Fighting Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 2) (29 page)

     “That’s okay.  You’re a good friend to my Gracie.  Have to keep you safe,” he said earnestly.

     He leaned toward me and grabbed me for a big hug.  Unfortunately, he had wrapped his arms over mine, and they were pinned to my sides so I couldn’t hug him back if I’d wanted to. 

     “You two girls have fun tonight.  If there happens to be a naked pillow fight, do me favor and record it.  Or you know, naked anything.” He winked and walked out to his car which was parked in her driveway.

     I turned to Grace and said, “Oh my God, either you’ve rubbed off on him, or he’s just perfect for you.”

     She laughed and held the door open for me.  “I think it’s a little bit of both.”

     It was already late and Grace had to work the next day, so we both just changed into our pajamas.  After a brief rundown of the most recent events involving Delia and Justin, she just sat there stupefied.

     “I don’t blame you for wanting to get the hell out of there.  You feel free to stay here as long as you want or need to.  It’s clearly unsafe for you to be there.”

     “I don’t want to impose, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay for at least a few days.  I need a break from the anxiety that comes whenever I come home from being out anywhere.  I’ll be driving up to Lemoore tomorrow to visit James for the weekend.  It’s the first time I’ve been up there, so I’m relieved to get even further away from the city.  Hopefully she’s not crazy enough to follow me all the way there.  I’ll come back Sunday evening.”

     “My guest room is always open to you.  Just give me a call and let me know when you’ll be here.  Let’s try to get some sleep now.”

     I hugged her, thanking her again for her generosity and understanding.  She waved me off into the direction of her guest room and went to her own bedroom.

     Once snuggled in bed, I called James to let him know what had happened.  He had already been asleep, so I immediately felt guilty waking him when he had to get up early in the morning. 

     “It’s fine, Kitten.  You know I’d be upset if you didn’t tell me about these things right away.  I’m glad you’re coming up tomorrow.  Getting you away from that situation will be a relief to both of us, even if it is for only two nights.”

     “I’m really looking forward to it, too.  Aside from getting away, I miss you and can’t wait to see you.  But please, stop calling me Kitten.”

     “Not a chance,” he said, making me smile.

     “I expect to be up there about five o’clock.  You’ll be home by then, right?”

     “Yes.  We’ll finish around three p.m. tomorrow, so I’ll be home in plenty of time to greet you.  Just don’t be surprised if I meet you at the door wearing nothing but a thong.”

     “You own a thong?” I asked, surprised.

     “Nope.  But for you, I’ll get one.”

     “You weirdo.  Go back to bed.  I’ll give you a call before I get there.”

     “Goodnight, Mimi.  I love you.”

     I was not yet ready to take that plunge although the sound of the words made my heart melt and want to say them back.  I just whispered back, “Goodnight, handsome.  Sweet dreams.”

     Despite my fear and worries over Delia and her escalating behavior, I fell asleep that night feeling more secure and comfortable than I had in weeks.

     After I arrived at James’ place which was a nice house just off base, we settled down in his living room, cuddling.

     “I have a treat planned for you tomorrow.  Have you ever ridden a horse?” he asked.

     “I did once when I was a kid.  I went away to a summer camp my mom scrimped and saved for one year.  I was about eleven years old.  I remember it being very fun and begging my mom for a horse for weeks after I got home.”

     “We’re going to a ranch tomorrow afternoon that lets you go out on rides on some of their horses.  It’s a very pretty place.  There’s a trail by the river that you can follow, and it’s just so peaceful.  I figured you could do with a little tranquility about now.”

     “It sounds perfect.  Thank you,” I said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

     “Don’t start that just yet, or we’ll never get dinner made,” he teased. 

     Together, we made a dinner of pork chops with a mango salsa that James said he’d learned to prepare by watching The Food Channel.  I was surprised as I hadn’t expected cooking to be one of his fortes considering he lived alone with no one to cook for but himself.

     “Living alone, you learn to entertain yourself anyway you can.  I do like to get out and fly on my own, and I do like finding trouble,” he said wiggling his brows at me, “but I also like to enjoy some quiet time alone.  Watching The Food Channel is a nice way to pass some downtime.  I eventually decided to try some recipes myself and before long, I became a not-so-bad cook, if I say so myself.  It can be a lot of trouble to go to just for myself, but in the end, I have great leftovers to eat and don’t have to bother with cooking for the next couple of days.  So, it works out.”

     We also had a nice green salad and a side of vegetable mix to complete the meal.  I teased James for ‘cheating’ since the vegetables had been in a frozen bag.  He just shook his head at me and called me picky.

