Chapter 9
I spend the morning snooping around Andy’s things like a good best friend should. I find a disturbing amount of McDonalds receipts tucked into a dresser drawer, but nothing else that would indicate Andy is hiding anything besides a Sausage McMuffin addiction.
“Auntie Paige! Come outside and watch me play!” Kody calls from the living room.
“It’s way too early to for this,” I groan. “The sun is barely awake, Koko!” I call back to her.
“Don’t be a punk!” Her giggle echoes down the hallway.
It’s impossible to resist this sassy creature.
I zombie-walk into the living room and chase Kody out onto the porch.
I watch as she leaps around her playset in the front yard for a while, every so often calling over to make sure I witnessed her latest physical feat.
Thankfully, she tires quickly and joins me on the chaise.
We snuggle close for warmth. Six-year-olds are exhausting.
The dew on the ground is sparkling, making it look like we’re sitting on a hill of diamonds.
There’s still a chill in the air though, so I run inside to fetch an extra blanket for Kody and myself.
When I come back, I find Kody on top of the porch railing with her arms wrapped around the support column staring down at the stables intently.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, wrapping a blanket around her thin shoulders.
“The tall man has a good seat,” she says, sounding far wiser than her six years.
There’s no doubt of her provenance as a rancher’s daughter.
Although, wrapped in this blanket, she looks more like an angelic version of E.T.
with just her eyes and the top of her face peeking out from within the fleecy folds.
I follow her gaze down to the arena outside the stable.
I spot Jo’s usual wranglers—an older man named Spike that has worked here since before Jo was born and his two nephews, Tyson and Travis.
The three of them are leaned up against the railing of the arena, watching as a striking speckled brown and white stallion does everything in its power to dislodge its rider.
The stallion bucks and writhes across the length of the arena, but the rider remains glued to his back despite being on a seething ocean of horseflesh.
The stallion dips his head, throwing his body into a spin, and still the rider moves fluidly along with him.
The two creatures, man and beast, look like one body instead of two, both evenly matched in their determination to bend the other to their will. It’s impossible to look away from.
After ten minutes or so, the rider gains the advantage as the stallion begins to tire.
He stays calm and consistent, pulling the reins so the horse is forced to lower and turn its head inward, turning in small lateral circles.
Several minutes later, the pair are able to gallop around the arena without incident.
Kody and I clap loudly causing all four of the men to turn and glance our way, breaking the spell the rider had them (and us) under.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt,” I call down, my hands cupped around my mouth. It’s a lame attempt; at this distance, they won’t be able to hear a thing; just a flicker of noise on the wind. A banshee’s version of a mumbled apology.
Still, Shayne tips up his hat and raises his hand to us in greeting.
The sun winks down on his upturned face.
He directs the stallion over to the group of men and then smoothly dismounts, handing the reins over to Travis.
The younger man hooks the stallion up to a rope lead and then continues to walk the speckled horse in a wide circle while Shayne climbs up and over the arena railing, jumping down the far side.
It’s true, he does have an incredible seat.
On and off the horse. Watching him so masterfully handle himself just now has only increased his sexiness factor in my eyes, something I didn’t think was even possible.
The sensation of wanting him has become a physical pain.
It’s barely been a week since I first met him and the seeds of desire took root in my stomach.
Those seeds have pulsed and grown into an insatiable mass of need with each passing day.
This ache—honestly, it’s getting old. Especially if it means I sleep like crap, that more important thoughts are dislodged in favor of wondering what his mouth tastes like or what his stubble would feel like on my thighs…
shit, KNOCK IT OFF, PAIGE. My best friend and her husband are in the midst of a crisis and I need…
I need Shayne to run up that hill, throw me up against the wall, and ravage me until I get whatever this blood poison is out of my system and can think straight again.
If I didn’t have to drive Kody to the hospital later, I’d go and spend the afternoon in my bed with my vibrator—god knows I need something to take the edge off.
“Let’s go inside Kody and start our spa day,” I say. She looks up at me with a gap-toothed smile. Focusing on being the world’s best surrogate auntie is what’s going to get me through today.
First, I give her a bubble bath in her parent’s enormous jet tub.
