“To jog. And ride horses. And stuff. I need a private place to work out.” Her mother had never worked out a day in her life. In fact, the most physical exercise her mother had ever engaged in involved bumps and grinds… or pounding a mattress under some man’s body.
“You came to the Triple L Ranch to get rid of your cottage cheese… uh, cellulite? In two weeks?”
Her mother nodded enthusiastically.
“I do a great massage for pounding out those ripples,” Dirk boasted.
“And I bought about two hundred dollars worth of cellulite removal cream,” her mother added.
“Mebbe I’ll work out with you,” Tante Lulu mused, a forefinger pressed thoughtfully to her lips. “I’ve been noticin’ a little cellulite on my hiney of late. Truth to tell, my buns looks like they have about a thousand dimples. Like golf balls.”
That is not a picture I need in my mind. And I’ve got news for you, Auntie. You lost your hiney about twenty years ago. Charmaine began to laugh hysterically. Turns out the Triple L was being turned into a spa of sorts, no matter what Rusty wanted. She couldn’t wait to tell him.
Misery, Part II…
Charmaine tracked Rusty down that afternoon, despite his best efforts to avoid her. It wasn’t that she wanted to have anything to do with the stubborn mule, but she had some things to tell him that couldn’t wait.
She was still wearing her push-up bra, but that was just because she’d forgotten to take it off. At least consciously. She’d already dropped her plan to torture him with her sexual appeal. He probably wouldn’t notice her sexual appeal, anyhow, in the haze of anger he’d chosen to cloak himself in.
She walked to the back of the barn, where Clarence had told her she would find him. He had a horse’s hoof resting against his thigh and was scraping some yucky stuff out with a metal tool… probably poop or dried mud. Yeech!
The second he raised his head and watched her approach, she realized her mistake. He for damn sure did notice her sexual appeal, as evidenced by his gaze instantly riveted on her chest. She smiled inwardly with pathetic satisfaction and said, “I need to talk to you, Rusty.”
“Go away,” he said. “I warned you before. Stay… away… from… me.”
Charmaine gave Rusty a closer study then. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot. There were dark circles under his eyes. Day-old whiskers darkened his cheeks and chin.
“You look awful,” she blurted out.
“Thanks. You, on the other hand, look sensational. What’s with the push-up action?”
For sure, I got his attention. “Were you out on a bender last night?”
“Nope. Should have been, though, ’cause I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
Oh, Rusty. Why was it that a guy could be the biggest creep in the world, but tell a gal that she caused him to lose sleep, and her heart melted with sympathy? Well, she couldn’t let him distract her from her mission. “I need to tell you a few things.”
He turned his back on her and continued to work on the horse’s hoof.
“My mother has come for a visit. I just thought you should know.”
“Who else would travel in an aluminum foil box on wheels, except your ditzy mother?”
Okay, so he already knows Fleur is here. Is that any reason to be such a jerk? Yeah, I consider my mother a ditz, too, but it sounds different when he says it. Probably he puts me in the same class.
“She brought her boyfriend with her. Dirk Denney.”
That got his attention. He straightened, then turned slowly to look at her, carefully keeping his eye contact above her neck. “Dirk? Please don’t tell me—”
“No, he’s not an X-rated actor. He’s a personal trainer.”
“And you’re telling me all this… why?”
“Because I don’t want you to think it’s part of my plan.”
He put his tool down on a bench, then washed his hands in a bucket of water, drying them on his pant legs. Leaning against a support beam, he asked real soft, “What plan would that be?”
He was stubborn as a cross-eyed mule. He looked hung-over from lack of sleep. He wore nothing spectacular… just a plain black T-shirt, faded jeans and scuffed boots. But, mercy, he was absolutely gorgeous. A devastatingly fine specimen of manhood. Temptation pure and simple.