Luca's Dilemma (2 page)

However, the sight of his car in the driveway gave her reason to pause. He was supposed to be at his office until much later tonight, tying up loose ends before they flew out in the morning. She could have considered the possibility that he had come home for lunch, had gotten sick, or had even decided to work from home. Any of those excuses would have sufficed and resulted in her bounding into the large house and seeking him out. That would have all been good if not for the shiny red Toyota Camry taking up her spot next to Ahmed’s sleek black Lexus.

Knowing her heart couldn’t take the sight of what her mind suspected was going on, she removed her cell phone from her purse and speed dialed him. She was about to give up on the call when…

“Hello,” came the voice of a very breathless Ahmed.

Stunned, Sheila said nothing.

“Who is this?” he managed to pant out.

“It–it’s me… Sheila.” Her voice felt small and broken as the words struggled past the lump in her throat.

“Hey, Shi… (groan)…what’s up?”

Sheila couldn’t believe her ears. Was he really brazen enough to be having sex with someone else while talking to her on the phone, and in her house? “I need to talk to you… Please.” The desperation she heard in her own voice made her feel clingy, but she really did need him. Everybody else she considered turning to at this critical moment lived too far away, including her parents and older brother, Calvin.

“Can’t. I’m in an important meeting right now,” he bit out, stifling another groan. He apparently didn’t consider the fact that his sex mate’s moans were bleeding through the receiver right into his stupefied girlfriend’s ears.

Sheila sat in a daze, listening in silence as the sounds of their passion grew louder. “Sorry to have bothered you,” she finally said, barely above a whisper before ending the call. She sat there, staring up at the window of the room she assumed they were using. Her room. Fleetingly, the urge to confront them crossed her mind.

In the end, she chose to not waste precious tears or time over this or any of the circumstances of this day. Turning the key in the ignition of her late model BMW, she drove away.

Chapter 2

The last day of August was sweltering hot in Limington, Maine… Too damned hot to be chasing fucking horses. To his dismay, Luca Moriatti was doing just that. After researching it online and talking to a few of the community equestrian experts, he still had no definitive answer as to why his new stallion was in love with his new neighbor slash tenant. He couldn’t help but remember the first day he met the walnut–skinned beauty because it wasn’t such an easy day to forget…

***

April of That Year…

Pulling into her small driveway practically comatose, Sheila placed her shiny green Beamer in park. The winter weather was finally turning milder, making the ride home a little easier. Unfortunately, instead of snow and black ice, she now had to deal with the ever–popular mud season. It was her first, and it was bad. The only mud she didn't have an aversion to was of the variety found at a high quality spa, not the crap in her long–ass driveway with an affinity toward her car.

The fresh potholes didn’t humor her much either. But at least the weather was warmer, and she looked forward to finally being able to sleep with the window open. Fresh air always did her good.

She exited the vehicle, slamming the car door behind her. One glimpse of the muddy walkway forced an involuntary gasp from her parted lips.
Surely the landlord should have put those boards down by now
, she thought.

Richard had gone on and on about how attentive the landlord was. Two months later, Sheila had yet to meet the man and, to date, had been given little reason to agree with her best friend’s spouse in his assessment. The guy had been absent when she moved in, but Richard had informed her of his return a week ago. Oh, well. Nothing she could do about it now.

Taking in a deep breath, Sheila began the treacherous journey up her muddy walkway. An all–out effort was needed as the suction of the mud continuously threatened to pull her shoes off her feet, adding unwelcomed strain to what should have been an easy task. What normally took a few seconds took minutes.

A triumphant “yes” escaped from her once she managed to reach the front porch of her tiny home without incident, but the extra exertion left her feeling more tired than ever. Breathing heavily, she slumped against the porch railing and began digging through her purse for her keys. Fatigue was instantly replaced by panic when she didn’t locate them readily. Frantically, she began searching her pockets and backpack, growing more anxious with every passing second. A full minute passed before she realized she had left them in the car.

