Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

better about things now that Spin was safely here, Jacquie shook the rocks out of her shoes.

“So you and Wally came here fishing, huh?” Jacquie made a panoramic sweep of the area, noting the quiet beauty and interestingly enough, appreciating it. A magpie squawked from a tree; the trickle of running water was actually soothing.

“All the time. This was our spot. We did everything here, if you get my meaning.” A far-off look glazed Spin’s eyes.

“Yeah, I get it.”

Rather than being on sacred ground, Jacquie was standing on sexual ground. The thought brought a smile to her mouth. Not in a bad way, but fondly. Knowing Spin was reflecting on being intimate with her husband was a nice thought.

And God knew, Jacquie lacked sentimentalities like that.

She’d given up on Drew, that dream having died. Oddly, he hadn’t been that hard to let go of once her mind accepted the fact that it needed to end. For the past year, she’d really been trying to put a square peg into a round hole. Her and Drew, they just weren’t real compatible in the long haul. She wouldn’t have known what to do with Mackenzie if they’d ever committed to one another.

Jacquie wanted a man who was okay without children. Maybe they would do some traveling, just be together for the sake of being together. Of late, Jacquie realized she just had to have a man who was mad for her. She didn’t think that was detrimental. Just honest.

Speaking in a faraway voice, Jacquie asked, “How come you and Wally never had kids?”

“Selfish.” Spin readjusted herself to sit more comfortably. “There’s nothing wrong with two people only wanting to spend time with one another.”

“Not very many people would admit that.”

“They should. Wally and I were in love. We fulfilled each other. I had my career and he had his. It worked out for us.” She gazed at the trees. “Morris never had children, either. He’s divorced.”

They sat quietly for a long time, just listening to the sounds of nature, the whisper of trees.

“Jacquie?” Spin’s distant voice broke into Jacquie’s thoughts and startled her.

“Are you okay?” She was by Spin’s side, looking down into her weathered face. Oh my God, she hoped like hell she had cell service out here in case Spin needed help.

“I’m fine, Jacquie. I’m better than fine.” She smiled, a deeply satisfying smile of utter contentment and knowing peace. It was as if the aches and pains that had been troubling her had subsided and she was years younger.

“Don’t scare me, Spin.”

“I won’t, Jacquie.”

Jacquie sat down next to her, inhaling the fragrant air and the rich ground. The musty scent of moss and the floral hint of flowers somewhere in the brush.

“Jacquie…?”

She turned toward Spin. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for being my friend. I love you.”

A lump formed so swiftly, so quickly in her throat that Jacquie felt light-headed. At no time in her entire life could she ever recall those three words meaning so much. They were altogether potent and meaningful, deeply moving and utterly heartfelt.

For long seconds, Jacquie almost couldn’t compose herself.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she took Spin’s hand. “Back at you, girlfriend.”

Raul didn’t care that he’d almost been run off the road by that polished silver Jag of Jacquie Santini’s. Psycho-nut-ball Realtor. Raul had better things to do than to trouble himself over a near-miss with a car. For one thing, he had some serious gloating to do.

He’d just scored the coup of the century and, quite possibly, of his life: the personal chef gig for Hollywood’s hottest gay couple—movie producers who were in town through Labor Day.

Beating out that Lucy Carpenters for the job was a rich reward, given the hellacious month he’d had competing with her. She thought she was pretty smart at the Fourth of July. But she didn’t have the know-how to land the really influential clients like the Raul did. He knew the ins and outs, the best way to do things. That was why he was the best. The only personal chef to hire.

But he hated to admit that Lucy had given him a buck for his bang…a run for his money, as you say.

He found out she’d interviewed before him and the men liked her food choices—they’d told him so. They raved about her diversity and flare. Adored her as a creative woman and wanted to all but flambé her with compliments.

After so many years in the biz, Raul knew how to turn himself into a human chameleon when necessary. Today he’d become the gay chef, the man who “understood” what being gay in today’s society was all about. Feminizing his language and walk, his savoir faire, had been easy. Raul had seen The Birdcage a dozen times.

Being faux fruity had been his meal ticket.

The producers thought he was fabulous. They gave him air-claps and they’d cinched the deal with a champagne toast and limp-wristed handshakes.

Thank you, Lord Jesus. Raul crossed himself again, something he had been doing just as that Jaguar raced toward him.

Never count too many blessings.

On that thought, he crossed himself once more while driving on Main Street toward Sutter’s Grocery to stock up on supplies.

Score one for the Raul.

Matt sat at the kitchen table with his mom and brother, all of them eating dinner together. It was nice his mom had made them their favorite—homemade mac and cheese, chicken and carrots.

They hadn’t been eating together as much since coming to Red Duck, what with Mom having to work, and Jason being at Woolly’s.

Things had changed a lot. Sometimes Matt got bummed out about it. He wished they were a family again, with Dad at the table, Mom and Jason and him. And they were all goofing off and talking about what they did all day at school or work.

But this wasn’t bad. He loved his mom. She was a good mom and she’d been doing good for him and Jason. The house they lived in was fixed up pretty nice, even though the