by Mia Hopkins
Third, he could kick ass in Payson, make it to finals in Las Vegas, and win the world championship buckle as confetti and hundred-dollar bills rained down on him.
Lucky shut the laptop with a soft click and stared at the writing pad. Maybe another answer would show itself. He prayed silently for that answer to come soon.
He stood up and turned off the stove in the kitchen. He locked up the house and started up his truck. He drove to the high school where Araceli was waiting for him after cross-country practice. She climbed into the truck without looking up at him, all of her attention on her phone. He waved a hand in front of her face.
“Hello, zombie.”
She swatted his hand away and continued to text. “Cut it out.”
Lucky drove down to the motel where his mother sat at the bus stop. She was wearing one of Abel’s high school sweatshirts over her work uniform. As always, her hair and makeup were perfect. Lucky pulled over and Araceli slid over as their mother climbed into the cab. She kissed them both on the cheek and clipped on her seatbelt. Lucky caught a slight hint of her perfume, Giorgio Beverly Hills. She’d worn it his entire life.
At home, his mother made a batch of fresh tortillas. They all sat at the table, said a prayer, and ate the soup he’d made with vegetables from their garden and beef from the ranch. After she cleared the table, Araceli started on her precalculus homework. Lucky helped her as much as he could. As always, his mother fell asleep in her chair, watching the evening news.
Lucky stood on the porch after his sister went to bed. In the cold night air, he listened to the deep quiet of the country around him, this place that had somehow become home. He ate another plum and remembered what it was like to sit under the tree with Harmony that afternoon.
How easy it would be to fall in love with her—as easy as taking another sweet bite. The juice ran down his chin, and he wiped it away with his hand.
Lucky remembered digging the hole for that tree and watching his dad plant the sapling. They put the heavy rootball in place, shoveled the dirt back in, and ran a hose to it to soak the soil.
Lucky’s dad was tall and handsome, a mythic figure. But Lucky had grown to hate him. He hated that his father had planted them here and left them to fend for themselves. Lucky promised himself a long time ago he would never abandon the people who relied on him. They would never feel vulnerable. They would never sit in the dark afraid. He’d rather die than know he’d let them down.
With that thought fresh in his mind, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Harmony.
Hey. My sister is off this Thursday. Are you working?
A few seconds passed before Harmony’s response came. Yes. I work 8 to 6. Can she be at my apartment at 7:30? Is that too early?
No. I’ll tell her. Lucky smiled to himself. What about that party? Have you decided?
Almost two minutes passed before Harmony replied. He imagined her pacing her apartment, weighing her options, and wondering if he truly was as crazy as she thought he was. He imagined her wearing little shorts and a tank top with no bra. He imagined picking her up over his shoulder, tying her up in her own bed, and playing with her beautiful body all night.
The alert on his phone startled him out of his trance. He looked down. Saturday night. Meet me here at 8?
Lucky couldn’t wait to meet Dr. Dickhead. Much more than that, he couldn’t wait to see her again. Sounds good. He quickly typed out another text. So what are you wearing right now?
The reply came immediately. Omg, stop.
What color are your panties?
No response. He typed. Send me a nude pic? Winky face.
How about no?
He pictured her rolling her eyes. He laughed quietly. Okay. Just tits then.
Good night, Lucky.
A warm feeling descended over him in the quiet. Good night, belleza.
What does that mean?
Beautiful.
Lucky got a temporary job in the stockroom of the feed-and-tack store in town. Last season, Orbach, the storeowner, had flat-out ignored his requests for sponsorship. Lucky wasn’t bitter about it—times were hard everywhere. But when he saw how sloppy and inefficient Orbach was in running his own business, Lucky had a hard time hiding his annoyance. Just a few adjustments here and there would make a big difference in the kind of profits Orbach could make. Lucky had tried to make recommendations, but Orbach made it very clear he’d hired Lucky to push a broom and stock shelves. So Lucky shrugged it off and punched the clock like the robot Orbach assumed he was.
On Tuesdays, Lucky signed on at the sale barn. It was an easy job, loading and working stock while the auction droned on and on.
He brought Batman over to the local rodeo arena. In the evenings, with the stadium lights on, Dean helped him put Batman through her paces. He roped dozens of calves as Dean filmed him. They studied the recordings, taking notes on his form and technique. He worked himself hard, doing runs late into the evening and sleeping like the dead at night only to get up early in the morning to work out and repeat the process again.
On Wednesday night, he nagged his sister to go to bed early. When she wouldn’t listen, he took her phone and laptop away and set an old-fashioned alarm clock on her nightstand. “Harmony is doing us a favor. The least you can do is show up on time, ready to learn something.”
“Why do you treat me like I’m a little kid? I’m not stupid.”
“No, but you don’t know your limits, chamaca. I know you. You’ll be up until one. You need to be on the road by five if you’re going to make it on time. You’ll be so sleepy everyone at the hospital is going to think you’re an idiot. Or worse, you’ll crash the truck. Is that what you want?”
She frowned at him. “No.”
