The Natural History of Us Page 6

  “What about you?” he finally asked. “What’s your story?”

  I released a pent-up breath. “Is that your final question?”

  He nodded, and I shrugged. I’d already decided against sharing details about my illness, but GBS was the only semi-interesting thing that ever happened to me. “Not much to tell.”

  “Cop out.”

  Justin’s patient, expectant look pinned me to the seat and I sighed in defeat. “Well, I was homeschooled up until this semester,” I said, playing with a loose thread on my skirt. “And before you ask, yes, I miraculously gained an acceptable level of social skills, and no, I didn’t just sit around and watch television all day.”

  I’d lost count how many times I’d answered those questions over the years.

  “My mom taught me, and we spent our days reading books and challenging ideas. I loved it,” I told him honestly. “But this year I was ready for a change.”

  “Were your parents upset?”

  Yes and no. “We’d always planned for me to go to Fairfield for high school,” I said instead, keeping it simple. “Besides, as you’ll see when we get to my house, we still spend plenty of time together. Life on a ranch provides lots of family bonding moments.”

  …And there was the wide-eyed look I was used to.

  “Ranch?”

  “Yup. Five horses, a cow, and a dozen chickens,” I said proudly. “The Texas stereotype personified. We even teach horsemanship and riding classes, do birthday parties and scouting events, fun stuff like that.” Justin looked a bit shell-shocked, so I figured why not bring in the big guns? “Actually, the ranch is also kinda like a dog-version of Disney World.”

  “Disney World,” he repeated, his forehead going all wrinkly. “For dogs?”

  This was where I often lost people. “We run a grooming and boarding business on site, too. That’s actually where I’ve been working ever since—” My eyes widened as I realized what I was about to reveal. “Well, that’s where I’ve been helping the most lately.”

  The expression on Justin’s face said he wanted to ask, that he knew I’d left something out from my story. Luckily, before he found the words, Rosalyn stopped at the callbox.

  “Enter nine twenty-eight,” I told her, watching eagerly as she input the code. The gate swung open, she drove ahead, and I turned my attention back to Justin.

  I loved seeing people’s reactions the first time they saw the ranch. Our life here was far from typical; while people seemed to believe all Texans ate hayseed and raised cattle, the truth was that most have never even stepped foot on a ranch, much less been on a horse. But this was all I’d ever known.

  Our house sat on fifteen acres, a private oasis just a few miles from your standard cookie-cutter neighborhood. When I was younger, I used to visit friends for playdates and get jealous over how close their neighbors were. Mom had me in lessons and homeschool co-ops, and kids were always coming in and out of the ranch, but I never knew the ease of having someone to play with who lived just a few feet away.

  On the flip side, they never knew what it was like to wake up and have horses a few feet away. They didn’t have acres and acres to run around on and hidden areas to create pretend kingdoms. They didn’t have trees to climb, land to explore, and animals to love and spoil. As soon as I was old enough to realize my friends were all jealous of me, I learned to appreciate this place that much more.

  Rosalyn stopped at the top of the path, in front of the main house, and Cade turned to watch from the paddock.

  Justin shook his head. “It’s like we just traveled back to the Old West.”

  I laughed before elbowing him in the ribs. “Wanna meet Annie Oakley?”

  JUSTIN

  SWEET SERENITY RANCH 5:25 P.M.

  “You seriously named your horse Annie Oakley?”

  “Yup,” Peyton said. “After the toughest chick in the Old West.” She cleared her throat and glanced up front through the windshield, then clutched the pendant around her neck as she asked again, “Want to come meet her?”

  The look Rosalyn gave me in the rearview mirror clearly read, say yes.

  Here’s the thing: Sunshine was dangerous. Case in point, that little game of hers in the car. Not only did she get me to play along, but when she slid me that sweet smile and asked about my writing, it was like I physically couldn’t deny her—and I’d gotten damn good at refusing girls.

