Milking the Next-Door Bull Shifter First

1. ONE

ONE

Natalia

My phone drops from my hand, and I barely even register the crack as the screen smashes on the corner of the counter before it drops to the floor.

I’m too busy staring into the mirror at the horrified expression of the woman in the reflection.

Dark hair smoothed and piled in an elaborated updo beneath the flowing white veil.

Her bronze skin glows with just the right amount of makeup for that dewy natural look, and her custom-made bodice barely holds the swell of a more than generous bosom, cinching at the waist over goddess curves.

The skirt of her wedding dress makes a silky caress over chubby thighs.

Only her shattered expression is out of place.

Miguel’s text plays on repeat in my mind’s eye without me even needing to pick up the phone again: I’m sorry, chula. I can’t. Forgive me.

He can’t? It’s our wedding day and he can’t?

I knew something was off. I knew it and ignored his silence. His distance. Ever since we got the news about my condition. We didn’t even argue. Oh my god. We haven’t had an argument in months! I knew something was off, except right until this moment I didn’t know.

Now I do. We’re done.

And this is the way he ends things. With a text on our wedding day.

A knocking at the door drags me back to my surroundings again.

“Natalia! Hey, girl, let me in. Can you hear me?” I think the whole church can probably hear my cousin Elisa, and she keeps pounding at the door, yelling my name until I relent and open it just to stop my entire extended family from coming back here.

As soon as she’s inside, I shut it again and lock the handle.

“Lis, you have to help me. I need to get out of here.”

She rears back, looking at me like I just grew a second head, which is fair enough.

Elisa knows how much time I spent planning this wedding.

How much my parents spent on it. I’ve talked about practically nothing else for the last year, and like the bestest friend, cousin, and world class maid of honor she is, she listened with grace and only a small amount of complaining about my dramatics.

She glares at me. “Are you crazy? Don’t give me that cold feet bullshit now, prima. Do you know how long I spent at the hairdressers to look like this?”

I can’t even muster a smile when she pats her enormous hairdo—that looks like the stylist piled an entire bird colony on top of her head in addition to her natural hair which is already pretty big. When I don’t respond, her expression darkens into something more serious. “Hey, what’s up?”

I force myself to stay calm, fighting down the thickening lump in my throat and pressing my hands together to stop them shaking. “He’s not coming. He called it off.”

“He what?” Elisa’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of her head.

I grab her hands, pulling her close. “Please don’t yell. I don’t want my parents to come in here. I can’t face them. I don’t want to face any of them. Do you know how angry they’ll be with me? I just need to get the heck out of here until the dust settles. OK? Can you help me?”

Bless her heart, Elisa switches straight into ride-or-die mode, her tone dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I got you. We’ll talk about how I kill Miguel later.”

“Lis, be serious.”

“Who says I’m not?” There’s just enough crazy in her expression that I’m not one hundred percent certain.

“Lis, just leave it OK?”

She makes an angry hmmph, but before I can say anything more, she’s down on her knees tucking up the big poufy wedding dress my parents paid far too much money for and pulling off the strappy heels that are already hurting my feet.

“Alright, here’s what we do. The car is still out back. Hide your phone, and I’ll say you lost it. You think you left it in the car and we have to go check. As soon as we’re in, we shut the door and get the hell outta dodge. Like we tell him to keep driving until Tio’s credit card is maxed out.”

My eyes well up. “Where do I go, though? I can’t go back to the apartment, obviously.”

“Obviously.” She’s quiet for a moment. “You’re already packed for the honeymoon, though, right? Why not just go and put your feet up at the resort while he gets his shit out? Better yet, we change the locks and sell all his stuff.”

I shake my head, chest too tight to speak.

She snaps her fingers. “I’ve got it. Abuela’s cottage. The one she left to us in the will.”

A hot tingle of sweat breaks out between my boobs and across the back of my neck. “Are you serious? I’ve never even been to Mosswood. I’m not even sure I know where it is.”

Elisa shrugs. “That’s what Google Maps is for. Or—you know—you and me can go to Playa del Carmen. I’ll be your plus one.”

“I can’t do it. Not without Miguel. You and Nico should go and enjoy it.”

“We can’t take your honeymoon!”

“You can! Please go. I won’t be able to get a refund at such short notice and you’re right. It would be a shame to waste it. Please. For me?”

