At 4:30 the next day, I closed the gates to the pigsty and made my way to the lockers. If I hurried, I'd be able to take a quick shower before Peyton came to pick me up. I definitely needed one.

A sharp whistle pierced the stifling summer air. But people whistled here for all kinds of reasons. No time to worry about things that didn't concern me.

"Hey!"

Squinting across the yard, I spotted Miguel Rodriguez standing beside the Ranch's black F-350, rigged up with a horse trailer. I looked over my shoulder to see who he was addressing - it wouldn't be me since he'd never spoken so much as a single word to me before.

"I'm talking you, Blondie," he yelled.

Miguel, a well-built guy in his late twenties, was a shift manager. He was brash, harsh, demanding, and frankly, more than a little bit intimidating with his perma-frown and rough demeanor. 

Keeping my feet firmly planted to the ground, I raised an eyebrow at him while I finished peeling off my gloves.

"Enough with the attitude. Get over here."

"What do you want?" I yelled across the space between us.

In Spanish, he muttered a string of curses under his breath and stalked over to me, his gait not unlike that of a charging bull. Swallowing, I stood my ground and resisted the absurd urge to meet him halfway and apologize for sassing him.

He stared down his nose at me like I was utterly beneath him. I tried not to take it personally because that's pretty much how he looked at everyone.

"Time and a half plus travel expenses for a pick up job," he said.

"Huh?"

He spoke with exaggerated slowness, as if he were speaking to an imbecile or, I guess, a dumb blonde. "We're picking up two horses from El Paso, I'm scheduled to go, but I have to get home. Family emergency."

I stared at the Virgin Mary tattooed on his arm. Miguel had full sleeves on both sides, but I'd never realized that they were all religious iconography. And they were quite pretty, actually. 

"Hey, eyes up here," he said. 

I scowled and looked at his face. "I can't drive a tow. I mean, I've never tried, but I'm pretty sure I wont be able to."

"You'll be riding shotgun."

"Oh," I said, thoroughly confused. "Why me?"

"Because you're walking by at the right moment. Come on, don't waste my time, you want it or not? If you don't, I have to look for someone else." He tapped at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "Clock's ticking."

Numbers churned in my head. Eight hours round trip at time and half plus travel. I could actually take Peyton somewhere really nice for his birthday. And if they were buying horses, Daniel Harris would be going and I wouldn't mind spending the time with him.

"Okay, I'll go."

"Go get your shit then, and be back here in ten."

"What, we're going now?"

He pointed to the truck. "It leaves in ten minutes. Giddy up."

I did. I quickly washed my hands and face, grabbed my backpack from the lockers and hauled my butt back to the truck. Daniel wasn't there yet so I let myself into the passenger seat and called Peyton. He answered on the first ring. "Early? I'll leave right now shouldn't be longer than - "

"No- Something came up. I'm going to El Paso."

"El Paso? What are you talking about? With who?"

"Daniel Harris. We're picking up some horses."

I was explaining the situation to him in more detail when the driver's side door opened.

And Jake Waites slid in behind the wheel.

My jaw dropped.

"Layla?" Peyton's voice rang in my ear.

I muted the phone and turned to Jake. "What do you think you're doing?"

He wore his usual, blue jeans and a white tee shirt, but he had flip flops instead of his boots on his feet. "Driving." Then, he gunned the engine and did just that.

"I thought Daniel was going."

"Why would Daniel be going?"

"Because we're buying horses," I bit out.

"I can check horseflesh."

A feeling of dread planted itself in my stomach as we started rolling down the driveway, rapidly gaining speed. Peyton continued to call my name on the phone.

Jake nodded at the phone sitting limp in my hand. "Don't you have someone on the phone?"

Snapping out of it, I put the phone to my ear. "Peyton." I shot Jake a dirty look and pressed my finger to my lips.

I could've told Peyton the truth. I should've told Peyton the truth. But I couldn't. I didn't. "Yeah, sorry, we're just pulling out."

"I don't understand, they couldn't find someone more... don't take this the wrong way, but someone more qualified to go? What do you know about buying horses?"

It wasn't at all offensive because it was the truth. It didn't make any sense for me to go.

And then it dawned on me. If I were smarter I would've put it together on my own. "Peyton, I gotta go. I'll call you later."

I ended the call and turned my body to face Jake's. "You put him up to this!"

