“Not lately, anyway.Jasmine doesn’t even want to do tea parties with me anymore.She prefers shopping with Victoria.”
Special K groans, raking his fingers through his hair.“I think my balls just shriveled up into my abdominal cavity hearing that shit.I’m out.”
He turns on his heel and heads toward a group of women near the chocolate fountain.Declan and Jasmine stop dancing, and Jasmine heads for the fountain too, where Special K picks her up and tickles her.Declan points at me and laughs.
I put my hands out to my sides, palms up.“What?”I mouth.
He shakes his head in disbelief and laughs again.Another song begins to play, and Declan leaves the dance floor.
“What’s so funny?”I ask him.
“You hired a girl to be your live-in housekeeper?”
“Uh… no.Where did you hear that?That was a total mistake on her part.”
“That’s not what Aunt Phyllis just said.”
“What did she say?”
“She said it’s a done deal.She’s showing the girl your house as we speak.”
My throat closes, and I choke.Declan slaps my back.
It takes a moment for me to regroup.I stare at him, incredulous.“What the fuck is Phyllis doing to me?”
“I suppose congratulations are in order, then.”
“Forwhat?”
“For finding a way to bring a woman into your life.Even if you have to pay her to do it.Nothing wrong with that, of course.”
CHAPTER 6
Emma
Phyllis is a lovely woman.But I can’t help it—I’m waiting for thebut.
The other shoe.
The words she’ll use to tell me I’ll have to walk back to Reno in the dark.Or for her to accuse me of being a con artist, then pick up the phone to call the police on me for trespassing, or attempted robbery, or whatever my offense is.
I’m not a big fan of the criminal justice system.Or any system.
I keep waiting.She chats with me as she shows me around.Eventually, I allow myself to exhale.It seems that with Phyllis, there’s no other shoe.
I don’t get it.In my experience, there’s always another one.
She’s extremely nice, but not in a gushy way.I don’t know what it’s like to have a mother or a grandmother, but Phyllis is the kind of grandmother you might find in storybooks, or from a Hallmark Christmas movie.From the moment Phyllis took my hand and guided me carefully out of the tent, it’s felt as if someone is taking care of me.
As if someone cares.
It’s a very strange feeling.
From what I’ve seen, the ranch is dotted with a few houses.All in different styles, but they’re all beautiful.Phyllis walks me to the second house away from the tent.It looks a lot like the house from theYellowstoneTV show.I wonder if Yosemite Ranch is like that, and if these ranchers have that kind of money.The only rancher-types I’m used to are the ones that occasionally came into the truck stop in Reno where I used to work.
Those men were definitely not the clean-cut-in-fancy-suits types who live in mansions.They were workers whose minds were as filthy as their jeans, who managed to burn through their Friday paychecks by the early hours of Saturday.
Phyllis opens the two-story front door, which isn’t locked.She enters and steps aside for me to go in.I drop my duffel by the door.The entryway floor is slate.The rest are hardwood.The ceiling has massive exposed beams.I’m staring up with my mouth open, but I shut it when I feel Phyllis’s eyes on me.
