by Ellie Danes
“Yeah, just about,” I agreed. Lucy started putting the coffee and slices of pie down on the table and glanced at Emily.
“You know, you’re a lucky girl—sitting here with a town celebrity,” Lucy said.
“I can see he’s really popular,” Emily agreed.
I wished that Lucy would just let it slide, but of course she wouldn’t. “No, Rhett Baxter here is a real celebrity, not just the big man in town,” Lucy said. “Played football in the pros, made his dad—all of us, really—real proud.” She pointed to my jersey and the big newspaper cover-clipping that Emily had seen.
“That’s you?” Emily looked at me. Her face went pale and then red and then pale again.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I admitted.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Emily shook her head, and grinning, Lucy melted away from the table to go to take care of someone else.
“It’s not that big a deal,” I told her.
“It is! I’m sorry for what I said earlier—I didn’t realize it was you.”
“It’s not important,” I said, taking a bite of my pie.
“How long did you play?” Emily took a bite of her own slice of lemon-meringue and closed her eyes, making a sound like a moan of pleasure. “You were not wrong about this pie.”
“It’s the best pie they have,” I agreed.
“So? How long did you play?”
“I played for a year, until my father died,” I said. “Then I came back to town.” I didn’t feel much like talking anymore. “Let’s just finish our pie and get out of here, okay?”
Chapter Five
Emily
I knew I’d somehow managed to say something wrong—even beyond pooh-poohing the town—when Rhett went so quiet. Right up until we finished eating our slices of pie and drinking our coffee, I was worried that he was going to back out of the tour. But when we finished and Lucy brought us the check, I insisted on paying for mine, pointing out that he’d been clear it wasn’t a date, and that seemed to get things back into the right gear.
We started out at the center of town, almost exactly where we’d run into each other the day before. “This, obviously, is the brain trust for the town,” Rhett said, gesturing to the administration building, sheriff’s office, and courthouse.
“All the decision-makers,” I agreed, and thought about the man my father had had words with the day before. It still didn’t sit right with me, the way he’d gone high-handed, threatening to sue if the clerk didn’t give us the plans and maps. But I couldn’t say anything to Dad about it—not yet.
“The town was founded in the 1900s,” Rhett explained. “It’s never really been a big place—at least, not in terms of how many people live here. There were a few more that came out this way, but that happens with places like this: people move out to try their hand at farming, or something like that, and then go bust and have to sell out.”
“But I’d think most of the people here have probably been around at least a couple of generations, right?”
Rhett nodded. “Apart from some people who move out here for family—cousins, things like that—and folks who are looking for an opportunity who have a background in farming, most folks have been here since their grandparents or great-grandparents.”
“How do you decide who runs things? I assume there’s probably elections,” I pointed out.
“Judge Peters is probably going to retire soon,” Rhett said. “He’s been on the bench since I was a kid, and he wasn’t a spring chicken then. When he goes out, he’ll recommend someone for the job, and that person will get elected.”
“There can’t be all that many people here with a background in law,” I said.
Rhett grinned. “It’ll probably be someone in his family. That whole family takes care of the law side of ‘law and order’ for Mustang Ridge. Half of them are defense attorneys, other half are prosecutors or do civil law.”
“Family trade, eh?” I could relate to that; I’d never really imagined myself doing anything other than working in the same line of business that my dad had been in since before I was born.
“Most folks here are like that,” Rhett said.
“But you got out,” I countered. “How did you end up in the NFL?”
We started walking along the sidewalk, taking in the rest of the town center.
“I actually got a scholarship to play college ball,” he said. “I pretty much just planned to use it to get a degree that would help out here—so I could run my dad’s farm smarter, you know? But then the offer came.” He shrugged it off.
“That must have been great though,” I said. “All that money—did you go out and get a brand-new truck with your signing bonus?”
“No, I didn’t,” he said with a snort. “I never really played—I wasn’t some star. And it wasn’t ever really about the money for me. It was just an opportunity.”
We kept going and he pointed out the bank, the vet’s office, the dry goods store—all the things you’d expect in a small, rural town like Mustang Ridge. I noticed that a few of the places looked like they hadn’t been updated in decades.
“It’s got to be tough running a business here,” I observed.
“It can be,” Rhett agreed. “Most of the businesses that survive have been here for a while—and they usually offer something that’s hard to get online, or people can’t make for themselves all that easily. The grocery store even struggles a bit to keep breaking even, just because in the summer a lot of people can grow about half the food they need.”
“It’d probably be a good thing if someone came along and developed it here, then,” I said. “If someone brought in manufacturing, or a big box store, something like that—the town is big enough to support the business, and the business would create some more jobs.”
“That happens, and half these businesses can’t compete,” Rhett countered. “Even if they could get jobs with the new place—it wouldn’t be able to hire everyone—they would end up losing their self-respect and dignity.”
“But if a bigger retailer came in, then more people would want to move out here,” I said. “That would be good for the rest of the businesses.”
