“Collette already enlightened me,” the blonde said. She didn’t seem in the least upset.
Ana wasn’t sure what to do or say. The other women already seemed comfortable with one another, and despite Barrett’s tendency toward snootiness, Ana could see herself liking all of them. And despite the shitty bonding assignment Carly had given them, she liked the stable, too. It was a down-to-earth place where real work got done; and though she’d never ridden a horse, Ana had always suspected she’d love them. One whickered in her direction, as if he seconded that thought.
Collette went to a rack on the wall that held tools. “Take a rake, Justine. Pick an empty stall and muck it out.”
“I’m not dressed to deal with horse shit,” Justine wailed.
In jeweled flip-flops and tiny shorts, Justine wasn’t wrong about that. The other two women were in gingham tops and worn jeans, and Collette’s short brown hair was covered by a bandanna. Ana had opted for knee-length cutoffs and a T-shirt, pulling her hair sleekly back into a single thick braid.
She spotted a row of rubber boots in different sizes under a bench, and then noticed that Collette and Barrett already had theirs on. Feeling awkward and uncertain—two feelings she absolutely hated—Ana sat down and selected a pair that looked likely to fit, took off her sneakers, and pulled them on.
“Get over yourself, Justine,” Collette said briskly. “Whistle a happy tune or something.”
“Fuck that.”
Justine stomped over to the bench and changed her footwear, then grabbed one of the rakes Collette was holding out.
“Where should I start?” Ana asked, standing up.
“First you take out the water bucket and the manger,” Collette said. “And then the hay.”
Ana headed toward the chestnut.
“It’s also a good idea to remove the horse,” Colette called after her, her tone clearly good-natured.
Despite herself, Ana found herself relaxing and fought back a smile. She went in a different direction to an unoccupied stall, thinking it had been a long time since she’d indulged in “girl time.” Trying to do so, even getting closer to Téa, had always reminded her of how she’d lost Gloria. Now, with these three larger-than-life women, she suddenly found herself hoping they’d learn not to just work together, but to like one another.
Justine entered a nearby stall, the horse next door watching her with interest as she began to pitch sodden straw into the main aisle.
“You have to separate the manure,” Barrett told her. “It goes in the wheelbarrow.”
Justine looked at the contraption with disgust when Barrett pointed.
“Gee, thanks for the tip, Miss B. Where’d you learn that? You don’t look like you ever get your hands dirty.”
Justine’s mouthy comeback earned her a sharp look from Collette. She quit talking.
“You’d be surprised,” Barrett replied calmly.
Ana had to admire her for not losing her cool. And for the advice. She wouldn’t have known to separate the, uh, stuff from the straw.
The other two women got to work with them.
Three hours later, they were gathered around an outdoor table with cold beers in hand.
Justine popped the cap off her bottle with a long-nailed thumb and took a deep swig.
“Ahhh.” She set the bottle down with a thump on the wooden table. “That was so much fun. Let’s do it again. Every day.”
“That can probably be arranged. So shut up already.” Collette took a sliver of ice from the small cooler on the table and rubbed her forehead with it.
Barrett sipped from her bottle, but Ana rolled hers between her palms, enjoying the coolness. All four of them had worked up a sweat, and smelled stronger than the exercised horses now getting rubdowns, but the job had gotten done.
Justine rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin in both hands. “Ana, you okay? You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m fine except for the blisters on my hands.”
“Let me see.”
Barrett’s soft-voiced request surprised Ana but she extended her hands, palms up.
“I have some balm that I use. I’ll give it to you when we get back to the main house.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I might not make it that far,” Justine said dramatically. “Bury me here.”
“Ana worked harder than you and she’s not complaining,” Collette pointed out. “I’m pretty sure she worked harder than any of us.”
“No way,” Ana protested, but despite herself she felt a tingling of pleasure.
“Oh, hush. And drink that damn beer before I do it for you,” Justine said to her.
Collette raised hers in agreement. Ana drank as the ex-cop, who seemed to have naturally fallen into the role of leader, finished hers.
“Okay, ladies,” she said. “Before we all crash in our bedrooms, has anyone figured out why Carly the Invisible picked us for Belladonna?”
“She must have her reasons,” Barrett observed. “Plus a bizarre sense of humor.”
“Two good guesses.” Collette clinked her bottle against Barrett’s, then Ana’s.
Justine held on to her second beer, not joining in. “Ya think? I’m not getting the humor part. I don’t think Carly is all about fun.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
“Forget her. Let’s talk about us,” Collette said. “Who we are, what we have in common, what we don’t. You start, Justine.”
“Not me. I hate sharing.”
“Okay then. You can go last.” Collette set down her beer. “You all know my name. Don’t play cards with me. I used to deal blackjack. And I used to be an undercover cop. Actually, you never stop being one, even when you quit.” She paused.
Ana wondered why but Collette didn’t add anything more.
“Don’t look at me,” Justine said. “I pay my outstanding parking tickets on a quarterly basis.”
Barrett shook her head but she smiled. “My last gig was overseas. Army. Eastern Europe, working with refugee women and children. Pick a conflict. I probably was there.”
Ana took that in. Nothing she’d done compared. She had a new respect for the cool blonde.
Collette’s intelligent gaze rested on Ana.
She fought her natural resistance to talking about herself. To sharing anything that could possibly and probably be used against her. “Ah—I had my own business. A coffee shop in Seattle.”
“Ooo,” Justine said. “Now we’re getting into the rough stuff.”
Ana felt her face grow warm and automatically thrust out her chin. “There’s more to it. But some other time.”
To her credit, Justine let it go at that. There was something to being quiet and patient and letting other people make the mistakes, Ana thought.
Justine set down her empty bottle with a sigh. “Okay. I started my glorious career as a roadhouse hostess and figured out quick that I could make more money as a dancer. Please don’t hate me because I worked in a thong.”
The others murmured to the contrary, but all Ana could think was that Justine working in a thong would probably drive men crazy. Would her working in a thong do the same to Ty?
“I’m totally done with that,” Justine continued. “But I met a lot of interesting people and had a lot of fun. Oh, and somewhere in there I learned how to fix cars. You don’t ever want to show up late at Angels from Heaven because your beater threw a rod.”
Barrett blinked as if she was trying to figure out the last sentence. So she didn’t know what a beater was, Ana thought. Well, that wasn’t a crime.
She was cutting the blonde slack, she realized. Cutting them all slack. Had she already started to bond with these women?
Over manure. With aching backs.
It was a start.
Looked like the mysterious Carly had accomplished what she’d wanted.
The other women nodded and Ana automatically did the same.
“I say we reconvene for group mani-pedis in a week,” Justine piped up. “Show of hands?”
Ana looked at her short, uncolored nails. Plain. Simple. Boring.
When she looked up, the other women were watching her with different expressions. Gentleness—Collette. Amusement—Justine. Challenge—Barrett.
The vote was unanimous.
“I know a red that will look fabulous with your coloring,” Justine said as they all left the stable. Feeling slightly dazed, Ana simply nodded.
But when she was alone in her room, she showered and fell into bed with a smile.