Free The Long Ride by Bonnie Bryant Page B

to a sausage household, nobody would be happy. This one was right. It was a large pepperoni with mushrooms on half, and it was going to someone named Forester.
    Stevie checked the address. It wasn’t too far from her house. She knew the place, but she didn’t remember anyone named Forester there. She was getting a vague image of the kids in the family as she drove to the house. It was a big one, nicely kept, but she was sure the family wasn’t Forester.
    The outside of the house was well lit. There was a two-car garage, but a vehicle was parked sideways in a turnaround part of the driveway. Beside the garage, there was a large stack of cardboard boxes. Moving cartons. Obviously, the family Stevie remembered had moved out. And now the Foresters lived there. Well, whoever they were, Stevie hoped they were big tippers.
    She got out of the car, put on her silly hat, took the Foresters’ pizza—still toasty warm—out of the container, and rang the doorbell.
    As soon as the door began to open, Stevie spoke.
    â€œPizza Manor at your service, milord,” she said, just as she’d been instructed.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding,” said the boy who held the door.
    Stevie found herself gazing into the very blue eyes of one of the best-looking guys she’d ever seen.
    â€œI wish I were kidding,” she said. “But right there in my employees manual, it says I have to say that stuff. Wait till you see what I do as I leave!”
    â€œWell, don’t hurry the process on my account,” the boy said. “I’m enjoying your company.”
    Stevie was quite aware of the carton she was holding. The heat from the pizza had penetrated the cardboard and was doing the same to the palm of her hand. She was less than comfortable.
    â€œPerhaps milord would like his pizza?” she asked, trying not to sound pained. “’Twould be fully of pepperonius and a moiety of fungal deliciosity. Surely such victuals are sufficient to please the palates of the gourmettiest consumer in all the realm.”
    â€œWho can resist that?” the boy asked, and took the pizza from Stevie’s hands. She blew on her palm to cool it.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry,” the boy said. “I didn’t realize the pizza would be that hot when it arrived.” He turned and spoke to someone else in the hallway. “Callie, can you bring an ice cube and a piece of paper towel for our delivery person?”
    â€œSure,” said a girl’s voice.
    â€œYou’ve just moved in?” Stevie asked.
    â€œYup,” said the boy. “My name’s Scott Forester, and this is my sister, Callie.”
    Callie handed Stevie the ice cube and paper towel. Stevie thanked her and introduced herself, explaining that she lived just a few blocks away. By the time Scott had the money for Stevie—with a nice tip—they’d established that they were neighbors and that Willow Creek was a nice place to live. Scott took the pizza into the kitchen. Callie stood and chatted with Stevie for a few minutes.
    â€œI like your earrings,” Callie said. Stevie’s hand flew up to her ear—she couldn’t remember which pair she’d put on that morning. She shouldn’t have had to check. It was her horseshoes. What other earrings would she have chosen on the day she was going to apply for both her driver’s license and a job?
    â€œAre you a rider?” Callie asked.
    â€œAs much as possible,” said Stevie. “And you?”
    â€œDefinitely. I ride endurance. But we’ve just moved here, so I haven’t tried out your trails and competition.”
    â€œDo you have a horse?”
    â€œWe’re leasing a horse for the summer, with an option to buy. In fact, he just got here today. I’m boarding him at Pine Hollow. Do you know the place?”
    â€œEvery inch of it,” Stevie said. “And I can tell you, you’ve just made the best decision of