“We all work together to keep things going afloat,” Rhett said, shrugging. “I just don’t see any outsiders understanding—or valuing—that.”
We came to the end of the town center and Rhett offered to show me the main stretch of farms connected to Mustang Ridge. It was on my agenda to look at them, so I had to agree. “What do people usually grow out here?”
“Cotton, sorghum, some wheat,” Rhett explained. “The land out here is pretty dry, and obviously—like most of Texas—the sun is intense. So, you need crops that are meant for that, or that can survive it even if the irrigation system goes down for a day.”
“I can’t imagine coming out here to—no offense—kind of the middle of nowhere, and just starting a life in farming,” I told him as we walked past one of the farms. I couldn’t tell from the lines of green, leafy plants what was growing there, but it looked like it was growing well.
“My mom isn’t from here originally,” Rhett said. “She lived in a little bit of a bigger town—about fifteen thousand people, still not a major city, mind you. She actually met my dad when they were both in classes at a local community college.”
“How did she meet him?”
Rhett smiled slowly. “She was taking classes to try and get the skills to become a secretary,” he told me. “Dad was taking some agriculture classes and a couple of business classes—I think it was some kind of introductory accounting class—and they ended up sitting next to each other the first day.”
“That’s some luck,” I said.
Rhett chuckled. “Well, at first she wanted to talk him into coming to her town, thinking a bit bigger—but he told her that he couldn’t give up his dad’s farm, so if she wanted to be with him, she would have to settle for a smaller life.”
I stared at Rhett. I couldn’t imagine someone telling me that—I
couldn’t imagine making that choice. “And she just went along with it?”
Rhett shrugged. “She worked—still does, part-time—in town, doing records and transcripts for the vet and the doc,” Rhett said. “It was enough to bring some money in during lean years, and enough to keep her having something to do the rest of the time.”
“That...that’s a choice, all right,” I said, feeling a bit awkward. “How about you?”
“I didn’t meet anyone in college, and I haven’t had the time to meet anyone since I got back. Not anyone I really feel that way about, at least,” he said. “I’ve got work, I’ve got a home, I’ve lived some great times—but I don’t really have that one thing, the settled down feeling.”
I nodded, and I would have said something, but my phone buzzed in my purse. I’d chosen the least flashy-looking bag I owned, a simple little cloth thing that I could wear across my chest, almost more of a messenger bag than a proper purse.
“Sorry,” I said, reaching in to take my phone out. I thought it would be my father, calling to check in on me and find out what I’d seen so far. Instead it was Jacob, and I almost felt irritated, even though I knew that he was probably doing that same thing. “Excuse me—I need to take this.”
“Sure thing,” Rhett said, taking a few steps away.
I accepted the call. “Hey, Jake,” I said.
“How are things in Petticoat Junction?” He’d spent the whole drive home yesterday trying to remember all the names of tiny little towns from TV and movies, and obviously that was going to continue.
“Rhett is being very helpful,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“I’m sure he is,” Jacob observed. “Just as helpful as I’d be if a gorgeous city babe like you came to my little pit of nowhere.”
“We’re looking out at the farms now,” I said, trying to ignore the flirting note in Jacob’s voice. “We just went over the town center.”
“Don’t let him get you alone in a barn—I know that would be the first thing on my mind,” Jacob said.
I wanted to roll my eyes but that might tip off what was happening. “I’m almost done checking things out, I should be headed back into town in an hour or two,” I said.
“Your dad wants you to see if you can identify the people most likely to want to sell,” Jacob said. “And of course, I’d appreciate an update on that too—to know who to kiss up to when we come back.”
“I don’t know if that’ll be included in the tour, but I’ll see how many people I come across,” I said. I didn’t want to tip my hand to Rhett just yet.
“Keep us updated,” Jacob said. I promised I’d report back to the “people back home”—I meant my father—as soon as possible, and ended the call.
“Someone checking up on you?” Rhett asked.
“They want to make sure I’m not befriending any axe murderers,” I said blandly.
Rhett laughed. “Well, as far as I know there aren’t any of those around here—I’d hope at least that the sheriff would have thrown them in jail by now,” he said. “It’s good you have people who look after you—who want to make sure you’re staying safe.” I looked at him for a long moment and thought about how different it was, talking to him as opposed to Jacob. Rhett got my sense of humor; if I’d said the line about befriending axe murderers to Jacob it would have either flown over his head or he would have tried to turn it into an opening to flirt with me. Rhett wasn’t as polished as Jacob, but he also had a kind of calm that I didn’t think Jacob would even know how to seek out, much less acquire.
I shouldn’t have done it, but I closed the distance between us. “I feel plenty safe with you,” I told him quietly.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Rhett said.
