“They must have caught him in an unusually good mood.  Plus I saw him checking out the photographer’s ass so he’s probably expecting a tip.”

“Naturally.”

Since the girls need to leave in a half hour I hustle through a shower and don’t bother about drying my hair.  In this climate it dries quickly on its own anyway.

When I get to the kitchen, Ava is kneeling on the floor beside her son and Bree pretends like I haven’t just entered the room.   She’s wearing a short swing dress with cowboy boots.  If I had to guess I would say dresses probably aren’t well suited to cattle roping lessons but since no one asked me I’ll just keep my mouth shut.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Brigitte declares and shoots me a wounded look before flouncing out of the house.

I do feel slightly guilty because I don’t know for sure if she was the one who aired all the dirty Oscar laundry at the feet of Vogel Productions but it doesn’t matter anyway.  Really, if it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine.   I should never have expected the private past to remain private.  That’s what you get when you open the door and let in the cameras.

“You and Auntie Ren are gonna have so much fun,” Ava promises her boy with a smile and a kiss.

Alden looks at me with dubious blue eyes.  I’ve never been the type to get all mushy about kids but this gorgeous little boy, my nephew, owns a piece of my heart without even trying.  I hate that he’s in the middle of all this garbage.  Ava does the best she can, but I should make more of an effort to help her.

I grab a cup of coffee and sit down on the floor beside my sister’s child.  “You like chickens, Alden?”

Slowly, thoughtfully, the little boy nods his head.

“Well how about you help your tired old aunt feed all those chickens and clean out the coop?”

I know Spence probably already took care of that before the sun came up but I figure if it amuses the kid it wouldn’t hurt to do it all again.  Alden gives me a gap-toothed grin and Ava plants one more kiss on his little head before mouthing the words ‘thank you’ and heading out the door.

Alden is wary for few minutes after his mother’s departure but then returns to his hyperactive little self.  I’m laughing as I get his shoes tied and let him out into the yard.  I forget to notice whether there’s a camera following us but when I glance around I see Rash filming away at a discreet distance.  I suppose I am becoming immune to being watched after all.

The day the chickens showed up, Spencer built a solid enclosure so they wouldn’t become a coyote meal.  It’s positioned to take advantage of the shade provided by a sprawling mesquite tree that’s probably been there for a hundred years.   The enclosure is probably five times the size it needs to be for four lousy chickens.  Maybe Spencer has plans to expand the flock after all.

After I hand over the bowl of feed to Alden, I sit down on a wide tree stump and laugh as my nephew throws the bowl’s contents straight up into the air.  It turns out little kids are good medicine.  I haven’t laughed as much in weeks as I have in the last twenty minutes.  The chickens are going berserk, pecking at the food as fast as their skinny necks will let them.

I feel the shadow at my back before I hear his voice.

“You babysitting the kid or the poultry?”

That’s how he always starts a conversation these days; some off-the-cuff remark that kicks my blood pressure into high gear. No matter what he says it sounds thickly sensual.  Since our barn encounter I’ve managed to keep interactions to a minimum.

I don’t fool myself though.  I know I can only avoid him as long as he lets me.  And sometimes I’m not even sure I want him to.

I don’t turn around when I answer.  “I’d heard you were gone for the day.”

Oz opens the gate and strolls inside the chicken enclosure.  He stands closer to me than he needs to but I don’t even flinch.

“So is that why you decided to emerge from the cave? Because you thought I was gone?”

“No. I don’t care where you are.”

“I’m sorry I bother you so much, Ren.”   He sounds the opposite of sorry.

“You are not.”

“I am.  I always tell the truth.”

“So do I.”

“Do you now?” he says quietly, almost bemusedly.  “That’s interesting.”

“I don’t want you.  I don’t want you.  I DON’T WANT YOU!”

I wonder if he’s thinking of those words, if he can hear them plainly as if they are being hurled in live time.  I know I can hear them. Their echoes are etched into this landscape.  They are permanent.

“This is a stupid conversation.”  I have to tilt my head to see him.  Somehow I manage to get hit in the eyes with the sharpest rays of the climbing sun.  It hurts.

Oz shifts slightly.  He’s not standing as close to me anymore, but I can see more of him now.  I wish I couldn’t.  He’s filled out a lot in five years, all in exactly the places a woman would want a man to fill out.   He crosses his tanned arms and whistles a few notes.

A bolt of desire slices across my lower belly and settles between my legs, throbbing.  I don’t know if it’s a memory from my love-crazed teenage self or if it’s something new.  Either way it makes no difference.  I just want him.  Despite myself, I want him bad.

Oz stops whistling and gestures to my nephew.  “So I never got the whole story.  How did Ava wind up with a kid?”

“You’re a sharp guy.  Surely the biological basics aren’t lost on you.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh.  “Tell me Ren, are you contractually obligated to challenge me every chance you get?”

“No.  Care to answer your own question?”

“No.”  He’s giving me one of his black-eyed glares.  “No goddammit, I’m not.”

“Lower your voice!”  I jerk my head toward Alden even though the kid is obviously not listening to a thing.  He’s squealing and frolicking around after the chickens.

“I’m not the one screaming,” Oz responds mildly.

I have to stop myself from staring at his lips.  I have to stop myself from staring at his chest; his broad, absurdly muscled chest that provocatively stretches the fabric of his shirt from all the hard power that coils beneath it…

“Loren.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Huh?  Where?”

He’s giving me a funny look.  It might be because I sound completely sun-addled.  He pulls his hat off, rubs the sweat off his forehead and waits for me to make some sense.

My mouth is as dry as the ground.  “I think I need some water.”

Without pausing, Oz tosses over the bottle he’d been carrying.  It’s warm and half gone.  I gulp it down anyway

Alden lets out a triumphant little yip as he clutches a fistful of chicken feathers. I’m watching him and then I reach into my bra, ripping out the microphone.  Even though Ava’s history is widely known, I don’t feel like being the one to broadcast it.  I look up at Oz but he just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“No,” he snorts.  “I don’t always wear a leash just because some fucker in a suit says so.”

“Fine.  So, about Ava.  She can act like the simple-minded socialite.  She’s more like a walking heartbreak. I don’t know if you heard about it wherever you were, but she had a role in a short-lived sitcom and started hitting the celeb party scene pretty hard.  She got involved with a costar who happened to be one of earth’s more colossal turds.  Things went sour even before she got knocked up.  The show was cancelled mid season and loverboy wasn’t about to stick around and play daddy.  He happens to be another like us, with a famous last name but without two dimes to rub together so there’s no point chasing after him for child support.  And that’s just the way it is.” I pause for a breath.  “Ava’s a good mom.  She is.”

“I believe you.”

I shoot him a sharp glance because he sounds like he might be taunting me, but he’s just watching the kid run around with a thoughtful gaze on his face.