     After we finished dinner, we sat in his living room again with the TV turned on to some mindless program.  It basically served as background noise as James told me about some of his childhood in Walnut Grove.  He admitted there wasn’t a lot to do so he often found himself in real trouble.  One time when he was about nine years old, he had been playing with matches in his parents’ garage.  He accidentally set fire to an oily rag his father had used to do some engine work on an old truck they had.  Fortunately, it was a detached garage and there was no damage to the house, itself.  Unfortunately, the garage burned to the ground.

     Next, he talked about joy-riding with one of his friends when he was a teenager.  They decided to take the other boy’s father’s truck and go hunt for girls one summer night.  His friend ended up making an illegal turn which was noticed by the local sheriff.  When he went to pull the kids over, James’ friend floored the gas pedal and a subsequent chase all over the town ensued. Being the small town it was, it lasted about six minutes, James said.  When it was over, the sheriff found a couple of open beer containers.  They weren’t actually drunk, but combined with the chase, they got thrown in the city’s jail for the night.  Neither of their parents were willing to come pick them up.

     “Didn’t they lodge any charges against you two?” I asked, doubtfully.

     “Nah.  They had the mentality of ‘boys will be boys’ and thought our night in the pokey was enough to scare us straight.”

     “Did it?” I asked.

     James laughed and asked me, “What do you think?”

     “I think you just didn’t get caught again.”

     “And you would be absolutely right,” he said with a winning grin.

     I shared a few of my childhood stories, though none were as colorful nor exciting as his.  Then we got in a heated discussion about politics.  James’ views were the furthest from mine than I could imagine.  He was conservative, felt people should pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, and obviously had strong feelings about a powerful military presence in the world.  He had a general dislike and distrust of politicians however, so he had a jaded view of whether or not any change could be affected to improve our society. 

     I argued back with him about the need for public assistance, pointed out what I believed was the conservative party’s horrible stance on women’s issues, and the importance of never giving up hope.  We agreed to disagree on many issues.

     Finally, we decided to turn in.  James said as we were walking to his room, “I have another place I want to take you tomorrow.  It’s about two hours from here so we should get started at a decent time.  No sleeping in until noon.”

     “Oh my God, all I want to do is sleep until next week.  Where are we going?”

     “I’ll tell you in the morning.  I don’t want to say anything that will interrupt your beauty sleep.”

     “Fine, Mr. Mysterious as ever.  I’m not even going to pester you to tell me.”

     “Good, now get out of those clothes and let me devour your gorgeous body before we go to sleep.”

     I looked at my non-existent watch.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

     We were on the road by ten a.m. Saturday morning.  I didn’t get to sleep until noon, but James made me a vegetable omelet and served it to me in bed with a large mug of coffee, so it was almost as good.  I felt like I could finally relax, and enjoyed the tranquility and respite from my frazzled nerves. 

     As we got onto the 140 West, I launched into my inquiry of our destination.

     “So you said you’d tell me today where we are headed.  What’s with the secrecy this time?” I asked.

     “We are going to a bona-fide ghost town a little way from here called Hornitos.  It’s a tiny town that was established by Mexican miners in the mid-eighteen-forties.  Shortly after, settlers who had been kicked out of another nearby mining town moved in and gave the place a bad reputation.  What had been a quiet little community became a rough place, with lots of bars, gambling halls, and whorehouses.  There were rumors that there were underground tunnels connecting many of the businesses.”

     “Do you come to this place often?” I asked, considering he was so well-acquainted with its history.

     “No, never been there.  I got all that stuff off of a website I read when I was researching the place.”

     I laughed.  “Then surely you are an expert now.  Please, continue.”

     “From what I read, the town was infamous for daily gunfights.  They dumped their dead into a gorge called Dead Man’s Gulch.  It said there was a notorious Mexican bandit that used to frequent the town.  I don’t remember his name, but it wasn’t any that I recognized.  Maybe there will be some information at the town about it that will tell us more.”

     “This is exciting.  I went to the Calico Ghost Town in Yermo several years ago, but I was largely disappointed.  The town has basically been restored so there is none of that ‘spooky’ feel to it.  I felt like I was at Knott’s Berry Farm instead of some deserted mining town.”

     “From the pictures I saw on the website, this place isn’t like that.  There are many buildings that are still intact, and from what I surmised, appear to be used in some fashion or another.  However, there are many deteriorated and crumbling buildings to satisfy your need for the spooky,” he said as he reached over and shook my knee.

     I bounced in my seat.  “This is a really fun idea.  Thanks for taking me.”

