He quickly looks me over. “Are you feeling all right?” His deep voice lacks any warmth but still sends shivers down my spine. The timber is rich and hypnotic.
“I’m fine, thanks. What are you doing here?”
“I have something for you. See you out front.” He turns for the gate.
“Why didn’t you use the front door?” I call out, stepping onto the back porch.
“I enjoy watching you think.”
“Cool. That’s not creepy at all.”
“You asked!” he calls out from the side of the house, where I can’t see him.
I go back inside and quickly finger-comb my hair, hoping it’ll smooth out my ponytail head. I glance in the hallway mirror—framed in a mosaic of colorful purple glass—and see nothing but a shiny face, frizzy brown hair, and bags under my dark eyes. “Jesus. I look like I have a newborn.” When I taught children’s art, I met plenty of those moms. In their eyes, I saw the silent cry for a Sleeping Beauty fairy tale involving a very long nap. The strange part is that I always envied them. I’ve always wanted kids. I love being around them, teaching them, listening to their little voices when they talk. I’ll put it on my wish list.
I push my messy hair back behind my ears, but it doesn’t stay. Screw it. I’m way too interested in what he’s brought me, the excitement amplified by the question: Why?
He brushed me off. Bigtime. Now he’s here with “something.” What made him change his mind?
I close my eyes, grip the front door handle, and jerk. When I open my eyes, I spot a big white, shiny new pickup with a silver horse trailer. Standing beside them both is Mr. Wish, holding out his proud hand like a male version of Vanna White.
I blink twice and swallow once. “Ummm…”
“It’s your wish.”
Not to be a bitch, but I don’t get how a pickup truck and empty horse trailer relate to my actual wishes—the written and the secret one.
“So? Did I nail it?” he asks like an eager boyfriend out to please the woman of his heart. I can’t lie, a part of me is touched. There’s a sweetness in his tone, and it’s a side of him I didn’t expect. For a quarter of a second, I imagine this is what it feels like when a man truly loves you and wants nothing more than to make you happy. With Greg, it was always the other way around. I bent over backwards to appease him. I was always trying to be his genie.
I like this better. If only I knew why Mr. Wish picked it.
“Um.” I swallow. “What do they mean?”
He frowns and the corners of his supple lips slant downwards. “This is your wish.”
“Not to appear ungrateful, because honestly, I can’t remember the last time anyone bought me a truck and horse trailer, but I’m not sure this is what I had in mind.”
“Ah!” He holds up a finger and reaches into his coat pocket. “Perhaps this will explain things.” He holds out a thick bundle of papers. “Take a look.” He jiggles them at me, and I slowly step forward to snatch the documents from his large hand.
He stares with wide, hopeful blue eyes as I unfold them and read.
What the…? I look up over the edge of the paper. “It’s a deed.”
He nods.
“To a hundred-acre horse ranch,” I add.
He nods again. “Less than an hour from your mother’s home in Colorado.”
I know nothing about horses. I don’t even know how to ride one. And I’m not sure I want to learn. “But this costs way more than five million dollars.” I don’t actually know that. It’s just a guess.
“Your wish isn’t constrained by a dollar amount. The five million only pertains to cash. Wishes such as these, as stated in the fine print of the wishing contract, are perfectly acceptable.”
I nod slowly but don’t know what to say. I have no idea what to do with a horse ranch.
“So?” He places his hands on his hips, giving me a quick glance of his narrow waistline as his jacket pushes back a bit. I love how he’s built.
Like a strong red stallion.
“It’s all very overwhelming,” I say quietly.
“Well, I know you love your mother and you love peace and quiet. From seeing your glass art, I also know you appreciate flowers in the spring, summers on the porch with a cold glass of wine, and winters by the fire with friends. The horses were a guess, but you strike me as the type of woman who loves her wild beasts running free.”
Not even close. I mean, yes to all that other stuff, but I don’t know squat about horses. Nevertheless, wrong guess or not, this is the most thoughtful, beautiful gift anyone has ever given me. My insides suddenly feel all warm and glowing. I can’t tell him the truth: total wish fail.