  No one knew about my writing. There was no point. The poetry and lyrics that filled my notebooks wouldn’t ever amount to anything, but like she’d said, it calmed me down. Helped clear my head of the white noise. And whenever I found the perfect word to describe how I felt, it was incredible. Not that I’d admit that to anyone. But for some reason, Peyton knowing about it wasn’t so bad. In fact, I kind of liked it. Which was exactly why she was so dangerous.

  When I didn’t respond right away, Rosalyn did it for me. “I just remembered I have an errand to run. It’s no problem to swing back by in an hour if you want.”

  Did I want?

  When it came to Peyton, the answer was yes, regardless of the question.

  The issue was more if I should.

  This couldn’t go anywhere. Sunshine had to know that as much as I did. We were two different people, wanting two completely different things. She may’ve said she didn’t do relationships, but she didn’t strike me as the laid-back, casual hookup type either. Yet despite that, I couldn’t deny the pull she had on me. Just being around her made me feel good, and obviously, she must’ve felt the same way if she wanted me to hang around.

  It’d be dumb to deny ourselves something we both wanted, right?

  Cracking my knuckles, I swung my gaze from my housekeeper’s silent urging to Peyton’s quiet hoping and finally admitted defeat. As if I’d ever stood a chance anyway.

  “Sounds good,” I replied. I hoped like hell I knew what I was doing.

  We got out of the SUV and the moment I shut the door behind me, Peyton took my hand. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and a low vibrating hum came from her throat, but she laced her thin fingers between mine, and I swallowed hard.

  Confidence in a girl was always hot, but watching this shy, almost awkward beauty taking charge was even hotter. I grazed my thumb over the smooth skin of her wrist and electricity shot up my arm.

  I was so screwed.

  Rosalyn honked her horn as she pulled away, and I could’ve sworn I saw her laughing. After the red taillights faded down the long strip of driveway, I turned to Peyton. “Guess I’m all yours.”

  That cute blush that shouted “innocent,” and “not for you,” crept up her cheeks as she bit her pink bottom lip. She looked at me through thick lashes and asked, “Ever ridden a horse before?”

  “Uh, no.” I glanced at the barn in the distance and imagined the beating my junk would take on the back of a horse. Wincing, I added, “That would be an emphatic no. And, no offense, but I’ve got no plans on changing that, either.”

  A smirk tilted her lips as she said, “We’ll see about that.” I grumbled, loving the smile but hating the reason for it, and she tugged on my hand. “Come on, City Slicker, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  Whoa now… everyone? Digging the heels of my sneakers into the soft dirt, I asked the obvious. “Who’s everyone?”

  “Oh, Mama,” she said offhand, like meeting a girl’s mom was no big deal. News flash? It totally was. “Cade and Faith. Trevor’s probably around here, too.”

  As she tugged me toward a smaller-sized version of the main house, I glanced longingly at the driveway. Rosalyn was long gone, and Peyton’s small hand was in mine, so I guess I didn’t really have a choice. But, for the record, I’d signed on to meet a horse.

  “All right then,” I said, resuming walking. How hard could it be? “Give me a quick rundown then. Who the hell are all those other people you mentioned, and are any of them relatives?”

  See, sisters were easy. All I had to do was smile, say their hair looked good or some shit about
their clothes, and they were putty in my hand. Younger brothers just had to hear I played ball and that was usually enough. It was older brothers, male cousins, and—God forbid—fathers that were a different story. They tended to take one glance at me and get suspicious and overprotective. Not that I could blame them.

  Still, it was best to be prepared.

  “Faith is my best friend,” Peyton replied. “She goes to Fairfield High and is pretty much my complete and total opposite. But she’s my rock. She’s also an amazing dancer and has her own YouTube channel with an insane amount of subscribers.” From the look on her face, you would think it was Peyton’s channel.

  “Cade’s been around forever,” she continued. “His family owns a ranch on the other end of town, which is where he goes to school, but he works here two to three days a week. He’s great with the horses and helps me teach a lot of the lessons.”

  In other words, Cade had the hots for Peyton, had somehow gotten himself friend-zoned, and was patiently biding his time. Got it.

