He sat up. Knowing instantly he shouldn’t have let his thoughts come to the surface like that.
Tess reached for her sweater. He was closer, so he handed it to her, watching with regret as she pulled it over her head.
“What’s going on, Tess?”
“Just seems as if maybe we’re getting in over our heads. Wasn’t it you who talked about taking things slow?”
“Dating doesn’t mean celibacy. It means we do things together besides just having sex.”
“I told you I don’t date—I shouldn’t have let you talk me into it.”
She was so good at putting up walls, he could almost see them rising, brick by brick.
“Tess, what’s this really about? Are you scared because I said that I love to be with you? Or because you mentioned something about your past? I don’t care about your past. Why would I care that you grew up in a housing project? Or hung out at the Boys and Girls Club?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said softly, straightening her sweater.
“Then we won’t. But just so you know, I think you’re feeling ashamed by things that aren’t under our control. We don’t pick where we’re born or who our parents are.” His voice was raised now but he didn’t care. He’d do whatever it took to crack that stubborn shell she wore around her like a shield.
“It’s easy for you to say. You haven’t lived like I did. You need to understand, Slaid—you’re in over your head,” she said flatly. “I can’t give you what you want.”
That bugged him. “How do you even know what I want?”
“You’ve told me you’re a traditional relationship kind of guy. That will never happen with me. I’m over here pretending that it could, but I’m like a kid playing house. It’s just a game. It’s wrong to let you get involved.”
That pissed him off, too. “Let me get involved? I’m a grown-up, Tess. I’ll decide who I get involved with and how much.”
She stood up, looking pale and pissed. She walked to the entryway and picked up her coat and bag. “I’m going to head home now.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he just grabbed his coat and walked her to her Jeep. They stood at the vehicle’s door, and the silence seemed to breathe between them. When she reached for the door, he put a gentle hand on her arm, determined to try once more to reach her. “I had a great time earlier tonight. Let’s not end it on a bad note.”
“Oh, it’s not bad,” she said with a brightness he now recognized as fake—and was thoroughly sick of. “It’s just like you said—we had a nice time.”
“Stop pretending everything is fine for once. If it was, you wouldn’t be running out the door.”
“Look, it’s obvious that we really like each other—but want different things.”
“What do you want? Because a few minutes ago I was pretty sure you wanted me.”
“I want things simple, Slaid. I’ve been telling you since I got here. I don’t have heart-to-heart talks. And I don’t do relationships.”
“Seems as if we already have a relationship.”
“We have a crazy chemistry. That’s different than a relationship.”
He’d had it. His mind was reeling with his desire for her and the knowledge he felt so deep down that they could be great together. “So that’s it. We have one accidental mention of your past and you run out of here and go hide in that little house of yours? Ignore what’s between us? I thought you were braver than this.”
She stiffened. “I’m brave enough to face the truth, Slaid. That you see what you want to see in me. You think you can get me to conform to the life you think everyone should have, to live up to your ideals of how you think a relationship should work. But I can’t. So let’s stop this now, before someone gets hurt.”
“You’re walking away because you’re scared.”
“I’m walking away because I’m smart.” She leaned in and kissed him, her mouth bold on his, her touch sending nerves rippling. “Good night, Slaid.”
He didn’t answer. The only words in his head were don’t go, and no way would he be that pathetic. His fists clenched, coiled in frustration, as she climbed into the Jeep and drove off.
Slaid walked back to his house, slamming his fist on the door as he opened it. He looked around the room, at the dishes stacked in the kitchen, at the couch in disarray, at the clock on the wall. It was only nine o’clock—not too late. He refused to sit here and think about what he’d just lost. Devin was gone and he was free to do what he pleased.
He grabbed his keys and drove to town, parking in front of The High Country Sports Bar on Main Street. From the sidewalk he heard a band playing inside. He pushed his way through the front door, into the chaos, in search of a beer, a game of pool, a conversation—anything to get his thoughts off Tess Cole.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TESS SAT ON the bench in the small front garden of her cottage. She was wrapped in her teal parka, her computer on her lap, hot tea in a travel mug next to her. The air was crisp, but the thin layer of afternoon sunshine hitting the front of the house had enticed her outside. She couldn’t stay cooped up a minute longer. The sunshine here might be twenty degrees cooler than at home, but it still felt good on her skin.
She glanced at the document she had open, trying to concentrate. But for the past week, concentration had been almost impossible. Thank you, Slaid Jacobs, she thought bitterly. But he wasn’t really the problem. Her idiot brain was the problem. Why did it have to get obsessed with the one guy she’d ever slept with who wanted more than just sex?
Everything had been going so well between them, and then he’d made those comments about her past. And there’d been something close to pity in his tone. She’d spent her childhood being everyone’s charity project—she didn’t want anyone’s charity, or pity, ever again.
She should have known better than to agree to date him. There was something about Slaid that lowered her guard. That made her forget that it was always best to keep her personal business to herself.
