Wren,
Got a name of who is coming for you. It’s a big one. You wanna know who, we talk, face-to-face, or not at all. You know how to reach me.
“Motherfucker,” Catfish mutters. “How can a federal agent know about a potential hit on someone and not tell that person how to be safe?”
I close my phone and put it back on the table. “Because you’re putting me in the wrong category. I’m a criminal. In the eyes of the law, I could go to prison for a really long time. So, he isn’t giving me the benefit of the doubt or here to protect me. I’m part of the problem.”
He leans back in his chair as I try to wrestle the sick feeling twisting in my gut. “Giving it five seconds’ more thought, it’s probably a trap.”
“Of course it is. So, I can’t respond, no matter how I might want to. It’s better for him to think he’s firing bullets into the void. As soon as I respond, he knows he has me. Technically, there’s no reliable way to override the things I have in place to avoid detection, so Chase can’t know for sure that I’ve read it.”
Grudge and Lucy finally leave church, a pink flush on Lucy’s cheeks. “You two coming out to cut some trees?” he asks.
Catfish looks at me. “You wanna go?”
“Yeah. I think I do. Let’s go pretend this is just another ordinary day.”
When we get outside, people are splitting. “Snowmobile or horse?” Catfish asks.
“Oh my God. Horse. Can we go on Blaze?”
Ready for the day, Atom has arranged for a number of stable hands to be available, and I wave toward the stable as we trudge through the snow to it.
We have to wait another ten minutes while Blaze is readied, but we’re on his back in no time. I’m settled in front of Catfish while he manages the reins.
“You know,” I say as Blaze lumbers through the snow. “This has all the makings of a Hallmark Christmas movie.”
“You watch those things?”
“Not really, but I know enough about them. They’re a bit cookie cutter and usually very straight. You know, busy businesswoman from New York comes out to visit her grandpa’s ranch and falls for the ranch hand. There’s always snow, a house that iswaytoo overdecorated with ten thousand bucks worth of baubles and evergreens, some emotional setup that requires her to make a choice between staying and going home, and a hot guy dressed in flannel.”
Catfish rests his chin on my shoulder, for a second. “As opposed to non-binary person flees New Jersey to hide in a motorcycle clubhouse. Not cookie cutter. Definitely not straight.But we have snow, a freshly cut tree, and zero baubles. And if you want me to wear flannel, there’s at least ten shirts at home that I can pull out.”
I can’t hide my smile. “What if I’m the one wearing flannel?”
He tightens his hold of the reins, squeezing me tight. “You, naked, in nothing but one of my flannel shirts. Yeah, I’d hit that.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Maybe. I also got a boner thinking about you in my shirt under the tree we’re gonna cut down.”
“Maybe you let me wear your Stetson. Then, I could ride you like a true cowboy.”
Catfish groans, loudly. “Why am I in the middle of a field on a fucking horse right now? Can we just go back? Fuck the Christmas tree.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Now, that’s just bad grammar. Sounds like you want to go back and fuck the Christmas tree, not me.”
He shakes his head. “You need to shut up and let me cool my heels for five minutes before I have to get off this horse with a boner and an urgent need to spank your ass.”
“I mean, if I sat across your lap and rode you with my back to you, that would make it easier for you to kill two birds with one stone. Fuck and spank at the same time.”
In one swift move, Catfish throws his leg over Blaze and drops to the ground. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, taking the reins and leading us in. “Maybe if I can’t feel you, smell you, or hear you, my cock’ll chill the fuck out.”
When I laugh, I realize it’s the first time I’ve really let go. Really found something so belly-deep funny that it’s impossible to keep it inside.
The Christmas tree-cutting setup comes into view. It’s an impressive operation, and I see why there was a split at the clubhouse. Up the right-hand side of the ranch, snowmobilesrace around. Even from this distance, I can hear them. It wouldn’t be safe for anyone if the horses and snowmobiles took the same route.
I can see Fen running along the front row of evergreens, waving a plastic axe. Atom is laying out ropes and sleds to take two of the trees back to the clubhouse.
