This was new to Mia—knowing that someone was standing with her, that she didn’t have to face this by herself. “I’m not used to this—being close to someone like this, trustingthem.”
“I know.” He kissed herforehead.
For a moment, a long stretch of seconds, he held her, his skin warm, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. Then he let her go, walked to the shower, and started the water. “Is the tempgood?”
She reached in, felt the spray. “Perfect.”
They stepped into the shower together, taking turns washing each other, Joaquin’s touch more tender thanerotic.
Afterward, they dried off, and Joaquin helped her put on fresh bandages using the gauze and medical tape the nurse had given them. Then they dressed together, Mia pulling on another pair of yoga pants with a pastel blue top and a gray fleece vest, while Joaquin slipped into jeans and a blackturtleneck.
Joaquin left the bedroom and built a fire in the woodstove, while Mia made the bed and tried to straighten out her own emotions. “I think I saw some potatoes in the pantry,” he called to her. “How does scrambled eggs, home fries, and coffeesound?”
Mia’s stomach growled. “Delicious.”
* * *
Joaquin triedto keep the conversation light during breakfast. He’d known that all of this would catch up with Mia eventually. She was strong, but even the strongest person wouldn’t be emotionally immune to someone trying to killthem.
As they were cleaning up, Mia’s parents called. Joaquin finished the dishes, listening to her side of the conversation. What he heard made him want to take the phone and tell her parents to go fuckthemselves.
“No, it’s not like that. He and I are not living together. I met Joaquin through his work. He’s a photojournalist. Yes, Dad, that’s a real job. He’s a Pulitzer Prize winner. The Pulitzer Prize?” Mia looked over at Joaquin, annoyance and disbelief on her face. “It’s pretty much the biggest honor a news photographer in the United States can receive. It means he’s among thebest.”
From what Joaquin could tell, neither of them had asked Mia how she was doing or expressed concern for hersafety.
“No, no, we’re not going through that again. There’s a man out there who wants to kill me, and all you have to say is that I should’ve gotten married? Joaquin? Yes, he is—Mexican American. I don’t know—Catholic, I suppose. I haven’t asked. Good God, Mom! No, he’s not here illegally. His family has lived in Colorado since before it was a state. You know what? I have to go now. I have to go.Bye.”
She ended the call. “They drive me crazy. My dad said that I had no business going to college or joining ROTC and that I ought to have stayed home and gotten married instead. My mom wanted to know whether you’re a US citizen, where you go to church, and whether you and I are sleepingtogether.”
Pendejos.
“You should’ve said yes.” Joaquin didn’t mean it, of course. He was just pissed. He raised his voice and held an imaginary phone to his ear, pretending to be Mia. “‘Yes, Mom, we’re sleeping together—and last night I cametwice.’”
Mia gaped at him—and burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s what I’ll do nexttime.”
Joaquin walked over to Mia, rested his hands on her hips. “How about I give Jack a call and ask about the two of us going to see the horses. Would you likethat?”
Her face lit up. “Would we be getting in theway?”
“Getting in the way?” Joaquin handed her the receiver for the landline and punched the button that saidRanch House. “Why don’t you askJack?”
Joaquin was putting her on the spot, he knew, but she still didn’t get how things worked at theCimarron.
“Hi, Janet. It’s Mia. Good, thank you. Is Jack there?” Mia gave Joaquin an exasperated look, obviously uncomfortable about asking Jack for anything. “Jack, hi. It’s Mia. Joaquin and I thought it might be nice to see the horses, but I don’t want to bother you or get in yourway.”
An amused smile came over her face. “Okay. Thank you, sir. See yousoon.”
“What did hesay?”
“He said, ‘It’s about damned time you asked.’ He’ll be here to get us in twentyminutes.”
They put on warmer layers and were ready to go by the time Jack got there in his big extended cab pickup. On the drive down the mountain to the barns, he shared the history of the ranch’s success breeding quarterhorses.
“How do you know what a foal will look like?” Mia had noidea.
“You look at the dam—the mare. To some degree, it’s genetic roulette, but that’s what makes it interesting. Still, a champion mare and a stud with a long line of breeding successes like our Chinook are more than likely going to produce worthyoffspring.”
Jack parked behind the house and walked with them to the barn, joined by Nate and Megan’s seven-year-old daughter Emily, who wore jeans, little cowboy boots, and a pink cowgirl hat, a sparkly butterfly painted on one littlecheek.