Chapter 3
A warm evening breeze ruffled Becca”s hair. She liked how summer”s sun-toasted air felt on her skin. Lifting her face into the gentle wind, she closed her eyes and inhaled. Her chest expanded as she filled her lungs with a deep breath. With a sigh, she let the breath go.
It was good to relax and do nothing more than be in the moment.
Be in the moment, her inner voice said with no lack of mockery. You sound like Meghan Marquez when she”s singing from the yoga and meditation hymnal.
Her mouth quivered with a tiny smile. There were worse things than adapting to a healthier lifestyle.
And let”s face it, she chuckled, emulating the Queen Mother of Family Justice isn”t bad.
She raised her wrist when a text alert came through on her watch. The notification concerned a work matter that could wait for a reply.
Technology is a beautiful thing—a blessing and a curse. At times, the constant contact and influx of information were welcomed. At other times, it just felt like an intrusion.
An energy suck.
Squirming on the wood bench outside the detached garage where Domineau Rivera kept her father”s restored car, Becca cleared her throat and stiffened slightly.
Energy suck was one of Dr. James Hunter”s preferred expressions. The guy had some sort of thing about bothersome, uncontrollable shit. She”d heard him say it the other day when one of her rancheros had a hissy fit about the weather. There was nothing to be done about the desert temperatures unless moving somewhere more temperate was in the cards. Whining on and on about something you had no control over and could not change was nothing but an energy suck.
The guy had a point. Crying over spilled milk was an energy suck. She got it.
James Hunter—Doc Sphincter, Kori called him. The grumpy veterinarian earned the tongue-in-cheek epithet during his first weeks in Bendover. When he arrived, Jamie was all business, all the time. He was short, clipped, and uppity as all get out. He especially rubbed her the wrong way. She supposed his saving grace was how openly Stephanie Dane adored him.
Nobody knew horses and ranch animals like Stephanie did. She cared deeply about their comfort and happiness. In her eyes, Jamie was a godsend. An on-site veterinarian was a game changer. Luring him to Bendover was one of Stephanie”s crowning glories, and that was saying a lot, considering the former beauty queen was no novice when it came to wearing a crown.
Under Stephanie”s capable management, the Villa”s modest ranch added horses—lots of horses and a few donkeys—along with chickens, bunnies, and goats. At this point, they were running a veritable menagerie. Recently, there”d been talk about acquiring a couple of llamas.
Along with the increasing animal life came an influx of workers—or rancheros, as they liked to be called. The ranch payroll more than doubled in the last year alone.
That was only possible because of James Hunter.
She wanted to hiss and stew over what a dick he was, but working up the knee-jerk reaction wasn”t as easy as it had been. It was hard to admit, but Becca had a definite weak spot where Jamie was concerned.
The spot was tiny, infinitesimal, she added assertively.
Sometimes, when he wasn”t overreacting to every damn thing like a fire-breathing shit-monger, the big man with the cinnamon eyes let her see his funny side.
The man had a real flair for background narration – sly, pithy, and wry. Three excellent adjectives at which the good doctor excelled.
Did she like that about him? That he saw the world in many of the same satirical ways she did?
Um, hell yeah.
Regardless of how they snarled at each other, their moments of connection made it harder and harder to put her dislike first.
James Hunter was under her skin.
The thought made her gulp.
Nobody had ever gotten under her skin. Certainly not her pathetic ex, Darryl.
The change in her response to Jamie was not something she welcomed. Not at all. Seeming impervious to the opposite sex was her thing. She thought of herself in Wonder Woman terms—deflecting undesirable male attention with her turquoise cuffs while firing bullets of attitude shot from her padded bra.
Being a bitch to him worked until it didn”t.
Getting a good look at him in all his naked glory only complicated matters.
Groaning, she tilted her head back—resting it on the garage siding. Overhead, strings of light crisscrossed the backyard patio.
Try as she might to block the memory of their naked encounter, Becca found it impossible to forget the night at the Villa”s gym when, unaware of the other”s presence, they”d both strolled sans clothes into the dressing room.
