Chapter 12 #3
This was the part Aspen had been looking forward to all week.
Because no matter how much Maddy wanted to ignore her, the fact of the matter was, they worked well together.
They had a certain…synergy between them that had first been proven at the storage unit, then blown out of the freaking stratosphere at game night, then confirmed the synergy was not purely platonic in nature—for either of them—at the soccer game.
And Aspen was confident that once they got into their synergistic flow today, Maddy would be reminded of how well they fit.
That their connection was undeniable, and greater than getting caught in the cross-hairs of one of Bunny’s little schemes-gone-wrong.
And then they began. Maddy went down the list: silver fan comets, white glitter mines, gold lace fountains, blue pearl fan cakes, soft crackle curtains, and a low-noise “champagne shimmer” that was a custom order.
Aspen found the crate, lifted it off the shelf, pulled out the amount they needed, hauled the load to the SUV, and an hour later they were back on the road to the next location.
* * *
Meridian Ranch was their fifth supplier and by far the nicest place they’d been all day. White fencing, lavender, an olive grove, raked gravel, and a barn with chandeliers inside it.
At the border of the olive trees, a peacock screamed and Maddy flinched. “What was that?”
Aspen shrugged. “Welcome committee, I think.”
Maddy stared at the bird and hesitated to get out of the car.
Aspen shot her an incredulous look. “It’s a peacock, Maddy. You had no problem facing a Doberman this morning that could have literally bitten your face off.”
Maddy crossed her arms. “Tinkerbell had kind eyes. And didn’t scream like a woman getting murdered.”
Aspen rolled her eyes and got out to meet the woman coming down the path, who introduced herself as Dina Vasquez.
Dina’s selection was clearly for the prettiest part of the show—gold palms, ocean-blue starbursts, a soft falling curtain Dina had described with her eyes half-closed as “light coming down over the water.” She looked back and forth between the two of them.
“Very romantic.” She added with an eyebrow wiggle.
Maddy looked down at her phone and typed something in her Notes app with a great deal of focus.
Aspen decided she liked Dina enormously.
When Dina took a phone call and left them alone, Aspen decided to test Maddy’s boundaries.
She reached for a box that was above Maddy’s head where she had been leaned against one of the shelves, bringing their faces within six inches of each other.
Aspen paused, hand outstretched over Maddy’s head, watching Maddy’s face.
Maddy went still. After about three seconds, when Aspen didn’t move, she turned her head slightly and met Aspen’s eye. “Personal space,” she said calmly, but with a sharp undertone.
“Sorry.” Aspen stepped back fast, pulling a small box down and rummaging through it to play off the move.
Okay, boundaries were firmly in place. Good to know.
But she also saw the way Maddy’s breath caught before she spoke. Aspen being close still got to her. That was even better to know.
* * *
The road to Pine Valley climbed.
They had exited off the highway, onto a two-lane road winding up through oak and pine and boulders the size of houses. The bars on Aspen’s phone dropped one-by-one as they climbed until NO SERVICE replaced where the dwindling bars had been.
The radio that had been filling the silence for the past eight and half hours turned to static. Aspen turned it off. The light came gold and sideways through the trees, and the heat fell away the higher they climbed. Maddy reached over and turned the A/C down.
They turned onto a single-track private road that was four miles of potholes. Aspen took it at a crawl, the crates clinking softly behind them.
High Sierra Works sat at the end, with a beat-up office trailer and a set of wind chimes made out of spent shell casings. The man who came out to unlock the gate was tall and narrow in suspenders, with a voice like gravel in a coffee can.
“Earl.” He shook their hands and looked at the trees instead of at them.
“We’re here for the Sterling Crown,” Maddy said. She’d pushed her sunglasses up into her hair.
The Sterling Crown was a custom-designed finale sequence that, according to Bunny, bloomed in stages of spirals, bursts, palms, crowns, and gold lingering rain.
Aspen looked at Maddy. She looked tired.
It had been nine hours of this. Driving around, meeting strange people selling explosives, lifting, sifting, loading.
Aspen had done most of the grunt work, but she imagined the extra effort Maddy was putting into staying angry had depleted her quicker than usual.
As much as Aspen didn’t want this day to end until things had been resolved between them, she didn’t want to push Maddy past her limit either. And she had a sneaking suspicion that limit was being reached.
They still had a rough four-mile road to make it back down that was doing some questionable things to her SUV’s undercarriage, followed by an hour-and-a-half-drive back to Coronado. She would suggest Maddy nap on the way back.
By the time the Sterling Crown was strapped in and the gate locked behind them, the sun was nearly completely hidden behind the pines.
Aspen turned the SUV around and braced herself for the four miles of bad road ahead.