Wrangled Mess (2 page)

“Too bad. I was hoping you’d call with some lame story about the piglet just to hear my voice.” He sounds relaxed. Is that The Doobie Brothers in the background? There’s something about a man that likes classic rock that comforts me. Strange.

I blushed, despite being alone, “The idea crossed my mind.”

“Good. How is the little guy?”

“Good. I had to take him outside to run some energy off because he kept crashing into my walls. I guess I need to invest in some throw rugs he can’t use as sleds.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Sleeping on my lap. I was trying to watch a movie, but he was more entertaining. You know he fell in the pool twice??”

There’s that low chuckle again, “He’ll smarten up as he gets older. I had a couple growing up. You said earlier you work from home? Did you mean the catering business? Or do you do something else?”

“You sound like you already know the answer to that question.”

“I’d rather hear it from you Cookie.”

“Celeste.” I corrected. “Dr. Celeste Skye, and before you laugh at the name, my mother is to blame.” It’s an old rhyme my sister and I came up with years ago. If he laughs I’ll know he’s a fellow nerd deep down.

“I prefer Cookie. Are you a doctor of poetry my funny little Cookie?” Yup, he’s a nerd. Great. Now I’m crushing on him.

“No, that’s the only poem I’ve ever written, and even that masterpiece took the help of my sister Aurora.”

“If you tell me her middle name is Borealis I’m going to have to ask where to get the weed your mom smokes.”

I laughed hard enough to disturb Bits. He settled back down when I did. “Sorry Bits.” I rubbed his back and scratched his ears. “Actually it’s Bee, because mom couldn’t spell Borealis.”

“What’s your middle name?”

“Are you ready for this?”

“Not until you opened the door this morning.”

“What?”

“Your middle name. What is it?”

“Oh, it’s Summer.”

“Celeste Summer Skye?”

“Actually it’s Celestial Summer Skye. I changed it to Celeste when I was about ten, it’s a lot easier to say.”

“Hm. I like it. My mother will too. She likes all that spiritual sky stuff.”

“You talk like I’m going to meet her.”

“You will, eventually. Ow, shit.” He sounded like he was sucking on his thumb.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging drywall.”

“Why are you hanging drywall?”

“Because the walls are bare.”

“Ha ha.
Where
are you hanging drywall on bare walls?”

“My house. I bought it to fix up and flip for some extra cash to buy a bigger building for my company. We need a larger interior space, at least three hundred more square feet, and a good acre of land. Right now I have about a third of that.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.”

“Seemed that way at the time. Back to our previous topic, do you operate the radio show from your house there? Or do you go to an office?”

“I converted a guest room and den into a studio. The den is the sound room for my crew. The guest room is my where I put my office and studio.”

“Is your house one of the models?”

“It is. I’m not very good with decorating, so when they offered me a deal on a furnished model, I bought the whole shebang.”

“Shebang? Is that a real word?”

“I have no idea.” I can’t believe we’re having a real conversation!!! This is so cool!! What am I fifteen?? Maybe, for just one night…

“What hours do you lock yourself away in the studio?”

“Noon to four, Monday through Friday.”

“Oh good, we can do breakfast. I’ll cook. Eight sound good?”

Huh? What? “Breakfast?”

“Yeah, you know, the food you eat first thing in the morning. Derived from the words break and fast.”

“I know what it means you goofball.” I laughed interrupting him.

“Eight it is.”

“No, wait. Wrangler, I’m seeing someone.”

The line went quiet long enough I thought he’d disconnected.

“Wrangler?”

“I’m here. How serious is it?”

“I, uh… wasn’t prepared to answer that question tonight.”

“Be prepared to answer it in the morning. I’ll be there at eight. Good night Cookie.” He disconnected this time, hanging up on me.

Being hung up on should have made me mad, but instead I found myself more bothered by the way the conversation ended. He was happy when I called, but not happy by the end of the call. Why do I feel so bad??

2

Jackson lives closer to downtown Phoenix, in a new condo, that looks like a giant sail made of mirrors. I know they did this on purpose, but it’s almost as hideous as the giant bedpan they built for the poor Cardinals out in Glendale. The team sucks bad enough as it is, do you need to make them play in a giant toilet??

