Page 2 of His One True Wish

“Oh, well. At least it’s a much prettier drive.” She sighed. “I do like the trees on that road more.”

And I wondered where I got it from.

“I’ll have tacos ready, so don’t bother to stop and eat — ”

“Mom don’t make me food,” I said. “You are supposed to pack up the kitchen, not cook in it.”

“I know you love take-out and ordering food from Uber people and Insta-places, but feeding you makes me happy, and you’d be proud of me. The living room is done. I have loads of boxes, and the truck’s packed. I just need to figure out where to store everything.”

“I’ll figure something out when I get there,” I promised. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” The relief in her voice was palpable.

“And fine, you may feed me but know it’s your choice. I am tired of eating Pringles and baby carrots on this drive.”

“You know I would buy you a plane ticket — ”

“No, nope. I’m fine,” I said a little too quickly. “I love a good road-trip. It reminds me of the time you and Gran took me to Disneyland.”

“You remember that so fondly,” Mom said, inhaling. “You asked hourly when we’d arrive, and every time, Gran told you two hours.”

“Well, that may be true today.”

“See you in two hours?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, that’s about right. Love you, Mom.”

“Drive safe. Love you, too.”

I hung up the phone and looked at the sedentary Marigold milk truck. The truth was, this entire exhausting road-tripwasmy fault. The flight from Seattle to Denver was less than three hours, but the idea of flying over the Rockies made me want to crawl out of my skin.

The last time I’d flown was for Gran’s funeral. We hit turbulence on the way back to Seattle, and my breathing became so irregular a flight attendant noticed and called for an on-board doctor to assess me.

The embarrassment and fear of almost creating a medical emergency landing left me paralyzed and afraid to board a plane. My feet belonged fixed firmly to the ground.

If that meant I was doomed to die of starvation trapped behind a Marigold truck of spoiled milk, I supposed that was my fate. As if in answer to my question, the milk truck rolled forward. A police officer in mirrored sunglasses stepped in front of my car. He raised a fine-looking arm high in the air, signaling me to stop.

“Damn. Whatever you say, officer,” I muttered. The man’s chest was wide, strong, and a welcome break from staring at the back of a Marigold milk truck.

The officer nodded and smiled, making me feel as though I’dearned a gold star for compliance. I scanned the curve of his biceps and wondered how many abs were hiding under his tight black vest.

Daydreaming about his naked body lit a flickering flame deep in my core. It was a welcome surprise. My boyfriend Joe and I broke up three months before. He left me to drive cross-country in a Volkswagen van with Brenda from his hot yoga class. I hadn’t been with anyone since, and up until lusting after this hottie, I was under the mistaken impression I didn’t miss sex.

It was good to know my ovaries were not in total hibernation.

My break-up with Joe was a familiar but hard lesson. Joe was not the first boyfriend to cheat on me; he was just the most recent. Every one of my relationships ended with lies, starting with my sophomore year of high school. I was forced to accept that the only constant in this never-ending cheater drama was me. I was good at making wishes, but shit at picking the right guy.

Joe’s betrayal confirmed what I already knew. I was better off alone than with a cheater.

Well, if I was going to be alone for the rest of my life, at least I was stuck in traffic admiring a hot policeman’s strong jaw. He was some unexpected eye candy. As if on cue, an eagle flew over the head of the hot cop, making him look like a muscled hero from the cover of one of my beloved smutty romances. Watching the eagle fly overhead, I made a wish.

“I want some hot, uncomplicated, no-strings sex.” I sighed. Hot Cop glanced my way and gave me a commanding nod.

“Hell, yes, officer,” I purred. He dropped his muscled arm and stepped back in front of his flashing police car.

Traffic picked up, and just like that, I was driving full speed ahead. John Denver sang of Grandma’s feather bed while the eye-candy cop disappeared in my rearview.

Two hours later,I pulled in front of Mom’s house and took myroller bag out of my trunk. It was jarring to see the for-sale sign in front of her house with my own eyes.

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