“He should be thanking me. No one was talking about him before. Now he’s the mysterious, brooding knight with all sorts of speculation as to how he got that black eye.” She paused. “I’m filling my flask with bourbon. I’ll need alcohol if I’m going to get through this.”
Pixel laughed. “Is that what you’re going to wear? Jeans and a T-shirt? It’s below freezing out there.”
“Layers. I’ll throw on a sweater over this. And I’ll be wearing a parka.”
“You do know he’s probably going to show up in an Armani suit or something like that.”
“Carrying a dozen red roses no doubt—how original.”
“He’ll probably take you to a posh restaurant.”
“There isn’t a city within three hundred miles of here. I don’t know how many more miles you’d have to go beyond that to get to a posh restaurant. Although I suppose that might not stop him. For all I know, he’ll arrive by helicopter. If he complains about what I’m wearing, I’ll suggest we hit a diner. Or better yet, a drive-through. I’d be willing to bet that man has never been to either.”
“You know very well he won’t complain. You just want to make him suffer.”
“Look I don’t have to come up with anything to make the man suffer. My presence alone will do it.”
Ceci sometimes wondered if it was just the fact that she was a woman that disturbed him. If he, like a number of the men she’d encountered, thought Formula 1 was no place for a woman. Then again, he seemed to get along fine with Nico Angelini, the one and only female Formula 1 driver.
“Besides,” Ceci said, placing her hands on her hips, “if what I’m wearing doesn’t suit the occasion, it’ll be his fault, not mine. He didn’t tell me what we’d be doing.” Ceci held up a finger. “I almost forgot.” She walked over to her desk, picked up an envelope, and handed it to Pixel. “That came with my father’s rifle. Special delivery.”
Pixel grinned. “The Man in the Iron Mask.” She ran her fingers over the envelope. “Wow, this might be the nicest stationery I’ve ever seen.”
Ceci had thought the same thing when it arrived. It was like holding velvet. And when she held it up to her nose, it smelled like vanilla. She’d been tempted to put her mouth on it to see if it might be edible. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she would ruin it if she did. She couldn’t bring herself to. Not with something so lovely.
Pixel turned it over. “A lion.”
She was referring to the etching that sat at the apex of the flap; the animal’s powerful physique was on the envelope itself, while its head and glorious mane were on the flap.
Pixel pulled out the card and read. “Your rifle.” She stared at it before turning to Ceci. “That’s it?”
Ceci nodded. “I told you it was Sir Stick. Of course, the man would have impeccable penmanship.”
“And the rifle?”
“Already returned it.”
She’d been able to do so without her father knowing she’d taken it. He’d bought it at an auction in England and kept it at a home he had there. But he was back in Texas when Ceci returned the rifle a couple days after the party.
Pixel ran her fingers over the etchings along all four sides of the card. “They’re all cats. Very rare.” Pixel pointed to each. “Amur leopard, black-footed cat, Iberian lynx, fishing cat.”
“Fishing cat?”
“Yeah, it swims.” Pixel handed it back to Ceci. “I can’t believe the dude is coming all the way out here to Cornhole, Montana, for this.”
“I know. You wanna hear his response when I told him I was in Montana?”
Pixel nodded.
Ceci returned the card to her desk and picked up her phone.
“I know. You’re in Cornhole Junction. I’ll be there Saturday at twelve noon, which means he’ll be here in approximately ten minutes.”
“Unless he’s late.”
Ceci made a face as she flopped onto the sofa beside Pixel. “Can you imagine that man ever being late?”
“No, you’re right. Maybe early, but never late. Have you been following all the drama surrounding the date? It’s been a trending topic ever since the auction.”