  “And Trevor...” She laughed, stopping just short of the staircase leading to the house. “Well, Trevor is an original. He’s brilliant—like literally brilliant. He’s also a golf prodigy and one of the top ranked junior golfers in Golfweek Magazine.”

  At the pride in her voice, I suddenly felt like a dumbass.

  How did this girl have me so turned around? I watched for her in the halls like a lovesick jackass, played back our one conversation at tryouts for hidden clues, and she had a boyfriend? I’d known she was the relationship type. Obviously she’d just been blowing smoke when she said otherwise in the car. What I couldn’t figure out was what the hell she was doing with me.

  “Unfortunately, he’s terrified of the horses,” she continued with a shrug. “So he spends most of his time in the doghouse.”

  A shocked laugh expelled from my lungs. Well, all right then. Not only did Sunshine have a man, but she obviously wore the pants in their weird, Old West style relationship. Seriously, who was this girl?

  Releasing her hand, I stepped back, confused even more when she frowned. “Not that it’s any of my business, but if horses mean that much to you, why even date him?”

  The blue-gray eyes formerly focused on my hand shot to mine. “Date who? Trevor?”

  I lifted a shoulder to say, “well, yeah,” and she asked, “Why on earth would I date Trevor?”

  Now I was… well, whatever the hell emotion came after confused.

  Hadn’t she just been bragging on the dude, going on about how brilliant and famous he was? To me, that was a pretty damn big clue. If she wasn’t dating him, then why show off?

  Scrubbing a hand across my face, I tried again. “Okay, so if this Trevor guy’s not your boyfriend, then why the hell is he in the doghouse?”

  The squiggle on her forehead faded as my words sank in, and then, she began to laugh.

  I’m talking total, full on belly-laughter, hand slapped across the mouth and tears springing to her eyes. Normally, a chick laughing at me would equal sayonara with a quickness. But Peyton’s laugh was so free, so freaking happy, that I couldn’t help but join in. Even though I had no clue what we were laughing at.

  “God, I’ve gotta remember to tell Mama that one.” She wiped under her eyes and smiled as she took my hand again. Did it make me a total pussy to admit that I liked her need to keep touching me? “Sorry, Justin, I guess I should explain. This is the doghouse.”

  She lifted her chin, indicating the house behind me, a standard, modest-sized home you’d find in most neighborhoods. I glanced from it to her. “Huh?”

  “This is our boarding and grooming business.”

  This girl lived to confound me. “So you’re saying this whole house is for dogs?”

  “Pretty much,” she confirmed, still laughing at herself. “Weird, right? We have eighteen rooms—suites as we call them. There’s a master, you know, for humans, but I don’t think Mama’s ever made Dad sleep in it. And if she has, I really don’t want to know about it. It’s more for emergencies or if we get really, really busy.”

  I nodded, because what else was I going to do? A house for dogs. Sure. Why not?

  Following as she pulled on my hand, half-feeling like I’d entered some sort of bizarre, altered universe, I climbed the first weather-beaten step. The wide porch was just as worn, the light gray paint on the landing cracked and peeling in spots. But small touches, like potted plants and even a double swing, made me feel welcome. Comfortable.

  And it was for dogs.

  Peyton stopped short on the landing, hair blowing in the wind. “Please tell me you’re not allergic.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and freed the strand stuck to her mouth, and while I tucked it behind her ear, her gaze collided with mine. “Allergic to meeting moms, yes.” I swallowed hard as I slid my finger across her silken skin. “Allergic to dogs, no.”

  Cheeks pink, she ducked her head away, though I caught the edge of her smile. “Dork.”

  I chuckled quietly and waved her ahead. Peyton threw open the screen door and a second later, I followed…

  And entered the “Dog Zone.”

  Statues of basset hounds stood guard on either end of the door. Paintings of Dalmatians in top hats and fedoras playing cards lined two of the walls, dog treats, food, and toys were on display in every corner and crevice, and, I kid you not, “Who Let the Dogs Out” was playing overhead.

  The entire back wall consisted of two large whiteboards filled with different colored ink. A calendar of sorts showed who was checking in and who was checking out and listed a detailed schedule of grooming, training, and play times.

