Chapter Five
Laci
I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not great at taking orders. I’m just not a big fan of being told what to do. But I understand when directions are there for a reason. Like when the director needs to tell me how to act out a scene, or my teacher has to instruct me, or a police officer turns on his blue light and tells me to pull over. There are times when you just have to do what you’re told. Why some people can’t get that is beyond me.
The pilot is just one more example. His voice echoed from the overhead speaker and asked everyone to fasten our seatbelts for the descent, and the guy next to me actually said—out loud, may I add—“Why the hell would I do that? If the pilot’s any good, we shouldn’t need to buckle our seatbelts to land.”
Are you actually kidding me? What kind of moron blatantly disregards a simple instruction like “Put your seatbelt on for your own safety?”
Keep it cool, Laci. If he falls out of his seat and starts to complain, just pull his food tray down so he’ll smack his head as he tries to get up.
I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. I wouldn’t actually do such a thing, but it wouldn’t be because the nitwit didn’t deserve it. The flight attendant finally got him to comply as we started the descent.
Almost three hours of flight time in a cramped seat did a number on my legs. I stuffed my book into my carry-on bag and walked down the tunnel to the terminal. I scanned the crowd gathered there for Sara or Jackson, but found neither of them. Wondering if maybe I’d accidentally told her the wrong time for my flight to land, I turned on my phone to check my texts. As soon as it turned on, a little red number popped up over the messenger app, and I tapped it open. Right there, from Aunt Sara, I had a message.
Hey, hun. Need 2 take Potter 2 the emergency vet, the next door neighbor’s son will pick u up at the airport. His name’s Noah, i think u will like him. Look for a red t-shirt and a yellow ball cap on a REALLY cute guy a little older than u. ;)
I frowned. Looking up from my phone and paying attention to the signs everyone was holding. My name wasn’t on one of them. But there was a guy in a red shirt and yellow hat. His hair curled out a little from beneath the cap—not long, but not short, either. I couldn’t help but notice a shave wouldn’t have killed him. His five o’clock shadow was pushing on eight o’clock, and he was wearing dusty cowboy boots, ripped jeans, and a shirt that read, “Bull rider…because ‘badass’ isn’t an official job title.” Great, a country hick cowboy wannabe bull rider.
Trying not to be too judgmental right off the bat, I walked up and gave him the warmest smile I could. “Hi, are you Noah?” I asked. He looked me up and down, which frankly made me feel a little violated before he responded.
“Yep, that’s me. And I’m guessin’ you’re Laci? Your aunt sent me to pick you up because she had to make sure her dog wasn’t going to choke to death.” Gee, what a charmer. So sensitive.
“So I’ve been told,” I replied.
“Umm, are you aware that you’re going to a ranch?” he said, looking me up and down again. He didn’t even try to hide it.
“Really? And here I thought I was going to Disneyland,” I quipped.
“Well, excuse me, princess. Forgive me for thinking that people generally don’t come to a ranch in stilettos and a skirt. I’m surprised you don’t have a tiara on.”
“Hmph. I’m surprised you’re cultured enough to know the proper term for stilettos,” I said with a sarcastic clap.
He just stood there with a stupid, crooked half smile on his face like he knew something I didn’t.
“Are we going to stand here while I look pretty and you look dumbfounded or are we going to get this show on the road?” I finally asked.
“I kinda thought I’d hang out here a while, watch the planes take off and land.”
Could he be a bigger asshole? I turned and started to walk towards the baggage claim. He jogged to catch up and added, “How are you going to get there without me?”
“I’ll catch a cab. It’s not like they’re in short supply around here.”
“Except, you don’t know where the ranch is.” Damn, he had a point. But I’m smarter than he clearly wants to give me credit for and I refuse to let him win a battle of wits he isn’t armed with having.
“Everyone in these small towns knows each other, I’m sure the cabbie will know how to get there.”
“You don’t know how this works at all, do you?” he asked, just staring at me.
Why was this guy getting under my skin? I get along with everyone. Well, apparently everyone but him. First time for everything.
“I don’t appreciate your tone,” I said as politely as I could muster.
He raised the pitch of his voice. “How’s this?” It took all I had in me not to punch him right then and there, but I didn’t respond to his stupid, childish joke. I spotted my bags, which I’d tied purple ribbons around so I could identify them, and I snatched two of the bigger ones and dropped them at my feet then grabbed the rest before they got out of reach. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t carry them all.
I guess he finally realized how frustrated I was because he picked them up for me and told me to follow him. I did, and we walked up to a surprisingly nice pickup truck. I half expected it to be at least thirty years old with paint chipped all to hell and look like it belonged on the Andy Griffith Show. Instead, it was maybe a year old and polished to a shine. Then again, I guess when it comes to a cowboy and his truck, nobody can expect it to be anything but flawless. Maybe he caught me staring, but he seemed to get pretty defensive.
“What, is something wrong with my truck?” he demanded, throwing my bags into the back without any gentleness whatsoever.
“I just didn’t expect it to be so nice. You’re not the only one who can stereotype, you know.” He feigned getting hit in the chest with an arrow and mimed pulling it out.
“You got me!”
