* * *
Thankfully, by the time we get to the next ranch, my problem has been taken care of.
The Monroe ranch is three times the size of Little Peace Ranch, or so one of the farmhands told me on the way through the gated fence. The house is much bigger, a mansion sitting among acres of orchards, fields, and pastures. And more modern, its façade a combination of buff bricks, stone chimneys, a gray slate roof, and French windows.
Approaching it, I can already hear the loud music booming from speakers in the backyard. When Lauren and I get there, the party is already in full swing.
There’s a lot of people, probably more than fifty – scantily clad girls who are clones of Kelly with different hairstyles and slightly older boys, with cowboy hats and vests on.
Most of them dance under the bright spotlights by the pool, right in front of a makeshift stage where a DJ in sunglasses and a red cap spins and massacres tracks.
The others cozy up to bottles of beer or to each other in dark corners.
There’s also a handful of them in the pool and another across the yard, right next to the grills, either gobbling up the burgers and steaks or flirting with the men in uniform flipping them.
This is wild? I’ve seen worse.
It’s strange, though. Parties used to be my thing but now, as I look around, I’m bored.
“Lauren!”
Kelly’s voice rises above the music as she makes her way through the crowd like a runway model, shoulders back and hips swaying. She looks like one, with her makeup, her knee-high boots, her leather cowboy hat that’s curled at the edges, the yellow blouse that hangs off her shoulders, and the pair of denim shorts riding up her thighs fastened to her waist by a glittering belt.
Still, I’m unimpressed.
“Lauren, I’m so glad you came!” She gives her friend a hug. “For a moment there, I thought you weren’t going to show up again.”
“I said I’d be here, didn’t I?” Lauren answers, patting Kelly’s back. “What’s with the cowboy hats?”
“Oh.” She takes off her hat. “My friends from college wanted to have a little theme and they decided to be cowboys and cowgirls since we’re on a ranch but it’s not anything monetary.”
“You mean mandatory,” I say.
She gives me her wide, lip-glossed smile as she holds her hat to her chest. “Hi, Chase. I’m so glad you came, too. You clean up nice.” She studies my casual Oxford shirt and black jeans, then nods Lauren. “You look good, too.”
“Thanks,” Lauren says. “So do you. I especially like your boots. Are those the one you were talking about?”
Kelly’s eyebrows crease. “What do you mean?”
“The boots you said you and your friends all had made by that designer.”
“Oh. Manolo Blahnik?” She puts one boot forward. “No. These aren’t Blahnik. They’re cheap boots that are like less than two hundred bucks. And they’re boots, not booties. Booties only go up to the ankles.”
She demonstrates by putting her hand over her own.
“Oh.” Lauren nods. “Well, thanks for the fashion lesson.”
Kelly gives a condescending smile. “You’re always welcome.”
She turns back to me, opening her mouth to say something. But she stops, nodding and touching her chin as her emerald eyes narrow.
“What’s wrong?” Lauren asks her.
“Oh, I was thinking that now that Chase is properly dressed and all, he looks quite familiar.”
My shoulders tense. “You must be mistaken,” I tell Kelly.
“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” She closes in.
“I’m sure.”
Well, I’m not that sure but I don’t think so. I hung out with a lot of women, true, but rarely younger ones.
“Hmm,” Kelly says. “You’re probably right. After all, I’d remember if I met you before, especially since I’d probably sleep with you.” She places the cowboy hat on my head, lowers her voice to a whisper. “I still can if you want.”
I say nothing.
She steps back beside Lauren, winking. Out loud, she says, “Well, since you’re here, you should enjoy yourselves. Why don’t you dance with me, Chase?”
She stretches out her arm.
“Sorry, but I don’t dance,” I tell her. I take off the hat and hand it back to her.
Kelly doesn’t give up. “How about a personal tour of the house then?”
She puts emphasis on the word personal.
“No, thanks,” I say. Lauren tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear next to me. “I’m here to watch over Lauren.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that was part of a farmhand’s duties.” Kelly looks at Lauren as well. “Or that you needed a chaperone.”
“I don’t,” Lauren answers. “But my dad insisted.”
“I see.” Kelly puts her hat back on.
“So, you see, I’m here strictly on business,” I say.
“Does that mean I can’t offer you a bottle of beer?”
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
“Pity.” She clicks her tongue. “Well, help yourself to some steak and soda then.”
“Thanks.”
She places her arm around Lauren’s shoulder, hauling her away. “Well, you heard him. He’s working but you, my friend, are going to have fun. Let’s go grab you a beer and meet some of my friends.”