One Moment

by Elizabeth Savino

  “Thank you for the offer, but I still have so much to do setting up my new digs. But some other time.”

  “That would be great, and Laura I’ll see you next week. So happy to meet you.”

  **********

  I load my bags into my truck. When I hop on the seat I scream and jump. My skin feels like someone burned me. My seat actually feels like it was on fire, I don’t know how they haven’t melted yet.

  Holy crap it’s so hot, I don’t know how I am going to survive the summer. I cringe when I realize it’s only May. After my skin either gets used to the hot seat or melted onto it, which one I’m not sure, I turn my key in the ignition. And, nothing.

  I try once again, already knowing what the end result is going to be. I throw open my door and jump down, I feel like I can’t win, ever. I know it’s immature and won’t help anything but I slam the door, hard. Feeling like an idiot I re-open the door (more gently this time) and pull the hood release.

  I pop the hood and look inside. What I’m looking for, I have no idea. I know how to check the air in my tires, fill my wiper fluid, check my oil (kind of) and fill it with gas. Anything other than that, uh, no. But I can’t just sit here like a damsel in distress. Maybe something will pop out at me, like a plug is out or something.

  It’s not that far of a walk back to the ranch. At least I don’t think it is. I wasn’t really clocking the mileage. But it’s definitely not around the corner, and I didn’t dress for a walkabout.

  My sandals have a nice chunky heel, and my shorts are a nice bright white linen which I pieced together with a pink camisole with white piping to compliment it. Not quite hiking apparel. Plus I didn’t put on any sunscreen, so I would turn into a lobster. I feel the back of my neck sweat so I grab the band from around my wrist and pull my hair up in a loose bun.

  Since I have no idea what I’m looking for I slam the hood back down on my truck. Making the quick decision to go back to Maggie’s to ask her where the nearest garage is, I turn and walk into a hard wall. That’s weird. Quickly realizing it’s not a hard wall, but a person. I look up, and up and find myself staring into the mesmerizing eyes of Logan Thompson. Shit.

  “Problems?”

  Seriously? If he is actually asking, he doesn’t deserve an answer, right?

  “Nope, no problem.” At least my tongue is in working order today.

  Looking to my truck then back to me, “Seems like there’s a problem.” Logan adds while I notice his lip twitching up a little in the corner. Although this is absolutely not funny.

  “Do you find something amusing cowboy?”

  “Cowboy?” Logan asks his lips turning up even more.

  I blatantly take in Logan from his cowboy boots, to his well worn blue jeans. Adorned with a brown leather belt with a silver nickel belt buckle that has a horse in the middle in a super cool (which I won’t admit) stance. I keep my gaze moving up to Logan’s brown tee shirt that is stretched over his broad chest. Making my way up to his head, where he’s wearing a cowboy hat that was made specifically for Logan. Which probably is a lie, but looking at it I would swear it was.

  I purposely skip his face, because if I look at it, who knows what stupidity I will spew. Or I may drool, or worse.

  “I quickly look away, uh, yeah, cowboy.” I take my hand and do a sweep from his boots to his hat. “But as I said, no problem. I start to walk away but am halted with a gentle, yet firm grip on my elbow.”

  I turn to scowl at Logan.

  “Your truck’s right here.”

  “How do you know I don’t have more shopping, or some town exploration to do? I may just be stopping in each and every store, saying hello and giving everyone an ‘I’m new here, and thought I would stop by to meet you cookie are you going to stop me?” (where my attitude is coming from I have no clue, I will blame it on the heat, my truck not starting, and the fact that Logan is dreamy, yes, dreamy. But a little of the attitude must be from all the hard looks he was giving me yesterday.)

  “No, but I saw you get in your ‘truck’ (he air quotes, like it’s not a real truck, seriously?), and bang your head on the steering wheel after it didn’t start. Which tells me that you aren’t giving out cookies. And further, I saw and heard you slam your hood closed, which likely tells me you’re having a problem with this heap.”

