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Salvador’s tone changes. “Are you accusing me of using you?”
I blink. “I … Wait, what? No.”
“You’re saying you won’t help me anymore? Is that it? You … You think my plan was just to wait for another opportunity you throw my way? Are you serious?” He scoffs. “What a shitty thing to say to your best friend when he’s already feeling so low.”
“Sal, wait a second. That’s not what I meant.”
“You know, you’re dead right. My next leg up will be my own, Lance. I don’t need your pity legs, thank you very much. I did well enough before we were friends, I’ll remind you. I have thirty-three thousand followers on Instagram.”
“Jesus, Sal, I didn’t mean to piss you off. I just meant—”
“No, of course you didn’t mean to, and you haven’t. I’m not pissed. I love you. I’m just going to prove to you that that was a shitty thing to say to me, and that I can do perfectly fine without your help, your contacts, or your praise—as if that’s what I live for.”
“Sal …”
“Richie is waking up. Smaug was a Hobbit reference, by the way. I know you’ve been wondering. It’s the giant greedy dragon, which I should have actually referred to you as—a greedy dragon hoarding his big hoard of gold and treasures he doesn’t want anyone else to touch, yet can’t help but to show off to all the less lucky and blessed. Enjoy your extra time with farm boy.”
“I said he’s a rancher!”
Salvador hangs up.
I sigh and lower my phone to my lap.
This is not the first time we’ve had this particular fight. But it might be the first time I feel the way I do right now after we part ways or hang up: strangely relieved, at peace, and introspective.
Is there a reason Chad came crashing back into my life?
Is there a reason my ex Richie proposed to my bestie Salvador at the precise time in which he did?
Is the universe trying to tell me something?
Chad, right on time, pushes out of the house, the screen door slapping against the wall loudly, then comes to a stop when he sees me on the bench. He peers at me quizzically. “Were you just yellin’ at someone? Thought I heard a shout.”
I give Chad an appraising look. Then I tilt my head. “Is it true that you were pining over me for weeks before the reunion?”
He narrows his eyes, annoyed. “Now you really gotta tell me what all Jo told you.”
I rise off the bench, pocket my phone, then come right up to Chad. “How about we swing by the hotel, grab my stuff, check out, and you give me a little tour of your big-boy ranch?”
Chad grabs me and plants a deep kiss on my lips. Good answer.
18
Hot, Hard, and Happy
Sunday evening is the last Chad and I spend with Jo, eating a quiet dinner in the main house before she tells Chad she has to go out of town again and won’t be back until late Friday—which is suspiciously the exact same length of time in which I’ll be here. I catch her throwing me a wink, then putting a finger to her lips to indicate our little secret. I return her coy look with a knowing one of my own, to which Chad is unaware, too busy eating his dinner.
When she heads to bed early (as she plans to leave first thing in the morning), Chad decides to keep me in the main house the rest of the evening, where we settle in on a big, cushy, leather couch to watch exactly ten and a half minutes of a movie … before we grow distracted with each other’s bodies, and one kiss leads to another, and then one innocent groping leads to something else …
Clothes end up on the floor.
And then we realize we have to relocate to the guesthouse.
Despite all my best efforts to stay reasonably quiet, I achieve an impressive, previously unattained volume level in shouting out during an orgasm. It’s an achievement I carry with a bit of a reddened face, and a deep gratefulness for no one living within a one-mile radius of Chad, because I’m certain that every animal on this property heard me.
And probably Jo, too.
Oops.
When we fall asleep that night, it’s cuddled up on a bunch of pillows under a big, soft, cow-print blanket on the floor of the guesthouse living room, too spent (and too filled with post-orgasm euphoria) to move to his bedroom.
It’s a perfectly fitting precedent for my week alone with Chad.
Every single day tops the last.
I get the full tour of the Landry ranch on Monday, where I get introduced to many different animals—as well as many different smells and stenches. I never built a tolerance to the stink of manure that often wafts out as far as the highway on the outskirts of Spruce, even as a kid growing up here. But it doesn’t take me very long before I start forgetting to complain about it, leading me to wonder if I ever smelled it at all.