With a deep sigh, she turned her attention to her vehicle, her moment of peace fading once it sunk in that the engine was still running. The childish tantrum that ensued would have been comical if it had been happening to someone else. She stomped her feet and began punching and kicking the air with her muddy shoes. In the midst of her fit, Sheila’s leg caught on a foreign object and she suddenly found herself soaring through the air. Her partial squeal was cut off by a mouth full of mud as she landed face down with a sickening thud. In shock, she continued to lay on the soppy wet surface that used to be a lawn, wondering what the hell she had done to deserve this. Perhaps God was punishing her for not giving in to her parents’ wishes?

Naw
.

With a groan, she lifted her face from the muddy earth with the palms of her hands. Using the last of her strength, she slowly got back on her feet, pushing all asinine ideas of cosmic punishment away. She futilely attempted to wipe off the grass and mud covering the front of her body while simultaneously seeking out what had caused her flight. There, on the edge of her porch, sat two shiny jugs of fresh maple syrup. Apparently, Janie had been by. Normally, Sheila would have been appreciative of her neighbor’s gift, even though she didn’t do sweets, but having damn near broken her neck over such thoughtfulness served to only heighten her ire.

No longer concerned about getting soiled or losing shoes, she stomped toward her car, sending mud and random cuss words flying liberally in her wake. Her bold stride almost landed her on her ass a few times, but she was far too gone in her anger to care. Furiously, she grasped the handle on the driver's side door, only to have it slip from her gooey fingers. She tried again, this time maintaining her stronghold on the handle and practically ripping the door off its hinges.

With a twist of her wrist, she roughly switched the ignition to the off position. Sprinkles of brown liquid landed on various parts of her pristine white leather interior and dashboard, causing her breath to catch in her throat. In horror, Sheila stared at the little raised bumps as the mud instantly began to dry in place.

Can it get any worse?
she thought, as the drying dots she willed away began to blur. “No crying,” she chastised herself, forcing the tears away before they could gain momentum. She had managed to stay strong for six months, and she wasn’t about to give that up now.

Stepping back from the vehicle, she took a deep breath, calming her inner rage and forcing the urge to break down to subside before shutting the car door gently and carefully trudging back to her porch. Even though she slowed her roll, the trek back seemed more arduous. Her L.L. Bean rubber mocs were literally sucked into the liquefied soil, each step threatening to knock her off balance.

By the time she reached the porch again, she was covered from head to toe in the brown goo. She bent over, grasping the sides of her pants as she performed a quick assessment of the damages and then stopped short. Her gaze slowly lifted as the realization she hadn't locked the car door set in.

“Ah, forget it! If anyone wants the damn thing, they can have it!”

Turning from the vehicle, she removed her mocs, deciding it best to leave them on the porch before carefully stepping inside her home. Once the door closed behind her, she began to undress. All movement ceased as two things occurred to her. No one was around for miles, leading her to wonder who would be able to find her car, let alone steal the damn thing. And, the car had a remote locking system, which allowed her to easily lock it from a good distance. Feeling the need to do so, she moved to the living room window and pushed the car's remote button. She couldn't help but shake her head in shame at her foolishness.

“Hot heads never prevail,” she muttered under her breath, repeating her momma’s words of wisdom.

A small prayer escaped her lips as she thanked God for hardwood floors while managing to move deeper into her home. Soiled clothing hit the floor with each step as the fogginess continued to further encompass her brain. She was too far gone to worry about cleanup. The extra effort to get in the house had drained her. She was beyond tired and needed desperately to hit the hay before her current disposition prompted her to commit any more ridiculous acts.

However, her lowered cognitive abilities didn’t prevent the bullshit of the night before from penetrating her fog–filled brain. It had been the last shift of her workweek at the sleep lab, and nothing else would have caused it to end more dramatically than spending it with “the twins”, as she had affectionately come to call them. As usual, it hadn’t gone well. She didn’t work with the drama queens often because they worked on an as–needed basis.

