Page 27 of Opposites (Never) Attract
“Hmm.” The sound he’d made was nothing more than a satisfied hum. Still, I felt it between my legs.
This was unfortunate. When I fixated on something, that fixation took up my entire existence. Until I either satisfied the craving for it, or through sheer force of will, expelled it like a poison from my system.
It was how I eliminated chocolate ice cream, pasta carbonara and nail biting from my life.
Compared to losing ice cream, this unfortunate fascination with Tag Durham was nothing.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
“I forgot how flat it is,”I said, as I stepped off the plane onto the tarmac in Big Horn.
A hot wind blew across the high plains, and the sun sat fat and golden in the bright blue sky. It was endless, windy and…beautiful.
I’d forgotten that, too.
Tag was at the bottom of the narrow plane steps, his hand stretched out for me to take. The white linen dress matched with canvas wedges was probably a ridiculouschoice. But I’d decided to suit up in my Ralph Lauren armor this morning
I had no choice but to take his calloused hand in mine. His palm hot, his fingers strong. As soon as I was on solid ground, I pulled my hand away and fought the urge to wipe my palm against my dress that was already gathering the red dust of Wyoming around the buttons.
I stared out at all thegreenaround us. So much green. Late Spring in Wyoming was the epitome of the word. The fields on the far side of the airport were full of Indian paintbrush and lupine.
I tilted my head back and tried to take in the blue sky above me.
It was fathomless.
“God, that sky is big,” I breathed.
“Big Sky is Montana,” Tag said. “Our sky is just regular sized.”
No, it wasn’t. It went on and on without a skyscraper or a sidewalk in sight. It made the earth feel round. All flat earthers should stand in this spot just to feel the curvature of the planet.
The mountains were to the East. We didn’t have the skiing culture of the Tetons, but Bighorn National Forest was about an hour away from Last Hope Gulch and featured some modest ski lodges.
Tag picked up both his beat up duffle and my Louis Vuitton carryon. Which should have looked out of place slung over his shoulder, but somehow didn’t.
“You want to go home first, or directly to the Lodge?” he asked over his shoulder.
He looked like an ad for Louis Vuitton.
The Lodge was what everyone in town called the main building on the McGraw ranch. There were a few scatteredhomes in and around the property, Tag and his dad’s place being one of them. But the Lodge was where the family had lived until they all moved out.
Now there was a Calloway living there.
Somewhere in the McGraw section of the cemetery, a dozen McGraws were rolling over in their graves.
Going home meant Mom. Maybe Bliss and Amity, too, if they were around.
The Lodge at least meant Harmony, and as always, I found it easier to start with her.
“The Lodge. I want to cut right to the chase and see this nonsensical will.”
I followedhim to a truck that was parked inside one of the open hangars. At the other end of the landing strip, there was a modest building that served as the only airport to the northeast region of the state. There was a single rental car option and minimal parking. These private hangars were for the big land owners in the state, of which McGraw was one of the largest.
Tag put our luggage in the bed of the truck and opened the door for me, but then hesitated as if considering something.
He looked, if I was honest, worried.
“Everything okay?” I asked. He winced really quickly, like he’d come to a hard decision about something, but then he nodded. “Yeah, everything is fine. But you might want to call your sister. Give her a heads up you’re coming and that you’re planning to read the will.”
