Grit: A Love Story on 7th and Main

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I can’t get that, because I’ve never been where you are. But that’s no reason—”

  “You can’t have a relationship when there’s another person in the middle of it! Calvin is Abby’s father. He’ll always be there. That’s not fair to you. Or me. Or… anyone. It’s not fair, but it’s the reality, okay?”

  She turned and started to walk away.

  Cary yelled, “I don’t…”

  She paused, but she didn’t turn around.

  You don’t what, genius? You don’t have an answer for her because she’s right?

  “You’re not right, Melissa.”

  She turned around. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know right in this exact moment; you’re just not.” He motioned between them. “This is not over.”

  “Cary, it shouldn’t even start.”

  “Do you want me?”

  The look in her eyes tore him to pieces. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want?” He cleared his throat. “I disagree. Very much.”

  She smiled a little, but she looked like she wanted to cry. “What’s new?”

  Melissa looked at him for a few more minutes, then she shook her head, turned, and walked away.

  Cary watched her until she disappeared into the trees.

  Well, at least she wasn’t running. That was an improvement.

  Kind of.

  He finished pruning the grafted citrus and worked a little in the greenhouse he was using for propagation. If there was one thing he liked about being a farmer, it was the endless experimentation. Every plant behaved a little differently. Every orchard was a slightly different microclimate. Nothing was predictable. Nothing was boring.

  Kind of like Melissa.

  How could they go from talking about citrus grafts to arguing about her new employees to arguing about their relationship to kissing to more arguing?

  The woman didn’t just drive him crazy, she gave him whiplash.

  And while there might have been an arguing theme in most of their interactions, it didn’t discourage Cary. He was pretty sure that would just make things more interesting in bed.

  Because that was where they were headed. One way or another, their self-control wasn’t going to hold out forever. Something was going to snap. He just hoped they were in a relatively secluded place when it happened.

  God, she was so damn stubborn. What did she think? That their attraction betrayed Calvin?

  He thought about his friend as he examined grafts. Pictured Calvin’s ornery face in front of him. Cary had loved that kid—missed the hell out of him—but Calvin could be more than a bit of an ass. He was a rich kid from the coast who knew far less about cattle ranching than his wife did.

  To Calvin’s credit, he didn’t let that bother him. Much. Cary could see the tension between them at times because Calvin dismissed Melissa too often. Most of it was youth, but some of it was upbringing. Despite his faults, Calvin had loved Melissa and adored Abby. Just like Cary did.

  He walked through the greenhouse and into the office at the far end where he kept a desk and his computer. He sat down and leaned back in the creaking chair. Sorry, Calvin—he stared at the stained ceiling tiles in the old building—but you’re gone and I’m in love with your wife. I’m not going to back off in honor of your memory or some shit like that.

  And what would Calvin say?

  I just want you both to be happy.

  No, Calvin would not have said that.

  I hope you know what you’re in for.

  That was more likely.

  Then again, Melissa had never been a live wire to Calvin the way she was with Cary. Being on her own had changed her. Holding everything together with sheer will and endless work had shaped the woman she’d become. She was more stubborn. More single-minded. More determined.

  Do right by my family, asshole. Or I will haunt you.

  Cary had to smile. That sounded like Calvin.

  Do right by my family.

  Cary could do that. In fact, he would do that.

  He picked up the phone and called Joan’s mobile phone. “Hey, Joan! It’s Cary. Yeah, Melissa told me. That’s fantastic. Uh-huh. … Sounds like the right kind of people. What are their names again? Stu and…” He jotted down notes as Joan raved about their new employees.

  And neighbors.

  Cary wasn’t worried about the ranch. Melissa was more than competent when it came to that. If someone fucked up, she’d fire them. But these people were living in a trailer next to the house where Abby slept. You better believe he was going to be suspicious.

  “So they were up in Idaho before they came down here?” He wrote more notes, grateful that Joan was the chatty type. “Oh, Oklahoma too? I didn’t know there was much ranching there.” He couldn’t stop the smile. “I know. It’s very obvious I don’t own cows. Cattle. Whatever.”

  He got all the information he needed to start a background check. Full names. Last address he could figure out. A few past employers. It was enough to start with.

  “Melissa?” He frowned. “Yeah, she was over here. She’s not home yet?”

  Fuck. Where had she gone?

  It wasn’t his business. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need watching.

  “Hey, Joan? Yeah, I need to go. Let me know if she doesn’t get back before dinner, okay?”

  He hung up the phone and immediately dialed another number. Paused while it rang.

  “Kern County Sheriff’s office.”

  “Can I speak to Mark Guzman, please?”

  “Just one moment.” The receptionist put him on hold while Cary tapped his pen back and forth on his desk.

  He was going to find out just who these people were. If they were good people, then no problem. If they were dangerous? If the wrong kind were sleeping in a trailer and working around Abby?

  Problem. Massive problem.

  “Hey, Mark.” Cary tapped his pen on the pad of paper where Stu and Leigh Hagman’s names were written. “Good to talk to you too.”

