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He snatches it out of my hand playfully. “Well, I declare. You need toquit being ugly,girl.”
“How many have you memorized?”
Eddie gives me a coy look. “I reckonyou’d like to know?” His false southern accent is horrendous. “Anyway, you were just about to tell me about how you came up with this crazy idea of yours.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he grasps onto my arm with a wide-eyed expression, as if he’s worried he somehow offended me. He leans in and lowers his voice. “I mean, it’s going to be a riot for sure. I can’t imagine most of this team on horseback. I, for one, am excited about the sport of it all.”
“It’ll be different. That’s for sure.” In truth, it came as a surprise that everyone went along with the idea so easily. Perhaps—no probably—the reason was because Geoffrey made the announcement rather than me.
A red siren light beams on top of the carousel as a buzzing fills the air, and the whirring mechanical sound announces the bags are about to arrive. The people waiting herd forward.
Eddie holds out a hand. “You joining in?”
With a chuckle, I answer, “Nah. I’ll wait till mine drops and then move in.” Fortunately, it falls within the first dozen bags. I worked from the airport this morning, and checking in early obviously paid off. First bags checked equal last ones on the plane and, therefore, are the first to drop. At least I’ll be quick to join the others. I pull my Gucci laptop bag higher on my shoulder and start to move.
Eddie grabs my elbow. “Watch my bag, and I’ll get it. The pink one with leopard print, right?”
I nod.
When he grabs it from the belt and returns, he pats it twice. “You’re going to make quite the statement at the ranch with this thing. Why’s it so heavy?”
“Didn’t you read the brochure about all the things you need? Light weight clothes, layers, jacket, sunscreen, toiletries . . . Boots—those things are huge and heavy! And there’s no way I’m making it through an entire week with only one pair of shoes.”
Eddie lifts one brow and scans down my outfit, finishing with his eyes on my high heels. “Everyone else just wore their boots. You’re not going to have room to bring multiple pairs.”
I reach for the handle on the rolling hard-sided suitcase. “I’ll find a way. They’ll just have to understand... I only travel in style.”
“I don’t think you do anythingnotin style.” He chuckles.
The clock on the wall above the doors says the van should have been here ten minutes ago. “We should go.”
The sidewalk outside is cracked and heaving, and my suitcase lurches and falls to the side. Eddie leans toward me to help, but I wave him off. I work out regularly for this kind of occasion. “I’ve got it.” The suitcase is big and awkward for me to lift, but I manage.
At the van, Eddie hops inside and moves to the back. A man wearing a cowboy hat, jeans, and a belt buckle the size of a salad plate takes my suitcase and tosses it into the back as if it were filled with air.
“Thanks,” I say when the driver returns.
“You’re Jacqueline?” He offers me a hand to assist me into the van.
My colleagues are all waiting. Most browse their mobiles, but Bruce sits in the passenger seat, staring out the window.
“Jack,” I correct the driver and, with a glance at his hand, I turn away. This was my plan, and I can do it for myself. As soon as my foot lands on the uneven cement off the curb, my heel wrenches in a crack and I stumble forward. My cheeks flare with heat, and I peek up through my lashes to see if the driver saw my clumsiness.
I’m not in luck, though. He smirks, issues a stifled laugh, and grabs my elbow. I recover quickly and he supports my weight as I clamber into the van.
“Thank you,” I mumble after my hind-end hits the bench seat next to my boss.
“Ma’am.” He tips his head and places my laptop bag next to me.
Geoffrey naturally asks the apparent question of the day. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I slip off the shoe and stare at the broken heel. It would have been fine, except these are my favorite and most comfortable Jimmy Choo pumps.
The driver slides inside and holds out his hand over his shoulder. “Let me see them. You won’t make it three steps at the ranch in those, even if one wasn’t broken.”
I slide off the other shoe and hand both over. He pulls a huge knife off the dash, unsheathes it, and slices the little strip of leather still tethering the heel. I bite my lip as this travesty unfolds before me. Next, he wedges the tip of the vicious-looking blade into the seam on the good shoe. With a snap and to my great horror, the other shoe is heel-less too.
Blow it off,I tell myself and accept the now-flats. I never, ever wear flats. Getting there and into my room can’t come soon enough. There’s a pair of Athleta leggings and tennis shoes calling my name. Maybe I can get in a run before the happy hour orientation.