And now everything was complicated. Though things had ended badly between them the other night, she’d still looked for him all week. While lunching with the Benson Women’s Club to talk to them about the wind project, she’d found herself wondering if she’d run into him at the restaurant. The Sierra Club met in the library across from city hall, and when she’d gone to their meeting to seek an endorsement for the windmills, her gaze kept straying out the window, hoping to see him walk out of the old granite building. Her video screenings and information sessions each evening had been fairly well attended, but he hadn’t been in the audience, no matter how many times she’d wished he might walk through the door.
The odd thing was, she had no idea what she’d do if she saw him. They were at a dead end. But she missed him, and it was unsettling. Tess had always cherished being alone. But for the past several nights she’d tossed and turned, wanting Slaid with her. She ate her solitary meals in the cottage kitchen wishing he was on the other side of the table. If he was here right now, they’d sit on this bench together, and she’d be tucked under his arm, braving this cool afternoon with his warmth surrounding her.
But she’d pushed him away so hard this time that he was most likely gone for good. It was for the best, she reminded herself as she sipped her tea. He wanted to know her better, but if he knew the truth about her, he’d run away fast. She’d done the right thing, saved them both a lot of useless trouble, and now she’d just have to learn to live with it.
Out of her peripheral vision an object came flying and hit the picket fence a few feet away with a thunk. A piece of the old fence broke off and landed with a clatter on the flagstones under Tess’s feet. She jumped, her heart in her mouth. “What the...?” She stopped when she saw the boy. A young teenager staring at her in shock, his backpack split open at a seam, its contents scattered on the sidewalk in front of her fence.
“Are you okay?” Tess asked, opening the gate and stepping onto the sidewalk.
“
I’m sorry.” The boy’s fair skin was flushed, his light brown eyebrows drawn into a heavy scowl. “Sorry about your fence. I just...” He gestured helplessly at the backpack and bent down to collect the scattered books. Tess knelt down and picked up the ones nearest her, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. He’d obviously been upset and chucked his backpack.
“Seems as if you’re having a bad day,” Tess told the boy, and he looked at her startled, as if he couldn’t believe she wasn’t going to yell.
“Yeah.”
It was none of her business. She should send the boy on his way and figure out how to fix the fence. But she’d been that teenager who couldn’t control her temper. She’d thrown her share of backpacks.
“Anything I can do?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.
“Nah,” he answered. Then he paused, staring at the hole where the picket had been. Maybe he felt as though he owed her an explanation, because he started talking, not shifting his gaze from the fence. “I lost my temper. At football practice. Another kid was bugging me, kept saying stuff, and it just got to me. I went after him. Hit him. Coach kicked me out of practice for the rest of the week.”
“That makes sense.”
He looked disappointed. “Of course you’d say that. You’re a grown-up.”
It took her a moment to realize where they’d missed each other. “No, I meant your reaction makes sense.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Really?”
“Well, you can’t hit people, but if the other kid was goading you I can understand why you wanted to.” She’d succumbed to the taunting too many times to count. “But can I give you some advice?”
“You can give it. Don’t know if I’ll take it.”
“Fair enough.” She couldn’t help but smile at the sassiness. That sounded like her, too. “Look, you’ve got to realize that when you have a temper, other kids notice it, too. And some kids will try to provoke you, because they know you’ll do something wild and get yourself in trouble. It’s entertaining for them. So they set you up. And when you have some big reaction, you’re doing exactly what those kids want you to do.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitated, then decided to be honest, realizing as she said the words that she was revealing more about herself to this boy who she’d probably never see again than she had to her best friends. “Because I threw my backpack, too. And I got in fights at school, and worse.” She’d been kicked out of three high schools—once for wrecking a locker, once for fighting and the last time for throwing a chair at the window. It took all of that for her to realize she had to control her reactions.
“No way. You don’t look as if you were a kid who got in trouble.”
“Well, I don’t get mad like that anymore. I mean, people make me mad, of course, but I don’t throw stuff or hit them or anything like that.”
“What do you do?”
“Leave, if I can. Go someplace else. Or try to talk to them. Or ignore them. And sometimes I’m just really polite to them, even if I want to be the opposite. Like I said, you have to remember that those kids are trying to set you off, so don’t give them the satisfaction.”
The boy sat down on the curb and tried to fit all his books back into his busted backpack. Tess handed him the ones she’d picked up. There was no way the ripped fabric could hold all his stuff. The poor kid must have a ton of homework.
“Are you a teacher?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“Nope. I’m doing some work here in town right now. But I remember being your age really clearly. I got in a lot of trouble, made some mistakes. I guess I know a little about how it is.”
“So you’re not mad about the fence post?”
“Well, do I wish you hadn’t broken it? Yes. And I’m glad it didn’t actually hit me. But it’s also just a picket. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure it can be replaced.”
“I’ll help if you want.”
