by Tawna Fenske
“Why would somebody just leave a three-legged cat?” I shake my head, disgusted by my fellow humans. “Or any cat, for that matter.”
“It happens a lot.” Amber finishes swishing her burrito in the salsa. “People get tired of being responsible for a pet, so they drive them out into the country.”
“They think they’re ‘setting them free,’” Jade calls, not bothering to mask her disgust.
“Mostly they become coyote food,” Amber admits. “The lucky ones find their way here.”
I steal a glance back at the operating table, then wish I hadn’t. If this one’s lucky, I don’t want to know what unlucky looks like.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I ask. “Do you turn him loose again or what?”
Amber shrugs and reaches for the salsa. “We’re full up on barn cats right now, so we’ll try to find him a home. Why, are you interested?”
“Maybe.” I don’t know why, but I feel an odd kinship with the three-legged cat. True, we haven’t met, but I feel for the guy.
A crippling urge to rescue.
That’s what Sarah used to call it, but I don’t think that’s what’s driving me. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to help someone. To take a shitty situation and make it better.
Amber bites into her burrito, then closes her eyes and gives a reverent moan. “Oh my God, this is amazing,” she says around a mouthful of food. “What’s in this?”
I’m distracted by the blissed-out look on her face and almost forget to answer. “Homemade chicken sausage with sage and garlic, a little kale, sweet potato, organic eggs, smoked gouda, caramelized onions—”
“Good Lord, why have I never made friends with a chef before this?” She grins at me, and I try not to hang up on the word “friends.” Is she in the habit of groping other friends? It’s none of my business, but jealousy nips the edges of my heart anyway.
She takes another bite and sighs with pleasure, and I can’t help remembering those same sighs last night. What would it have been like if I hadn’t hit the brakes? Part of me regrets it, but part of me knows it was the smart move.
“Next time you meet a girl you like, do her a favor.” Sarah’s long-ago words ring in my head, echoes of what she said to me before she kicked my ass to the curb. “Let her see the real Sean sometime. Not Prep School Sean. Not Damage Control Sean. The real Sean.”
As I watch Amber devour the burrito, I’m positive I’m getting there. Maybe it’s her zest for life. Maybe it’s her kooky humor or her kindness toward animals or her passion for food. Maybe I’m just really, really hot for her.
It’s all of those things in Amber that bring out the best version of me.
She must sense me staring at her with a way-too-serious expression because she gestures to the burrito and does a mock swoon. “This is seriously like the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” she says. “Ever.”
“Says the girl who used to put marbles in her mouth,” Jade calls from the operating table.
“What? I wanted to see what they tasted like.” Amber grins and takes another bite of burrito.
“Please tell me you were three and not twenty-three.”
Amber laughs and dumps more salsa on her burrito, then moans as she takes another bite. “So good.”
“You’re making me uncomfortable with all that groaning over there,” Jade calls.
“Says the girl whose bedroom is down the hall from mine.” Amber gives me a pointed look. “Brandon stays over a lot.”
I glance over at Jade to see her blushing bright pink over her surgical mask. I can’t tell if she’s smiling, but I’m guessing she might be.
“You guys have the best relationship.”
“Family’s weird,” she agrees cheerfully. “Gotta love ‘em, though.”
I consider telling her about my mother. About the drama with her showing up at the ranch and the awkwardness with my siblings. I wonder if there are any hot-button issues with her parents, and I open my mouth to start the conversation.
But I close it again quickly.
No. Not now. Mid-castration is hardly the time for a deep-digging conversation about family. In the back of my head, my dead ex-fiancée tells me I’m doing it again, but I push her voice aside and push another burrito toward Amber.
“Stumpy the cat should be awake in a few hours if you want to meet him,” Amber says. “By then we’ll have a whole bunch of other cats here for you to check out.”
“Thanks.” I fish into the cooler for another burrito, not interested in the other cats. I know Stumpy’s going home with me, though he might do it with another name.
