Ride On

Chapter Twenty

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, wondering what had happened last night. I didn't drink too much alcohol, that I know of. And I'd been so tired I slept through the rest of the day and night.

Sighing, I sat up and looked at my clock. It was 7:00 sharp, just the way I like it. Sure, I would've preferred to wake a little earlier, but who cares? I'm married now. A small smile played at my lips.

I rose and dressed for the day, ready to face whatever challenges came at me. Pablo was downstairs, whistling as he cooked breakfast. Steak and eggs today.

My phone started to buzz, playing the ringtone I had recently changed it to. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. The few people in the room had a good chuckle. I answered it, blushing.

"Eve Harrison. Er..." I stuttered.

"You seem to still be using your maiden name." A voice I was fond of responded, laughing. I slapped myself in the face.

"Sorry, Chris. I'm going to have to get used to that." I giggled. "Where are you?" I asked, more seriously.

"At my house. Packing. For Costa Rica. Remember?" He reminded me. I gasped.

"You know that gingers burn, badly, right?" I asked. "First it's pink. Then it's burning, boiling, can't move a muscle red. Then it blisters, and then you're peeling for two weeks." I listed, not even sure why I was trying to get out of this.

"Then you'll wear sunscreen." He suggested.

"No...you don't understand..." I trailed off. "I would have to apply it every hour on the hour and it would have to be, SPF 100. For me to have a chance at not being miserable."

"I didn't mean that we would be in the sun all day." Chris drawled mysteriously. I grinned.

"Oh? Then what would we do?" I asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

"We could always stay in bed."

...

Naughty naughty, those were the only words running through my head as I packed. The plane would be leaving tomorrow. And what did I have to wear?

•One crappy pair of flip flops
•One bathing suit
•One nice dress
•Two pairs of shorts

So basically I had Paula run out and get me some more clothes that I would throw away come the end of the week.

Sighing, I zipped up my small traveling bag.

It wasn't even noon and I was already done. Mentally and with packing the travel bag. Fan flipping tastic.

Under 50 lbs, too. Woohoo!

I've come to the realization that I haven't updated you on Trigger's status in a while, so I'll do that now. He's improved in condition immensely from my last visit and is now at a place where he can be rehabilitated. He's expected to make a full recovery after a few months. I'll be able to take him home then.

Still, a few months without Trigger are a few months without, I don't know, solid ground beneath my feet. I'll have to ride Pretty. She's worthless with cattle. Great.

The whole day so far will be a waste of energy doing pointless things. I picked up my phone and debated about sending Chris a text, inviting him to ride with me.

But what would we do? The guys already gathered the cattle for milking...and whatever they're supposed to do with the beef cattle. There's nothing but..a mile of open trails.

Smiling, I typed a message to Chris ordering him to mount up and meet me in the pasture. Throwing my phone down, I didn't care to look at his reply. Whether he comes or not won't matter to me, I have new trails to explore.

Without Trigger. Frowning, I shoved my boots on my feet. Maybe I could steal a different horse. The thought was quickly dissipated as I realized that all of the mares save Spurs had been ridden already today. I couldn't take them out again and forgive myself afterwards.

Then I texted Chris again, finding that he hadn't replied. Never mind were the words I sent.

With newfound sadness, I made my way down into the kitchen. Pablo was busy at work making some pound cake. One of my childhood favorites, but very fattening.

"Hey, Sanchez!" I called, twirling my hair on my pinky. He grunted in response. I smiled slyly. "Now that I'm a wife, I'm going to have to learn how to cook." I grinned.

"Now, Señora, we all know that is not possible." He chuckled, getting back to his work. I frowned, crossing my arms.

"I can't live on just cereal and burnt toast, you know." I told him.

"That's why you work for your father. You come here for meals, Eve." He commanded. I snickered.

"What if I want to be able to make my own meals?" I quipped, getting frustrated.

"That's never going to happen."

"What if you die? You're old. You're getting there." I teased.

"Señora I am not a day over 40." He chuckled, rubbing his lightly wrinkled skin. "And I'm sure my son will follow in my footsteps."

"Are you sure he isn't your grandson?" I taunted.

"EVE!" Pablo finally exclaimed, mustache wiggling. "Go annoy your father. I'm withholding the pound cake from you tonight." He scolded, shooing me away with his spatula. I barely escaped his strike, fearing the all mighty power of the utensil. I'd been hit as a child more than once. I used to be pretty ornery.

For the second time that day I plodded down a flight of stairs, turning into my father's office and throwing myself down on his leather couch. He looked up for once.

"Hey, there's my newlywed!" He chuckled, glancing back down at his papers for a second. I smiled.

"Hey, there's my dad." I replied.

"So, what brings you down here?" He asked, setting his pen down. It was pretty battered from him chewing on it constantly.

"Pablo and his spatula." I laughed, crossing my legs.

"When am I going to get a grandchild then?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. He seemed so serious. First I laughed, but then I stopped.

"Wait, you're serious?" I asked, scared. Not ready for that yet. Can't I be married for a few years first?

"Duh." He snorted.

"Not until I'm thirty." I snorted back.

"No, then your eggs will start dying and-" he began, but I cut him off.

"NOPE, no need to hear that!" I shouted, following that with many 'la la la's until he was done.

"Okay, fine. I'll wait." He sighed, defeated. "Now can you leave me alone so I can do my work?" He asked annoyedly.

"Okay. But the plane leaves tomorrow." I informed him darkly.

"What plane?" He asked, creasing his brow.

"The one that's taking Chris and I to Costa Rica."