  “Great job, you should look into becoming a detective.” I mumbled sarcastically while simultaneously scowling (which is harder than you would think).

  “I am a detective.” Logan’s smirk turns into a full blown smile, and it’s amazing.

  “Yeah, sure you are.” Was my intelligent reply.

  “This badge states differently.” Logan chuckles while pointing to his belt.

  It’s then I spot the badge hanging on the side of his belt. How did I miss that?

  “You’re a detective?”

  “Couldn’t you tell from my amazing honing skills?” Logan’s body is now shaking a little with his suppressed laughter.

  Still not finding anything funny. I fold my arms over my chest trying to look intimidating. Yet all I manage to do is push up my breasts for closer inspection. I catch Logan’s eyes trying to discretely catch a glimpse.

  Now I glare at Logan. Just being around him is bringing out my sass which has been hibernating too. He has awakened too many emotions in the past 24 hours. I used to have sass all the time, not only that but people told me that I was funny. I always made my parents laugh. My sister did not find me amusing when we were little, but as we grew older we would crack each other up.

  Years of sorrow from the loss of my parents and the unnecessary deaths of my sister and niece I just don’t find anything funny anymore. I don’t even feel one iota like myself.

  “Pop your hood, let me have a look.”

  “What are you a mechanic too? Or is this part of ‘to serve and protect’?” I ask, giving attitude that I shouldn’t. He’s trying to be nice, even though I can tell he doesn’t like me. Another reason why I think this bitch side of me is surfacing.

  Logan’s smile is gone and in place is the look I’ve become very familiar with, he’s once again scowling at me, this time I know I deserve that look that I’ve grown to hate.

  I try to rectify my attitude, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, here you are trying to be nice and I’m just being a bitch. The guy who checked my oil at the service station a few states ago implied that he didn’t know how this was still running. I told him scotch tape and bubble gum.”

  This caused Logan to smile, and he was looking at me with a less harsh look on his face. I bit my lip and looked away as I stated, “I’ll just shut up now and pop the hood.”

  I slide in the truck and scream, “Damn hot seats.”

  I hear Logan chuckle. I ignore this and pop the hood. I stand on the sidewalk behind Logan as he leans over and looks at my engine. He shakes his head, and is mumbling quietly to himself. I take this opportunity to study him. I notice the muscle clenching in his jaw when he says, “You drove across state in this?”

  “Well, yeah.” I answer like that was a stupid question.

  “You’re lucky you survived. This is a death trap on rusty wheels. Seriously I don’t know if it’s even worth putting money into fixing this….this heap. I don’t know if there is anything that could be fixed. Your cables are shot. Rust is leaking out of your battery, something I have never seen. I don’t even know what that was (he points to a big rusty black thing). Looks like it’s held together with duct tape, super glue, and a prayer.”

  I didn’t like hearing Logan say my car is a death trap. That hit too close for home. I felt my body lock up at that comment, but I push down any thoughts and focus on the fact that I have money for a new vehicle. I didn’t want to dip into my savings until I was fully settled. Which I guess I am. I have the money from our apartment I sold, but that was my security blanket. A just in case. It’s only me so I have to be prepared for any and all situations. Looks like I’m in a situation where I need to buy a new vehicle
sooner than later.

  Thankfully my web page is up and running. That brings in even more sales for me. I’m living comfortable, but being alone in life, I know I have nobody to fall back on if anything was to happen. So I need to be prepared for a rainy day, or a stormy month.

  Logan must have seen the mix of emotions running across my face when he makes a decision for me.

  “Come on, I’m heading home. I’ll give you a lift and call Vincent to tow your truck to the garage. Let him take a look at it and give you a price, then you can decide what you want to do.”

  “That’s OK, I can walk back.” Which I really didn’t want to do, but I really didn’t want to be in a truck with Logan.