Jade finishes the snip job and joins us on the other side of the room. I set her up with a burrito and her own cup of salsa while she washes up at the big sink before dragging another chair over to the table.
I hand her the foil wrapped package, and she wastes no time peeling it open. “You guys are killing me with these,” she says before taking a bite. “Holy crap, you’re right. He’s amazing.”
“See?” Amber grins at me, a smile that shoots straight to my groin. I could never get tired of feeding this woman. I make a mental note to do it as often as possible.
“I aim to please.” I shove a pile of napkins at Jade as Amber polishes off her burrito and glances at her watch.
“We’ve got ten minutes until everyone else shows up, so eat fast,” Amber says.
Jade chews more quickly and nods at her sister. “Did you figure out what you’re doing tomorrow?”
Amber makes a face. “Not yet. I’m still considering my options.”
“What’s tomorrow?” I ask.
Amber makes a face. “A wedding I’m supposed to go to. I was planning to go with this guy friend of mine, but he just bailed.”
“Friend.” Jade snorts and dunks her burrito in the salsa. “Connor would polish your shoes with his tongue if you asked.”
“Not true,” Amber says, looking embarrassed. “And since he has the flu, I don’t want his tongue anywhere near me.”
There’s a flicker of jealousy at the center of my chest, and I do my best to ignore it. “So are you just going to go stag, or what?”
Amber shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. “I’d rather not go at all, honestly.”
“You have to,” Jade says. “You promised Beth.”
“Right, my spy mission.” Amber rolls her eyes and wipes her hand on a napkin. “Beth used to date the groom.”
“She’s over him, obviously.” Jade takes another bite of burrito.
“Sure,” I agree. “I send spies to the weddings of all my ex-girlfriends.”
“She wants to know about his wedding,” Amber says. “So she doesn’t accidentally make hers too similar.”
“Or so she can make hers better,” Jade scoffs. “I’m glad I’m in charge of reindeer and not all the wedding stuff. Some of these brides are nuts.”
Amber just shrugs and balls up her foil. “It’s human nature to be curious about exes. Can’t blame a girl for wondering.”
“No, but I can blame her for being a stalker,” Jade says. “She doesn’t expect you to bring back video or anything like that, does she?”
Amber shakes her head. “Just a detailed report.”
I ball up my own burrito foil and add it to Amber’s. “Want me to go with you?”
Both sisters look at me. “To the wedding?” Jade asks.
I nod. “Sure, if you want a date.”
“I want,” Amber says with surprising enthusiasm. “Seriously?”
I shrug, trying not to look too eager. “It’s a good chance to scope out what local caterers are doing for weddings.”
“I thought you weren’t interested in doing weddings,” Amber says.
She’s got me there. “Okay, it’s a good chance to see you in a short dress,” I admit. “Maybe something blue. Or no, yellow.”
Across the table, Jade smirks. “With cleavage,” she adds helpfully.
Amber rolls her eyes. �
�Would you two like to just take over my closet and dress me?”
Jade shoots me a look that says she knows exactly what I’m thinking. That undressing Amber is more what’s on my mind. She’s got me there, but I do my best to keep my eyes off the front of Amber’s red sweater. To convince big sister Jade I’m not one of those guys who’s only after one thing.
In any case, one thing’s for sure: I’ve never been more eager to attend a damn wedding.
* * *
My mother walks in and sniffs when she sees me crouching in front of the fireplace the next morning, stroking a hand down my new cat’s back. I’ve set up a small recovery ward for him, though he already shredded the fancy cat bed I bought while he was still groggy from anesthesia.
For now, he seems happy lying in a box marked “frozen halibut cheeks.”
Okay, “happy” is a relative term.
“Is it growling or purring?” my mother asks.
“Growling,” I admit. “But I’ll win him over eventually.”
