You’ve had three,” Maverick called from the kitchen. “You’re not driving anywhere.”
She glared at him as he grinned at her.
I’d had two glasses of wine as well and was too exhausted to drive anywhere, even if I were totally sober. Ugh! She was right, of course. If I got the documents now, then she could read over them tomorrow morning, and we could get this ball rolling even sooner.
“Fine.” I grabbed the phone reluctantly as I opened it to the message from his phone I had sent myself.
My fingers trembled as I typed out the message. Not that it was anything suggestive, or even absurd, but that I was texting a boy—a man—that I liked, sent all kinds of winged creatures in my belly on an adventure with no flight plan.
“Let me take a look first,” Gabrielle said, holding out her hand for the phone. “I’ll just add a few x’s and o’s.”
“Don’t you freaking dare.”
Snickering, she glanced at my screen.
Hey, Tom. It’s Danica. I totally forgot to grab those documents from you. Gabrielle says she doesn’t need the originals. Any chance you can scan them on your phone and send them over? She wants to take a look first thing in the morning, then send them to her contacts.
“To the point. Very matter of fact. Very … boring,” my cousin said. “He’s going to be so turned on.”
“No more wine for you,” I threatened, grabbing the bottle and emptying the rest of it into my glass. I needed some liquid courage before I hit “send.”
Taking a long, thorough gulp. I let the merlot sit on my tongue for a solid couple of seconds before finally hitting “send.”
No turning back now.
I set my phone face down on the table and glared at my cousin. “Now that you’re all happy and in love, you’re a real shit disturber, you know that?”
Gabrielle smiled coyly. “I just want everyone to be as happy as I am.” She glanced over her shoulder at Maverick in the kitchen, who beamed at her and then blew a kiss.
“You two make me sick,” I muttered, just as my phone vibrated and chimed.
“Ooh, that was fast.”
Glaring even harder at my cousin, I grabbed my phone where, sure enough, Tom had responded.
Of course. I will attach the scans now. Thank you for your help.
Then a flurry of attachments came through one after the other. I immediately forwarded them all to Gabrielle, and then when they stopped, shot off a quick reply to Tom.
Perfect. Thank you. See you tomorrow.
Buona notte, Danica.
Gabrielle snatched my phone from my hand. “What’d he say that has you grinning like that?” Her mouth made an O. “Oh shit, he’s speaking Italian to you.”
My face was on fire as I grabbed my phone from her. “I don’t know if I like this new, happy, in-love Gabrielle. She’s annoying.”
“She’s here to stay, so get used to it,” Maverick said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I glared at the handsome young hockey player who had turned my slightly bitter, very closed-off, no-nonsense cousin into this mushy, love-sick fool. “I blame you.”
“Guilty.” He winked at me.
“Sam!” I called out, standing up from my seat and finishing my wine. “Home time.”
“Awe, is the truth a tough pill to swallow?” Gabrielle asked, sipping her wine.
“We have things to do,” was all I said as I made my way to the front door, slid into my shoes, and grabbed my cardigan from the hook. “I also have to finish that spreadsheet for this summer’s staff budget.”
Sam emerged from the hallway, along with Laurel.
We said goodbye to everyone, and I thanked my cousin for dinner, then my daughter and I left, climbing the stairs to our carriage house.
“Laurel said she overheard Aunt Gabrielle teasing you about liking Tom,” Sam said as we toed off our shoes and stowed them in the coat closet. “Is that true? Do you like him?”
Stupid Gabrielle and her happy, loud voice. She absolutely would not have appreciated any of this if the shoe were on the other foot. In fact, it had been on the other foot not too long ago, and she didn’t appreciate Raina and Naomi’s ribbings. I stayed out of it though. Mostly.
I loved the woman, but she was a hypocrite in love at the moment.
“You’re not answering me,” Sam said, making her way into the kitchen and opening the fridge. She pulled out the shawarma-style tofu I made earlier today and started preparing herself a wrap for lunch tomorrow.
“Do I find Tom handsome? Yes. He’s very nice-looking. He’s also very kind and compassionate, and I’m grateful to him for allowing you to come spend time with the animals. Do I like him? I don’t know, honey. I haven’t known him very long.”
“Do you think you could like him?”
“Where’s this coming from?” I grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard for her, and some grapes from the fridge. Then I poured myself a glass of water and stood there, hip cocked against the counter, and drank my water, washing away the wine-infused thoughts of earlier.
She shrugged as she slathered some mint and yogurt sauce onto the wrap, then laid the thinly sliced tofu pieces on top.
“I dunno. I mean, Aunt Gabrielle and Aunt Raina seem so happy now that they’re in happy relationships.
Maybe it’s your turn? And Tom is so nice.
And he has horses. If you two dated, I could spend more time there. ”
That made me laugh. “Ah, so this quest to match me and Tom is purely for selfish reasons then? You just want more time with the animals?”
“Not purely selfish. Maybe a little selfish. But you deserve to be happy and find love too. Have you ever been on a date?”
“Do you want me to cut up some cucumbers for you?” I asked, deflecting.
She shook her head. “I have the cucumber and tomato mixture for the wrap. Can you answer me?”
“Can you act your age and not like a sixteen-year-old?”
She rolled her eyes.
“No,” I finally said, sighing. “I’ve never been on a date. I’ve been a little busy raising a fabulous daughter as a single mom and helping my cousins run the winery. I haven’t had much time to date. I’ll date when you’re eighteen.”
“And you’ll be old.”
“Excuse me?”
“Er. You’ll be old-er.”
“Forty is the new thirty, I’ve been told. I’ll be fine.”
“You and Tom seem to have gotten to know each other better though. Do you think you could like him? If he called you up right now and asked you on a date, would you say yes?”
“I would say, ‘Samantha Jean St. Claire, it is time to finish making your lunch, do your reading, and get to bed.’”
“I think he’d be super confused if you said that to him when he asked you out for dinner.” She rolled up her shawarma wrap, put it in a container, then in her lunch kit and stowed it all in the fridge. I was already wiping up her mess on the counter.
“To bed,” I said, pointing toward the hallway and the bedrooms.
She turned serious. “What am I supposed to do about Clyde tomorrow?”
“Avoid him like he has the measles and I was stupid and didn’t vaccinate you. Which I totally did, but you know what I mean. I’m going to reach out to his parents and try to reason with them. This has got to stop. He’s targeting you now, and I want to know why.”
“Because I’m a freak.”
Setting my water glass down on the counter, I went to my daughter where she stood at the entrance to the hallway.
“You’re not a freak. You have anxiety. That doesn’t mean you’re a freak.
You reacted to his taunting. He pushed you.
Anybody—even someone without anxiety—would eventually snap if they were pushing the way Clyde pushed you.
Even Lotus McCreary, the yogi, and she’s as Zen as they come. ”
My kid cracked a lopsided smile, but it fell a second later. “Francesca said she’s worried her dad’s going to die while she’s at school. That her mom died the day after they adopted her. She said that’s why she has anxiety.”
“And do you think she’s a freak?”