  Logan scowls at me. Ah, there it is his favorite expression saved just for me. He turns his head, towards the road gives his head a shake and looks right at me, “It’s five miles. You’ll break your ankle in those shoes, and burn to a crisp. That is if the coyotes don’t get you first.”

  I feel the blood run out of my face, I lean into Logan whispering, “Coyotes. There are coyotes here?”

  Logan’s lip twitches as he confirms with a “Yup.”

  “Ride sounds great, thanks.” I grab my bags from my car, including cans of cat food I got in the little market for my new guest.

  Chapter Seven

  Coyotes??

  The ride home is uncomfortably silent. I’m thankful that it will be over soon, but I don’t want to appear any more ungrateful than I already have. That’s not me. From the way Logan keeps shifting and sighing it’s as though he wants to ask me a million and six questions, but is holding himself back. He keeps opening his mouth to say something, then shakes his head slightly and keeps quiet.

  Finally I decide to break the silence. With the air conditioner full force in my face, it has enabled my brain to function (semi) properly. “How old is Cody?” I decide to ask about his son, safe topic (or so I thought).

  Logan looks quickly in my direction and sucks in an audible breath, “He’s six and a half.”

  “He seems really great.” What could I say? He did seem great, cute and happy. This comment causes Logan to turn and pierce me with his narrowed eyed glare.

  What the heck?

  Ok Laura, I chastise myself, change topics. Try one more time to redeem yourself from your bitch status and talk about something. Pep talk number four thousand today works when my mouth opens, “The cottage is really beautiful. Better than I expected. The stream in the back looks so serine. I can’t believe you have a tub, which I used and it was great. I took a bath last night, it felt so amazing to go into the hot water, even though Texas is super hot, after cleaning and unpacking…..” I realize I’m now babbling.

  Sexy- hot- alpha- cowboy- detective who looks like he now really regrets offering me a ride is staring at me. Probably trying to figure out if he quickly opens my door and shoves me out will the coyotes get to me before I can make it back to his ranch.

  Before I can do any more damage with my mouth, thankfully I see the turn off to the ranch up ahead. Almost there…..almost there.

  ***********

  Logan

  I don’t know what to make of her. So far in my thirty four years she is the only woman I met who could piss me off one minute being a bitch and make me chuckle the next.

  Admitting that she was indeed being a bitch is something I never in my life thought I would hear from a woman. Then she looked so lost in her thoughts regarding her truck, which I don’t even think can be sold for parts it’s so rusted. Does she need that truck? Maybe she can’t afford anything else. I don’t know her story, but I intend to find out.

  Her questioning me about Cody caught me by surprise. I think I misjudged the situation. Something isn’t sitting right. Why ask about my son, if she felt the need to pull away quickly when he just held her hand?

  When she was talking about taking a bath I couldn’t help looking at her body. I would have loved to see her in her glory in that tub. That tub wasn’t my idea, I had brought Zoe with me to get her out of the house when I was building the cottage. She told me it was a must for the bathroom. So I listened, and now I’m glad I did. I felt myself getting hard listening to her talk about taking her bath. I think I even may have growled. This woman is an enigma that I surprisingly want to figure out.

  She is beautiful and for some reason she brings out my protective instincts. I don’t know what it is about her, but I think it’s the sorrow that is so blatant in her beautiful green eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  Emergency Contact

  I am dreaming of a phone ringing. After talking to Jenny again, filling her in on my truck not starting (I got an, I told you so, and a thank God it got you there in one piece). Then she filled me in a little on the guy she is “sort of” dating, but still didn’t want to really talk too much about him. Again, I let this go, but next conversation she will be telling me more about this mystery man.

  I stayed in all weekend setting up my jewelry/craft room, and trying not to think of my landlord. The room looks perfect. I even made the rest of the jewelry that was on order and packed it up to ship. Since I didn’t step out of the house for two days, by Sunday night I started to feel cooped up.