Man, had she ever gotten an eyeful. A jaw-dropping eyeful.
Fully clothed he was big—and sturdy looking. Jamie looked like someone who did physical work, some of it hard.
Naked, however, well, holy smokes. The man needed a heat warning label.
Wearing only the skin he was born in; he wasn”t just big. He was muscled and sculpted—the kind of sculpted that made the ladies drool. Surely, dehydrated females followed him wherever he went.
Her foot wiggled, and she sighed. Brushing off her jeans, she reluctantly thought about the way she ogled him that night and had to admit she was no better than the drool squad.
What was she supposed to do? Good lord, he was big all over. And it wasn”t just his manhood she thought of. The man”s thighs were something to see. She sensed strength, which wasnot surprising considering how well he rode.
Dr. Hunter was a hot piece of grade-A man meat by today”s standards. It was easy to imagine bevies of rodeo cuties lining up for a chance to bounce on the sexy veterinarian”s stiffy.
Fantasizing about a guy, though, was way different than lying underneath him. Sex as a sport turned off Becca. It took a measure of trust far greater than she possessed to allow the vulnerability that came with intimacy.
That said, nothing was stopping her from imagining what he was like in bed.
There was no doubt in her mind that he was the take-control type. Everything about the grumpy doctor”s alpha vibe evoked scenes of quiver-inducing dominance. She wondered what it would take for her to surrender and what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his rugged virility.
Do not go there.
Stop.
Turn around and back away.
Now.
Do it before your runaway imagination gets you in trouble.
Becca stiffened and sat straight. Trouble was something she”d be stupid to invite into her life. She”d worked too hard and come too far to fuck things up over a man.
The mischievous imp inside her entered the mental chat by snickering, ”Gurl, you are a party-pooping, buzz kill.”
Better a buzz kill than a man-crazy twat.
Meaning it, she quietly drawled, ”Vibrator does the same thing. Minus the complications.”
Men were a problem she did not need. Was she painting the entire gender with a broad stroke?
Even her dad?
She gave it a moment”s thought.
Yes, even her father, because her parents” nearly forty years of marriage had not been without its fair share of bumps. She remembered a time when she was eleven, and for a brief period, they separated. Years later, when Becca was struggling with Darryl”s bullshit, her mom confessed she”d left the marriage as a way to scare the shit out of her husband during a rough patch.
Life came with so many hurdles, hiccups, and headaches that taking on the emotional baggage of a relationship just seemed like a good way to shoot oneself in the foot. And she wasn”t about that at all.
Kori”s need for alone time was a typical teenage issue—one that did not require Becca to take dramatic, out-of-character steps. Dating was the perfect example of a bonehead move.
Nope. What this situation needed was a mother”s finesse. The art of subtlety took skill and creative know-how. Her daughter wanted her to go out more. Okay. Sure. Easily done.
Sliding her phone from a pocket, she replied to a message from Holly Marshall, the mom of Kori”s new BFF, Phoebe Marshall.
Holly was also a single mom, although her ex, Phoebe”s dad, wasn”t a douche canoe. The divorced couple had an unusually friendly relationship. They were that odd pair who had not turned their failed marriage into a parenting battleground. For them, the friendship remained after they signed divorce papers.
Becca liked Holly. As mothers of girls on the cusp of teen-hood, they were in hell together. With Kori and Pheebs joined at the hip, she and Holly had an ongoing message thread.
Rereading Holly”s message, Becca considered her new friend”s dinner invitation.
Did she want to go out and deal with people?
Not really, but wasn”t that precisely what Kori was bitching about?
Ergh.
Answering, she took the easy road as her fingers flew.
Hey, Holly – dinner at that new place in Dare Gulch sounds great! I could use an adult girls” night out. What”s the dress code?
Less than a minute later, Holly answered, Casual except with lovely, gorgeous shoes.
The description made her laugh. Holly loved shoes but wasn”t a hoarder about it. Her thing was a carefully curated shoe wardrobe—something for every occasion without going crazy.
