“In New York,” Sabrina told her, “it’s the rats we take seriously, only they aren’t school projects or pets.”
Jennifer snorted. “And here I thought New York City didn’t have wildlife.” She smiled. “Did Frank’s shout mean you are otherwise occupied or can you grab some lunch before I retreat to the animal kingdom of my clinic?”
Sabrina blew hair from her eyes. “It means I need a margarita and some chocolate, though I’ll settle for lunch and dessert. But I need to—”
“Drive,” Jennifer said for her. “I know.”
Sabrina frowned. “You do?”
She nodded. “We’ve been to lunch three times, and every time you found a reason to drive. Just like you have to fill your coffee cup to an exact spot. You’re a control freak.”
Sabrina opened her mouth to deny this, but Jennifer held up a finger. “Let me go grab my purse.” Jennifer rushed away toward the newsroom in a flash of long blond hair and bubbly personality.
Sabrina stood absolutely still, frowning over Jennifer’s assessment that she was a control freak. She wasn’t a control freak. Her father was. And she intended to prove that fact to Jennifer over lunch.
An hour later, seated in a red-leather booth of a family-style restaurant, the main course completed, Sabrina helped herself to the huge brownie, covered with chocolate and ice cream, in front of her.
“I’m not a control freak,” Sabrina insisted, having just taken Jennifer into her confidence with a confession of how and why she’d come to Texas.
Jennifer arched a brow.
Sabrina pursed her lips in rejection of that silent challenge. Darn this woman for seeing so much, for forcing her to face facts. “Fine. I admit it. I’m a control freak, but it has been by necessity. Back home, every step I took was analyzed, dissected for political gain. I’m out of that environment now, and I want to be free, but it’s hard.”
Silence followed as Jennifer savored a big bite of brownie, and then said, “Have you ever watched the Dog Whisperer?”
Sabrina laughed in disbelief at the off-the-wall comment that seemed to fit nowhere in this conversation. “Big Fan,” Sabrina admitted. “And not because I’m trying to be a dog whisperer. I don’t even have a dog. It’s the way those animals instantly submit, well…that kind of control is really sexy.”
Jennifer set her spoon down. “Listen, this isn’t going where I meant for it to go. We are talking about giving away control, not making it sexy.”
“Oh, good grief,” Sabrina said in realization of her mixup. “I’m completely conflicted. I’m in way worse shape than I thought.” And on that note, she did the only logical thing she could do—she took a huge bite of her brownie.
“We’re all confused,” Jennifer assured her, but not before she stifled a laugh. “It’s called being human.”
“Then maybe you have the right idea,” Sabrina said. “Spend all your time with animals.” She frowned. “Oh, wait. You’re married, though, right?”
“I’m married, yes,” Jennifer said and wiggled an eyebrow. “And thankfully Bobby knows all the right times to be an animal.” They shared a laugh, and then she continued, “What I was going to say is this. In the Dog Whisperer, when a dog is aggressive, Cesar shows people how to make that animal become submissive. He has the animal lie on its side in the middle of other dominants—to learn to accept a submissive position.”
“Okay,” Sabrina said. “Just for the record, I know you’re a vet so I’m not going to be offended by you comparing me to a dog. But I still don’t get the point.”
“The point is that he conditions the dogs to see that less aggressive behavior gets them what they want, which in their case is praise,” she said. “I think you need to condition yourself to let go of control, so you can see that the world won’t shatter because you do.” Her eyes lit up. “And I know just how you can do it.”
“If it involves a chicken, I can tell you right now, I want no part of it.”
“Skydiving,” Jennifer said. “It’s perfect.”
Sabrina gaped. “Skydiving.” That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. “Are you crazy? You want me to jump out of a plane? Surely you can think of something less dramatic?”
“Bobby and a few of his Army pals own Texas Hotzone, a skydiving operation thirty minutes outside of Austin. You can make your first jump with Caleb. He’s one of Bobby’s best friends. A nice, soft-spoken guy who’s gentle. You can give him control without feeling like you really gave it away, and he’ll keep you safe.”
“No,” Sabrina replied, setting her spoon down in rejection. “The idea behind me moving here was to live life. In other words—I don’t have a death wish.”
Jennifer shrugged. “I jump and I love it. But then, I’m not a control freak. I guess that allows me to enjoy things you can’t.”
“Oh, that was a low blow,” Sabrina chided, narrowing her eyes on her friend. “Really low.”
“I know.” She leaned in close. “But it worked and you know it.” Her watch beeped. “Shoot. I need to go.” She reached for her purse. “I won’t be back to the paper until next week.” She set a business card on the table. “That’s the address of Texas Hotzone. Meet me there on Saturday before two. That gives you three days to chicken out, but don’t do it. You moved across the country to change your life, so change it. Don’t relocate the old one.” She pushed to her feet. “I dare you.”
Sabrina sat watching Jennifer depart without really seeing her. She’d moved across country, left her job, changed her name, and all for what? To remain captive to her father’s world?
She grimaced. Who was she kidding? She didn’t want to report on strawberry festivals. It was simply that strawberry festivals were safe. Frank had been right. Reporting facts was different from writing her political POV as she had in New York. And investigative reporting had been her roots, the way she’d started in the media years before.
She wanted to go to this press conference. She wanted to find out the facts. She wanted to write the story she wanted to write. To choose the friends she wanted to choose. To choose a man because he was exciting, not safe, either.
Heck, she wanted to be able to have a one-night stand if she so desired and not worry about being gossip fodder. But she’d never dared such a thing before. She gave that a moment’s consideration, picturing a set of rock-hard abs, perfect pecs and wild, erotic passion.
She sighed and discarded the idea, inhaling a spoonful of her half-eaten dessert and deciding to savor every bite. The brownie was the closest thing to orgasm she was going to get anytime soon. Maybe she’d better go with skydiving. At least jumping out of a plane came without the risk of scandal. The risk of scandal… Would she ever be free?
***
IT WAS SATURDAY AFTERNOON, a hot time at the Hotzone for Ryan “Cowboy” Walker, who sauntered behind the front desk to complete the day’s log. He was outta here early today, taking off for the first time in a month, since their grand opening. He was heading out for an appointment with a real-estate agent to look at houses, though he hadn’t shared that little detail with anyone. He’d given himself a deadline for deciding if he was committed to the civilian life, and once he committed, he would be fully committed. Though secretly the idea of owning a home scared the crap out of him, far more than any of the many snake-infested jungles he’d seen in his time. The only home he’d ever been willing to claim was the Army, with his AK-14 as his front door.