Jake rolled his window down and stuck his left hand out of the truck, enjoying the wind against his palm. "Put who up to what?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You made Miguel trick me into going with you."

We approached a four way stop where a red SUV sat idling. Jake stuck his head out of the window and banged the side of our truck with the palm of his hand. "Hey - let's go! Move!"

The driver raised his hand in acknowledgment and accelerated. Jake returned his attention to me. "What were you saying?"

"You're a liar and a cheat."

"So are you."

"Me?"

"You told me you didn't have a phone."

"That's different," I said.

"Why can't I have your phone number?"

"Because I said you can't!"

"Because he bought the phone for you?"

My face flushed.

He laughed, easy and languid. "I expected you to lie."

"I'm not the liar here, you are. What happened to I don't play games - not even for you." I said the last part in a falsetto just to annoy him.

He grinned. "Changed my mind - I'll play your silly little games if that's what you need."

I opened my mouth to object, then shut it. What was the point in talking in circles with him? Besides, had I really wanted to, I could've told him to stop, and could've demanded that he take me back to the ranch. He would've taken me back. I knew that. And he knew that I knew that.

"You're getting time and a half for sitting shotgun in a car. You need the money. What's there to complain about? You should be thanking me."

"Whatever," I mumbled, focusing on texting my mom in the off chance that she would care. Today was Tuesday. "When are we coming back?"

"Tomorrow night or Thursday, depends."

I scowled. "On what?"

He shrugged. "Traffic, weather, Random acts of God, you deciding that you want to spend more time with me..."

"I have to be back by Thursday at the latest," I said. There was no way I was missing Peyton's birthday.

"I'll do what I can."

I shut my eyes, expelled a breath, texted Peyton then tossed the phone on my lap and sighed. Well, the lie was official. It was now a living and breathing thing, real as the flesh on my bones. I closed my eyes. "Who knows I'm going with you?"

He shrugged. "Rodriguez."

"That's it?"

"What, you're worried your boyfriend's gonna find out?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"So you say."

"Shut up Jake," I said, pulling my headphones out of my backpack and jamming them into my ears. I turned away from him and curled up against the window. "Don't talk to me anymore. I don't have anything more to say to you."

Jake was a good driver. He kept to the speed limits, obeyed stop signs and made sure to use his turn signals. I barely felt the bumps, even on the rougher country roads. On the highway, I stared out the front window until I felt hypnotized by the never-ending yellow highway divider lines illuminated by our headlights.

He drove with the window cracked, the hot summer air ruffling through his hair, and warming up the too chilly gusts of the air conditioning. He smelled of the sun and soap, a warm, comforting scent.

Somewhere in the Midlands, we stopped for gas in a skeevy, area where he locked me in the car while he went into the store to pay. Our fellow patrons were sketchy at best and I was feeling a little antsy sitting there alone until I realized that he was keeping an eye on me while he was in the store.

I relaxed.

Well, I guess it's nice to know that he's handy with a tire iron.

Immediately, I chastised myself for thinking such a terrible thing and felt like a horrible person for being cruel. I was antsy, and agitated and lashing out at him unfairly.

Jake left the store with a plastic bag around his wrist and lit a cigarette by the door before returning to the car. He was starting the gas pump when I rolled down the window. "You can't smoke at gas stations," I said.

He exhaled, blowing the smoke away from me. "You give me the silent treatment for two and a half hours and that's what you have to say to me?"

"It's against the law."

"So call the cops," he said.

I huffed and rolled the window back up. When I looked into the rear view mirror to see what he would do, he held my gaze and defiantly continued to smoke his stupid cigarette.

When he got back into the car and started the engine, I made a point of rolling down the window. He tossed the plastic bag onto my lap, and gunned the engine. Two cold sandwiches, two bottles of coke and a Snickers bar lay inside it.

"I assumed you wouldn't want to stop at a restaurant for dinner," he said.

Peeling open one of the sandwiches, I handed it to him. His fingers brushed against mine as he accepted it and my stomach erupted in butterflies.

Oh, get it together Layla. He's just a boy.

When I uncapped his coke though, I set it in the cup holder instead of handing it to him.

SORRY, HAD TO RUSH THROUGH THIS CHAPTER TODAY - CAN YOU TELL? IF YOU CAN'T, VOTE!