“Okay, then.” He pushed her back on the bed and tucked the covers around her. He couldn’t believe his baby sister was already seventeen. Soon she’d be out of the house too. Starting her life, just like their brother. Lucky turned off the light. “Sleep.”
“You suck.”
“I know.” He closed the door. “Good night.”
When Araceli got home on Thursday night, it was nearly ten. She came in and quietly walked past their mother asleep in her chair. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and sat at the table with Lucky as he struggled to stay awake after a long workday.
“How did it go?” he asked.
For the first time in a long time, his sister’s eyes were bright and happy. Her phone sat neglected on the kitchen table while she went on and on about what Harmony did and what she’d seen at the hospital.
“And they let me stand behind glass and observe a surgical procedure. This guy had a huge cyst in his armpit and they drained it. It was an ocean of pus!”
Lucky made a face. “Gross.”
“No, no, it was so cool, Lucky.” As Araceli told him everything, Lucky thought about how good it felt to hear his sister talk about something that interested her. As she’d gotten older, she’d withdrawn from both him and their mother, living a life that was increasingly private and worrisome. Tonight, she was letting him in. And to his relief, the picture of what made her happy was brighter than he’d thought.
She put her mug in the sink. “And Harmony—she’s really, really neat. She told me to send her my report card next semester and she’ll try to get me a summer internship at the hospital.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His sister leaned down and gave him a big hug. “Thank you for introducing me to her. And thanks for setting this up.”
Lucky squeezed her back. She smelled like a hospital—disinfectant and coffee. “You’re welcome, chamaca. I’m glad.”
What was one supposed to wear to a fancy retirement party? Was this going to be one of those wine-and-cheese shindigs where he never had anything to say? Lucky shuddered as he ironed a button-down shirt and starched his good jeans. He brushed his hat and polished his boots. He showered. He was cleaning up his beard with a razor as his sister banged on the
door of the bathroom.
“Are you done yet?” she shouted.
“Is it number one? Go do it outside.”
“Lucky!”
“God, you and Mom take five years in here and I’m not allowed to complain. I need fifteen minutes and you’re about to axe the door like The Shining.”
“Lu-ckyyyyy!”
Back in his bedroom, he got dressed and put on one of his rodeo buckles. He was adjusting his collar in the mirror when Araceli walked by again. “Where are you going all pretty?” she asked.
“None of your business.”
“Ooooh, are you going on a date?” She sat down on his bed. “With a lady?”
“Go away.”
Araceli picked up his phone and unlocked it.
“Hey!” He lunged for it, but she pulled it out of his reach. “How do you know my security code?” He made another grab for it.
Araceli jumped up. Damn track star. “You’re a cowboy. It’s 5150, like that Dierks Bentley song. So predictable.”
“What the hell do you know about cowboys?” He cornered her.
She scrolled through his texts. “Oh my God. You’re filthy, Lucky. Cochino.” Then she looked up at him with an expression of glee. “Yes! I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two!”
He pinned her against the wall as she squealed like a stuck pig. “Give it back!”
Laughing, Araceli screamed, “¡Amá, me está golpeando!”
Their mother walked into the bedroom. “¿Ahora que pasa?”
Lucky wrested the phone out of his little sister’s talons. As soon as their mother came in, they both switched to Spanish. “I’m not hurting her.” He straightened his shirt. “She’s being a pain.”
Araceli collapsed in a fit of giggles on the bed. She turned to their mother. “Lucky has a big date tonight. With Harmony Santos.”
“Harmony Santos? Who’s that?”
Lucky’s eyes shot daggers at his little sister. “She’s just a friend.”
“Doesn’t he look nice tonight, Mamá?” Araceli said. “Harmony’s a nurse. She was the one who gave me that tour at the hospital this Thursday. She’s really pretty. And really cool.”
“A nurse?” His mother raised her eyebrows. “That’s nice. Santos. What part of Mexico is her family from?”
Lucky groaned inwardly as he put on his hat. Here we go. “She’s not Mexican.”
“She’s not?”
“No. She’s Filipino, Mamá.”
“Filipino?” His mother looked confused for a moment. The thought that her children might date outside their race couldn’t have been that strange to her, considering they lived in the Central Valley where everyone was from somewhere else. But he never talked about the women he dated. He didn’t know what kinds of assumptions his mother made about his love life.
“A nurse?” his mother said again.
He nodded. “Yes. A nurse.”
“Filipino?”
“Yes. Her family’s from the Philippines.”
His mother paused again. Her carefully painted lips pressed into a worried line. “But she’s Catholic, right?”
Lucky cracked a smile. “Yes, she’s Catholic.” He grabbed his sport coat hanging by the door. “Listen, I have to go or I’ll be late.”
“Be a good boy, Lucky.” His sister wagged her finger at him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Suppressing a groan, Lucky left the house as quickly as he could. He changed the security code on his phone as soon as he shut the door of his truck.
Harmony lived in a new, sterile apartment building made up of two hundred identical units. She buzzed him in, and he took the elevator to the fourth floor. Feeling far more nervous than he expected, he took off his hat and knocked on her door.