Tess smiled at his effort to take responsibility. “Thanks. I’d like that. How about if I get a hammer and some nails and a new picket and I’ll leave them on the patio? Sometime over the next week, after school or something, you can come by and fix it for me?”
“Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”
They sat on the curb in companionable silence for a minute. Then the boy said, “What’s your name?”
“Tess,” she answered.
The sound of a truck engine had them both looking up. Tess recognized Slaid’s pickup and stood up. The boy did the same.
Slaid pulled up to the curb by the house and jumped out of the cab. “Devin? Are you okay?”
Tess looked at the boy. “You’re Devin?” She’d been sitting on the sidewalk having a heart-to-heart with Slaid’s son? She felt sick.
“I’m fine, Dad.” The sullen look was back on his face, as if he was bracing himself for a lecture.
“Coach Ellis called me, son. Said you got into a fight during practice. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Nope.” Devin looked at the ground and scuffed his feet and Tess had to mask a smile. He was 100 percent classic teenager at the moment.
“We’ll talk at home, then.” Slaid turned to Tess, and his expression warmed a little. “Hey, Tess.”
“Hey,” she answered, trying to sound casual, as if she hadn’t been missing him every minute for days.
“Can I ask how you got involved in all this?”
Somehow she couldn’t mention the fence. Devin had offered to fix it, to make things right. She wanted to honor that. “I was sitting out front, trying to get some sun. Devin was walking by and dropped his backpack. It ripped. His books went everywhere.” She gestured to the shredded backpack lying on the ground at Devin’s feet.
“Thanks for helping him,” Slaid said quietly.
“It was my pleasure.” She gave Devin a quick wink. “He’s a cool kid.”
“Wait, you two know each other?” The horror in Devin’s voice was audible.
“We’re professional acquaintances,” Slaid told him. The word stung for a moment until Tess realized that of course he couldn’t tell his son they’d dated. Especially since they weren’t going to date again.
“Do you work in the mayor’s office?” Devin asked Tess.
“Not exactly...”
“Tess is working for the company I was telling you about, that wants to put windmills in Benson.”
Devin turned to Tess in dismay. “You’re the windmill lady?”
Tess smiled. “I guess you could call me that.”
“Huh.” Devin studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t want windmills, but I liked that band you got for the harvest festival.”
“Thanks.”
“Devin, we’d better get you home. I’m sure you have homework, and we need to talk about what happened at practice today.”
“I already talked with Tess.”
Slaid looked startled. “Really?”
Tess nodded, trying not to laugh at Devin’s assumption that a chat with a stranger could fend off the inevitable conversation with his actual parent. As if one adult was replaceable with another. She remembered being his age, and how generic grown-ups had seemed.
“Good. She’s smart. But you still have to talk to me, son. Let’s go.”
Devin gave Tess a shy smile. “Thanks, Tess.”
“Take care, Devin.”
Slaid gave her a long look, obviously curious about what she’d said to his son. But she took a cue from Devin and gave him a shrug. “See you later, Slaid.”
He opened the door and waited for Devin to climb up and fasten his seat belt before closing it. Then he turned back to Tess, a troubled look on his face. “A lot’s happened between us lately.”
“Yes.” She knew that was her cue to apologize for the other night, but she didn’t want to bring it up. If she did, she’d probably lose her willpower, beg him to spend time with her again. What he said next surprised her.
“We’re still agr
eed to disagree about the windmills, right?”
“Sure,” she answered, studying his face, looking for some clue as to why he’d brought this up now.
“Well, all right, then.” He looked relieved.
“But I’ll give you fair warning, Slaid. Attendance at my meetings is up. They’ve been going really well, too. At least, no one has seemed too upset.”
Slaid glanced to the side. He seemed to be considering something. “Mine are going well, too. Really well.”
“I’ll just have to work a little harder.”
His smile broke slowly over his face. “You are something else.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is a compliment.” He walked around the back of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you soon.” The engine came to life, and he and Devin both waved before they drove off.
Tess watched them go, still trying to figure out what that last exchange was really about. Maybe he’d finally accepted that they had no romantic future and he was trying to remind her that it was strictly about work now. The thought made her heart hurt. Even though it was what she’d told him she wanted.
She bent down to collect the pieces of the broken picket. There was a hardware store on the edge of town. She’d bring them the pieces and hope they could find her a replacement. And then she stopped in her tracks, picket in hand. She’d met Devin. Devin, Slaid’s adopted son, who was the same age as her son. And the world hadn’t fallen apart. She hadn’t run away screaming, or cried, or felt overwhelming guilt and remorse. In fact, the only thing that was different was that she liked the kid. She was glad they met—glad she’d been able to help a bit, and hopeful that she might get to see him again sometime.
She leaned the broken picket carefully against the wall of the cottage and sank back down on the bench in relief. It was heartening to realize that something that had seemed so scary and life altering could happen in such a quiet way, There’d been no drama, no angst. Just a kid who needed someone who could understand him. She was glad that someone had been her.
Convincing the Rancher Page 17