The Devil in the Saddle

by Julia London

  “Noo,” she said into his chest. “Stop hugging me all the time.”

  “Can’t. You’re my twin sister and I love you and I want to help you and I don’t like to see you hurt. It kills me.”

  “I’m not a big fan of being hurt, either, but I’m over it,” she said into his stinky canvas coat. “Now I’m just filled with rage and a very strong desire to be different. Plus, my Instagram page is going viral, and I need to add some stuff before I lose my audience. By the way—” She tried to lean back, but Luca slapped his hand on her head and held her in place. “Do you still have the china dish samples I gave to you and Ella?”

  “Probably.”

  “Great. Can I have them back? I want to smash them.”

  Luca squeezed tighter. “Aw, Hallie, bless your heart. I see you, you know. I get you. I know what you’re thinking before you even know it.”

  “Then you must know I’m thinking I want you to let me go,” she said, her voice muffled by his coat.

  Luca kissed the top of her head.

  “Why does everyone keep kissing my head like I’m a kid?” she said, rubbing the top of her head. At Luca’s quizzical look, she said, “Never mind,” and stepped around him. She picked up a banana on her way out.

  “That’s a big fat carb stick!” he called out, and pulled her uneaten bowl of cereal over to his place and poured milk into it.

  * * *

  • • •

  Hallie’s Instagram page had gained more followers before noon, along with some inspirational comments, most of them along the lines of You go, girl.

  She texted Rafe: Up to 3,000 followers on my wedding deconstruction page! My rage is contagious.

  He texted back: Congratulations on single-handedly starting a new cottage industry for bitter brides.

  Hallie laughed.

  By early afternoon she was in the garden shed. She’d cleared a space on one of the wooden benches, pushing aside the spades and terra-cotta pots, the bags of fertilizer and potting soil. She was hard at work hammering the heel of one of her wedding shoes into the pumpkin when she heard someone come into the shed and glanced over her shoulder. “Hey! Hi, Charlotte.”

  The family business office manager smiled. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She glanced at the pumpkin, then looked uneasily at Hallie, as if she expected Hallie might be thinking of hammering her. Hallie had been getting that look around here a lot lately. Well, pardon her already—how was a person supposed to act when her wedding had blown up just as she was getting ready to send out invitations?

  “Love your hair,” Hallie said, gesturing lazily with the hammer. Charlotte had cut her curly blond hair to shoulder length and given herself bangs. She looked pretty and outdoorsy and determined in everything that she did. No wonder she was so successful with the family business—she was really so much more than her title of office manager implied. Charlotte was the one who knew where the bodies were buried and why.

  “What’s up?” Hallie asked as she turned back to her work. “Need a spade? A pumpkin? An unused wedding shoe?”

  “No thanks,” Charlotte said carefully. “Just reading the tea leaves here, but are you really nailing that shoe into the pumpkin?”

  “I really am,” Hallie said, and gave it one last whack to make sure it was secure. The next phase was the pumpkin guts, which she planned to arrange so that it looked like the pulp was billowing out of her shoe.

  “That’s so weird,” Charlotte said. “I love it.”

  “It’s art,” Hallie said. “What brings you down to the potting shed, otherwise known as the least visited building in our happy little compound?”

  “This is not a happy compound,” Charlotte corrected her. “And anyway, I was just wandering around.”

  Hallie laughed. “Liar,” she said cheerfully, and put down her hammer, standing back to admire her work. “You are the busiest person I know besides Ella. I don’t believe for a second that you’re just wandering around, especially here. So who sent you out here to check on me? Was it my brother?”

  Charlotte didn’t answer right away. When Hallie pinned her with a look, she immediately threw up her hands in surrender. “Okay, but don’t blame me. I didn’t want to come out here at all, trust me. I was the one who said, ‘Let the girl have her meltdown already.’”

  “I would never blame you, Charlotte. I know my family. And I already had my meltdown. Was it Nick?”