Will cowgirl boots do?
Don”t make me cry, was Holly”s reply.
Chuckling because she expected her friend”s reaction, Becca keyed, JK. Don”t worry. I have a killer pair of strappy heels and a dress from a recent wedding I attended.
They coordinated schedules and decided on Thursday night. Holly would handle making a reservation.
The confirmed date on her social calendar meant that Becca was taking a proactive approach to getting out there.
Kori was sure to be pleased.
Speaking of, the kitchen door swung open at that moment, and her daughter”s head peeked around the screen door. ”Mom! I need you to sign a permission slip.”
Solitude interrupted. Becca sighed, wondering if a permission slip really needed her autograph or if Kori simply wanted to check in.
There were worse things than a kid with a responsible streak.
”Okay. Be right there,”she answered loud enough to be heard without the whole neighborhood knowing what she said.
Creaky knees, an aching back, and her soft grunt, as she stood, were all the reminders Becca needed of her advancing age. She wasn”t decrepit—after all, thirty-three and three-quarters wasn”t exactly old by today”s standards, but everyone was different, and in her case, the years she spent in the military took a toll on her body.
”Mileage, not age,”she muttered.
Inside the house, she closed and locked the kitchen door, flipped the patio lights off, and called out, ”What do you need signed?”
Kori burst into the kitchen and rushed toward her while waving a folder. Becca recognized the branding for the Double M Community Center and braced herself for whatever new experience her daughter was interested in.
”There”s an archery clinic at the community center, and I desperately want to sign up.”
Oh, for fuck”s sake. Archery? What”s next? Synchronized swimming? Baton twirling?
”Desperate, Kori? Really?”she drawled in a dry tone.
”Pheebs is gonna do it too! It”ll be so much fun. Puh-lease, Mom,”she begged.
Waving her fingers, she said, ”Hand it over.”
After dramatically opening the folder, she read over the information, paying special attention to the details.
Five weekly group sessions and three private coaching classes for fifteen dollars? Good lord. The team Meghan assembled to manage what the Double M offered needed a round of applause. Fifteen bucks was nothing—equivalent to two mocha lattes and a piece of cheesecake.
She squinted at the fine print. A sporting goods store in the Sedona area was sponsoring the clinic—a smart business move.
”It starts next Monday. Pheebs is asking her mom, too. I told her to tell Mrs. Marshall you”d drive since the Villa is in Bendover.”
The two girls had everything covered. Realizing they had backed her into a corner, Becca”s brows shot up.
Her very clever kid then delivered a knock-out punch that tickled her mama”s funny bone.
”It”llhelp on a college application, and if I”m any good, there”s even an archery squad at the high school to sweeten the pot.”
No one tells you when your kid is seven or eight that before you know it, the day comes when you”ll be negotiating all kinds of stuff based on where it ranks on a college application.
People did try to tell you just how fast time moves. One day, you”re holding a baby and dreaming of the years ahead. The next thing you know, college is a topic of discussion. As much as she wanted her baby girl to be a self-assured, independent adult, Becca couldn”t help but wish she could stop time. She wasn”t ready to let go—she might never be ready.
”A bit more advance notice would have been nice. The same goes for consulting me before shilling me out as a taxi service.”
Kori snickered. She knew she would win this round and let it show on her face.
”Don”t be smug, Kourtney,”Becca drawled.
Waving her hands in front of her face, Kori used theatrics to erase the smugness in her expression.
”Mm-hmm. Nice try.” Closing the folder, she fixed her daughter with a look. ”I will discuss this attempt to steamroll the parents with Phoebe”s mom and get back to you.”
”I need to turn in the permission slip tomorrow.”
Kids think they”re so damn smart.
Becca smirked. ”Well, lucky for you that we have an in at the community center. I”ll talk to Meghan, and if she recommends the clinic, I”ll make sure you and Pheebs get on the list.”
After she got to work, she”d call the Villa and speak to Meghan directly.
Citing their connection to the Queen Mother of Family Justice ended the conversation and sent Kori on her merry way.