Page 6 of Total Jane Wreck

I let down the window and looked out…it seemed like a place of considerable magnitude.

I’m driving to Resilience Ranch, brainstorming ways I might approach the owners. If they don’t welcome drop-ins, things could get awkward. Then I notice the truck ahead of me; it’s towing a horse trailer. Fingers crossed that we’re headed to the same place. I fall in behind it as it turns onto the ranch’s entrance drive—a mile of white gravel lined with pines that look like scruffy Christmas trees someone forgot to decorate. At the gate, a knotty wood plank bears a cursive sign: “Resilience Ranch. Facing the Challenge. Facing Forward.”

The guy in front of me rolls down his window and speaks into the intercom. A moment later, the gate clicks open. I follow him in and pull up beside the stable. There’s a woman waiting by the trailer. She’s in a faded Poison 2007 reunion tour T-shirt and baggy cargo shorts cinched with a green velvet belt. Fiftyish, maybe pushing sixty, delicate yet solid. Her silvery-blond hair has one bright pink streak framing the right side of her face.

She’s talking to the delivery guy and doesn’t notice me climb out. “Good luck,” he tells her. “This mare’s feisty.”

“Great,” she says, though her tone suggests otherwise. “I was unaware we’d bought another one.” She whips around toward the main house; it’s a red wooden building with huge windows and a sculpture fountain out front. “Chet!” she calls. “You’re needed out here.”

A man emerges—tallish, sort of broad, but with lean muscle. He’s got a bulbous nose and perhaps the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. But instead of deep brown, they’re midnight blue, almost black. And his mouth, with its plump bottom lip, hangs in a crooked smirk like that expression froze on his face years ago.

He’s not classically handsome, but magnetic. Looking away from him might just take superhuman strength.

“What?” he demands. “This better be urgent, Axel Rose. Now is not a good time.”

She doesn’t flinch. “Did Birdy order another horse?”

Chet runs his fingers through his thick, dark, wavy hair, his bicep bulging as he raises his arm. “Crap. Another blasted horse? Not again. That woman is intent on making my life miserable.”

“So what do we do?” Axel Rose asks.

“Send the horse back,” Chet growls.

“No way,” the driver says. “That’s not happening, no matter how much you offer to pay me.”

Chet takes a deep breath, as if doing so is his last chance of not blowing a fuse. “I don’t have time for this, Axel Rose. Find a solution.” He stalks off without ever glancing my way.

The trailer rattles. The mare’s bucking. She’s scared and cramped. I step forward. “Let me.”

Axel Rose and the driver don’t seem to mind my jumping in. I stand beside the trailer and motion to the driver to unlock it. He does.

“What’s the horse’s name?” I ask.

“Miss Adele,” he says.

I slide the bolt and pull the latch, braced for a hurricane of hooves and muscle. The trailer stinks of sweat and panic, the princess herself slamming her chest against the inner wall. She’s gorgeous though. Hair the color of molasses, forelock a wild sweep, a perfect white stripe down her nose. Her eyes are rolling, not just angry, but scared out of her mind.

“Hey, Miss Adele.” She pins her ears and shows her teeth. I get it. She’s had a rough morning.

“She bites,” the driver warns, offering me the rope.

“Yeah? Me too.” I take the rope, quick and careful, keeping my hand away from her mouth. Her entire body’s quivering, ready for a jailbreak. I slip into the trailer, angle my body against the squeeze, and start clicking my tongue. Familiar sounds. Comfort, or at least not an immediate threat.

Between tiny tugs and a little pressure at her jowl, I coax her to step backward. One wrong move and she’ll go up, or knock me ass-first into the gravel driveway. But I don’t lose my grip, and I don’t flinch when she pops up a couple inches. “Easy, girl. You got it.”

Miss Adele listens, and together we triangle waltz her out of the trailer and down the ramp. Outside, she throws her head and snorts, rolling her neck like a prizefighter showing off. She wants to run, but I keep hold of her.

“Okay, then,” the driver says. “I’m out of here.” Fast as lightning, he closes up the trailer, gets into his car, and drives away.

Once the dust has cleared, Axel Rose turns to me. “Weren’t you two together?”

“No,” I say. “Not in any sense of the word.” I grin, hoping to charm this lady so it won’t occur to her that I’m trespassing. “Hey, how about we put Miss Adele in the pasture so she can stretch her legs a bit and acclimate?”

“Yeah, of course,” Axel Rose says. “Unless you think she might spar with the other horses?”

“Well, yeah, that could happen. I’ll hold on to her while you lead those horses—” I gesture with my head toward them “—into the barn? Then Miss Adele can have free rein.”

“Okay.”