Page 27 of Something Tangled Something True (Rosa Ranch #1)

NUTTIER THAN A SQUIRREL TURD

I’ve made it a point to call at least five dance studios of any genre within fifty miles of the ranch each morning to kick off my day.

They’ve all led to absolutely nothing, but I’m putting my best foot forward and committing to sticking around while accomplishing my dreams. None of that dulls the ache in my chest at the realization that I’ve been here for a month and have absolutely zero prospects and haven’t felt well enough to start the renovations on the barn.

Sure, I’ve been helping on the ranch as much as possible, mostly feeding the cattle because their big brown eyes make me smile, and I’m not at any real risk of injury, but I fully intend to carry my weight around here once I’m physically able.

I refuse to sit around and wait for life to hand me something when I could grab it by the balls and do something meaningful.

Other than the quiet nights in with Ryder and family dinners at the main house, the best part of each day has been spending my afternoons with Mayte and Isabela.

Mayte laughs beside me as we stroll through the quiet town. The storefronts are all small businesses owned by locals I’ve known my whole life, large window displays with an awning covering the walkway shielding us from the blinding spring sun.

Caitlyn, the owner of Bake My Day Bakery, pops the door of her shop open, sticking her head out and waving at us.

“Hi, ladies! Care for a chocolate chip cookie? They’re fresh!

” she says in that sing-song voice of hers, her curly strawberry-blonde strands piled on top of her head fluttering in the wind.

“I’ll never say no to one of your famous cookies,” I tell her, hurrying to the door to grab the two she has wrapped in brown napkins for us. “Thank you so much.”

She waves me off. “Consider it a welcome home treat,” she says with a wink, letting the glass door close behind her as she makes her way back behind the counter.

The sweet smell of brown sugar, vanilla, and dark chocolate chips envelops me, my mouth watering as I take a bite of the warm, gooey cookie after passing one to Mayte, who’s outwardly moaning beside me.

Her head is thrown back, eyes rolling with her theatrics.

I smack her shoulder, unable to contain the laughter bubbling out of me. “Cut it out. You’re embarrassing.”

“I’m just enjoying the little things, Lols. I’m a single mom. A warm cookie that isn’t a hockey puck by the time I get around to eating it is my version of an orgasm.”

My heart lurches at her words, guilt gnawing at my gut for not being around to help her more. She narrows her gaze on me, brows pinching as she says, “Whatever you’re thinking that has you looking all mopey, stop it before I pull my chancla off and whack you with it.”

I put my hands up in surrender, chuckling as she steals the other half of my cookie, sucking the chocolate off her fingers after finishing it off.

“Now, tell me more about these dance lessons Ryder plans to take you to,” Mayte says, her brows bouncing with mischief as she returns to the conversation we were having before making a pit stop for baked goods. “Dale, suéltalo ya.”

“I honestly don’t know much as far as details go. He didn’t even tell me what kind of dance lessons these are, but that he realized how much I’ve missed being in a class setting, even if I’m not teaching, confuses me.”

“Confused how?” she asks, a dark brow raised.

“He has always been the sweetest, but I hadn’t been expecting him to take dance lessons with me too,” I admit.

“It’s easily in the top five kindest things anyone has ever done for me, and I’m unreasonably excited about it, but it feels like”—I stop to peer around, ensuring no one is within earshot of what I’m about to say before I go incriminating myself—“he’s leaning into this marriage more than I’m ready for him to. ”

“I get that it’s scary to let someone else take care of you, Lols, but it’s Ryder.

That man has only ever had eyes for you,” she says, and before I can protest that he was literally married before me, she cuts me off, slicing through the tension with her excitement.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it! I bet it’ll be super sexy.

God, that man is like a nice, smooth whiskey, aged just right and with so much more flavor each year. ”

“Haven’t you always said he’s like a brother to you?” I tease with an arched brow.

“Hey, I have two working eyes, Lola.”

“I can’t argue with that.” We giggle like schoolgirls, and the fact that I’m living so close to my best friend that we can have these talks in person and not over the phone has me bursting at the seams with gratitude.

I miss Karmella and Yanet, but our friendship was never the same as mine and Mayte’s.

If I have to leave her again, it might just kill me.

The sound of chimes is quickly followed by a door swinging out in front of us, nearly knocking into Isabela in her stroller.

“What the hell?” Mayte says, our laughter cut off.

Lemmon barrels out of the store, her arms full of bags from various boutiques. A redheaded woman and a brunette trail behind her, stopping abruptly to turn and face us. Their wide eyes shift to what I believe is supposed to be a glare, but it looks more like they’re squinting at us.