Then we braid our hair. Her fishtail braid ends up pretty spectacular (I’ll allow myself one back pat), while the double French braid pigtails I attempt to give myself are a bit wonky, but Kody says they’re ‘magnifiquesk,’ so I keep them.
Then come the glitter manicures. Gold confetti sparkle might be my new go-to shade.
I set her in front of the TV for a minute while I go to the kitchen to whip up a couple of face masks from Jo’s pantry.
I find an avocado, the tail end of a Greek yogurt container, and dash of honey—delicious and effective—the perfect end to our spa day.
We sit on a blanket in front of the TV in the living room, and I apply the face masks. Kody requests a bizarre-sounding cartoon about a unicorn that farts glitter (of course), and since this is Spoil-the-Kid-Rotten-with-Auntie-Paige Spa Day, I acquiesce.
The unicorn show is as awful as it sounds, but Kody loves it. I know I’ve got about thirty minutes before her attention wanes, and you better believe I’ll be spending it with my eyes closed. A little mask, a little nap—I’ll be glowing like a twenty-year-old in no time.
The doorbell rings. At first, I think it’s a sound from the unicorn fart show, but then it buzzes again, and my eyes snap open.
No one rings the doorbell here. Spike would knock on the window or just come on in.
Tyson or Travis might—they’re young enough to still be scared of a woman over 30.
I make a silent plea it’s not Shayne. I can’t handle seeing him again today.
I peek through the front door sidelight and, sure enough, it’s the last (and only) person I want to see.
Shayne stands on the other side of the door, his hands jammed into his pockets.
His head is tilted down so that his wavy hair obscures most of his face.
He’s all in black today; black jeans, black boots, black Henley.
The long-sleeved shirt isn’t tight, but it clings to his body, emphasizing the narrowness of his hips and the mouth-watering breadth of his chest. The small row of buttons at the neck is open, exposing the hallow of his throat and a triangle of his muscled chest. A barely there silver chain glints around his neck and trails down to hide beneath his shirt.
All together, the look says ‘here stand I, a modern day gun slinger. I have arrived to fuck up your life.’
I’m making a mental list of the different ways one can remove clothing without using your hands when Shayne looks up and reaches for the doorbell again.
Before I can duck away, our eyes meet through the window and Shayne visibly starts, stepping back a few paces.
He pushes his hair out of his eyes and then squints at the window.
I step back, like an idiot. He’s already seen me.
There’s nowhere to hide from this angle. I turn the knob and open the door.
“Sorry, I was napping. Took me a minute to get to the door,” I say, only a small white lie.
I was standing here for a good minute, gulping you up like the goddam tall drink of water you are.
Shayne is looking at me funny, like he’s trying to hold in laughter. “No, I’m the sorry one. I hate to disrupt your…spa day I’m guessing?”
Oh my god. The mask. I’ve got mashed up avocado and yogurt all over my face. May the earth’s crust split and swallow me whole.
Shayne, eyes merrily darting over my face, seems to be overtly enjoying my distress.
“Nice braids,” he says, reaching for the bottom of one of my braids. He gives it a light tug, sending an arrow of lust skittering through me.
“Hands off the merchandise.” I swat his hand away, pretending to be annoyed. “Look, you try coming up with things to do with a six-year-old. It’s hard!” I want to cover my face with my hands, but I think that would make it worse.
“I believe you,” he says, finally letting his mouth crack into a smile. His teeth are white and straight, a bright contrast against his golden skin.
“What do you want, Shayne?”
“Any idea where Andy keeps the keys to the office in the barn? Spike left his key at his
house, and I need to check on the status of a feed order,” Shayne says, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the door jamb. My fingertips tingle; he’s close enough to touch.
“Um, no clue actually, but I can text Jo? I’m headed to the hospital in a couple hours, so if she doesn’t get back to me I’ll ask her when I see her and text you.”
“No, don’t bother Jo. She’s got enough on her mind. It’s not a rush. I just noticed they were getting low, figured I’d make sure the order had been placed,” Shayne responds, rocking back on his heels.
“That’s kind of you. I’m sure Jo will appreciate you looking out.”
“Well, technically, it is my job.”