     “There ain’t a hell of a lot of things to do out here, Kitten.  I had to go hunting for something.  Hanging around my house or on base wouldn’t be that much fun.  We are going to go have breakfast with Zach and Pumpkin tomorrow, though.”

      “It’ll be fun to see them again.  I’m sure Jessica would appreciate an update on Zach,” I said with a wink.

     “Is there something there?  I thought he was just a friend.”

     “She’s secretly had a thing for him for years.  He has no clue, though.”

     “I smell some meddling coming on,” he predicted.  I just gave him an impish grin in response.

     We arrived at the ghost town just before noon.  It appeared to be just what I expected:  old, dusty, and just enough spook factor to satisfy me.  We ambled toward an old general store that was now serving as a gift shop for the town.  In it, we were able to obtain a visitor’s guide.  It stated that at the height of its popularity, the town numbered some fifteen-thousand residents.  Currently, there were reported to be sixty residents.

     We wandered about the town with the help of a little map that was provided in the visitor’s guide.  One of the more noteworthy things I learned about the town was that the Ghirardelli’s of the chocolate fame had gotten their start in Hornitos by selling goods to the town’s inhabitants.  Eventually they moved to San Francisco where they set up their now-famous chocolate business.  The storefront they occupied was just ruins.  The history of the town had me fascinated, and I looked at everything I saw with wonder.

     James eventually led me to the town square where he began to read out of the visitor’s guide.  Reportedly, there were ghosts of two prostitutes who had a knife fight in the town’s square over a miner they each claimed was her customer.  From what the guide said, the fight ended with one of the women dead and the other badly injured.  Comically, the miner they fought for had scurried off during the fight.  It was said, however, that the presence of the women could still be felt and that if you stood still and listened long enough, you could still hear the screams of the women as they fought and the cheers of the miners who stood around to watch.

     “What do you think, Kitten?  If we stand here quietly, do you think we’ll hear them?” James said with a boyish smile.

     “We absolutely have to give it a try.  I mean it would be silly to come all this way and not find out for ourselves.”

     “You’ve read my mind,” he said taking my hand.

     We stood there like that for at least five minutes just listening.  A breeze kicked up and wafted over us, and I thought I could hear some sort of sound carrying on it.  I closed my eyes and imagined the scene:  two scantily clad, overly painted women, one blonde, one with black hair, squaring off in the center of the town, knives bared, both of them in a low crouch before the other.  A cheer from one of the surrounding miners spurred the dark-haired woman into action.  She lunged at the blonde making a direct hit and slicing the other girl’s arm.  With a wild shriek, the blonde dove at the woman, her knife in the air, poised to strike. 

     “Did you hear anything, Kitten?” James interrupted my daydream.  “I didn’t hear anything but the wind.”

     I gave him a small, secretive smile.  “Yeah,” I said.  “I think I heard something.  A voice saying ‘don’t call her that’.”

     He just smiled back at me, and we moved on.  We passed a church that looked to still be in use and eventually made our way to a tiny cemetery.  James read again from the visitor’s guide explaining that the cemetery was rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a young Mexican girl who died at a young age.  There was supposed to have been some sort of epidemic, and unfortunately, this little girl wasn’t given a proper burial.  She was buried with bricks and stones over her body on top of the ground.  It was said that visitors to the town had taken them from her grave, and she now wandered the graveyard looking for her stones and bricks.

     The story gave me little goosebumps, and I laughed at my reaction.  Of course, I didn’t really believe in ghosts, but the stories and the atmosphere of the deteriorating town provided was just enough to give it all a sense of creepiness that I loved.

     There was an actual bar still in operation in the town.  We came upon it and decided to go in for a drink, just to say we’d had the experience.  I didn’t think my usual Dirty Martini would fit the mood of our afternoon so I decided to really get into the experience and ordered a shot of Hornitos Tequila and a beer.  I had to laugh when the bartender gave me a bottle of Budweiser.  James ordered the same.  We sat at the bar for a moment taking everything in.  It was a nice place, fairly modernized inside but the bar itself was still that striking old wood.  There were a few patrons, some probably tourists like us, others travelers going by the little town stopping to check it out.

     James raised his shot glass to me.  We clinked, and I swallowed the fiery liquor in one gulp.  I immediately began sputtering and coughing.  James pounded me on the back with one hand, while the other grabbed my bottle of beer and brought it up to my lips.

     “Drink, drink, Mimi.  This will help,” he said.

     I grabbed the bottle and took another healthy swig.  Still breathing fire, I looked at James while fanning my open mouth.

     “What’s the matter?  Haven’t you ever done a shot of tequila before?” he looked at me skeptically.

     “Of course I have.  Just nothing like that,” I responded, laughing.  “That was devil’s brew.”