She lets out a growl of frustration, but I know that means she’ll probably give in. “What about you, chiquita? I can’t go unless I know you’ll be alright.”

And so, for the sake of my dream vacation at the Insta-perfect resort that’s fully prepaid, the one I saved for the last three years to afford, I put on my bravest brave face.

“I’ll be fine. Miguel will probably come begging on his knees tomorrow, telling me he’s been an idiot and we can elope and spend a weekend in Vegas and have the time of our lives not worrying about Mom or Dad or Tia and Tio and Abuelo or any of the family drama.

He probably just got cold feet. Can you blame him?

Would you want to marry into our family? ”

Elisa squeezes my hands. “He would be an idiot not to marry you! You’re perfect. Look at you.”

I glance back into the mirror at the reflection of the woman who looked like a model bride from a magazine a few minutes ago and now looks pale, with her makeup smudged and dark circles appearing under her eyes. “Yeah.”

Elisa opens her clutch and dumps the contents onto the counter, snatching up her keys. She deftly twists one off the ring and hands it to me. “I knew there was a reason I kept this on my keyring since Abuela died. Here. Take it.”

I grip the key in my palm, liking the way the cold metal bites into my hand. “Thanks, Lis.”

She leans in and kisses both my cheeks. “Come on. I’ll get your sneakers. You get ready to run.”

After some frantic googling and squinting at my cracked screen, I have the driver drop me at the interstate bus stop with my bag.

I ignore the people who stare at me as I climb out in a wedding dress and sneakers and hastily change in the bathroom.

I stare at that beautiful dress hanging over the door for a long time before I can make myself walk away and leave it there.

I don’t have room in my bag, though, and I know in my heart of hearts, I don’t need it anymore.

I’m two hours into the day-long bus trip to Mosswood when the adrenaline finally settles and the reality of my situation sinks in.

I turn toward the window, unwilling to let the woman next to me see the way my eyes suddenly well up with tears.

I haven’t been able to face talking to Miguel.

I’ve had my phone on Airplane Mode avoiding it.

It doesn’t matter what I said to Elisa. I know Miguel.

If he called off the wedding, that’s it.

He’s decided and I’m not sure I’m ready to hear him say why.

I mean I already know, don’t I? I just don’t want to hear him say it out loud.

I stare out the window and pull my thin cardigan tighter around my shoulders.

Everything I have with me are things I packed for my Mexican resort holiday and none of it is practical for a stay in a small mountain town in late spring.

But I figure there will be a Walmart or somewhere I can pick up some ugly sweatpants and pullovers ready for the next chapter of my life—crazy hermit girl.

Abuela never told us much about the little town where she lived before she married Abuelo.

All I know about Mosswood is what Google Maps told me.

It’s a small town in the mountains famous for its annual Moonberry Festival and local honey.

There was a comment from someone strange saying not to go there during a full moon, which I chalked up to silly superstition or trolling, and another recommending the local bar, the Den.

Other than that, no one has much to say about Mosswood.

That makes it the perfect place for me to hide out long enough to avoid dealing with all this wedding fallout. You know, forever.

Late the next night, the bus pulls over at a faded shelter just outside town.

Well, I assume it’s outside town since the area immediately surrounding the shelter is dark, and beyond the bus stop and a fuel station I can’t see anything apart from distant farmhouses.

The driver cuts the engine and his voice comes over the loudspeaker.

“This stop is for those folks with tickets to Mosswood.”

I get up and make my way to the front of the bus. Turns out the lady next to me is getting off here too. She climbs down the stairs in front of me.

I give the driver what I hope is a friendly smile. “Um, excuse me, is this the only Mosswood stop?”

“Yup.”

Huh. Looks like I’m getting off here and getting a cab to Abuela’s cottage.

The driver doesn’t get out of the bus, which I think is odd.

The other Mosswood passenger and I get our own bags from the storage area, and the door shuts automatically.

Before I can think twice, the bus pulls out from the curb and leaves us standing there in the dim light of the flickering fluorescent bulbs of the bus station.

A howl echoes from somewhere in the darkness.

I look around, but I can’t spot even a taxi bank.

The lady from the bus looks me up and down, and her nostrils flare. “Have you got someone meeting you, love?”