  Chapter Seven

  Melissa woke early on Saturday morning, hoping to get in a longer ride during the coolest part of the day. She walked out the door in the blue light of the late-summer morning and saddled Moxie, nodding to Stu in the distance when she saw him heading up the road to the north pasture with his border collie, Dex, trailing behind.

  Stu nodded back, raised a hand, and kept riding. He’d been introducing the herd to Dex gradually, and so far Melissa was pleased with what she saw. The cattle seemed less stressed, and she hadn’t seen any of the anxiety she’d been worried about. Stu’s calm commands were enough to move Dex, who herded with confidence but wasn’t aggressive.

  It had only been two weeks since Melissa had hired him, and Stu hadn’t given her reason to doubt him once. So far he’d been as knowledgeable as promised. He had a good instinct for cattle, worked well with others, and was an excellent horseman.

  She’d even been able to take Abby over to the coast to see her grandparents the weekend before to meet the famous horse that sort of belonged to her. They’d stayed two full days, and Abby had gotten to know Sunny, the gelding who really did seem sweet as apple pie.

  It broke Melissa’s heart driving her daughter away from her new love, and she was sure that was exactly what Greg and Beverly were after. They wanted Abby to be on the coast permanently, which wasn’t going to happen.

  Melissa left the developed part of the ranch behind and followed an old trail that led along the rocky hills beside the creek that flowed through Allen Ranch. Come the rainy season, it would be a rushing stream, but this late in the summer it was bone dry, with nothing but stones and oak trees revealing its course.

  She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of sweet grass and wild roses. Birdsong filled the air as she rode. Two hawks circled the meadow to her right, hunting in the long grass.

  Though it had been ranchland for fifty years, the edges of Allen Ranch had always been undeveloped. Gus
Allen had liked it that way, liked his children and grandchildren to experience the unaltered wild of special places. Since he’d moved and no one had run cattle on the land, it had quickly returned to its natural state.

  Melissa rode along the edges of the ranch, noting the frayed barbed wire fences and toppled fence posts. Whoever had bought the ranch wanted to sell it, but they didn’t seem keen on maintaining anything. It was a good thing no one but Melissa and a few other neighbors used this trail. It was becoming a hazard.

  She rode for an hour, across the foothills that bordered Jordan Valley and along the dry creek. She hadn’t gone looking for Cary, but when she came across his quad bike, she wasn’t surprised. There was a stretch of tumbled granite at the end of Jordan Valley where he liked to climb.

  She hadn’t really talked to him since their argument about Stu and Leigh, though she’d seen him in passing and he’d been up to the house to have lunch with her mom and Abby last Saturday when her brother was at the ranch.

  He’d been avoiding her calls too. And though he couldn’t ignore her texts, his replies had been mostly monosyllabic.

  She missed him, not that she’d ever tell him that. But she did.

  Melissa rode a little farther and spotted him in the distance, clinging to the side of a giant black granite boulder called Halsey Rock. His hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and his shirt was stripped off. He wore nothing but olive-green pants and a bandana tied around his neck.

  Melissa dismounted Moxie and tied the horse’s lead to a fallen sycamore near the creek. Then she walked over to a shaded patch near the boulders and sat near Cary’s pack, leaning her back against the cool granite that was still shaded by the hills. The sun was rising behind the mountains, casting long shadows on the foothills and the valley.

  Melissa rested her head on the rock, her eyes trained on Cary as he moved.

  With clothes on, Cary reminded her of a solid block. His shoulders were square and his chest was deep. He didn’t move with any particular grace when he walked through his orchards. He moved like a farmer. His arms seemed a little long for his body, and his legs were sturdy.

  Stripped to the skin, clinging to the rocks and moving across the face of nearly black granite, he was art in motion. The definition of his back and shoulders was a thing of utter and complete beauty. His rolling muscles were decorated by brilliant ink. His broad shoulders narrowed to a trim waist.

  Cary’s fingers flexed and reached with grace and precision. His arms stretched wide as he found footholds in the tiniest crevices and seams.

  She watched him in silence. Even the birds were observing. His legs hung only a few feet off the ground, but every movement was imbued with tension.

  When he reached the far side of the granite face, he hopped off the rock and flexed his hands before he stretched his arms up and out.

  Wooooow.

  Cary turned, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and froze when he spotted her.

  Melissa raised her hand in a slight wave, but she couldn’t find it in herself to make a snarky remark or biting quip. The silence was too precious.

  Cary walked toward her, wiping his hands on the bandana he’d taken from around his neck as he searched her face. His hair fell around his shoulders, which shone with sweat. A fine sheen of it covered him from forehead to waist, making his skin glow in the swiftly growing light.

  Without saying a word, he knelt in front of her and nudged her knees apart. He braced his hands on the rock she leaned against and lowered his mouth to hers.

  It was the third time they’d kissed, and surprise had turned to anticipation. His mouth was slow and luxurious, moving as smoothly as he’d traversed the boulders. His full lips covered hers, caressing each in turn. His tongue moved at the seam of her mouth, parting her lips as he explored her.

  Cary tasted like tea and honey. Melissa put her hand on his cheek and enjoyed the rough texture of his stubble against her palm. The edge of his jaw rested in her hand as he angled his mouth to kiss her deeper.

