watch. It was 9:30 A . M . Just enough time to shower, change, and head to her clinic for a 10:30 A . M . appointment. Her next appointment after that was at 1 P . M ., and she was hoping to visit Mr. Sandman as much as she could before then.
Bianca removed the scrubs she kept in her car for emergency vet calls like last night. Dressed only in the beautiful lace thong she originally put on under her evening gown, Bianca took another deep sip of her drink as she moved over to her night table to check her messages. She had a service answer work-related calls and she’d already checked those messages during her drive from Sandy Springs.
“Hi, this is Bianca. Do what you need to do.”
Beep .
Bianca studied her reflection in the oval mirror in the corner, twisting and turning to see if any new cellulite had moved onto her thighs.
“Bunny… uh, I mean Bianca—”
She paused at the sound of her father’s gravely and distinctive voice. The thought that the days of him calling her by the childhood pet name were gone pained her.
“Call me when you get a chance.”
Bianca lowered her hands from examining the pertness of her breasts—and wondering when a man would touch, tease, and taste them again—to reach out for the cordless phone sitting on its base.
Beep .
“Bianca—”
Her hand paused just above the phone and her face became confused at hearing her father’s voice… again.
“Never mind.”
The line went dead.
Beep .
Snatching up the phone she quickly dialed her father’s number.
“King Ranch.”
“Daddy, this is Bianca. Is something wrong?” she asked.
He remained quiet—and that was more telling than anything he could have said.
“Daddy?” she asked with more firmness in her voice—like she was the parent and he was the child. Bianca pressed the phone closer to her face. “What is it?”
“I need your help. You gotta come home, Bianca.”
2
Holtsville, SC One week later
Being in Holtsville was like going back in time for Bianca. Virtually nothing had changed. Even Donnie’s Diner remained the only eatery in the small “downtown” area—thank the heavens it was renovated. Donnie’s was a landmark in Holtsville, but growing up she felt eating from there was like playing Russian Roulette with your digestive system.
Yes, Holtsville was still a one gas station town. As she passed by it, Bianca waved at the grizzly man sweeping in front of the storefront. She smiled as she remembered riding with her father to the small store, anxious to spend her nickels and pennies on candy.
Good memories.
Bianca pushed her oversized shades up atop her mass of straw set curls as she turned left off the main road. Her father’s ranch was on sixty acres, just ten miles away. As she drove, Bianca looked around at the small houses that looked the same as when she growing up. Many of herchildhood memories were tied to those places.
Cutting the models from the Sears catalogs to play with like paper dolls on the porch of her best friend, Patty Ann. Or her first kiss at the Walker property with Lil’ Willie Walker up in the loft of his family’s barn.
Bianca laughed as she remembered screaming and running from the barn when he whipped out his little Willie.
Lots of memories.
Now she was back in town.
Last week when her father asked for her to come home, Bianca had reservations, but she set them aside. She knew it took quite a feat for her father to ask for help. For him to admit that he was close to losing the ranch was astounding. For him to say he needed her was the clincher.
“Well, can you beat that?” Bianca said aloud, her eyes lighting on the wooden sign that read:
KING EQUINE SERVICES ESTABLISHED 1959
HOLTSVILLE, SC
(2 MILES AHEAD ON RIGHT )
She clearly remembered the day she helped her father hang the sign that her mother painted with care. And there it remained after all that time. The letters were faded and the corners of the wood was chipped, but her father hadn’t
Bianca removed the scrubs she kept in her car for emergency vet calls like last night. Dressed only in the beautiful lace thong she originally put on under her evening gown, Bianca took another deep sip of her drink as she moved over to her night table to check her messages. She had a service answer work-related calls and she’d already checked those messages during her drive from Sandy Springs.
“Hi, this is Bianca. Do what you need to do.”
Beep .
Bianca studied her reflection in the oval mirror in the corner, twisting and turning to see if any new cellulite had moved onto her thighs.
“Bunny… uh, I mean Bianca—”
She paused at the sound of her father’s gravely and distinctive voice. The thought that the days of him calling her by the childhood pet name were gone pained her.
“Call me when you get a chance.”
Bianca lowered her hands from examining the pertness of her breasts—and wondering when a man would touch, tease, and taste them again—to reach out for the cordless phone sitting on its base.
Beep .
“Bianca—”
Her hand paused just above the phone and her face became confused at hearing her father’s voice… again.
“Never mind.”
The line went dead.
Beep .
Snatching up the phone she quickly dialed her father’s number.
“King Ranch.”
“Daddy, this is Bianca. Is something wrong?” she asked.
He remained quiet—and that was more telling than anything he could have said.
“Daddy?” she asked with more firmness in her voice—like she was the parent and he was the child. Bianca pressed the phone closer to her face. “What is it?”
“I need your help. You gotta come home, Bianca.”
2
Holtsville, SC One week later
Being in Holtsville was like going back in time for Bianca. Virtually nothing had changed. Even Donnie’s Diner remained the only eatery in the small “downtown” area—thank the heavens it was renovated. Donnie’s was a landmark in Holtsville, but growing up she felt eating from there was like playing Russian Roulette with your digestive system.
Yes, Holtsville was still a one gas station town. As she passed by it, Bianca waved at the grizzly man sweeping in front of the storefront. She smiled as she remembered riding with her father to the small store, anxious to spend her nickels and pennies on candy.
Good memories.
Bianca pushed her oversized shades up atop her mass of straw set curls as she turned left off the main road. Her father’s ranch was on sixty acres, just ten miles away. As she drove, Bianca looked around at the small houses that looked the same as when she growing up. Many of herchildhood memories were tied to those places.
Cutting the models from the Sears catalogs to play with like paper dolls on the porch of her best friend, Patty Ann. Or her first kiss at the Walker property with Lil’ Willie Walker up in the loft of his family’s barn.
Bianca laughed as she remembered screaming and running from the barn when he whipped out his little Willie.
Lots of memories.
Now she was back in town.
Last week when her father asked for her to come home, Bianca had reservations, but she set them aside. She knew it took quite a feat for her father to ask for help. For him to admit that he was close to losing the ranch was astounding. For him to say he needed her was the clincher.
“Well, can you beat that?” Bianca said aloud, her eyes lighting on the wooden sign that read:
KING EQUINE SERVICES ESTABLISHED 1959
HOLTSVILLE, SC
(2 MILES AHEAD ON RIGHT )
She clearly remembered the day she helped her father hang the sign that her mother painted with care. And there it remained after all that time. The letters were faded and the corners of the wood was chipped, but her father hadn’t
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