Page 98 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

“All right,” she said, smiling when she thought of the sketch. “He was kind of whimsical. What medium do you normally work in?”

“I do a lot of metal work. Iron. Welding.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” It accounted for his physique, that was for sure.

“I’m basically a glorified blacksmith. But I make animals and people rather than armor and shoes for...animals and people.”

“I think that’s amazing.”

“Gives me something to pour a lot of physical frustration into, that’s for sure.”

“It’s more interesting than being a financial advisor.”

He tilted his head back, his eyes meeting hers again. “Then why are you a financial advisor?”

“I’m good at it. And I do enjoy it. I want... I want to be successful.”

He nodded slowly. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I’ve never cared if I was.”

“And you are,” she said. The downstairs buzzer went off. “Bet that’s the food.” She walked to the door and hit the intercom button. “Yes?”

A voice crackled through the speaker. “Ms. Song, I have your dinner.”

She pushed the button to open the door, then looked back at Zack. It was funny. Sometimes he just seemed like a man’s man. Steady, not taking much too seriously. Like he was a guy who didn’t care about much with any great depth.

And then in a flash she would witness a moment of deep, aching sadness that she didn’t think matched anything she’d ever felt in her whole life.

She was seeing it now. And it made her wonder if it was there all the time, kept under everything else, but there.

It was terrifying to her. She wasn’t sure why, only that it was.

There was a knock at the door and she jumped. “The food.” She turned and went to the door, took the order and paid as quickly as possible. Then she went into the kitchen and started setting the boxes out on the counter. “Oh, good. Paper plates and plastic utensils in here. And...want to open a bottle of wine?”

“That would be good.” He got up from the couch and walked into the little kitchen, filling up the space even more alarmingly than he’d filled up the couch.

“Everything for that is in the cupboard by the fridge, including the aerator.”

“Aerator. That’s pretty fancy considering we have paper plates.”

“Yeah, well, we’re celebrating,” she said, dishing rice, chicken tikka masala and naan onto their plates.

“What are we celebrating?” he asked, turning the corkscrew, then tugging the cork out before pouring the wine. He’d skipped the aerator but she wouldn’t be shrewish about it.

“Good sex,” she said. “Which is a lot rarer than you might think.”

“Yeah?” he asked, tipping the glass of wine up to his lips.

“I’ve never had it before you.”

He snorted into his wineglass and sent several droplets of dark red over the edge of the glass. “Really?” he asked, coughing.

“I’ve had okay sex. I’ve had orgasms but...you know I can give those to myself. Have been for six months now. Batteries are cheaper than men, I find.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him this stuff. Normally she’d be embarrassed. But the guy had just bent her over a table so there wasn’t really much to be embarrassed about at this point.

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