  She spread her jeans-clad legs and allowed him to press his body into hers. The rock was at her back, and his warm skin was against her breasts. Her hand relaxed, and she ran it from his shoulder all the way along his arm. He smelled like clean sweat and Cary, an indefinable blend of orange blossoms and earth.

  She felt a sigh leave her throat; his mouth moved to her neck and he kissed her again. She closed her eyes when the sun hit her face, only to open them again so she could watch her fingers—silhouetted against the morning sun—trail over the burnished bronze skin of his tattooed shoulder.

  Beautiful, beautiful man.

  Her head fell back as Cary kissed slowly along her collarbone.

  He still hadn’t said a word, and she was grateful.

  Maybe this is the solution, Melissa. Neither of you talk. Just kissing and sex. No talking means no fighting.

  She was near bursting when he drew back and placed one more soft kiss on her lips.

  “Good morning.”

  Melissa let out a long breath. “Hey.”

  Cary moved his backpack and sat next to her. He unzipped it and brought an olive-green canister out. “Tea?”

  “Sure.”

  She watched him fill the lid of the thermos and hand it to her. She took it and he brought out a water bottle, drinking half a liter before she could take a sip of tea.

  Melissa watched him, watched the easy slope of his shoulders and the fine creases around his eyes. His silver and black hair was loose around his shoulders. There was no tension between his eyes. “I think this is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you.”

  Cary opened his mouth, then closed it as he smiled. “Bouldering is a nice way to start the morning.”

  “You were going to say something else.”

  “Yes.” He glanced at her. “But we’ve gone ten whole minutes without fighting, and I don’t want to break the streak.”

  “What was it?” She leaned her head against the rock to watch him, enjoying the cool granite against her cheek. “I’ve never seen you so relaxed…” She smiled a little. “Because I’ve never seen you after sex?”

  He smiled, and a rarely seen dimple appeared at the corner of his cheek. “Was that a suggestion?”

  “A guess. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?” The dimple told Melissa she was right.

  “How do you know so much about men’s brains?”

  “I’ve spent my entire life on a cattle ranch. How do you know how to kiss so well?”

  Cary set his water bottle down. “Look at us. We’re actually having a conversation.”

  “Kind of.” She shifted toward him. “You’re ignoring my question.”

  “That’s not a question you ask.” He lifted his arm and moved to put it around her but paused. “I’m sweaty.”

  “And I smell like horses.”

  Cary shrugged and moved his arm to encircle her, shifting her so she was sitting between his legs and leaning against his chest. It wasn’t the first time they’d sat close. It wasn’t the first time his arm had been around her. But everything in this moment felt new. Untested. Fresh like the morning they’d intruded on.

  Cary reached into his backpack and brought out a nectarine, then he unfolded his pocketknife and sliced off a piece before he put it to her lips.

  Melissa ate it and enjoyed the burst of flavor against her tongue. It combined nicely with the green tea and honey he’d poured for her.

  “So, Melissa Oxford Rhodes”—he sliced off another chunk of fruit and ate it—“are we ever going to talk about the two of us without you running away?”

  “I keep coming back.” She took a deep breath and relaxed against his chest.

  “Yeah.” He reached for the tea. “You do.”

  “So.” She handed him the cup.

  “So what does that mean?”

  She rolled her eyes. Why were men so dense sometimes? “It means I keep coming back.”

  He nudged her lips with another piece
of nectarine. “I was thinking about what you said. About Calvin.”

  Why did you have to bring that up?

  “You’re not allowed to feel guilty for kissing me,” Cary said. “Not now. Not ever. Calvin’s been gone six years and there was never anything other than friendship between us when he was alive. His death never made you stop living before. You’re choosing to make it different this time.”

  “I told you, you can’t have a relationship with another person—”

  “Missy, do you know how old I am?”

  She frowned. “Uh… I don’t think I do, actually.”

  “I’m forty-six.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Okay, that was older than she thought, but Cary must have good genes because he was sexy as hell and he climbed mountains, for heaven’s sake.

  He cut off another piece of nectarine and fed it to her. “I’ve never had a partner die. Not a wife or a girlfriend. But I was married before. I’ve had serious relationships that ended. Some of them pretty badly.”

  “I remember when you married Aneesha.” Teenage Melissa had been crushed. And then she decided that Kyle Robinson was going to take her to her first high school dance. She wore a purple dress.

  Cary said, “And I remember when you married Calvin. I was there, in fact.”

  “I was at school when you and Aneesha broke up,” she said. “I remember Mom telling me about it though.”

  Melissa had been sad, but not overly interested. She’d already met Calvin and had decided it was fate that they’d met in Texas, two ranching kids from California. Melissa had planned her wedding years before it happened, utterly confident that her life would go exactly as planned.

  “Life is weird,” she said. “And unexpected. And weird.”

  “Life is long,” Cary said. “And you know what I’ve learned since my marriage to Aneesha fell apart?”

  Melissa shifted so she could see his face.

  “I’ve learned that every person we meet changes us. Sometimes in good ways. Sometimes in bad. Sometimes both. But we’re changing all the time.”