Now that she’s in the light, I notice she’s wearing a pair of nice jeans and a blouse. I’ve never seen her this dressed-up before. ‘You look r...ally nice,’ I say, almost impulsively. ‘Why, thank you,’ Ashley says, and her smile grows bigger. ‘I didn’t want to look like a slob when I gave you the cake.’ ‘You didn’t have to go through all this trouble…’ ‘No, I wanted to,’ she says, interrupting me. ‘I can imagine it’s not easy, you know… with your family… uh…’ ‘You’re right,’ I say, giving her. What tribe you from?’ If they weren’t in the middle of nowhere she might have overreacted to his question. Her native blood, just a minor splash in the gene pool, had risen to the surface, and she hated it. It was a constant source of irritation. Blondes had more fun. Blondes had more business. The black hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones, gave her an exotic sexiness certain men craved. And those certain men seemed to always want a rough encounter. Apparently, Indian blood meant ‘I like it. More

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