But when they did work, for reasons beyond her comprehension, it seemed to always be with her. One twin at a time may have been, at the most, tolerable. Unfortunately, it was
always
with both of them, as if one wasn't able to function without the other. She had to rethink that one. Putting the word “function” and “the twins” in the same thought was an overly polite use of the word.

On top of caring for two very demanding patients who’d dutifully taken their diuretics that day, Sheila'd had to witness the twins dance around the tech room with their beloved country music at eardrum–splitting volume. It wasn't the cool type of country music either. It was that twanged–out shit that grated on the nerves of even the most hardcore music enthusiast. The ditzes had swayed and swung to it as though they were in some kind of
Oklahoma
musical gone awry.

Ordinarily, listening to music wouldn’t have been a problem as she and her other co–workers occasionally boogied down in the wee hours to keep awake. And, hey, she tolerated country music just as much as the next Atlanta–raised debutant. But the two blonde bulbs kept disturbing the patient in the next room with their antics and ignoring their assigned patients whenever they called out for assistance.

Growing tired of the whole mess, Sheila had asked the twins nicely to turn the music down and pay attention to their patients, only to be accused of being a racist. Where the hell that had come from was still a mystery to her. While she continued to stare at the pair dumbfounded, the bigger of the two mumbled something about Bobby Brown crossing over before storming out of the room to finally tend to her patients' needs. The door slamming behind her caused all the other patients to awaken with a start. Sheila lost it when this led to another round of bathroom trips. “I have to pee!” and “Nurse!” were still stuck in her head from hearing the patients call out over and over again for the rest of the night. Being called a nurse when she wasn’t one hadn’t helped to improve her disposition.

By the time the shift ended, Sheila was beyond perturbed. Barely resisting the urge to bang the twins’ heads together, she had quietly completed her morning duties and prepared to leave.

At that moment, the smaller of the two had turned to her and said, “Aren't you going to stay and help us?”

To which Sheila had rolled her eyes and left before she got herself in trouble. Try as she might, she just didn’t get those two.

Shaking off the wretched memory, Shelia continued moving farther into her home until she reached her small bathroom. She was barely able to shower and perform her pre–sleep routine. She forced herself to concentrate, knowing it was the only way she would get through the menial tasks of brushing her teeth and washing the greasy film off her face. It didn’t help that she was cramping in anticipation of the much–unwelcomed geyser that tortured her each month since reaching the big four–O. With effort she managed to get through it, not really caring if she had put everything back in its rightful place or had dutifully scrubbed the appropriate body parts.

Leaving the bathroom, she realized that she hadn’t done laundry, limiting her choice of sleep attire. Feeling way too tired to search for a nightgown, she donned the first thing she found, crawled into bed, and easily succumbed to the delicious sleep that wrapped around her.

***

Having completed his morning workout, Luca stepped out onto his massive wraparound porch with the usual mug of morning coffee in hand. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh grass scent of the spring morning and allowed his eyes to roam over the vast green of the rural property that he had come to call home. This was his kingdom. He knew it had been luck when his cousin, Tyler, stumbled across the large white farmhouse with detached barn while considering prospects for his real estate business. The house sat on four hundred acres of secluded land, which consisted of open fields for haying, bountiful trees, and a massive man–made pond. Luca had instantly fallen in love with it while peeking over Tyler's shoulder.

His mood soured slightly when he recalled how Drago, his older cousin, had tried to talk him out of this endeavor, stating that he was neither mellow nor disciplined enough to live the small town life. To Luca’s surprise, it had been Tyler and Drago’s partner, Tony, who had finally convinced his two cousins that the small rural town might be just what Luca needed to attain such–said discipline.

Setting his now empty coffee mug on the railing, Luca reached toward the sky in a full–body stretch, bringing his stiff muscles roaring to life. He began making his way out to the barn to retrieve another bale of hay for his stallions. The latest addition to the group had quite the appetite and endless energy to go with it. It was almost like having a kid with ADHD, not that he had or wanted much experience with people of a miniature stature.