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“Does that mean I can ask her out?” Rafferty asked.
“You’d just be doing it to prove you could win her and then get rid of her after you had gotten her to fall for you.” Caspian spoke casually, but there was a lot of truth to what he said. Rafferty liked the chase, but once he got what he wanted, he was no longer satisfied. The way he was going, I didn’t think he’d ever get married.
Not that the rest of us were any better.
“I don’t do that,” Rafferty said.
“You know you do. Don’t you?” Soren’s brow crinkled, perplexed and maybe slightly irritated.
“I haven’t found the right one, that’s all,” Rafferty said, sounding defensive.
“What about you, Soren?” I asked, glad the conversation had changed the focus off me.
“What about me?” Soren turned back to the television but, seeing that a commercial now played, resumed the conversation.
“You have your eye on anyone?” I asked.
“My eye? You sound a hundred years old,” Soren said.
“Finley’s pretty,” I said, ignoring his insult. “That English accent’s like icing on the very best cake.”
“She’s hiding something,” Soren said.
“More like running from something. Or someone,” Caspian said.
I’d picked up on that myself from my conversation with her the other day.
“Speaking of pretty, I ran into Arabella Collins in town yesterday,” Soren said. “She said her dad’s not doing too well.”
“Arabella Collins. There’s a name I wished I never had to hear again,” Rafferty said.
Arabella had lived on a neighboring ranch when we were kids. For reasons none of us quite understood, she and Rafferty had never liked each other. Even though she seemed perfectly nice to the rest of us.
“My nemesis,” Rafferty said under his breath.
“What’s up with you?” Soren asked. “She’s really sweet.”
Rafferty rolled his eyes. “She’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met. The girl just lived to score better than me on every test we ever took. Which is a super obnoxious quality.”
Caspian and I exchanged a humored glance.
“Pot meet kettle,” Soren said, laughing.
“What is this? Pick on Rafferty day?” Rafferty asked, irritably. “I am not nearly as competitive as she was. Or is. I’m assuming she hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Oh, she’s changed all right,” Soren said.
“How so?” Caspian asked.
“She’s gorgeous—not the same gawky girl we knew as kids,” Soren said. "And a great vet, by the way. She was out last week to check on one of the horses.”
“Good luck to her,” I said. “I don’t see Dr. Winslow retiring any time soon.”
“Unfortunately,” Soren said. “That guy’s the definition of lazy. Totally worthless. I’d be happy to see him get a little competition.”
“So let me wrap this conversation up for everyone,” Caspian said, drawling as he did when he’d had a few. “Atticus tackily kissed his childhood sweetheart in atruck,and the photos are now everywhere. She’s heading back to California at any moment, which will break his nerdy heart. Arabella, Rafferty’s nemesis, is back and smoking hot. My pastry chef’s completely distracting and would break me into tiny pieces if I were stupid enough to go near her, which I’m not. Finley’s hiding something. Soren hates everyone.”
“I don’t hate everyone.” Soren frowned. “Why would you say something like that?”
