Coldhearted Boss(92)
“I’ll log in to your email remotely and answer those emails you have stacked up. How’s that?”
“Let’s see if the princess shows up first. Something tells me she’ll take one look at the place and suddenly decide her valley girl life doesn’t look quite so bad anymore.”
Chapter 3
Meredith
“I can’t go on,” the taxi driver says, pulling over to the side of the road and putting his car in park.
“Boy, do I know what you mean,” I agree ruefully.
“No, I mean, you gotta get out.”
“Oh, actually, I don’t think we’re there yet. We still have a while.”
I lean forward and point through the front windshield as if to prove my point. There’s nothing but trees and dirt road until the sky meets the horizon.
“Lady, this is it. Odometer says I’m officially losing money on you. I run a business, not a church shuttle.”
I officially regret my bold, symbolic gesture with the diamond ring.
“How about you give me your address and I’ll send more money after my first paycheck—”
“Yeah right, I’ve heard that one about a million times.”
I’m going to have to get creative.
“If only there was something I could do for you…” I say, making my eyebrows dance suggestively. “Non-sexually, of course. I could clip those hard-to-reach toenails, or—or, how about plucking back some of that unibrow you’ve got going on—”
“GET OUT,” he insists, and I know it’s hopeless.
The crabby old man kicks me to the curb—or rather, the edge of the dirt road. His tires stir up dust as he turns back for the main road. A sign back there claimed Blue Stone Ranch was only a few miles in this direction. A few miles…shit.
For the first time all morning, I’m grateful I don’t have much with me, just my purse. Inside, hilariously, I have what used to be my life’s essentials: a dead cell phone, a makeup bag for touchups, a bottle of perfume, my wallet, breath mints, a tub of La Mer moisturizer, and the wrapper of a protein bar I failed to ration properly.
No tennis shoes. No GPS tracking system. Hell, a compass would be much appreciated at this point.
As it is, I’m on my own, for real this time. I even left the last of my precious peanuts in the seat pocket of the taxi.
It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Everything is fine.
I hoist my purse higher on my shoulder and set off down the road. The soles of my loafers have such little padding that I feel every pebble. I’d walk in the grass beside the road, but it’s thick and overgrown, and I fear snakes more than I fear pebbles digging into the soles of my feet. I have nothing but time as I trudge along in the dirt. I try to convince myself I only have a little bit longer, but truthfully, I have no way to gauge how far I’ve gone. I left the fancy watch that tracks my steps back in California.
I distract myself by trying to see the positive details of my current situation: I am alive and well, I’ve taken back control of my life, and I am on my way to building something new. I am at the start of a grand adventure. Sure, there will be bumps along the way, but anything is better than the direction I was headed with Andrew.
I think I hear the rumble of a car behind me. I whip around, half convinced I’m hallucinating from dehydration (should’ve opted for low sodium peanuts), and spot an old truck rumbling down the road. It’s coming straight for me, and two things run through my mind at once. First: Hallelujah! My salvation has arrived! Second: In what part of Texas did that chainsaw massacre take place?
Honestly, I’m just happy to see another human being, even if he turns out to be a cannibal with power tools. The truck barrels closer and it’s too late to escape detection, so I settle for a cheerful wave and one of my big, enchanting smiles. The gesture should say, Hi there! Look at me, I’m too pleasant to murder!
The truck pulls to a stop beside me and two older, tanned men with beat-up cowboy hats take up the entire bench seat. The one closer to me rolls down the window and props his elbow on the sill. I scan the front seat for killing implements but instead spot a tub of chewing tobacco and two matching Big Gulps.
“Lost, darlin’?”
DARLIN! I swoon and forget I’m supposed to be fearing for my life.
“As a matter of fact, I am.” I smile and explain confidently, “I’m looking for Blue Stone Ranch.”
The man near me frowns and tips his head, confused. “You mean Blue Stone Farm?”
I’m pretty sure Helen said Blue Stone Ranch in her email.
“Umm, now I’m not sure. Is there a difference?”
“Blue Stone Farm is the fancy restaurant a few miles that way.” He points back in the direction I’ve been walking and my heart sinks. No. NO. I am not turning back. “Blue Stone Ranch is…well, a ranch.”
“Where would I find Jack McNight?”
He nods. “Jack’ll be at the ranch.”
“Okay then that’s where I’m going.”
They exchange a glance, and then the one closer to me nods toward the bed of the truck. “We’re going that way too. It ain’t the smoothest ride, but you’re welcome to hop in there if ya want.”