“So they say.”
“A dozen breakups? Shit, dude.”
“Yep, though I still have one more to go. One I’m dreading.”
“Another local who’s going to set fire to your life?” Wolfe arches an eyebrow.
“Fortunately, this one lives in San Francisco. But their relationship was a lot further along than the rest.”
“But they never met? And she thought he looked like you? How far along could it possibly have been?”
I shrug. “All I know is I’ve got to let her down as gently as possible. In a way that won’t have her second-guessing herself or getting caught in shit like this again. A lady who’s fallen for a scam needs a confidence boost, not to have her self-esteem attacked further.”
“So, you’re trying to boost their confidence while breaking up with them? Is that even possible?”
I shrug. “Who in the hell knows? But I try.”
“Sounds like you care about the woman in San Francisco,” Wolfe says, eyes narrowing.
I pause for a moment, processing his observation. “Yeah, I do. From her profile on Mountain Mates and letters, she’s quite a catch. I would never want to do anything to hurt her, which makes this suck so much more.”
Wolfe nods, his face unreadable.
What I don’t tell him is that Callie would have been perfect for meifshe hadn’t fallen into Mack’s snare. This realization makes everything about the current situation so much worse.
Rutger, Alonso, and Farzad burst through the squeaking screen door, junk piled high in their arms.
“It’s not even seven a.m., and you two are already taking a break?” Rutger barks.
“Yeah, not cool,” Alonso chimes in.
Farzad is oblivious to the whole thing, always ready to work regardless of what others do.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, waving away their complaints. “I had something I had to run by Boss Man. That’s all.”
“That’s right, and now it’s back to work,” Wolfe orders.
Hours pass as we sort through shit in the cabin, taking occasional trips to the dump with our pickups and the box truck loaded to the brim. When the sun hits its zenith, the temperatures too toasty to labor outside, we head into Hollister for lunch at the Silver Fork. Thank God it reopened recently. It’s the best damn restaurant in this town, and the Black Forest Cake is freaking scrumptious.
By nightfall, the cabin is empty apart from my modest stack of belongings. Nearly twelve hours after they arrived, my comrades depart. I feed and water the animals and Duke, spending extra time brushing my horse and giving him carrots.
Then, I unpack my belongings, move my furnishings, and make my bed, spreading out and transforming the place into something like my home. God only knows how many pounds of junk we moved today.
I eat a lonely dinner of chicken tamales at the rough-hewn kitchen table, going over Mack’s notebook of notable females. Turning the pages of Callie Marchand’s section, I trace her lovely, symmetrical face with my fingertips.
The woman’s fucking gorgeous with her dark mocha skin, golden undertones, and warm, expressive brown doe eyes framed by a full fringe of lashes. Her thick, pink lips inspire an unquenchable thirst as I imagine tasting them for the first time.
Callie makes me want what I shouldn’t … dangerous, unattainable things. Like a wife and kids to call my own.
Turning the page, I read her last letter to Mack. It came in the mail two days ago, and I dutifully added it to the binder.
You say you taste me in your dreams. Sunshine and the sweet warmth of summer rain.
That my fragrance invades your senses, seducing and alluring you, making it impossible to think.
That you’re obsessed with me.
If that’s the case, my question to you is simple …
