THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,200

bullshit anything.

“You tell me. Don’t you basically lie for a living?” Steven cackles. It’s been a few weeks since he let a lawyer joke fly. Unfortunately, I end up laughing.

I agree. “Sometimes. Most of the time I steer clear of those cases.” We get into a moral code of ethics for the rest of the drive. He asks questions and I defend myself. We’re somewhere in between the Simpson trial and Bill Gates when we pull onto the gravel drive of my ranch.

The first thing I always think is that it looks so big. So open and spacious, sprawling for miles. It’s the opposite of the suburbs where I live in Virginia. The pink and orange sky melts into the horizon, casting a mixed pastel color over the never-ending green fields and the stables in the distance. I never could look at this place and question God. Down-home Georgia is that magnificent. Steven pulls my Mercedes into a parking spot, which is not really a parking spot; he just knows it is because I grew up in this house. We’ve created a small dust trail leading out to the main road that makes me smile.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” my daddy yells from the massive porch. There are six huge columns wrapped in Christmas lights that sparkle in the dusk hour.

I smile at the man who made me who I am today. His worn out baseball hat tips to the left a touch as his calculating gaze lands on Steven. “Hey Daddy. Told you we’d make home before dinner.” I rush up the stairs and into his arms.

“Damn near the whole town is talking about you coming around again. It’s been too long, sweetheart. How many years?”

I brush off his question, because even I’m too embarrassed to give an answer. My daddy’s visited me a few times, so it’s not as if I haven’t seen him at all. Just not as much as I’ve should. It makes my heart hurt. I let the porch door slam behind me as Steven and my dad exchange pleasantries and talk about traffic and the weather. Uncomfortable topics when you’re not sure where to start. Steven is a big boy and can handle himself. The house is just as eloquently quaint as when I left it. My heels make a comforting noise on the unpolished wooden floors as I make my way to the bay window in the back of the house.

It’s my favorite spot as it shows the pastures that never end and the stable. There aren’t neighbors or, civilization for that matter, for miles. The guys are milling around the kitchen, their voices booming, my daddy with an accent so thick that it makes me wince.

“I can’t wait to ride tomorrow,” I call out. Steven walks to stand next to me to admire the view.

“Tomorrow, huh?” he whispers into my ear. I shiver.

“I’m not even sure I remember how,” I admit, playing into his hand.

He clears his throat. “Someone once told me it’s just like riding a horse. You get in the saddle and it all comes back to you.”

I shake my head. “You will ride horses with me tomorrow,” I order. His eyes widen—probably as he remembers the last time I forced him into equestrian gear and on top of a beast. It didn’t end well. “Do your parents know you’re in town yet?”

“They do. I called them. Every high school friend I don’t remember wants to hang out while I’m in town. I told them I have a full schedule, but let me know if you’re up for some small town fun. We can go to the honky-tonk and cut a fucking rug into pieces.”

“You ride, and I’ll cut a rug,” I say, grabbing his arm and following him into the dining room where my daddy’s friend, Grace, has a prepared meal. She’s already gone home to her own house, but I have a feeling she’s here more than she’s not when I’m not here. It would be just like my daddy to hide a relationship from me. It’s a wonder I feel the way I do about dating after my marriage to Stone.

My mom left when I was two. I’ve never wondered who she was or why she left because I grew up fine without her. Daddy said she had problems with commitment. Sounds like a bad time to realize that after you get married and have a baby, but who am I to judge? Grace has