Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(34)

She looked and shook her head. “Kids today.”

“Well, you see, they have in their mind to follow us, and I’d just as soon get a head start.”

She peered closer. “Why would they wanna do that?”

From the passenger seat, Trina spoke up. “He’s Wade Thomas. I’m not sure if you listen to country music—”

The light bulb went on. “Oh, dear, yes . . . you do look like Wade Thomas.”

“Is Wade Thomas,” Trina announced.

“Yes, ma’am. Those girls are having a hard time understanding personal boundaries. So can you maybe take a little longer to process their ticket? Maybe give me a few extra minutes to get on the highway?”

She stood a little taller and ran a hand over her stomach. “I’d be happy to help you out, Mr. Thomas. Let me get your . . . your . . .” She waved the fifty in the air, looked at it. “Change.”

“No, no, that’s for your trouble. Thank you, Miss . . . ?”

“Lou Lou . . . everyone here calls me Lou Lou.”

“Thank you, Miss Lou Lou.”

“Goodness, Wade Thomas.” She stared, her cheeks flushed.

The person in the car between him and the teenagers honked.

Wade pointed at the gate.

“Oh, of course,” Lou Lou said, ducking back inside to let them out.

Wade waved out the window once he saw the barrier arm go back down and the next car pull up.

“That was crazy.”

“Welcome to my life.”

“Whoa.” Trina was staring out the back window.

“Is she holding them back?”

“Oh, yeah.” Trina started to laugh. “No wonder you were shocked I didn’t know who you were.”

“It’s not often I go unnoticed.” He pulled out on the frontage road before speeding onto the freeway. Only then did he look in the mirror to see if they were being followed. He blew out a breath.

He glanced over to find Trina staring, the flowers he brought her sitting in her lap. “You really are famous.”

He smiled. “Are you just figuring that out?”

“Apparently. Is it hard? Or do you love the attention?”

“I’d be lying if I said I hated every minute of it. The first time someone recognized me in public had me high for a month.”

“So what keeps you grounded?”

He thought about that. “Not a lot. My mama makes sure to tell me to take out the trash and reminds me to muck the stalls when I’m home. Sounds crazy, but doing things I have to hire people to do for me when I’m not around brings me back to earth.”

Trina was silent for a moment. “Your mom sounds like she’s a big part of your life.”

“She is. I respect the hell out of the woman. Raised me all on her own with only a high school education. Sacrificed her needs over mine, time and time again. A lot of parents don’t do that.”

“Does your mom live with you?”

“I built a guest house at the ranch. She insisted, even though I thought it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t want my girlfriends thinking I’m a mama’s boy, even though I’m comfortable enough to tell the world I am.”

Trina was silent.

That’s when he remembered her conversation about her late husband . . . and his devotion to his mother being so deep the man couldn’t deal with her death. “I’m not him,” Wade said. The smile from his face fell slightly. “I love my mother, and the day she passes will be excruciating, I’m sure. But I will live without her when it comes.”

Trina studied her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. I should have realized that might be a hard thing for you to hear.”

“I’m okay.”

He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “Let me tell you about my home.”





Chapter Thirteen

Trina had inherited Alice’s ranch. The sprawling home was a little over six thousand square feet, complete with a stable for the four horses, a corral, and a barn large enough for the tools and equipment someone needed to maintain the land. She’d been in Texas long enough to see a couple of impressive spreads that people called home.

Then she pulled through the gates of Wade’s home.

The frontage of the ranch closest to the road was home to a six-foot, tree-lined cinder block wall, perfectly manicured and maintained, before it opened into a set of double iron gates. Wade pressed a remote and let them in.

On one side of the drive was a split rail fence with grass and trees that seemed to go forever. Horses almost looked like yard art sprinkled onto the landscape. “How many horses do you have?”

“Ten,” he said. “No, wait . . . twelve.”

“You don’t know?”

“It was ten before the tour, but I seem to remember taking on two of the neighbors’, who were having a hard time keeping them fed.”

Trina scanned the fence line. “You have neighbors?”

Wade laughed and drove right by the modest house.

“Isn’t that . . . ?”

“No, that’s my caretaker’s.”

They drove around a corner. “That’s my mother’s home.”

This one was a little less modest, more like a three-thousand-square-foot custom home that could be found on many tracts in Texas, only this one had a wraparound porch and a separate garage.