She eyes the scratches on my arms and sniffs again. “You always were determined. I’ll give you that much.”
I can’t tell from her tone if it’s a compliment or a complaint, so I respond with a grunt. “He’ll come around.”
“I suppose I’m not surprised you picked a cat with a missing leg,” she says. “You always were a softie.”
Now I’m really not sure about the whole compliment/complaint thing, so I just keep petting my cat. “He needed help, and I needed a cat. It’s a symbiotic thing.”
My mother mumbles something that sounds like “co-dependent,” but I might be hearing things. “Does he have a name?” she asks.
“Gordon,” I reply. “Gordon Ramsay.”
That earns me a laugh. “He’s got the attitude.”
Gordon opens one eye and peers at my mother. He gives another growl and closes it again
“It probably has fleas,” my mother says.
“No fleas in the high desert,” I point out. “It’s too cold at night.”
I learned that from Amber, along with a dozen other bits of animal-related trivia I picked up yesterday at the ranch. If the occasion arises for me to regale prep school classmates with knowledge of reindeer mating habits, I’ll be ready.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the wedding?”
I straighten up and smooth my hands down the lapels of my suit jacket. I’m ninety percent sure I’m overdressed for a small-town Oregon wedding, but the look on my mother’s face suggests I’m not quite up to her standards.
She glides forward to reach for my tie. “It’s crooked,” she says. “And much too loose.”
“Ow!” I slip a finger under the fabric as she yanks it tight.
She pats my hand away. “You never could do a proper Windsor knot. I don’t know what they were teaching you at that prep school.”
“Math, science, and literature?”
“They were supposed to be teaching you manners,” she says. “I did my best, you know.”
Her gaze lifts to mine and holds for a few beats. For just a moment, I think she might say something sentimental.
“I spoke with my lawyer this morning.”
And that’s as sentimental as she gets.
“Oh?” I try for nonchalant, but the truth is that I’m nervous about the stack of paperwork that showed up via Fed Ex yesterday.
“Just trying to get things straightened out with the title,” she says. “Making sure you kids have proper claim to the land and all that.”
“So you’re looking out for us,” I say slowly.
She meets my eye and gives a curt nod. “Exactly. Just trying to do what’s right.”
I clear my throat and wonder if that’s mouthwash I smell on her breath. It reminds me of the peppermint schnapps I bought for a chocolate torte last Christmas, and I try to recall where I shoved the bottle.
My mother steps back and surveys her handiwork with a critical eye. The Windsor knot or her son, I’m not sure which. “You’d better get going so you’re not late.”
I nod and take my own step back, putting a familiar distance between us. “You’ll keep an eye on Gordon?”
She looks down at the floor as though I’ve just entrusted her with folding a pile of laundry. Then she sighs.
“To the best of my abilities, of course.”
“Of course.”
I give my tie a tug, then turn and walk out of the room, ignoring the growing sense of dread in the pit of my gut.
Chapter 9
AMBER
Holy Mother of Cheesecake, Sean Bracelyn looks good in a suit. I somehow refrained from drooling on his lapels for the drive to the wedding venue, but just barely.
“How about I pull up in front of the church so you can hop out?” he suggests.
“Embarrassed to be seen with me?” I tease.
Sean snorts and lifts his sunglasses to look me in the eye. “I’ve already called all the paparazzi I know to make sure I’m photographed with you as much as possible. I want documentation of that time I went out with the hottest girl in the universe.”
I laugh and toss my hair over one shoulder. “Do you actually know any paparazzi?”
“No,” he admits. “But I might have to find some. Seriously, you look smokin’.”
I should probably demur, crossing my legs and murmuring, “this old thing?” like some Hollywood actress. But the truth is that I do look good. I don’t get a lot of chances to dress up on the farm, so I used Greg’s wedding as an excuse to buy an Adrianna Papell rose lace sheath dress at Nordstrom Rack the last time I was in Portland. The cap sleeves and v-neck show off my shoulders, and the Badgley Mischka peep-toe heels I got for a song make my legs look killer.