     “Worse than orange juice?” he asked.

     I gave him a sober look and raised my eyebrow.  “Nothing is worse than orange juice.” He just laughed and shook his head.

     We sat there sipping our beers and just enjoying each other’s company.  We had wandered about for several hours and after having our ‘refreshments’ as James referred to them, we decided we needed to get back on the road if we were going to make it to the horse ranch that evening.

     We arrived home around four-thirty.  We ate a quick snack since we’d skipped lunch, then headed off to go riding.  About thirty minutes after leaving the house, we pulled up to a dusty hacienda.  James led me toward a stable in back where there was a man waiting for us.  After asking about our riding experience, he guided two very docile-looking mares to us.  I laughed at James who only had a faint more experience than I did with horses, that I had been expecting him, as my knight-in-shining armor, to lead me on this ride with a charging steed.  He just swatted me on the ass in response.

     After a brief safety overview, we were both saddled up and heading our horses down a trail away from the stables.  The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky with its brilliant orange and yellows, its purples and blues.  Fluffy white clouds turned a shimmery gray as they streaked across the sky. 

     James cleared his throat next to me.  I glanced over at him expecting him to speak, but instead I saw that look that I had only caught out of the corner of my eye.  He looked at me with such open admiration, I was taken aback. 

     Playing stupid, I asked, “Did you want to say something?”

     “It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t said before.  Right now, I’m trying to decide if you look better in the twilight or the moonlight.  I don’t think it matters either way.  You’re heartbreakingly beautiful even in the dark.”

     I couldn’t help but blush.  Accepting compliments had never been one of my particular graces, but I could usually manage a polite thank you.  With the things that James said to me, I just felt humble and very lucky that a man like him would think and say so.  Not knowing what else to do, I mumbled a demure, “Thank you, James.”

     He smiled that roguish smile at me and took the lead.  He led me around a hill and then down a small grade to a little plateau that overlooked several square miles of simple nature.  On the plateau, to my delight, was a little table set with a white table cloth, napkins, candles, and a picnic basket.

     We dismounted and James took me by the hand.  He steered me toward one of the chairs and sat me down placing the napkin in my lap.  He leaned in and gave me a soft, lingering kiss on the lips before moving to his own chair.

     Once he was settled, he raised his arms at his side and said softly, “Surprise!”

     I laughed happily.  “You just can’t resist, can you?”

     “I always want to keep you guessing because the smile on your face when all is revealed is priceless.”

     “As long as the surprises are happy ones, then by all means, keep on doing it.  It’s the unhappy surprises I’m not too keen on.”

     “Have I let you down, yet?” he asked.

     I smiled tenderly as I looked at him.  “Not even a little bit, James.”

     He smiled back at me and began to unpack the picnic basket.  It was thermally lined inside so the chicken linguine he pulled out was still hot.  I couldn’t imagine how he’d wrangled the ranch owners into doing such a thing, but I was thrilled that he had.  James always went that extra mile to make everything special.  I’d never stopped to appreciate that before.  As I contemplated it, I got that warm, fuzzy feeling people talk about.  James made me feel safe, secure, liberated, and now I realized, loved.

     Once our plates were full, I moved mine out of the way and leaned forward to gave him a big kiss of my own.  “Thank you again, James.  You are an amazing man.”

     I was surprised to see my confident and cocky man look bashful.  “I’m just me, Mimi, and I’m all yours.  Have been for a long time now.”

     “It took a while, but you caught me.  I don’t know what you’re going to do with me now that you have me, but from everything I’ve seen so far, I’m going to like it.”

     “You have no idea,” he said wickedly.

     I laughed.  I had no doubt about it.

     The sky was nearly dark as we led the horses back to the stables.  I was a little sore in the rear from not being accustomed to riding, but my heart was overflowing so I didn’t mind too much.   I fell more than a little bit deeper in love with James that day, although I was just getting an inkling that that was what the feeling was.

     We left the ranch hand-in-hand from our walk to the car and all the way home.  We had taken his rust-bucket, Nelly, to the ranch, so as we drove home the night sky was spread above our heads with its emerging stars.   The wind was warm on my face even though we were getting into late September.  Home and all its responsibilities and problems were a million miles from my thoughts that night.  All I could feel was how happy I was to be alive, and how good it had felt to be out in the world all day without a care but my relationship with the man beside me.  I wanted it to last forever.

     Inevitably, we made it back to James’ house.  It was nearing eight o’clock, and we were both beat from our very active day.  We showered together eager to get the trail dust off our bodies.  As anticipated, once we were clean, we made sure to get each other nice and dirty all over again.