When she opened it, Lucky’s throat dropped into his stomach and then one more level down into his balls. No doubt about it—the woman was smoking hot. Silky black hair. Cherry-red lips. A purple dress so tight and strappy, his inner kink stood up and said hello. She was barefoot and her toenails were painted red to match her lips. Lucky stood there dumbfounded, his eyes unsure where to linger, indecisive when confronted with so many wonders.
“Hi.” Her voice was deeper than most women’s. A little whiskey, a little smoke. Hoarse around the edges, as if she’d been screaming his name. Which she had been, a few days ago.
“Hey.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. She smelled like orange blossoms. He knew that smell—he used to pick oranges when he was younger.
“I just need to put my shoes on and we can go. Come in for a sec.”
Lucky walked into her little apartment. She’d lived there for two years, but the space was as sterile as the rest of the building. Beige couch, an Oriental-style rug, a coffee table with a remote control on it. There was no art on the walls, but there was a small TV and some kind of gaming system that looked like it cost more than his truck and his horse put together. The entire place was as clean as a hospital, which seemed appropriate considering her profession.
She sat down on the sofa and put on a pair of high-heeled sandals. Her feet were so pretty. He imagined pressing her soles against his chest as he reamed her.
Easy, you pervert.
He cleared his throat. “So where is this party?”
“About a ten-minute drive. Annette has a beautiful house. She restored it. A real Southern belle—from Louisiana. Have you been there?”
He nodded, trying not to stare at her cleavage as she did up the tiny buckles of her shoes. “Couple times. Lafayette.”
She admired her toes for a moment then looked up at him. “You’ve been so many places.”
“I only stay long enough for the show. I know more about the highways than I do about the stops.”
“Still, I think that’s so cool.” She stood up and checked her lipstick in the mirror by her front door. “I would love to travel.”
She grabbed her purse and keys and put on a leather jacket. She looked so badass that Lucky’s palms twitched, aching to strip her bare and spank that sweet ass before he rode it straight to heaven.
“Are you all right?”
He blinked at her. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” He put his hat back on and surreptitiously adjusted himself in his jeans. “So, how should we play this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your ex-boyfriend. How do we make him jealous?”
She looked confused for a moment, as if she’d forgotten the whole purpose of tonight. The expression on her face made Lucky wish he hadn’t brought up Dr. Dickhead at all. He cleared his throat. “For example, option one. I could be your dream date. I could pull out your chair for you at the table, get you a glass of wine, laugh at your jokes.”
“And option two?
“Option two, I could be a possessive jerk. Hang my arm around you all night. Feel you up and pretend I didn’t see him watching.”
She smirked. “Why do I get the sense you could play both roles equally well?”
“Actually, I play option two a little better.” Lucky’s heart skipped at beat when her smirk turned into a genuine smile. “Okay, on a scale of one to ten,” he said, “how jealous do you want him to be?”
Instead of answering, Harmony rested her hands on the lapels of his jacket and slid her palms down over his chest. Her eyes rested on his lips. For a moment, Lucky thought she was going to kiss him. His body stilled in anticipation.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know if making Frank jealous is what I really want,” she said.
Lucky’s heart punched at his ribcage, but he forced himself to stand still. “What do you really want?”
Her soft breaths quickened. Her neck and chest grew flushed. She wanted to kiss him—he could feel it.
“Tell me. What is it you really want?” he asked again.
Harmony looked up into his eyes. “Let’s not make a plan,” she said slowly. “Let’s go to this party and enjoy ourselves. If Frank wants to talk to me, I’ll tal
k to him. If he doesn’t, I won’t. Whatever happens, happens. Okay?”
Dazed by her, Lucky nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes. That’s what I want.” She patted his chest and dropped her hands. “Let’s go.” When she turned, he followed her out the door, still starving for that kiss.
They drove a short distance to a large, two-story house in an older part of town. Cars were parked up and down the street. The front of the house was lit up with floodlights. Lucky took her hand as they made their way up the concrete walkway.
“You look so beautiful tonight,” he said as they climbed the steps.
“Stop.”
“No. I won’t. Don’t you know how beautiful you are, Harmony? Hermosa. Preciosa.”
She smiled shyly at him. “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.” A little dimple formed in her left cheek. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to taste her. No—he needed to taste her.
“Wait.” Right before she rang the doorbell, he leaned down and kissed those cherry red lips. He whispered, “You know, we don’t have to go in. We can just…get back in your car…drive back to your place…and have our own party.” He dropped tiny kisses along her jaw. Desire roared in his chest when her breath hitched in her throat. Her cheeks flushed pink. She paused, staring at him as though she were a heartbeat away from taking his suggestion.
Lucky held her gaze. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” He brushed his fingertips back and forth across the cool, silken skin of her throat. “How about you? Have you been thinking about how good it was?” He lowered his lips to her ear. “Don’t you want to play together again?”
Her eyes fluttered closed. “Lucky,” she murmured.
“You do, don’t you, belleza?” He rested his thumb lightly in the hollow of her throat. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”