We stand in the doorway for a beat. I’m just about to ask him if there’s anything else when he leans forward, and my lungs forget how to draw in breath.
He’s inches away from my face, and I’m powerless to do anything else but stand there.
He inhales, then brings his hand up towards my face, fingers curving lightly around my neck as his thumb brushes against my jawline.
A second later, he releases me, putting his thumb to his lips.
There’s no way he’s going to but…oh my god he fucking licks it.
All the bones dissolve in my body. I might as well be made of putty.
I grip the doorjamb in an attempt to steady myself.
His eyes glint. “Avocado and honey? Yum.” He runs his tongue over his teeth.
It’s obvious he knows the effect he has on me. I may as well be a cat, and he the laser pointer. I should hate him.
I open my mouth to call him out, but I’m still reeling and can’t find my voice. Shayne winks at me then turns slowly and walks back the way he came, leaving me in the doorway with my mouth gaping open like a guppy. Bastard.
I should be grossed out. I should be appalled. That was weird and unexpected and…so unbelievably fucking hot.
“Hey Kody, you good in there? I’m going to go take a shower real quick.”
After my yelp-inducing but very necessary cold shower, I make us a gourmet lunch of grilled ham and cheese with a side of carrot sticks.
My mind wanders while I’m eating until a picture on the fridge grabs my attention.
It’s a picture I took at the Fall Festival last year of the three of them.
Jo and Kody have their cheeks smooshed together, looking like twins with their bright green eyes and even brighter red hair.
Andy has his arms wrapped around the two of them, but he’s looking at Jo like she’s the only thing that exists on this planet, which is how he’s always looked at her.
Even when he was a punk asshole in high school, Andy always put Jo on a pedestal.
It’s impossible to imagine he’d be tempted by someone else.
There’s got to be an explanation for this anonymous note.
Kody starts to rub her eyes at the table, so I load her in the car a little early, hoping she’ll nap during the ride to the hospital.
I listen to a playlist I made right after John and I split up that I titled ‘Sisters in Sob Stories.’ It’s full of the likes of Joni Mitchell, Brandi Carlile, Kacey Musgraves, and Allison Krauss.
There’s something magical that happens to me when I hear a folksy voice singing about heartbreak.
It’s, bizarrely, an instant mood booster for me.
Look at what these women did with their pain—they channeled that sadness into creating something beautiful.
Their voices soothe my pain and loneliness in ways nothing else can, and it gives me hope that healing is possible, that I can move on and be whole again.
A collective lament is a powerful thing.
When I pull into the hospital parking lot, Jo is waiting for us on a bench by the main entrance. The dark circles under her eyes are even more pronounced than yesterday, and my heart pangs at the sight of her.
“Hey love,” she says, pulling Kody into a bear hug. Kody melts into her mother, and this scene of mother-daughter adoration pulls at my heart strings. Jo reaches for me, and I put my arms around her, squishing Kody between us.
“I’m the sandwich meat!” Kody squeals. Jo smiles at her daughter and ruffles her hair before putting her back down on her feet.
“How’s Andy doing today?” I ask.
The skin around Jo’s eyes tightens, but she keeps her voice light. “He’s doing great! No issues today so far. So that means I’ll be home with you tonight!” Kody claps her hands excitedly.
“Andy’s going to be here through the week at least, and since he’s doing so well, it doesn’t make sense having both of us gone from the ranch.
Spike has texted me thirty times today already.
Chores are piling up.” I raise an eyebrow at Jo over Kody’s head, and she gives me a slight headshake.
I’m sure I’ll be getting the unsaid details later.
“Does that mean girls weekend is over, Aunt Paige?” Kody asks, looking up at me.
“The spirit of girls weekend lives on forever,” I reply, wiggling my gold nails at her. She smiles and then hugs my leg tightly. The love I have for this tiny, elfin, exhausting creature is hard to quantify.
“Kody, you ready to go say hi to Daddy?” Jo asks. Kody nods enthusiastically. They start to walk towards the hospital entrance, but I hang back.
“Call me when you’re driving back if you can,” I call after them. Jo turns and mouths ‘thank you’. Their trio needs a bit of solo time, and I need a lot of solo time with my pillow at home.