If it weren’t for Lemmon’s cold blue eyes snapping to me, full of hatred, I might laugh at the absurdity.

She scowls, and it sends a shiver down my spine that makes me want to crawl out of my skin, but I hold my head high, refusing to back down to someone who doesn’t deserve my fear, nor my respect.

“You,” she seethes between gritted, glittering white teeth smeared in her classic cherry-red lipstick.

I knew she’d be a problem, but I hadn’t thought she’d go off the rails like this, confronting me in town looking like a rabid animal. I’d really hoped to avoid any in-person encounters with her since that day at the fair.

“You good-for-nothing little skank! You think you can come into my town and steal my man?” The exaggerated accent really does make her sound like she walked off the set of Hart of Dixie . She sounds ridiculous.

I roll my eyes, working to calm my breathing and appear unfazed by her behavior. “I didn’t steal your man, Lemmon. You and Ryder have been divorced for over a year now. Let it go .”

“He and I have history. We’re merely taking a break. Unlike you,” she says, piercing me with another deadly look. “You didn’t bother letting the ink dry on all those refunds for your wedding before you ran back here crying for Ryder to save you, like always.”

“Lemmon, give it a rest. You’re acting like a villain in a poorly written soap opera,” I chide.

“Oh, I’m the villain? Seems to me you broke up with some poor man, left him heartbroken at the altar, only to arrive back in town, steal another woman’s husband, and why? That’s the real question here, Lola. You weren’t there for him when he needed you, so why now? There must be a reason.”

My jaw clenches as I resist the urge to flinch at her words. Does she know? How could she possibly be aware we got married for health insurance? I’m being paranoid. Yeah, well, insurance fraud will do that to a person.

I refuse to let her know she’s riling me up, so I keep my tone even when I answer her. “We’re not doing this. Not now, not ever. You aren’t worth my time, and what you think of me has absolutely no impact on me.”

“Oh, but it will,” she seethes. “You think the people of this town are going to take your stupid little dance lessons, if you ever even manage to teach again? Certainly not when the mayor’s daughter suggests they’d better not .” She sticks out her hip, sizing me up.

Mayte’s laugh bursts between us. “You have lost your goddamn mind. You’re named after a fucking fruit, for crying out loud.

That poor man left you because you made him unhappy, because you, at your core, are an unhappy, evil little slimeball.

Your daddy isn’t your pawn either; he’s a decent man, and it’s a real wonder you turned out the way you did.

Your mother leaving when you were a kid must’ve done a number on you.

” Mayte’s words are laced with venom, and for her final blow, she adds, “Move on with your life like Ryder has, Lemmon! And get the fuck out of our way. It’s Isabela’s lunchtime. ”

She rams the stroller into Lemmon’s leg, careful to draw back immediately to avoid Lemmon landing on Isabela. She hauls ass past her, Lemmon on the sidewalk, clutching her leg to her chest. “You’ll pay for this!” she screeches in a voice so shrill it nearly pierces my eardrums.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, puta ,” Mayte calls over her shoulder, waving her off as we pass.

We hear her cursing at her “friends” to hurry up and help her, but I don’t bother looking back to see how bad the damage is.

“You good?” she asks me, her voice hushed as we continue to the parking lot.

“Yeah, my heart’s in my damn ass, but I’m good,” I mutter.

“Good,” she says, moving on as if I'm not shaking like a leaf from that encounter. “So, speaking of exes who deserve to be locked up, has Fussy Russy tried contacting you?”

I shake my head. “No, he hasn’t…”

“And? There’s clearly something you’re leaving out.” She pressures me to continue.

“I should be happy he isn’t trying to reach me, but it’s so out of character for him.

It makes me feel really unsteady because he’s someone who acts on emotions, most of them being volatile and impulsive.

The silence makes me worry he’s planning something, but then I remember this isn’t some movie, and I’m probably being paranoid. ”

“You were with that man for entirely too many years. You know him well enough to trust your gut. Keep an eye out for anything strange, and please tell someone if you notice something. There’s no fault in being abundantly cautious, especially with a man like that. Ryder will always protect you, Lola.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I usually am,” she says with a smirk. What had I said about her being insufferable when she’s right?

I give her an eye roll and head toward the parking lot where we left her truck.

I clip Isabela into her car seat while Mayte gets her stroller and our bags in the back. My pocket vibrates with a text as we peel out of the parking space.

My brows pinch as I read the message, and, of course, Mayte notices. “What’s up?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, just got a message from an unknown number. It’s probably spam.”

Unknown

How’s life?

It’s such a benign message, and yet, it still manages to make my skin crawl with dread.

You’re just being paranoid, Lola.

The motto of the day, and, God, I hope it’s true.