“Oh my God! Go back and get him!” She grabs my arm and pulls me up. I barely have time to save my margarita before it sloshes over the side of the glass. “Now! He’s your miracle!”
“No, he’s not, and I don’t need a miracle.”
“You will excuse me if I completely disagree with you.” When I don’t move to run after him, she says, “If you’re not going to get him, I will.”
Before I can argue with my best friend, she races to the front door. Wait. She cannot. I mean, she cannot be seriously thinking that the guy on my front porch is this Pane Maddox guy. No way. Probably a stunt double. Or just a guy who looks freakishly similar and who goes around impersonating him so that he can swindle unsuspecting women out of their hard-earned money. Well, I am not unsuspecting. I amtréssuspecting, thank you very much.
Cristina’s got the door open. “Wait!” she yells.
No! She’s really doing it. She’s really getting this guy back. He’s so horrible. Awful. He called my piggycornsswine.
Though, technically, they are, but it was thewayhe said it, with his nose lifted and his voice sounding all snotty.
I reach the front door and grab Cristina’s arm, yanking it down to her side.
Pane Maddox is bent down at the fence, arms extended. I charge out in my hot sauce–themed fluffy slippers. “What are you doing?”
He lifts a piece of rope. “Securing this so that your pigs don’t get out.”
My gaze drops to where he’s tightened the fencing. He’s done a decent job of it, and my chest squeezes around my heart at this random kindness. “Thank you.”
He cuts the rope with a pocketknife, rises, drops the extra in his back pocket. “You’re welcome.”
Cristina runs down the steps. The feathers attached to her jammies wave in greeting. “You have to excuse my friend. She’s had a terribly hard day, and even thoughshedoesn’t know who you are, I can see that you’re obviously Pane Maddox. Rowe said something about you wanting to help?”
He eyes me coldly. “If she’ll let me.”
“Of course she will.” Cristina grabs his arm and drags him up the steps, elbowing me so hard that I wind up in the bushes. “Come inside. Let’s hear what you have to say.”
The bushes spit me out. Twigs poke through my hair and into my face. I pull out the sticks and drop them to the ground. “Hold on a second. I’d like to see some identification. Make sure that you’re really who you say you are.”
He pulls a wallet from his back pocket and fishes out an ID. “Both of you know whoIam. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
He’s talking to her but looking at me. When I don’t answer, my bestie rolls her eyes. “I’m Cristina, and my silent friend is Rowe Wadley.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Cristina says, smiling brightly.
He hands the ID to Cristina, who stares at the picture for way too long.
Oh, I get it. Not only is his face pretty, but it’s irresponsible the way he fills out his clothes, making us stare at his steely thighs and well-defined pecs.
After a long moment, Cristina rips her gaze from the pic and hands the ID to me. According to this, Mr. Donalpane Aloysius Maddox is six two, weighs 190 pounds, has green eyes, and is ... thirty-five years old. He’s not smiling in the picture, but there’s a sparkle of smug arrogance in his eyes that he has even now.
I really don’t like this man.
“All right. You appear to be legit. Why this farm? Why now?”
He takes the ID and says gruffly, “Let’s talk in the house.”
Soon as Pane steps inside, my home seems to shrink around this man as if he’s too bulky to contain. It’s like the house can’t breathe because he’s sucking up all the space.
Cristina seems oblivious, jumping into action as she plays hostess, ushering us into the kitchen. As we make our way there, Pane sneers at the sight of Tallulah lying on the quilts. Her brothers and sisters are piled up on both sides of her, aimlessly kicking as they’ve fallen back asleep. Pane also takes a long look at the rooster decor, and I swear his mouth dips into a scowl.
One that, yes, he does eventually direct toward me.
While the coffee brews and Cristina bounces around grabbing mugs, cream, sugar, and placing them all on the table, I focus on the man sitting across from me.