But they’re not the most comfortable footwear on earth, which is why I appreciate Sean’s offer to drop me off in front of the church. “Thank you,” I say as he pulls the car up to the curb. “I’ll get us a good seat.”
He grins and flips up the visor. “I’ll come find you.”
I step out of the car and make my way up the steps to the church, surveying the crowd for someone I know. I spot a couple women from Jade’s graduating class and try to recall if they’re among the assholes who bullied her mercilessly in high school. I was five years behind her and didn’t find out about the bullying until recently, so I’ve been making up for lost time by despising my sister’s tormentors extra hard.
“Amber! Over here.”
I turn to see a group of more familiar faces near the front of the church. There’s a cluster of my high school soccer teammates standing to the left of the door, and I make my way over to them.
“Angie,” I say, doling out the requisite hugs. “And Kinsey, oh my God, when are you due?”
“Three more weeks.” My old friend beams and strokes her massive belly. “I feel like I’m incubating a walrus.”
“I have such baby fever every time I see you,” Blanka Pavlo gushes in her faint Ukrainian accent. She came to Oregon our junior year as an exchange student and ended up moving back after college. “I can’t wait ‘til it’s my turn.”
“Might want to find a husband first,” Angie says, giving her a teasing wink. “Or a boyfriend.”
“Totally overrated.” Lily Archer grins and stretches across Kinsey’s belly to give me a tight hug. “Flings are better anyway. Speaking of which, who was that crazyhawt guy who dropped you off?”
“Please say he’s single,” Angie pleads, glancing the direction Sean’s car disappeared. “Or that he has five or six brothers who are single?”
“Uh, actually—” I give them a knowing smirk, enjoying the way their jaws fall open. “There are at least three or four brothers that I’ve heard of. I don’t know their marital status, but judging by the DNA pool, I’m guessing they’re not bad to look at. You know Brandon, right?”
Blanka nods. “Your sister’s husband?”
“Technically they’re not married yet, but yes. His cousins are the ones who own Pond
erosa Luxury Ranch Resort.”
Kinsey fans herself with a wedding program. “It’s not open yet, is it?”
“Almost,” I tell her. “Sean is a chef. He’s the one in charge of all the restaurant stuff for the resort. There’s also a sister in charge of marketing and—”
“Forget the sister.” Lily gives me a wicked smile. “Tell us about the brothers.”
“And Sean,” Angie adds. “Or is he yours?”
This is the precise moment Sean comes jogging up the steps, earning a startled titter from the ladies. The smile he gives me suggests he’s just heard every word Angie said, and that he’s waiting for the answer.
“Uh, he’s my date for this,” I stammer. “Sean, this is Angie, Kinsey, Blanka, and Lily. We played soccer together in high school.”
“Ladies.” Sean gives a friendly nod and rests a hand on the small of my back. It’s a chaste enough touch, but it sends goose bumps rippling up my arms. I take a few breaths and try to regain my composure.
Lily gives me a knowing look and turns toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get a good seat up front.”
I follow my friends down the aisle with Sean at my side like the world’s most delicious piece of arm candy. Is it wrong that I love seeing envy on the faces of several former classmates as we make our way to an empty row near the middle of the church?
As we settle into the pews, I survey the rest of the scene. It’s less crowded than I expected, considering Greg was one of the more popular kids in my graduating class, though I haven’t seen him for at least a year. He went to college back east and settled out there after graduation. The bride is from Tennessee, so I’m not sure why they’re having the wedding here.
I remind myself to stop speculating and to focus on observing the wedding details for Beth. Ivory pillar candles flicker inside white painted lanterns at the end of each row, casting a romantic glow on the simple spray of baby’s breath tied with tulle bows at the end of each pew. Their colors are cream and cinnamon. Very tasteful and elegant.