Page 25 of Bronx

He pointed again. That woman had really done a number on his fingers. Like a fucking vampire. "You knew I was going to ask if she was actually a ginger. So is she? And is it real? Do the drapes match the carpet?"

I shook my head. "No, she's not a ginger. Now eat the rest of your food. People are waiting for us to leave."

"No, no, not so quick. Where did you meet her? Let's see a picture."

As much fun as Layla and I had been having sneaking around, it was hitting me just how hard this was going to be. After all, it wasn't as if either of us lived in a bubble. And we had friends in the same circle. For now, I could just toss out a few lies to get King off the path, but the longer this went on, the harder it was going to be.

"No pictures, no ginger, just a woman who I've gone out with a few times and who is really into horses."

Kingston laughed dryly. "What is it with chicks and horses? Well, guess I'll be looking for something else to do this weekend."

"Here's some advice, buddy. Stay clear of the finger chewer."

"Probably sound advice." He lifted his shake cup. "Here's to a great weekend, even though you blew me off for some non-ginger horse lover."

19

"Idon't have cowboy boots. I wish I did. Just seems like I should be wearing cowboy boots on a ranch," Layla's voice burst through the phone and my groggy head.

"We could get you a pair on the way," I suggested. I glanced at the clock. It was only six. During the fire season, I could wake from a dead sleep to suit up and head to the plane. But in the off season, when we strolled into base camp at nine to do chores, fix equipment, and train, I got used to sleeping late. It was adorable how excited she was about going to a horse ranch, even after I warned her about flies, manure and a rooster that liked to chase unsuspecting visitors around the barnyard.

"I would love to buy a pair, but they're expensive. I know because I spent the last few days during my lunch break checking out boots online. Anyhow, I'll just have to look dowdy and non-western in my sneakers. You sound tired. Did I wake you?"

I stretched and sat up. "Nope, been up for hours."

"Liar. Anyhow, I had a call from Gabe. Turns out it's Penelope's birthday this weekend. He acted insulted that I didn't know, but he hasn't been married to her very long. I hardly know anything about her. His first wife and I were friends, not close friends, but I knew her birthday was a week before mine. I told him I was going out of town with some friends from the hospital. He wanted to know who and where I was going. I got kind of perturbed and let him know I was a big girl and that I had my own dad back in Virginia."

I sat up and scrubbed my hair back with my fingers. "You're from Virginia? Pictured you more as a California girl."

"Nope, born and raised just ten miles west of Monticello. Guess there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

"Yeah I guess so." I rested back against the headboard, and my mind drifted to the two of us all alone on the ranch, not having to hide from anyone and having nonstop sex. "Don't know if I mentioned this, but the barn has a very nice hay loft, comfy and soft too."

"Uh huh, and just how do you know about the comfy, soft part?"

"Well, I've just heard about it from the—the barn cats."

Her laugh sounded extra sweet through the phone. "I can just imagine the amount of shenanigans a sixteen-year-old Bronx Devlin got up to in that hayloft."

I climbed out of bed. "Not sure what shenanigans are, but if they include unhooking bras and making out, then yeah, there might have been some shenanigans. Hey, I'm gonna hop in the shower. I'll swing by your apartment in an hour. Does that give you enough time? That way we can get an early start. There's a breakfast place, Moonpie's Diner, on the way that serves great food."

"Sounds good. I'm still bummed about the cowboy boots though."

"Don't worry. I won't be wearing mine much either because I plan to spend a lot of the weekend naked."

"Ooh, just pictured you naked but still wearing your cowboy boots. OK, see you soon, Bronx. I'm going to call you that while we're on the ranch. Seems fitting."

"Now I'm going to have to come up with a nickname for you. Hey, Layla, glad you're coming with me."

"I'm glad too."

20

Layla's apartment complex was just five minutes from the hospital. She described her short commute as a dreamy stroll under a line of crepe myrtle trees. The complex was far enough away from any of our mutual friends' houses that we'd decided it was a safe place for us to meet. Little chance of running into anyone we knew. The secretiveness had been sort of intriguing and sexy at first, but something told me it was going to get old and irritating soon enough.

Layla came to the door in jeans and a flannel shirt. "Do I look ranch-y, cuz I feel ranch-y."

"Adorable ranch-y," I said and couldn't stop myself from kissing her.

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