  “Nick! He’d have to pull his head out of his ass first. I can say no to Nick. But your mom, on the other hand, is scary, and I really, really don’t know how to say no to her.” She winced.

  “Of course you can’t!” Hallie agreed. “That takes a lifetime of training and continuing education credits, trust me. So I’ll bite—why did Mom send you out here?”

  “She thinks you should get out of the house more. You know, to speed along the process of getting you back to normal. She said I should take you shopping.”

  Hallie stared at Charlotte. And then she burst into laughter.

  “Okay, it’s not that funny,” Charlotte said, pouting a little.

  “It’s hilarious. Leave it to my mother to come up with something so out of character for you.” Charlotte was not a shopper. Charlotte was about as far from a shopper as a girl could possibly be. Hallie had dragged her along to a bridal salon a few weeks back when Ella was looking for a gown. But Ella had insisted the gowns were too expensive, and Charlotte had loudly suggested they leave and go to a thrift store instead.

  Ella was all over that idea. “I can’t see paying that kind of money for a dress you’ll wear only once,” she’d scoffed. But the minute the words had left her mouth, her face filled with horror. “But that’s just me,” she’d hastened to add, because everyone in the family knew that Hallie had three dresses for her wedding.

  “I tried to tell your mom you wouldn’t believe it,” Charlotte said. “But she wouldn’t listen, and then she told me I overthink everything. Do I overthink everything?” she asked quasi-rhetorically.

  “No,” Hallie said firmly. “Well, sometimes.”

  “Anyway, she said you’re ignoring your friends, and you’re not leaving your room.”

  “I’m not in my room right now,” Hallie said. “And I am not ignoring my friends. My friends are ignoring me. It’s awkward.”

  “And then Luca mentioned that you’d taken up running, and, well, your mother was really concerned then,” Charlotte added.

  “Why does everyone say that like it is so wildly out of the realm of possibility?” Hallie demanded. “I’m trying it on for size, that’s all.”

  “Listen, I get it,” Charlotte said. “But I also know you can slowly cut yourself off from the world if you’re not careful. I know because I’ve done it.”

  Hallie had to concede there was some truth to that. She was, after all, in a potting shed hammering her shoe into a pumpkin. But that did not mean she needed her mother directing her life. “So my mother told you to come out here and tell me that I’m ignoring all my friends, which would basically include you, and I need to get out of the house?”

  “Actually, she was pretty specific that I not say that, and that I should pretend this shopping thing was all my idea. I told her that you and I don’t really have a shopping relationship, and also, I’m a horrible liar.”

  “Very true on both counts,” Hallie agreed. “Let me guess—she told you to stop complaining or something along those lines and get on out here.”

  “Almost verbatim,” Charlotte agreed. “But,” she added, “it so happens that Mariah is having a sale. We could check that out, and then swing by the Magnolia. Ella is working tonight. We could get our drink on.” With a snap of her fingers, she did a weird swivel dance with her hips.

  Mariah Frame was a mutual friend who owned a clothing boutique and hair salon in Three Rivers. And Ella was a part-time host
ess at the Magnolia Bar and Grill, which was Three Rivers’ version of an upscale restaurant. They did make great cocktails.

  “So here I am, asking you to help me catch two birds with one net. One, make my boss’s mother happy,” Charlotte said, holding up a finger, “and two, spend time with my very good friend over a cocktail, and my other very good friend can serve us. Win-win-win.”

  “Okay, Charlotte,” Hallie said. “But the minute I see a look of pity from anyone in town because my wedding imploded, and that includes Mariah, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

  “Deal,” Charlotte said easily. She added softly, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be.”

  Hallie hoped Charlotte never found out. She’d seen those looks of pity in town since the debacle with Chris. She’d seen it on Jo Carol’s face. Probably everyone knew the truth by now.

  She’d also seen those looks when she came back from the ballet school in New York, mainly because she’d told everyone she was going to New York to become a famous ballerina.