As per our routine he called me at seven to catch up during his commute. “Good morning. How was family day?” His voice irritates me suddenly.

“Good. We had a snake in the shed. I had to call a guy to come out and get it.”

After a short pause he replied sounding annoyed. “See? This is why you should move to the city. We don’t have poisonous snakes over here.”

“I like my view.” I argued wishing this call was over so I could get ready for my breakfast date.

“And I don’t want to drive forty miles to work every day. I also don’t want to have this same old argument with you this morning. There’s a big meeting… .” I tuned out. Big meeting, blah blah blah about blah blah blah.

My mind wandered to Wrangler. This is just wrong. I can’t be thinking about a man like him! Tall, broad shouldered, long legs. Oh wait, long legs means tall. God he’s tall. I feel like a little forest nymph compared to him.

“Celeste! Are you listening??” Jackson’s voice cut through like a dull jagged knife.

“No. Sorry. I’m going to have to call you tonight. Someone is at the door. Bye Jackson.” I hung up on him.

How oddly liberating. Is that why Wrangler hung up on me last night? Had I irritated him with my talk about Jackson to the point he felt the need to hang up on me?

Men. Big tall, dark, sexy, hat wearing, men. I wonder if he’ll wear the hat to breakfast. I wonder if he’ll take it off. I wonder what he looks like without it shading his eyes. Those eyes. Those silver eyes I could easily find myself lost in for long periods of time.

Stop
thinking
about
him!!
I scolded myself.

I left the front door unlocked as usual. My neighbor, Denise, comes over for coffee and muffins almost every morning. I used to try to keep up with her schedule, but she’s got three kids. Now I just leave the door unlocked. If she shows up, great, if not, I enjoy a peaceful morning without her crazy stories.

Not this morning. “Bits!! Get out of there!!” He’s ass deep in a trashcan that was in the cabinet under the sink.

He backed his little piglet truck up with wags and wiggles, that made me laugh too hard to sound convincing with my disciplines. His snout is covered in mayonnaise from one of the salads, or maybe a half eaten burger. Who knows.

I shooed him back, “Bad Bacon Bits!! You stay out of the garbage!” I began scooping scattered garbage back in the can while trying to fight off a stubborn hungry piglet. “Stop! Bad Bits! Get out of here! Oh you’re a mess!!”

Just then large working mans hands appeared and scooped up the messy piglet. “I guess I should have warned your mother what a menace you little pigs can be.”

“He just ate!! Can you put him in the sink please? Now he needs a bath.” I complained shoving the trash bucket back under the sink.

“I think the shower is a better idea. Do you have some old towels to use on him?”

“Not really, just use the ones that are in there.” I got a quick glance at his butt before he left with Bits. Nice. I bet you could bounce a quarter off it.

Once the floor and the piglet were clean Wrangler began unpacking grocery bags and hunting down pans in the kitchen. I showed him the basics before taking my fresh cup of coffee to the other side of the bar to watch.

He grabbed his hat and slid it across the bar to me. “Hang that on the back of your chair.” I watched him fix his hair into a neater ponytail. He caught me with those incredible silver eyes, “What?”

“Nothing.” I looked away long enough to hang his hat.

“You were staring.”

“I’m not used to being on this side of my kitchen.”

“The boyfriend doesn’t cook for you?”

“No, ‘the boyfriend’ doesn’t cook. He prefers restaurants to home cooking.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“I’m the home barbecue kind of girl. I like screaming kids, family yelling at each other, either in argument or over some crazy story. I live for days like yesterday.” I didn’t realize how true that statement was until I said it out loud. I also know what I need to do about Jackson now.

“Do you want a large family of your own?” Wrangler’s warm voice brought me back to the present.

I shrugged. All these personal questions with someone I barely know should be more unnerving, but I like talking to him. Wrangler doesn’t look like the kind of guy people spend hours chatting it up with.

“That’s a yes. What’s Jackson say?”

“Maybe in a few years. Typical guy, he wants to wait.”

