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I laughed. I’d forgotten that we used to bet bug eating as the prize. Winner got to pick one bug for the other person to eat. But she had been so sure that her new, fancy bike would carry her ass to victory, she’d doubled down our usual bet.
“Mom ate bugs? She won’t even eat a fish unless it’s cut up so you don’t see the head and eyes and stuff.”
“Your mother was a tomboy. She could climb a tree, skim a rock, and throw a spiral better than any of the boys.” I leaned to Owen and winked. “Except me, of course.”
Beth pulled on her helmet. “Losers eat THREE bugs. And, beware, Rushmore, the bugs in Arizona require a fork and a knife.”
Before I could argue anymore, she hit the gas and took off.
“You scared to get in that thing, buddy?” I lifted my chin to the ATV.
“Heck, no. Let’s kick Mom’s butt!”“You cheated.”
I looked at my partner in crime. “In order to cheat, we’d have to have rules, right, O-Man?”
Owen’s smile stretched so wide, I could count how many teeth were in his little mouth. “I didn’t hear Mom make any rules.”
“You two…” She wagged her finger at us. “That was low.”
Owen and I couldn’t catch up to Beth after she took off, so we devised a plan. A risky one. We stopped our ATV and Owen hopped off and pretended he was sick. The kid could be an actor the way he clutched at his stomach and moaned when she circled back to check if we were okay. When she got off and walked over to us, Owen hopped back in the ATV and grabbed on tight while I hit the gas. We literally smoked her—left her coughing in a cloud of dust in our wake.
I raised my hand to Owen for a high five. “What I tell ya? Girls go to Jupiter….”
Owen smacked my hand hard. “To get more stupider.”
“I am not eating a bug, you cheaters!” Beth said.
I chuckled. “That’s right. You’re not. You’re eating three, remember?”Owen fell asleep almost as soon as we got in the car to head back to Scottsdale. We’d spent a few hours touring the Red Rocks, and then hiked the Cathedral Rock Trail for the most gorgeous view. I could have taken a nap myself if I didn’t have a two-hour drive ahead of me.
“Thanks for today. I can’t remember the last time Owen and I had this much fun.”
“Thank you. You let me monopolize your entire day.”
Beth glanced over her shoulder into the back seat and lowered her voice. “He really took a liking to you. He’s been having trouble connecting to men since Tom and I split up. Unfortunately, the year before we called it quits wasn’t pretty. There was a lot of yelling, and Tom has a really deep voice so it used to scare Owen.”
I glanced at her and back to the road. “I’m sorry that you both went through that. But he’s a great kid. I would’ve never thought he had trouble connecting to anyone. He was so outgoing.”
She smiled. “Everyone is outgoing around you.”
That was the furthest thing from the truth these days. “Tell that to my staff. I hear most of them are a little afraid of me.”
She laughed. “Why would they be afraid of you?”
“Sometimes I’m a little…cranky, I guess.”
“Well, you must’ve left that side of you back in New York, because Cranky Pants wasn’t here today.”
I arched a brow. “Cranky Pants?”
“Sorry. I teach third grade and have a six-year-old. My lingo is somewhere under the age of ten most days. I can’t remember the last time I actually hung out with adults, outside of my coworkers and family.”
“How come?”
“Most of my friends are married, and I haven’t wanted to go out with my few single friends yet. They’re sort of on the prowl all the time, and I’m not ready to get back out there.”
I nodded. It made me wonder, if things ended between me and Gia, how the hell would I get back out there? The thought of being with another woman seemed more torture than tantalizing, and I didn’t even want to think about Gia getting back out there. “Yeah. That must be hard.”
“You know what’s sad, I miss having a man around the house to make repairs more than I miss the intimate time. Maybe I’ll join one of those dating websites and when it asks what I’m looking for in a man, I’ll post my repair list. How do you think that will go over? Single, twenty-nine-year-old mother of adorable, six-year-old boy, seeks man with carpentry, electrical, and plumbing skills.” She laughed. “Think I’ll get any responses?”
I looked over at her. “Wear the right outfit with a little cleavage and you’ll get men who respond even if you write you’re looking for someone to castrate.”
