“This ol’ fella is a gentle soul. He’s a big softie, I promise.” Elena proves her claim by petting him on the nose, rubbing from between his eyes down to boop his snout. He snuffles and wiggles his lips, baring long, yellowy teeth.
I make an embarrassing sound of fear as I step back quickly.
Grace laughs. “What’s wrong? Ed’s sweet.” She’s backing up her claim by playing with his mane, which hangs down low where she can reach. “He’s smiling at you.”
Between Grace and Elena, I’m feeling backed into a corner.
“Have you ever seen a monster smile right before he eats you? I think that’s what Ed’s doing,” I counter.
Carter whispers, “W-W-A-D?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Huh?”
“What would Alphena do?” he explains. “You write this badass who tackles life, and she’s supposedly based on you, so surely, you’re not scared of a horse who only wants a cookie?”
“You’re using my alter-ego against me?” I accuse. But I hate to admit that he’s got a point. Alphena would never let a horse stop her, never let fear hold her back. But Alphena is only part of me, the me I want to be. The real-world me is eyeing Ed like he might jump high enough to clear the gate of his stall and tackle me. But for what? All he seems to want is a cookie. Grace is right about that.
“W-W-A-D,” I repeat to myself over and over as I step closer by inches. Elena hands me a cookie, which I hold between delicate fingers. I curl my other fingers down in some small effort to save them if this goes awry.
I can probably draw with my middle finger as long as I keep my thumb.
“W-W-A-D?” Straightening my back, I meet Ed’s eyes . . . well, my two eyes look deep into the one of his on the side I’m standing on.
“Ed, want a cookie?” I ask, sounding like I’m asking a parrot named Polly. I hold out the cookie, my shoulders scrunched up protectively as I lean away just in case. “Here, horsey, horsey. Who’s a good horsey?”
Ed slowly leans forward, nibbling the cookie for a moment with careful eyes on me before taking the whole cookie. “Oh!” I’m partially terrified, partially excited, and completely surprised that I survived with all my fingers intact. “I did it!” I tell my audience of three, who seem to be fighting back laughter at my dramatics over something they were doing easily.
But I’ve never been around horses. That’s not the life I lead.
Maybe I can use this as inspiration for an Alphena episode, though. Alphena tackles her greatest fear . . . moose. In her back story, Alphena was driving through Michigan to go Polar Bear skinny dipping on the Canadian border when a moose stepped out of the fog at a gas station to literally try to mate with her car while she was inside getting peanut butter cups and beef jerky. Alphena stopped the moose by shouting and shooing it off, but she had hoof-sized dents and a broken hood ornament as souvenirs for her troubles.
Yeah, I can see it . . . Alphena feeding a moose at a rescue sanctuary, getting over her fear just like I am . . .
“Good girl.”
Carter’s praise hits me unexpectedly, sounding so much like last night, and the rumble of his voice is echoed deep in my belly by butterflies banging around. “Uh, thanks . . . babe.”
Grace gives Carter a strange look, and I step to his side, snaking my arm around his waist before Elena catches on to my stuttered endearment.
Thankfully, Grace has the attention span of your average eight-year-old, and when Peanut Butter runs by chasing a blowing leaf, she runs off after him.
Crisis averted! For now . . .
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
CARTER
I’m disappointed that Elena isn’t ready to sign a deal with Blue Lake Assets, and by extension, me. But I understand her desire to sleep on it and meet with her current money man, so I keep a salesman’s smile on my face while Elena shows Grace through the barn, then walks us through the statue-filled garden and the pool house. It’s completely oversized like the estate itself, with several bedrooms, a large living room and dining room space, and a bathroom centered around a spa tub. She’s not showing off but rather showing Luna more of Thomas’s art. It seems to be tucked into every nook, every possible cranny.
Even the bathroom has art, sculptures that resist the humidity and have Luna marveling. Because of that, it's hours before we start making our way back toward the main house, but I’m in no rush. The more Elena talks, the better my chances are with wooing her. And the more Luna enjoys seeing the art, the more likely she is to keep helping me.
We’re in what qualifies as the back yard when a young boy, probably close to Grace’s age, runs toward us. “Ann-Elle! Ann-Elle!”
I blink in surprise, listening carefully because it really sounds like he’s screaming ‘anal’ over and over. It takes me a good second to decipher that he’s saying ‘Aunt El’, as in Elena, but with a bit of a drawl.
The screeching is enough to scare Peanut Butter, who’s not exactly a fearless dog anyway, and he yelps as he bolts away with his tail between his legs. Right into the swimming pool with a big splash.
“Nutbuster! Get outta there!” I shout, adding to the racket. Running after the damn dog, I can still hear Elena as the boy nearly tackles her in a hug.
“Oof, well, hello there! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Jacob,” Elena tells the boy breathlessly. “Where’s your momma?”
He starts jumping up and down excitedly. “Talking to Mr. Stanley. Are we swimming?” The boy—Jacob, I guess—sprints to my side, bumping me out of the way to step past me into the pool up to his knees, fully dressed, shoes and all.
“Probably don’t wanna do that, man. If I know moms, yours is gonna have your hide,” I warn. But he shrugs me off, either not believing me or not fearing his mother.
“Here, doggy, doggy!” he shouts, his voice still gratingly high. What is up with this kid’s vocal cords?
Grace has followed—thankfully staying dry on the pool deck next to me—and informs the boy, “His name’s Nutbuster. He’s my Uncle Kyle’s dog. Nutbuster, get your butt over here.”
Squatted down and leaning over the water, I’ve managed to grab Peanut Butter’s collar and guide him toward the pool steps, where a waiting Jacob wraps his arms around the dog’s neck, getting his shirt soaked and burying his face in wet fur. Blech!
“Why don’t we get on up to the house? We’ll get y’all cleaned up and dry,” Elena tells the kids and dog, and then she looks to me and Luna. “And you can meet my niece, Claire.”
Elena’s suggestion is met with more wild jumping, and then Jacob takes her hand, roughly pulling her toward the house. He’s a bit rambunctious, and that’s saying something considering I’m used to Grace’s exuberance.
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