“Is that what turns you on? A typical guy?”

“You’re fishing.”

“I am. You don’t look happy Cookie. Not today. Yesterday you had a sparkle in your eyes. A confident shine I found impossible to resist. This morning you’re still beautiful, but your luster is gone. It’s gone from your voice too. What happened since we spoke last night?”

I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, “Are you spying on me?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“How did you know something happened?”

“I didn’t, you just confirmed it. I suspected something happened because you aren’t glowing. Something stole your sparkle. Was it Jerry?”

“Jerry? You mean Jackson?”

“Whatever. Am I right? Was it Jason?” He started cracking eggs into a pan.

“Fine. You’re right. What are you? Some kind of Native American psychic?”

“One quarter Cherokee, and no, I’m not a psychic, but I do have impeccable instincts. Right now my instincts are telling me something is bothering you. Here.” He slid me a bowl of fruit he’d been washing and slicing while we talked.

I picked up a strawberry and turned it over in my fingers. “Cherokee. That’s pretty cool.”

“Stop avoiding the question. What did Jason do to piss you off this morning?”

I sneered playfully at him, “Jackson.”

He motioned for me to continue. Obviously he’s not going to bother remembering the guy’s name.

“He didn’t really do anything. I guess I just woke up in a mood. I was up half the night worried about that little brat.” I pointed to the floor where Bits waited for me to pick him up. He’s a cuddly little guy. I scooped him up and fed him some of the fruit Wrangler had prepared for me.

“What did you name him?” He looked up from the sausages he’s placing in the pan.

“Bits.” I said biting my lip and looking to a little wiggly snout for distraction.

“Bits. What does that mean?”

“Like bacon bits. He’s just a little bit of piggy. A bacon bit.” I pouted trying not to look as guilty as I feel. Maybe I understand my mother’s pension for strange names after all.

“You named a miniature pot-bellied pig, Bacon Bits??”

I tried not to laugh, “Who me?? I would never do that. Would I Bits? Nooo. You’d have to be sick in the head to name a little piglet Bacon Bits!!” I wiggled his nose while he sniffed for more grapes.

“I can’t begin to tell you how wrong that is.” He slid his phone across the counter landing it almost under my nose.

I look down and see it’’s calling ‘Ma’. “Wrangler!! What are you doing???”

“You need to answer for this.” He sounds determined.

I feel ratted out. “What??”

The phone spoke in a stern woman’s voice, “Trace Michael. Why are you calling me this early in the morning??”

“Ma, this is Celeste Skye, the woman I told you about yesterday. Do you know what she did??” He winked at me before looking back to the pan and flipping an egg.

“Honey, unless she’s having your babies, I really don’t give a hoot.”

“Tell her Celeste. Tell her what you named a mini pot-bellied piglet. Go ahead. Tell her.”

“I need coffee.” His mother yawned. “By the way, nice to meet you, and good morning ,Celeste.”

“Nice to meet you too, and good morning to you too. I’m sorry to bother you so early.” I emphasized the last words as Wrangler slid me a plate of eggs and sausage.

“Welcome to my world honey. He’s been a morning person since the day he was born at four A.M. Alright, I have my coffee now. What are you two kids doing calling me this early?”

“Tell her Celeste.” Wrangler dared me. Or is his name Trace? Trace Michael? Is that what she called him. Oh boy. I think it’s getting warm in here.

“Okay, jeez. Your son gave me a piglet to foster. Although I think I’ll keep him. He’s cute.”

“My son or the piglet?” She asked.

I laughed, “The piglet.”

“What did you name him Cookie?” Wrangler interrupted.

“Cookie?? Who’s Cookie?” His mother asked before I could answer.

I shoved eggs in my mouth and pointed to the big sneaky Cherokee warrior in my kitchen to provide an answer.

He gave me a playful scorn before replying, “Celeste is my Cookie Ma. Can we move on?”

“Oh good Lord. You gave the girl a nickname?? Cookie?? Oh honey. I’m so sorry. There’s no explanation for my son’s sweet tooth. Be careful, he will empty your house of sweets in no time. I’ve lost entire bowls of batter by just going to the bathroom.”

