lover.”
“What?” Cassie
gasped, at her ebony skinned friend who at times seemed far too clairvoyant.
All three women
leaned in intently awaiting a response
“I said, tell us
about the lover,” Ashton reiterated. “The guy who put color back in your cheeks
and a distant look in your eyes. Don’t try to deny it. We know what we’re
looking at with envy—that’s a well loved woman. Who is he?”
Cassie blushed. She
groaned. Nodding her head, she told them of Clint Travers—her nemesis and one
night lover. She concluded her story. “So you see—it was fine, but it’s
history.”
“Fine!” Ashton
squeaked. The half dozen bracelets she wore jangled as if they too did not
believe. “You had some steamy sex with a hunk of a man. And that’s history? Why?”
“I’m here, and he’s
there,” she said, too quickly, rolling her napkin into a tight ball. Then
glancing around the table at her stunned friends, she began to relax a little. If
she wasn’t so irritated with them, the picture they made would actually be
comical. Ashton with her large gold hoop earrings swinging wildly, Traci with
her reserved trial lawyer fixed stare, and Susan—open mouthed Susan.
With a tiny smile,
Cassie reached for her glass of water, “It was just a summer chance encounter. I’m
glad it happened. Now it’s over. That’s all there is. End of story.”
“You did it in a
horse stall,” Susan squeaked, shaking her head in disgust. “That must’ve been gross.”
Cassie chuckled. “It
may have been a lot of things, but gross wasn’t one of them.”
“Did they blow up
all the bridges and airports between here and Utah? I hadn’t heard if they did,”
Traci said dryly. “If he’s as phenomenal as he sounds, why did you throw him
back in the deep blue sea, or maybe I should say, leave him to dry up in the
desert?”
“I already told you.”
Cassie lowered her voice trying not to draw attention to their table. “It was
just good old fashioned sex. No expectations. No more, no less.”
“Well, I for one
think you made the right decision to dump him,” Susan claimed, sitting
straight, extending her already tall frame. “You don’t know a thing about him,
really.”
“I know more than
that he’s well hung, if that’s what you mean.”
“You can go back
any time, honey,” Ashton whispered, placing her hand over Cassie’s. “Your head
may think whatever happened in Wyoming wasn’t much but some good fucking. And
maybe that’s what you intended it to be, but your heart isn’t buying any of
that shit.”
“Ashton,” Susan
complained, pursing her lips.
Holding up her hand
to ward off criticism, the striking black woman continued, “What are you gonna
do about him? It’s gonna eat you up, if you let it.”
Cassie shook her
head, squeezing back tears. “Nothing,” she sighed. “I’m going to do nothing. I’m
a big city girl and he’s…he’s a man of the country.”
“Hmm,” Ashton
replied pensively. “Like the city and country have never mixed before. Well, we
can see you’ve had enough of our interrogation for now. Let’s change the
subject, ladies.”
Cassie jutted out
her chin. “So tell me, how are the Cubs doing?”
- o -
The phone rang shrilly
in the small, drab walk-up. A brown sofa, two stuffed chairs, and a TV filled
the living room. Pictures of horses and jockeys taken in the winner’s circle
covered the walls like wall paper. Several included an old friend, Tug O’Hanlon.
“Hello.”
“Louie?”
“Yeah.”
“Let her go this
time. We’ll let the old guy win one. It’ll make the loss in the Capitol Stakes
even more bitter. Got it? Don’t do a damn thing. Let the horse run its race.
“I got it.”
“Too bad he’s got Cassie
training for him. He could’ve gone with others, even you.”
“Yeah.
“Saw your
granddaughter graduated from U of I.”
“Yeah. She’s good.”
“How many more
coming up?”
“Plenty.”
“That’s good. You
let
“What?” Cassie
gasped, at her ebony skinned friend who at times seemed far too clairvoyant.
All three women
leaned in intently awaiting a response
“I said, tell us
about the lover,” Ashton reiterated. “The guy who put color back in your cheeks
and a distant look in your eyes. Don’t try to deny it. We know what we’re
looking at with envy—that’s a well loved woman. Who is he?”
Cassie blushed. She
groaned. Nodding her head, she told them of Clint Travers—her nemesis and one
night lover. She concluded her story. “So you see—it was fine, but it’s
history.”
“Fine!” Ashton
squeaked. The half dozen bracelets she wore jangled as if they too did not
believe. “You had some steamy sex with a hunk of a man. And that’s history? Why?”
“I’m here, and he’s
there,” she said, too quickly, rolling her napkin into a tight ball. Then
glancing around the table at her stunned friends, she began to relax a little. If
she wasn’t so irritated with them, the picture they made would actually be
comical. Ashton with her large gold hoop earrings swinging wildly, Traci with
her reserved trial lawyer fixed stare, and Susan—open mouthed Susan.
With a tiny smile,
Cassie reached for her glass of water, “It was just a summer chance encounter. I’m
glad it happened. Now it’s over. That’s all there is. End of story.”
“You did it in a
horse stall,” Susan squeaked, shaking her head in disgust. “That must’ve been gross.”
Cassie chuckled. “It
may have been a lot of things, but gross wasn’t one of them.”
“Did they blow up
all the bridges and airports between here and Utah? I hadn’t heard if they did,”
Traci said dryly. “If he’s as phenomenal as he sounds, why did you throw him
back in the deep blue sea, or maybe I should say, leave him to dry up in the
desert?”
“I already told you.”
Cassie lowered her voice trying not to draw attention to their table. “It was
just good old fashioned sex. No expectations. No more, no less.”
“Well, I for one
think you made the right decision to dump him,” Susan claimed, sitting
straight, extending her already tall frame. “You don’t know a thing about him,
really.”
“I know more than
that he’s well hung, if that’s what you mean.”
“You can go back
any time, honey,” Ashton whispered, placing her hand over Cassie’s. “Your head
may think whatever happened in Wyoming wasn’t much but some good fucking. And
maybe that’s what you intended it to be, but your heart isn’t buying any of
that shit.”
“Ashton,” Susan
complained, pursing her lips.
Holding up her hand
to ward off criticism, the striking black woman continued, “What are you gonna
do about him? It’s gonna eat you up, if you let it.”
Cassie shook her
head, squeezing back tears. “Nothing,” she sighed. “I’m going to do nothing. I’m
a big city girl and he’s…he’s a man of the country.”
“Hmm,” Ashton
replied pensively. “Like the city and country have never mixed before. Well, we
can see you’ve had enough of our interrogation for now. Let’s change the
subject, ladies.”
Cassie jutted out
her chin. “So tell me, how are the Cubs doing?”
- o -
The phone rang shrilly
in the small, drab walk-up. A brown sofa, two stuffed chairs, and a TV filled
the living room. Pictures of horses and jockeys taken in the winner’s circle
covered the walls like wall paper. Several included an old friend, Tug O’Hanlon.
“Hello.”
“Louie?”
“Yeah.”
“Let her go this
time. We’ll let the old guy win one. It’ll make the loss in the Capitol Stakes
even more bitter. Got it? Don’t do a damn thing. Let the horse run its race.
“I got it.”
“Too bad he’s got Cassie
training for him. He could’ve gone with others, even you.”
“Yeah.
“Saw your
granddaughter graduated from U of I.”
“Yeah. She’s good.”
“How many more
coming up?”
“Plenty.”
“That’s good. You
let
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