Free The Wilder Sisters by Jo-Ann Mapson

old gelding’s head and tied the lead rope into a makeshift rein. She watched as he managed to pull his skinny butt up onto the animal’s back. The horse was so wet that Austin nearly slid off the other side, but he caught himself on the fence, swearing; then away he went, riding into the rain, still enough of a horseman that he managed to post the trot. Winky heaved herself at the fence and neighed as if Austin were absconding with the other half of her heart. Locked into a separate stall, the mare wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually she’d quiet down and snuffle her oats, then angle her elegant muzzle across the fence in an attempt to swipe Max’s portion. Rose fetched her book from out of the trash. Of course the story was going to end happily, but somehow, while she was reading, she could lose herself pretending that she wasn’t certain of the outcome. “Austin’s just borrowing him, sweetie,” she told her daughter. “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”

    4
    Whatever Your Wild Blue Heart Desires

I

    t was the billboard just outside Winslow, Arizona, advertising the vasectomy reversal that caused Lily to start crying. It should have been echoes of the flame-war conversation she’d had via car phone with her boss, Eric, who insisted that a leave of absence meant she was job hunting, not that she needed a break. Paranoid, that about described Eric. And a definite possibility for tears was turning on the windshield wipers and yet again scraping the hell out of the driver’s-side glass with what remained of the wiper assembly she’d forgotten to have replaced. One expected those kinds of things to be the proverbial straw that broke the indefatigable camel’s back. Lily was hardly the crying type, but within the last week she’d done it twice. Breaking up with yet another boyfriend was just cause, but a billboard? All she knew was that miles from anywhere, here was this advertisement for men who could take back a final decision re- garding fertility, and suddenly this lonely howling came bellowing up out of her gut and did not go away. Buddy Guy freaked; he kept pawing her, trying to get her to stop. Eventually she reined it in, but damn whoever had put up that billboard straight to Satan without a soft drink! As if driving long distance wasn’t tough enough without being reminded that her internal clock ticked louder than any other timepiece on the planet. She scolded herself: You had your chance to become a mother. Get over it . But of course following one of her own
    lectures was never as easy as delivering it.

    She switched on the CD player, and the car was filled with Lyle Lovett crooning his Texas-size heart out to Julia, whom all the boys had fantasies about. Think of what might fit between those lips, and how easily it would fit there—that explained male fascination with Julia, who’d already left Lyle’s ass in the dust and bought herself a fifty-acre ranch in Taos. The one commodity northern New Mexico did not need any more of was beautiful women. Just by looking at the CD covers, Lily could tell Lyle would kill in bed. He would positively shred . He possessed all the attributes Lily felt essential to a lover: He was skinny, indicating agility. Forget muscle-bound hulks; thin guys had stamina. His lyrics were laconic, which meant he conserved his energy, plus they were intelligent, which meant that after incredibly great sex, if he was able to talk, he’d have something to say. And the way he sang—his voice burned through her speakers as if he were holding back a passion as powerful as a draft horse’s. Oh, Julia , Lily thought. You dumb little rich starlet. You didn’t know what you had when it lay right there in your bed . Then, after a few more miles had peeled away under her tires, Lily had another thought: To be fair, neither did I, eighteen years ago. Well, Julia, one of these days I hope one of us smartens up .
    Her stomach cramped, and she swore she could feel dozens of her eggs