“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me.” I love this woman already. We’ve never met, have only talked for a minute, and already she likes me. I hadn’t realized until just now how rare that is in a person these days.

“Ma! She named the piglet Bacon Bits.” He’s on the defensive now. Serves him right for ambushing me with his mother.

“Ha!!! That’s a good one! Was his mother a stripper? Went by the name Bacon Strips??”

I almost spit out my eggs, but managed to swallow before having to laugh out loud. “Oh my God, I’m going to choke.”

“Oh! That’s my door. You two kids behave. Trace, I expect to meet this young lady on Sunday.”

“She’s got her own family deal on Sunday. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“Alright. We’ll figure something out. (You can hear a door opening with a slight squeak in the background) Oh come on. Old man Jenkins, how many times do I have to tell you not to cross the street in just your robe. You keep forgetting the belt, and now the children are ruined for life. Get in here you old forgetful fart.” The phone died a moment later.

I looked up from it like his mother had actually been inside the phone, “You’re both nuts.”

“That’s very unprofessional coming from a shrink.” He teased me.

“We don’t like being called shrinks.” I teased back, even though it’s true for most shrinks, personally I don’t care.

“I don’t like you calling me Wrangler. From now on my name is Trace.”

“Is this a special right? Or do all your friends get to call you Trace?” I like the way his name nips at my tongue like I want to nip at him. Who am I?? Since when do I want to nibble on a guy?

“Only you and my mother get away with it. By the way her name is Bina, it means musical instrument. Her voice is her instrument.” He explained before shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“Bina, I like it. Why don’t you come sit down?”

“Pancakes.” He motioned to where he’d set up the griddle without me noticing.

“Hungry?”

“Always. You said your show is over at four?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give you until seven to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“Whether you’re going to go out with me to dinner, or stay in a relationship with a man who obviously doesn’t do it for you. I should warn you though, if you don’t go to dinner with me, my mother will hunt you down.”

“Why would your mother hunt me down?”

“Because I told her I’d never marry again up until yesterday when I told her I wanted to have as many kids as possible with you. She always wanted her oldest son to have kids.”

“You were married before? Kids? Wait, you need to slow down.”

“Right out of high school. She lied and said she was pregnant. I married her before I found out the truth. Then I tried to forgive her. It might have worked if she hadn’t changed so much over the next couple years. We grew apart, puts it mildly.”

“How long were you married?”

“Four years. That was ten years ago. I just turned thirty-three a few months ago.” He informed me casually.

“You’re a little young to be committing not to marry.”

He looked up, “So it seems.”

I gulped down the tumbleweed that just tried to choke me and looked away as quickly as I could. “I need air.” I tightened my football grip on my piglet and walked as smoothly as I could to the sliding glass door.

I sucked air into my lungs as deep as I could. “Shit shit shit.” Came out with the exhale. I set Bits down to do his business in the grass and looked at the mountain before me. She’s a perfect blend of browns under a young clear blue sky. Solid in her presence. Something you can count on. Yet she changes with every moment passed. The sun moves changing her shadows so she almost never looks the same twice.

Tomorrow will bring all new colors. All new things.

But what new things will it bring for me? A new man? He can’t be serious. He’s a flirt. That’s it. Okay.
Get
a
hold
of
yourself
and
stop
swooning
like
an
idiot
. Sometimes I need a pep talk.

The door slid open behind me, “Would you like to finish breakfast out here?”

I nodded without looking at him. “Please.”

“Then have a seat on that couch before you fall over.” He ordered before going back inside.

Now normally I’m not the follow orders kind of person. If anything I hate being told what to do. Right now it sounds more like good advice than anything. My knees are weak. Too much is happening too fast. I haven’t broken up with Jackson yet, and here I am having breakfast with a very attractive man, in my house.

I took a seat in the far corner and tucked my legs under my butt. Bit’s hopped up eager for belly rubs and fingers to gnaw on. He’s so gentle I let him bite. He’s a real sweetheart. I hope I get to keep him. What if Wrangler… Trace, takes him away if I choose wrong.