We just stood there for a second, looking into each other’s eyes, and then before I knew it I was moving in for a kiss. I know plenty of guys don’t like it if a woman makes the first move, but Rhett went with me just fine. His hands—just as big as I remembered—settled on the small of my back as I leaned up onto the balls of my feet and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t crush me against him, but seemed almost like he was helping me fit my body against his instead, and I definitely wanted to feel the way his body felt against mine in that moment. Rhett kissed me back, his tongue sweeping along my lips, and I let him in, sighing against his mouth. It was a better kiss than I’d had in years—maybe even my whole life.
All at once, I realized what I was doing. I heard my father’s voice in my head telling me to stay focused, so I pulled back.
“We should probably finish up,” I said breathlessly.
Rhett didn’t hold me against him, didn’t try to fight me as I backed away, stepping off from him.
I stifled a sigh. “I need to be back in Houston before too late.”
“Yeah, right, of course,” he agreed. “We’re almost done, anyway.”
Chapter Six
Rhett
When the kiss happened, I hadn’t thought much of it—or at least, I hadn’t thought it was a big deal to Emily. It had definitely been a big deal to me, since it isn’t every day that a gorgeous woman lays one right on me. But by the time she left to head back to Houston, I started thinking that maybe, in spite of the fact that she’d started the kiss, I’d somehow let things go too far.
I worried about it all the next morning, going around the farm and taking care of things. Mom noticed I was distracted at lunch and asked me what was wrong. What’s wrong is I might have gotten too pushy with a girl and convinced her not to move to town, I thought, but I told her I was just thinking about something, nothing too important.
I washed up after lunch and decided that the only thing for it was to call Emily and apologize. I found her number in my phone from when she’d called me the day before. Fortunately it was a Saturday, so I was pretty sure she’d be free, whatever it was she did for work.
“Rhett? Hey—what’s up?”
“Not much,” I said. If she was angry at me, she definitely wasn’t making it obvious. I was relieved. “I just wanted to check in, and make sure things aren’t weird between us after yesterday.”
“Why would they be weird?” She sounded genuinely confused.
“When you were going it seemed like maybe you were shaken up a bit,” I said. “And then I didn’t hear from you—and I started to think maybe I’d pushed things too far.”
“Oh! No—no, it was fine. I was out of line,” she said. “I kind of embarrassed myself there.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I told her. “I’m just glad I didn’t end up pushing you to decide to move somewhere else.”
She sort of half-laughed on the other end of the line. “A kiss would not be enough for that.”
“I guess you haven’t decided against coming here?” That was the important thing.
“No, absolutely—I still plan on coming,” she said.
“Let me make you a proposition,” I suggested. “If you really want to know if you can live here, you gotta actually work like you live here. Come spend the afternoon helping me out in the field.”
“You just want free labor,” she said, but her voice was teasing.
“I can always use another pair of hands,” I admitted. “But look at it this way. At the end of the day you’ll know for sure whether this life is for you.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line and I wasn’t sure if she was going to go for it, if she was seriously thinking about it, or if she was trying to figure out how to tell me no without being rude.
“I’ll be there in a little over two hours,” she said finally.
“Plenty of time to get some work done,” I said. “Call me when you get close and I’ll meet you at the gate.”
She must have hurried, because it was even a little less than two hours when she called to let me know she was getting close to the farm. When she got out of her car—a slightly older Saturn—I was actually surprised to see she was dressed exactly the way I would have told her to dress. S
he had on a heavier t-shirt, a light jacket over it that she could button up if she wanted to, a pair of jeans, and some sneakers that looked like they’d been used pretty thoroughly already. Her hair was in a braid again, and she’d pulled a ball cap down so that the bill shaded her face.
“So, what are we doing today?” Again, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and I had to admit that I liked the look of her fresh, clean face just as much as the made-up face she’d had the first time I’d met her.
“Well, we’re going to check the fields for rabbits and other pests, first,” I explained, “and then I’ll let you help me run the tractor and spray everything with fertilizer and pesticide.”
“I have never really considered how rabbits are pests to farmers,” Emily told me as we headed out to the field to quarter it. I’ve always tried to check every day, or every other day, for rats, rabbits, voles, and other critters that like to eat my crops. It’s not as bad as if I were growing wheat or corn, but little creatures still want to get at the crops if they can—along with different kinds of bugs, which are easier to deal with.
“They love sorghum just like a lot of other animals,” I said. “Some people, too.” Normally if I had someone quartering the field with me, I’d have them start at the opposite end, but since Emily didn’t know what to look for—and I’d been planning on doing it by myself anyway—we walked along the rows together. I pointed out the marks and signs of a few of the area animals where I saw them.
“What do you do, if you see signs of animal pests but don’t see the animals themselves?” I glanced at Emily quickly. She didn’t seem to be too faint of heart, but some people didn’t take to kindly to the unvarnished truth.
“If I know they’re here but I can’t get at them walking through the fields, I set up traps,” I told her. “If it’s a rabbit—hey, Mom makes great rabbit stew. If it’s a rat, or something like that, I just kill it and toss it.” Emily might have hesitated for just a second, but it wasn’t even long enough for me to be sure.