  Behind a makeshift desk, not really more than a fold out table really, sat a girl with her gaze glued to a laptop. Tufts of bleached-white hair curled out from beneath a turquoise cowboy hat, and her black studded T-shirt read, “Get in Line, Bub.”

  “I’m almost done,” she said, not shifting her eyes from the screen. “The cutest Pomeranian came in for a grooming today and the owner let me video her. I’m making it look like she’s shaking it to Taylor Swift.”

  Peyton bit her lip and glanced at me with an unreadable expression. “Uh, Faith, can that maybe wait a second?”

  Click, click. The girl continued typing, but heaved a dramatic sigh. “Geez, where’s the fire? Something happen at school? Another failed run-in with Baseball Stud?”

  Peyton choked and sputtered beside me, but Faith continued despite her distress. “I already told you what you have to do. Find out whichever locker is his, stake it out, and when that Diamond Doll floozie leaves his side, offer to be his bat girl instead.”

  She giggled as she said it, wiggling her eyebrows for innuendo, and Peyton’s face blazed five shades of red. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face if someone paid me to.

  As Peyton’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, I leaned close to her ear, inhaling the intoxicating scent of sunflowers, and murmured, “I’d love it if you did that.”

  My low voice must’ve carried because the clacking stopped and Faith suddenly lifted her head. When her dark eyes met mine, they widened like saucers. “Holy crap!”

  Time to turn on the charm.

  Best friends are vital when you’re into a girl. Knowing that, I put on the crooked smile known to make girls loopy and said, “Hi, I’m Justin.” Then, unable to help myself, I shot Peyton a sly grin and added, “Or, as someone people like to call me, Baseball Stud.”

  Peyton’s eyes narrowed as she fought back a smile, and I gave her an innocent look in return. Faith watched our interaction with ever-growing delight before sending Peyton a nod of endorsement. “I completely approve.”

  “Oh, no. We’re not… It’s not…” Peyton lifted her hands in the air to explain, realizing as she did so that she was still clutching one of mine. She dropped it like a hot potato. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Faith snickered. “Sure it’s not.”

  Amused, I watched as Peyton smashed her
lips into a hard, thin line, which only caused her friend to smirk more. The two entered that silent communication thing girls do where they hold an entire conversation in nothing but eyebrow lifts and facial expressions. After a few moments, Faith winked, Peyton exhaled, and then, they both glanced at me.

  “Anyway,” Peyton said, her smile at once embarrassed and exasperated. It was adorable as hell. “I thought I’d give Justin a quick tour of the place. Is Mama in the back?”

  “She’s in the salon with Buster.” Faith tipped the rim of her rhinestone cowboy hat up with a pointer finger, sizing me up one final time. “My girl was right about one thing, though. You are pure eye candy.” She shot me a playful wink as Peyton gaped beside me. Oh, this girl was fun. “You know, if you read the top ten fashion trends of the season, my views would go through the roof!”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “My apologies, but the only video I do is game tape.”

  Grinning, she took that in stride and said, “Let me know if you change your mind.” Then she blew Peyton a kiss and went back to her work.

  When I turned to face Peyton again, I expected her to be red-faced. Embarrassed that her friend spilled so much, worried that I was going to use it against her. But she wasn’t. If anything, she appeared more confident than I’d ever seen her, shoulders back and a serene expression on her face that seemed to say, “oh well, whatcha gonna do?”

  “Come back and say hello with me?”

  Saying yes meant meeting her mom. Willfully doing that was the stress-ball equivalent of suggesting Coach let me squat behind the plate without a mitt. But, as I’d already established, logic flew straight out the window when I was around this girl. Especially when she looked at me like I was the answer to every question ever asked.

  With Peyton, there were no games. No hiding her emotions. She wore them openly like a sign for everyone to see, for me to see, and for some reason, it made me want to be near her that much more. Unfortunately for me, it also made disappointing her impossible. Forcing a smile, I nodded and motioned for her to lead on.