“You’re so funny. By the way, my stuff has breakables in it.”
“Again, you’re going to a ranch. What are you doing with breakables?”
“Keepsakes,” I said with a shrug. That was the only explanation he was getting; he didn’t deserve to know I had a delicate jewelry box from my recently deceased father in my bag. I walked toward the front of the truck and waited for him to unlock the door. Maybe these shoes weren’t the best choice, after all. And, this skirt is likely to give him a show.
He unlocked the door and, to my surprise, opened it for me. “Umm. Turn around for a second,” I told him.
“Why? What now?”
“Just turn around!”
“This is the weirdest request ever, but okay,” he said, turning around.
I hopped up and sat down, smoothing my skirt so it laid flat and crossed my legs. “Okay, you can turn back around.” He shut the door with a sideways glance at me and walked around to get into his side of the truck.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of me admitting he was right about my skirt and shoes, so I shrugged again. “If you’re worried about being ladylike, rest assured that I couldn’t care less.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t care less what you think; I did that for me, not you.” I absentmindedly crossed my legs and smoothed my skirt again. He made a face like he suddenly understood.
“Ah, I see. You were afraid I’d upskirt you. Well, don’t flatter yourself,” he assured me. “You city girls aren’t my type.”
“Are you going to drive or not?” By this point, it was almost one thirty, I hadn’t eaten, and I was hot and tired. All I wanted was to get to the ranch, eat, take a shower, and take a nap.
He bowed his head. “As you wish, your highness.” Then he cranked the truck and rolled down the windows, opened the sunroof, and took off down the highway. I think he was expecting me to fuss about the windows, but I have to admit, it felt amazing to have the wind in my hair.
He didn’t speak (thank God) until we hit the twenty-minute mark. That’s when he looked over and said he was going to turn some music on. He pushed the volume knob in and the speakers bound to life with some song about a tractor breaking down and a dog dying, complete with a harmonica and deep Texas drawl singing the vocals. Don’t get me wrong, I like good country music, but this…this was nothing like good country music. “Good God, people actually listen to this crap?” I asked.
“You’re damn right, we do!”
“Please change it.”
“Driver picks the music, it’s a cardinal rule.”
“Don’t mind me, I’m only going to throw up.” He laughed at me, then turned it up and started singing along. Another twenty minutes later, we finally arrived at my family’s ranch and he pulled up in front of Aunt Sara’s house. When he turned off the engine, I expected to feel my brain drip out of my ears. I wasn’t looking forward to the awkward interaction that was sure to occur when he started talking again, but Aunt Sara saved me from the horror by sweeping me up in a massive hug the moment I slid down from my seat.
“Laci Bug!”
I squeezed her back and laughed. “It’s not like you didn’t just see me a few days ago.”
“I don’t care, I missed you every second of it!” She led me to her house, each of us carrying two bags and Noah carrying the rest. She had my room set up perfectly, complete with a queen-size bed, a plush purple comforter, and a fluffy pillow. On one side of the room was a tall dresser. Next to that was a vanity with three drawers and a huge, ornate mirror. The room was completed with a small closet, a night stand with a touch lamp, and a table with a small TV on it. “I hope it meets your expectations,” Aunt Sara cooed.
“It’s perfect,” I told her, throwing my arms around her neck. Noah thumped in and, once again, dropped my bags without any regard to the items inside, even though I’d warned him about it before. I seriously couldn’t believe just how much of a jackass he was. Biting my tongue, I turned back to Sara and asked what was on the agenda next.
“Well, Grandma and Jackson are getting groceries to make a big supper tonight, so I was thinking we’d pass the time by going for a ride.”
“What kind of ride?”
“A horseback ride, what else?”
My stomach lurched. Any time I’d ever been riding, it had been with my mom. The thought of doing it without her was horrifying, to say the very least. I shook my head. “I didn’t bring any riding appropriate clothes,” I lied.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Sara accused. “You’re not such a dummy that you’d come to a ranch without riding clothes.”
Of course, Noah felt the need to put his two cents’ worth in. “I don’t know. Judging by what she wore to come here, I wouldn’t be so sure, Sara. Leave it to a city girl to think she’s too good to ride a horse.” There was something in his voice that seemed genuinely wounded by the thought, but I pushed the idea down, telling myself it was absurd that even someone like him could be so obtuse as to be offended by my lack of desire to ride a horse.
Sara swatted him on the arm before continuing. “Come on, honey, you’ll love it.”
“No, Aunt Sara, I don’t want to.”
Noah sniffed and clucked his tongue quietly before turning to walk out. As if I wasn’t already irritated with him to begin with, he just kept doing things to piss me off. It was bad enough to insult what I’d worn and then drop my bag with a precious heirloom from my dad, but implying that I was too snobby to ride a horse when he didn’t even know my story or reasoning was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I drew a deep breath. “I’m telling you, if that jerk comes near me again, I’m not going to be as nice as I have been so far,” I warned Sara.
“I don’t know what happened between you two on the drive from the airport, but ya’ll need to put it behind you. He’s going to be around the whole time you’re here to give Jackson bull riding lessons.”
“Great,” I said, trying to tamp down the sarcasm.