Page 34 of For Cowgirls and Kings

Otherwise I’m getting kidnapped, and instead of running, I’m staring at the guy expectantly.

“Mija, who is it?” My mother’s words snap me out of my confusion once more and I clear my throat.

“Can I help you?” He eyes me again, and then reaches behind his back to a box I didn’t see sitting on the railing. He tips his head towards the box and I hesitantly take it.

What if it’s a bomb?

I know nothing about Mateo’s lifestyle, but if anyone was involved in Mafia style shit, it would be his family. They’re wealthy enough, and his sister is beyond shady.

“What is it?”

“A gift from Mr. Reyes. Merry Christmas Ms. Mendes.” He turns on his heel, stalking away. It’s not especially cool in December in Texas, but without the man’s hulking frame blocking me from the breeze, I shiver from the chill in the air. I step back inside, closing the door holding the box to my chest.

“Adalene Maria, who was that? I will not be ignored.” Tut mewls from his spot on the couch, seeming to state the same sentiment.

I know I should set the present down and get back to the phone call with my mother. It’s not only the right thing to do, but the safe thing.

But I’ve always been a sucker for presents—more like obsessed with them.And I haven’t gotten one in so many years I’ve forgotten the thrill of holding one—opening one to discover what’s inside.

So even though it’s wrong and rude, I set the phone down and put it on speaker. “Hold on, Mama, I have to set this down. It was a gift from Mateo, delivered by one of his men.” Maybe I should lie, but I’m too distracted.

Why hadn’t he said anything when he called?

I stare down at the package, long and skinny—too large to be jewelry, but shaped like a jewelry box all the same—wrapped in the prettiest purple wrapping paper, with gold ribbon and two small, crystal gold snowflakes tied into the ribbons. Ornaments or window crystals that’ll no doubt glitter beautifully in thesunshine. I trace them tenderly, caught off guard by the sweet gesture, and their beauty.

Pulling the ribbon, I barely notice my mother’s rambling in the background. I carefully pull off the tape and unfold the paper, hopeful I can reuse it for something. I’ll have to ask Mateo where he found it, as it is the prettiest paper I’ve ever seen.

Who am I kidding—he probably had someone else pick it out. But still.

Underneath is a black, silken box and I lift the lid. Only to slam it shut with a squeal and toss it away.

“Adalena Maria! This is entirely inappropriate.” I pick up the phone, hoping she can’t hear how shaky and breathless I feel.Or how true her words really are.

“I’m sorry, Mama. Tell me, what are you and Papa doing today? How’s the family?”

My mother begins her normal recap, her voice drowning on and on, sharp jabs stabbing through frequently. But I barely feel their prick.

Not as my eyes remained glued to the open box laying across the room, the top several inches away, its large, black, silicon contents laying on the floor next to it.

A dildo. He got me a fucking dildo.

And a huge one at that—both in length and girth. It’s easily the largest one I now possess, and the largest thing I’ve ever even considered putting in my body. And Iwantto put it in my body.

Partly because the veins and bumps peppering the surface look like they’ll hit all the right places, partly because I want to know how being that full will make me feel, and partly because Mateo is the one who sent it to me.

Why? Why would he send me a dildo?

I look around on the floor for acard or note—anything to add context to the gift, my mother’s harsh rambling still piercing through the phone.

Tut begins rifling through the paper, his paws swatting at the glittering crystals still tied to the gold ribbon, and that’s when I spot the small golden card lying within the box. Scooting across the floor, still afraid to touch the giant dildo now laying only centimeters from my shaking hand, I pull the note out, opening it up to silently read the words.

Over and over and over.

Because they don’t make sense. And because I want them to mean more than they surely do.

THIRTEEN

ADALENE