“Probably my shampoo.” She’d showered and washed her hair before closing up the trailer and driving down here Thursday. She’d never had a spacious bathroom, so adapting to this one had been easy.
“Sure is neat. Like you were expecting company.”
“I always leave it like that. Let a small space get messy and it feels like you’re in hell. At least for me.” She didn’t hate having him explore her space. Interesting. She’d thought she might.
This rig was special, purchased after she’d split with her wannabe partner and traded in her bumper-pull trailer. Her brother was the only one besides her who’d stepped inside until now.
Cole called it her turtle shell. He would know. His cozy apartment served as his. Loners-R-Us.
She’d had friends in school, but hadn’t let them get too close. If you went to a sleepover you were supposed to host a sleepover.
She’d dared it once, and her parents’ consent had been grudging. What had followed was a litany of complaints, many in front of her guests.
Cole had been her one constant, her North Star, and now she rarely saw him. Her clinics provided plenty of human contact, though. Conducting one provided an unambiguous fifty-fifty agreement. Clients paid and she gave them their money’s worth.
She enjoyed interacting with them and repeat customers became friends. To a point. They’d meet for dinner at the local watering hole, but if they offered to buy her a meal or even a beer, she’d politely decline.
“Thought I’d lost you guys.”
She jumped as Monty came around the corner. “I was supposed to watch for you.” Consumed by the voices in her head, she’d unconsciously moved closer to the trailer, closer to Luis. “I got distracted and forgot.”
“Where’s my brother?”
“Right here.” He appeared in the doorway and climbed down. “I asked for a look inside. It’s nice. I expected it to be claustrophobic, but I didn’t get that feeling at all.” He put on his hat.
“They’ve come a long way with these rigs.”
Jordan looked over at Monty. “Want to take a peek?” She surprised herself with the offer.
But maybe it wasn’t so out of character. He’d just spent more than two hours ministering to her sick horse. If she could trust him with Fudge she could certainly allow him into her private sanctuary.
“I would like to see it. Never been inside one this fancy before.” Removing his hat, he went up the steps and through the open door. Moments later he whistled in approval. “Sweet. Is that a queen?”
“Yep.” She glanced at Luis. “You liked it, then?”
“A little too much.” He lowered his voice. “I started picturing the fun you and I could have on that bed. Had to get the hell out of there.”
Heat sluiced through her. “Thanks a bunch. Now I’m picturing us in there.”
“I’d suggest we switch venues except my king’s bigger. More room to play.”
She took a deep breath and gazed up at the cloudless sky. “Could we please talk about something else?”
“Sorry, not sorry. It’s all I can think about. And it’s only a little past five. We have hours before?—”
“Woo-ee, you’ve got all you need in here!” Monty’s voice was muffled. “Fridge, stovetop, flat screen, tons of storage.” He came back out, all smiles. “Now I wish I had a use for one of these.”
His enthusiasm tickled her. It also helped put out the fire Luis had created. “If you ever want one, let me know. I can get you a deal.” She started to lock up and changed her mind. No reason to while she was on the ranch.
“Maybe in my golden years. Like when the kids I haven’t had yet can take over while my yet-to-be-discovered wife and I hit the road with our horses, which haven’t been born yet, either. That’s when you can expect a call.”
“I look forward to it.” Would she still be in touch with the Bridger Bunch then? Something about the solidarity of this ranch and its mission in life told her she might be. What a concept.
Monty settled his hat back on his head. “We should go. Claudie pinged me a while ago wanting an update. I told her we’d be leaving here soon.” He made tracks for Adam’s truck. “Luis, why don’t you drive? Keys are in the ignition. I’ll take the back seat.”
“Looking for some shuteye?”
“Not a bad idea. Could be a late night at the Raccoon.”
