Page 31 of Tempting Fate
“Are you kidding? They’ll love it. Nice gift, Rosser.”
“Thanks for putting it up for me.” That was twice in the span of only a couple hours that she’d thanked him, and it struck her that she didn’t usually show appreciation. Most of her life she’d been waited on. By Cecilia, the stable boys, the ranch hands, even by her mother. She’d been raised to think it was her God-given right to be pampered. Even married to Butch, there’d been housekeepers, gardeners, a pool boy. For a while, she’d even had a personal assistant. Of course, the woman had turned out to be one of Butch’s girlfriends who’d needed a job.
“You’re welcome. You want to go back to the house or wait until they return from the Lumber Baron and watch their reaction when they see it?”
The gate and sign formed an archway over the driveway right before the house. Every ranch in the Sierra Nevada had one. As far as Raylene was concerned, it was a requirement. Her own heart had always filled with pride when she passed through the curlicue iron gates of Rosser Ranch, her family’s brand burned into the big metal sign.
“Let’s wait, but in the truck.”
He put his hand at the small of her back and directed her to his SUV, where he immediately turned on the heat. “Logan’ll think it’s an ambush.”
“You guys are weird.”
He chuckled and checked his watch. “Only a few more hours to showtime.” The wedding.
“Yep.” She had butterflies in her stomach. The potluck had been bad enough, but now she’d be forced to face the whole town. Worst of all, Lucky, Tawny, and Cecilia.
He slid her a glance. “Just stick with me. It’ll be over before you know it.”
She hoped so, but time seemed to grind to a standstill when you wanted it to move fast.
“You dance?” He turned sideways in his seat. “They’re having some kind of swing band.”
“Why, you asking if I’ll be your partner?” Lord knew no one else would.
“Don’t worry, I’ll dance with you, Ray.” He winked and she marveled at how he’d turned it around to make it seem like she was asking him.
“I’d rather maintain a low profile.”
“Why? You afraid Tawny Rodriguez will beat you up?”
Raylene wouldn’t blame her if she did. She’d treated the woman like crap in high school, teasing and taunting her until Thelma—that was Tawney’s real name—had cracked like glass. Until recently, she’d never realized why she’d had it out for the girl. It wasn’t like they ran in the same circles or that Raylene had to compete with Thelma for Lucky’s heart. Back then, he didn’t even know Thelma existed. Half the time, Thelma didn’t come to school because she had to take care of her sick dad. They lived in a rundown house in a neighborhood Raylene’s mother called skid row.
One day, Raylene saw Thelma and her dad at the flea market at the Grange Hall. He fixed and refurbished old clocks for a living, when he wasn’t coughing up a lung from all those cigarettes he smoked, and was probably trolling for deals. Unlike Ray’s shiny cowboy boots and big silver buckles, Mr. Wade wore faded overalls and scuffed work boots. Ray called him an “Okie from Muskogee” on account of his Oklahoma accent.
At the market, both she and Thelma fixated on the same bracelet-making kit. It came with leather bands and eight stamp design tools, and Raylene thought of all the pretty bracelets she could make for her and friends. When she asked Ray to buy it for her, he laughed. “What do you need that for? I’ll buy you a damn bracelet.”
“But I want to make them, Daddy.”
“Raylene, you never made a goddamn thing in your life, except a mess.” He walked away to talk to one of his cattle friends.
Mr. Wade rifled through his wallet and dumped out at least three dollars in change. The man didn’t have two sticks to rub together, but he bought Thelma the bracelet kit. Raylene observed the whole transaction, pea green with envy and a dose of awe. All she could think was someone had finally bested Daddy and had made him look like a cheap toad.
But when Mr. Wade handed Thelma the dusty box and said, “Here you go, sugar. Make me something as pretty as you,” something in Raylene’s chest twisted until she found it hard to breathe. And from that day on, she made it her personal mission to make Thelma Wade pay for every rotten thing Ray Rosser had ever called Raylene.
She poked Gabe in the chest. “I don’t have to worry about Tawny beating me up, because I’ve got a guard dog.”
He grinned in that placating way that said she was crazy and tilted his seat back. “Don’t press your luck, Ray. I like Tawny Rodriguez and consider her a good friend.”
She wondered what he considered her. A chore? A favor to Logan? Someone to play around with in his spare time?
She wanted to ask why he was still single but didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. Besides, she already knew why. Gabe Moretti liked to play. He was the quintessential man-child. Raylene ought to know, having been married to one.
Her cell rang and she fished it out of her jacket pocket to look at the display. “Ugg, why can’t he leave me alone?”
Gabe sat up to look. “Want your guard dog to handle it?”
“My gawd dawg,” she mimicked, and swiped his hand away from the phone and answered. “Stop bothering me, Butch.”
