“Can you try once more to convince him?” I plead, crossing my fingers.
“Mila, if I bring this up with Rubenonemore time, I think he might burst a blood vessel. You know that vein in his forehead? The one that bulges when he’s angry?” Mom can’t hide her own laughter, so she takes another sip of wine to smother it. “Well, it’s beenreallypopping lately.”
“Can you ask Dad to talk to him?” I try again. I don’t laugh with her, because an angry Ruben is never a nice Ruben. His stress levels must be even higher than Dad’s right now.
“That’s if I can catch him in between phone calls…” Mom tuts, shaking her head in frustration. “But until then, just keep being super careful whenever you leave the ranch, okay?”
“I promise,” I sigh, holding up my pinky, Savannah-style.
Mom laughs and I see her shoulders relax. “Now then, tell me what you’re up to. Any plans?”
“Well, I’ve decided to conduct some research,” I say.
“And what exactly are you researching?”
My gaze wanders to the window where the sunset is a bold orange on the evening horizon. I smile as I tell her. . .
“A boy.”
12
The next morning at church, I spend half of the service blinking at the clock and the other half burning a hole in the back of Blake Avery’s head. We slipped in late, so we’re squashed in at the very back of the hall. It’s the prime position for staring Blake down. I’ve already decided that I’m going to corner him as soon as everyone spills outside into the sunshine.
And I know – I shouldn’t be sitting in church paying more attention to a boy’s neckline than listening to the preacher, but hey, I can’t help it.
Blake is sitting up on the second pew with his mom, his shoulders broad and straight. They were slouched ten minutes ago, but I noticed the subtle nudge she gave him. Being visibly bored at church is clearly not the done thing.
When the preacher dismisses his flock, I scramble to my feet and guide Sheri and Popeye outside so that I can claim a good vantage point for spotting Blake on his way out. We’re one of the first few people outside, so I claim a spot by some shrubs to the left of the church doors.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Sheri asks, shooting me a funny look. She probably thought I was rushing to get home, so now she’s wondering why we’ve stopped.
“Don’t you. . . Doesn’t everyone hang around to catch up after the service?”
“Not always. Lunch is already cooking, so we need to get going,” she says, reaching for Popeye’s elbow to stop him from sneaking off and turning him toward her van instead.
“Hold on!” I say.
“So, youarewaiting for someone,” Sheri says with a teasing smile. The churchgoers are slowly gathering outside, but I haven’t spotted Blake yet. “Look, feel free to hang around and mingle. I’m sure the Bennetts will happily give you a ride on their way home.”
Popeye gives me a cheery wave goodbye, and they disappear across the parking lot.
I remain in my spot by the doors, stretching up on my tiptoes for a better view, until finally I spot Blake and his mother emerging. I don’t hesitate for a moment longer, mostly because I don’t want to allow my nerves the chance to kick in, and set off toward them. They’re drifting through the crowd, LeAnne’s movements careful and elegant, and I abruptly step in their path.
Blake scowls at the sight of me; obviously he didn’t expect me to come looking for him. I shoot him a wry smirk before turning to his mother with a pleasant smile.
“Mayor Avery,” I say politely with a nod. How are you supposed to greet the mayor? Am I supposed to shake her hand, even though we met last week? Do I even call her “Mayor Avery”? If not. . . Well, too late.
“Oh, hi. . .” she says with a hint of confusion in her tone. Maybe teenagers don’t tend to randomly approach her; either way, she doesn’t seem that thrilled by the interruption. “Mila, isn’t it? I hope you didn’t get locked out of that ranch again.”
“Luckily, no!” I fake a laugh. “I was hoping I could borrow Blake for a second. Blake?” I angle my body toward his and fix him with a sharp look, one that dares him to defy me.
“Sure,” he says. “I’ll be back in a sec, Mom.”
Just like last week, we split off from the throng to gain some privacy, only this time I’m doing the leading and Blake is doing the following. I turn around to face him, fold my arms across my chest, and stare him down in my most dramatic way.
“Are you here to throw a sucker punch my way?” Blake mocks with an easy smile. He steps back and lifts his fists like a boxer shielding his face. “’Cause you sure do look like you wanna hit me, but just remember where we are. Church.”
“Oh, stop it, Blake,” I snap dismissively. “You’re right, though, I’m not your biggest fan after what happened in Nashville. I’m okay with the idea of ignoring your existence around here for the summer, but there’s something I need to ask you first.”
