Page 36 of Tattered and Torn

“Were you out hiking?” I ask, trying to make small talk.

“No,” the blonde says. “We just had riding lessons.”

“Horseback riding?” I’m confused because John was with me all afternoon.

“Yes,” says a petite brunette. She laughs as she rubs her backside. “God, my ass is sore.”

“I know who can make it feel better,” the blonde says.

All three women laugh, as if they’re sharing an inside joke.

“Who did you have riding lessons with?” I ask, still confused. “John—Burke wasn’t here this afternoon.”

“With his assistant,” the brunette says. “Norma? Nora? Something like that.”

“Nora,” the blonde says. “We were having lessons today in preparation for our trail ride with Burke tomorrow. It’s just the three of us and that sexy cowboy. We have him all to ourselves.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“I’ll need more than one day with the cowboy,” the brunette says, and again the women laugh.

“Ew, you can have him,” the third woman says. Her light brown hair is cut in a wedge. She rolls her eyes. “Have you seen his face?” She shudders. “No thanks. He looks like Freddy Krueger.”

For a moment, I freeze, and my skin tightens all over. I want to wring that woman’s neck. How dare she talk about John that way? How dare she talk about any disfigured person that way? It’s mean and hateful and—

“Excuse me, but would you mind seating us now?” the blonde asks. “It’s getting late, and we’re starving.”

“Of course.” Mentally, I shake myself. I don’t think Hannah would appreciate me ripping these women new ones in front of the other guests. But inwardly, that’s exactly what I want to do.

I lead them to a corner table.

Two of them order the dinner special for tonight—Betty made chicken and dumplings—and the third one orders a Cobb salad. All three order glasses of white wine.

As I head to the kitchen to prepare their orders, that woman’s hateful words reverberate in my head. I’m so tempted to dump her Cobb salad into her lap.

For the rest of the dinner period, I’m fuming over the way she described John.

I return to their table once more to ask if they need anything.

“Well, I still think he’s hot,” the blonde says. It appears they’re still discussing John.

The brunette takes a sip of her wine. “Brittany, you’d do anyone wearing a cowboy hat, admit it.”

The blonde—Brittany—laughs. “That is true, Krista.”

“You can both have him,” says the light-brown pixie cut. “I’ll take the big Cajun. He’s sex on a stick.”

The brunette—the one apparently named Krista—says, “Shut up, Andrea! I already said I have dibs on him.”

“No, you said you had dibs on the sheriff.” Andrea points across the dining room to where Chris is seated.

Krista laughs. “He’s cute, but he’s too young for me. I’m no cougar.”

Amidst the fresh laughter, I have a hard time getting their attention. “Is there anything else I can get you?” The sooner I get away, the better, before I say something I might regret later.

“I think we’re good,” Brittany says.

“So, you’re going on a trail ride tomorrow?” I’m just clarifying. “With Burke?”

“Yes,” Krista says. “We’re riding up to some lake, where we’ll stop and have lunch. Then we ride back.”

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