  How many times in her life was she going to have to come back to Three Rivers with her tail between her legs? Just when she thought she was over it, another swell of angry grief would rise up out of nowhere. “It is hard. But probably not for the reasons you think.” It wasn’t the loss of Chris, it was the feeling that she wasn’t worth the effort of remaining faithful. She glanced at her pumpkin art. “But things are looking up. Especially with my new art project,” she said, pointing to the shoe in the pumpkin. “I’m channeling my rage into a new Instagram page. It’s called the Deconstruction of a High-Society Wedding.”

  “That is a fantastic title. But you’re going to ruin those beautiful shoes,” Charlotte pointed out.

  “Nope. I covered the heel with plastic and stuffed the shoe with newspaper. And the pumpkin guts are on plastic.”

  Charlotte moved closer to have a look.

  “Here are the pumpkin guts,” Hallie said, and uncovered the seeds and pulp from the pumpkin. “I’m putting it here.”

  “That is the craziest, coolest thing I ever saw,” Charlotte said, her voice full of awe. “You do you, Hallie.” She started for the door. But she paused and said, “Just so you know, your mother is in the great room waiting on my full report.”

  Hallie groaned to the ceiling. “Why can’t a person be miserable in peace around here?”

  “Because it’s Three Rivers,” Charlotte said, and grinned. “Everyone wants in on the party.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte drove them into town, puttering like a grandma up the long drive and unabashedly ignoring Hallie’s tips for driving. She drove through the tall wrought iron gates that heralded An Important Estate, then slow-poked along the county road all the way into Three Rivers, parking safely in front of Mariah’s shop on the square.

  Hallie could hear Mariah’s bubbly chatter before they even opened the glass door. As they stepped inside, the little bell above the door tinkled, announcing their arrival. Mariah was in the middle of regaling three women with a story.

  “So the next time the UPS guy showed up, I stood on the other side of the glass door and watched him toss that box, and I’m like, can you not see me standing right here? Can you not see me writing down your truck number?”

  The women laughed uproariously.

  “Oh, hey, Charlotte,” Mariah said. “Heeeeey, Hallie,” she added, in a tone that was both sympathetic and dying of curiosity.

  The three women glanced at Hallie and Charlotte, but one of them turned to another and obviously whispered something, which Hallie had to assume was about her. There’s that Prince girl. You heard what happened to her, right?

  “Hallie, you look great!” Mariah said with far too much enthusiasm.

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “It’s great to see you,” Mariah added. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

  “You are just way too happy to see me,” Hallie observed.

  “I’m super happy to see you out and about,” Mariah said, and called out to the women, “I’ve got some great pieces on sale, ladies! But you better hurry up and have a look. I close in thirty.”

  When the women had moved to the back of the store, Mariah turned to Hallie, pulled a sad face, and said, “How are you really?”

  “Cut the crap, Mariah,” Hallie insisted, and Charlotte laughed. “Did my mother call you, too?”

  “What? No!”

  “Well, here’s the good news—you don’t have to ask how I am because I’m fine.” Mariah looked at Charlotte as if seeking confirmation that Hallie was indeed fine. “I saw that,” Hallie said. “I’m standing right here. Wait a minute—have you two been talking about me? You’ve been talking about me!”

  “Who isn’t talking about you?” Mariah blithely agreed. “You burned your invitations. You grew vines out of your wedding dress.”

  “She’s hammering wedding shoes into a pumpkins,” Charlotte added matter-of-factly.

  “I had vines growing out of my reception dress,” Hallie said. “And it’s called revenge art.”

  “Oh, really?” Charlotte said, sounding enlightened. “I thought it was called crazy-pants art. But don’t worry, Hallie, we’re your friends. We’re not going to try and cheer you up because that’s no fun. We’re going to have a look around, and then Mariah and I will take you out for a drink for old time’s sake. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Hallie agreed.

  They shopped a little, and an hour later, with their sale items tucked in the hatch of Charlotte’s car, Mariah, Charlotte, and Hallie were seated in a booth in the bar area of the Magnolia Bar and Grill, waiting for Ella to get off the clock in five minutes.