  While lying in bed attempting to go to sleep my brain wouldn’t cooperate. It kept replaying numerous happy memories, which in turn made me sad, I decided to take a Tylenol pm to finally help me drift off.

  Finally falling asleep late last night, so late it could have been considered early Monday morning. My tired eyes are barely open, completely unfocused, wondering why won’t that ringing stop?

  I rub my eyes and focus on my alarm clock. It’s 10:45. I grab my cell phone thinking that’s what’s ringing, but it’s not. I sit up in bed. Ring.

  What the fuck?

  I remember seeing a phone in the kitchen, but didn’t even think it was working as I never even picked up the receiver to see if there was a dial tone. Mystery solved… it’s still working.

  I grab it and answer tersely for three reasons. One, whoever is calling obviously didn’t realize that the previous owner had moved which states they are not a good friend, or close family. Two, it could be a wrong number, and they woke me (not that it’s early, but I can hold a grudge if I want to). Three, it could be a telemarketer.

  I was completely wrong. It’s Cody’s school. Why were they calling me? It seems the last tenant was friendly with Logan, and was on the emergency call list for Cody. Logan obviously has not gotten around to having it removed. I wonder if he scowled at her too.

  The woman on the other end of the line seemed flustered, and I mean flustered. I was worried about Cody, a boy I only met twice, but still, there was a reason for this phone call. After the woman on the phone explained that because of a stomach flu that is going around the school most of the staff is out. She was one of the many subs that were called in. Frantically informing me that she has tried to get in touch with Logan a few times at his home number and cell and got nowhere. Finally, she tried this phone, the emergency number. And she got me.

  Caryn (whose name I found out after calming her down because she was that frazzled) told me that Cody was not feeling well and asked to go home. She thinks maybe he is coming down with what everyone else has, but wasn’t entirely sure considering she was just a temp there, and not the real nurse. The school nurse was out sick too. All I knew was that Cody needed to be picked up. Right now.

  Taking care of a sick child is second nature to me, for I have had experience with this from taking care of Ellie. I assured Caryn that I would be there as soon as I could, read: immediately.

  What else could I do? Sure I’m not a relative, wouldn’t even consider myself Logan’s friend. That being said, I sure as hell couldn’t just leave Cody there at the school. Obviously this woman Caryn had too much already on her plate than to take care of Cody the way he should be taken care of, especially if he was getting sick.

  Finding out that the school was only a little less than a mile wal
king distance, and since I didn’t have transportation I realized I would have to walk it. This changes my plans for today. I guess I will have to meet with Maggie and show her my jewelry another day. Not a big deal, a child always comes first in my book.

  I say a silent prayer that Cody can walk back with me, if not I will call a cab from the school. On this thought I was wondering if they have cab’s here. Maybe they picked you up on a stage coach. I chastised myself for that ridiculous thought.

  Throwing my hair up in my go to Texas hairstyle (read: messy bun), I quickly wash my face and brush my teeth. I throw on a tank top and a pair of shorts. Thankfully my Chuck Taylors are never far from me so I slip my feet in them and rush to the school.

  Twenty minutes after receiving the phone call I arrive at the school dripping with sweat and face all red. I was speed walking to get to Cody fast. Thankfully I brought water, and more for the walk home for me and Cody. I am really going to make a great impression looking like this. They may lock Cody in a different room and not let him near me. I stop for a second to catch my breath, take a long cold drink before walking into the school.

  I sign in at the front desk where the man sitting there informed me he was filling in too. I find my way to the office.

  Chaos.

  Seems more than half the staff is out with this germ making its way quickly around the school.

  There are so many kids; little kids that I am afraid it will trigger a panic attack. I quickly remind myself that I can do this. For Cody. Deep breaths. Now while breathing deep, I’m scared I am going to breath in this germ and get sick. Die in the cottage alone and sad. I mentally slap myself, stop thinking and get to the reason I am here. Cody.