  When Ella did appear, it was with a tray of pink drinks. “It’s a new cocktail Mateo is trying out,” she said, and pointed at the bartender. Mateo waved.

  Mariah clapped her hands with delight. “What is it?”

  “He hasn’t named it yet. He said we are allowed to make suggestions, but he will not accept girlie names.” She put a glass in front of each of them, got rid of the tray, and sat down with them.

  They agreed the drink was good. Mariah asked Ella about her wedding, but Ella demurred, said there wasn’t much yet to tell. Hallie knew that wasn’t true, but Ella was always very careful not to talk about her wedding in front of her. It wasn’t necessary really, because in spite of what had happened to her, Hallie was genuinely happy for Ella and Luca. She was grateful that her twin had found his person. A tiny bit jealous, yes, but quite happy for them all the same.

  They hadn’t finished half the first drink when another round arrived. The new drinks were gold in color. The four of them waved at Mateo.

  “He wants to change the menu,” Ella said apologetically. “When he tries new things, he gets the whole bar liquored up.” She abruptly sat up and looked toward the entrance. “Well, hello,” she muttered.

  They all turned to look at the entrance, and Hallie felt a jolt—Rafe had just walked in. Or, more accurately, he’d arrived on a cloud of sexy. He was wearing jeans that fit him very well, a T-shirt beneath a denim jacket, and a knit cap on his head. He was also wearing glasses, which he rarely wore, and was sporting the scruff of a late-afternoon beard.

  “Am I crazy, or does he get better looking every year?” Charlotte mused.

  “You’re not crazy,” Hallie muttered.

  He said something to the hostess, and they watched him follow her across the bar.

  Hallie was suddenly thinking about a kiss that was not a kiss but was almost a kiss.

  “Seriously, how has he remained single?” Mariah asked curiously as he slid onto a barstool.

  “He’s moving to Chicago,” Hallie said. She wondered if she sounded as disappointed as she felt.

  Mateo stopped in front of Rafe and tossed down a bar napkin.

  “That’s too bad. I’m going t
o miss that eye candy around here,” Charlotte said. “Hell, I should have snatched him up.”

  Hallie shifted in her seat. The mere suggestion, even said in jest, was jarring. She didn’t like being jarred on girls’ night out. And this was another new development—being jarred about anything to do with Rafe.

  Rafe turned in his seat, scanning the room, and his gaze landed on them. He smiled. And then he stood up and sauntered toward them like he knew how hot he was. When he reached their table, Charlotte said, “Hi, handsome.”

  “Charlotte.” He looked around at the four of them. “Am I wrong to feel a little fear? Seems like an awful lot of woman gathered in one place.”

  They all tittered. They were such girls.

  “We’ve been shopping,” Charlotte announced. “Mariah is having a big sale. What are you doing here?”

  Rafe’s gaze slipped over Hallie. “I’m meeting a friend.”

  They were ogling him, Hallie realized. Well, who could blame them? He looked so deliciously rugged, so . . . manly. She thought she might have licked her lips.

  Rafe looked from one of them to the next. “Why are you all looking at me like that? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “I don’t know why they’re staring, but I am because you are really hot,” Charlotte said cheerfully. “I mean, who knew you cleaned up so well?”

  Hallie gasped and gave Charlotte a look of disbelief.

  Rafe chuckled. “I will admit to putting on a clean shirt. May I assume from this declaration that you’re still in the market for a sperm donor, Miss Bailey?”

  “Well?” Charlotte grinned. “Are you interested?”

  “Charlotte!” Mariah said. “Jesus!”

  “What? It might come down to a sperm donor, and no one teaches you the proper way to ask that question, just so you know.”

  “I’m pretty sure they would advise you not to bring it up in a crowded bar while your friends are watching,” Mariah said.

  “Well, excuse me,” Charlotte said, and sank a little in her seat, as if she were disappointed she couldn’t discuss it right now.