Together in the Wild: Clean Romance Novella (Alaska Adventure Romance Book 4)

by Hart, Renee

  “The first thing we need to do,” she said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, “is find out if Topher is even the one responsible. Chemical contamination could have come from anywhere. If we can prove that it's him, then we can see what to do about it.”

  “So how do we do that?” Samson asked.

  “I've been keeping an eye on him for awhile now,” Terry said. “Problem is, everything he uses is a homemade mixture. Not like we can look through his garbage for a can of RoundUp.”

  “So, we get our hands on some of his herbicides,” Tessa said. “Find out what's in it.”

  “And then?” Samson asked.

  “One step at a time,” Tessa said. “I don't want to get ahead of ourselves. We find out the truth, first thing, and worry about the rest later.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Terry said. “Only question is, how are you going to get some of his herbicide? You'll need to get some before he sprays it. If we just test the soil, we wouldn't know anything. Like you said, contamination could come from anywhere.”

  “Easy,” Tessa said, grinning. “We'll just pull ourselves a little heist.”

  Chapter 7

  They discussed the plan that night in Terry's apartment, over tea and biscuits. The next day was Sunday, one of the biggest gardening days in the community. Most of their neighbors were off work, and other than a few of them that went to church in the morning, they mostly spent their mornings outdoors, tending to their gardens and enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

  Tessa and Samson were out early Sunday morning, tending to their gardens. Samson was watering the herbs he kept in a line of little clay pots, while Tessa was trimming the withered leaves from her tomato plants, hoping to somehow salvage what was left of them. She tossed the clippings in a plastic bucket, while keeping an eye out for Terry to make his move.

  Around mid-morning, Topher came out, carrying his gardening tools and a bucket of herbicide with a spray nozzle attached. When he bragged to the neighborhood about his award-winning crops, he always claimed that he used a fertilizer made from a mixture of ground kelp and water, and an all-natural herbicide made from a mixture of ground oranges in citrus oil. Tessa watched from her plot as he set the sprayer down and started trimming some dead leaves. He glanced over his shoulder constantly while he worked, and he didn't talk to anyone. He even turned down Mrs. Mackenzie when she came over to offer him a glass of lemonade.

  Terry glanced over at Tessa and she nodded, giving him the signal to go. He grabbed his bucket of clippings and started heading for the compost heap. Part way there, he tripped and spilled his bucket, spreading leaves and crud all over some of Topher's plants.

  “Aww, man! Come on, Mr. Jones, I just weeded that!” Topher ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling under his breath.

  “Sorry, son,” Terry said. He straightened up and stretched out his back, putting on a good show of looking like a tired old man. “It's just so hard to keep a good grip on things these days. I don't suppose you could lend an old fella a hand?”

  Topher glanced around, and saw that Tessa was watching him. She quickly lowered her head, acting like she was minding her own business. Topher turned back to Terry, still grumbling. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said. He knelt down and started scooping the spilled clippings back into the bucket, then carried it off to the compost heap.

  As soon as he was out of sight around the corner, Tessa and Samson made their move. Keeping an eye out to make sure none of their neighbors was watching, they hurried over to Topher's plot. Tessa unscrewed the top of the sprayer while Samson held out a plastic cup. They poured some of the liquid herbicide in, then Tessa struggled to get the cap back on the sprayer.

  She glanced over and saw Topher and Terry returning. Her heart started to race. She fumbled with the cap of the sprayer, but it wouldn't quite go on.

  Samson came to the rescue by hurrying over to Topher and distracting him. “Hey, Topher, man. Lemme ask you something.”

  He stepped in the other direction so that Topher had to turn his back on Tessa in order to talk to him. They chatted for a brief moment, giving Tessa time to screw the cap back on the sprayer. She grabbed the cup with the sample and headed back to her plot, hiding the cup in with her gardening supplies.

  “Dude, I'm busy, okay?” Topher said, turning away from Samson. He headed back to his plot and knelt down, grumbling and sorting through his tools.

  Tessa glanced back and caught Samson's eye. He winked at her. They went about their business until enough time had passed that they wouldn't seem suspicious, then they headed inside, bringing the ill-gotten sample with them.

  Once they were inside Tessa's apartment, she gave the cup to Samson. “Did you already call your friend at the university?” she asked.

  “Yup.” Samson held the cup up to the light, looking at the way the light shone through the dark liquid. If there's anything in here besides oranges, he should be able to let us know within a couple of days.”

  “Tell him I said thanks,” Tessa said. She pulled off her gardening gloves and stretched her back. “Though I don't know what I'll do if this turns out to be another false alarm. I'm going to feel bad if we keep taking up Gregory's time over nothing.”

  “He doesn't mind.” Samson gave her a wink. “He told me it's more exciting than his usual work. Apparently it's just as boring doing the actual lab work, but it makes him feel like he's part of some secret conspiracy to expose the truth.”

  Tessa laughed, throwing her arms around Samson's neck. “Ha! The secret gardening conspiracy. If only it were something so exciting. I just don't want my tomatoes to wilt.”

  He put his arms around her waist and kissed her. She stared up into his eyes. “Why do you put up with me?” she asked. “I mean, I'm always dragging you into these crazy schemes.”

  “Maybe I like crazy schemes,” he said. “It sure beats going to church on Sunday.”

  “Crazy man.” She pulled him close and kissed him again, and this time, she didn't let go.

  Chapter 8

  The next couple of days were mostly uneventful. Tessa's days at the office were spent following up on the recall. She got reports back from the labs and found out that the contaminated apples had, in fact, been isolated to a single supermarket. While they couldn't be sure how the contamination had happened, it was clear that someone at that supermarket wasn't following proper food safety procedures.

  She sent notifications to all of the other supermarkets and facilities letting them know that the recall was over, and she sent an official notice to the one affected supermarket requiring updated safe food handling procedures and retraining of all personnel.

  Compliance with Dunham's corporate standards was a requirement of doing business with them, so the supermarket would have to either get their procedures up to par, or risk losing Dunham as a supplier.

  She was so overloaded with all the paperwork involved that she almost forgot about the Topher situation. She was stuck late at work one night, finishing up some reports, when she remembered that she'd forgotten to eat again. She was feeling a bit dizzy, and decided she needed to get something to eat before she headed home. Maybe even something a bit greasy, since every once in awhile she got tired of always eating healthy and organic.

  She hit a fast food drive thru on the way home and walked into the apartment building carrying a bag of food and drinking a vanilla milkshake. She'd already eaten the burger in the car, and was looking forward to scarfing down the french fries with a glass of wine, and she didn't care how much those flavors would clash.

  When she got to her apartment, she found a note on the door, written in Samson's handwriting. It said he had a surprise for her at his place.

  She rolled her eyes at his romantic corniness and headed down the hall. She walked in without knocking; they'd both spent so much time at each other's apartments over the past few months that they'd gotten used to having open invitations to each other's homes. When she walked in, she saw Samson sitting on t
he sofa, reading a book and looking bored. On the other side of the room was a table made up with a dinner for two, complete with a bottle of wine and two candles that were burned most of the way down.

  “Aww,” she said, looking at the scene before her. “Was this for me?”

  “Crap.” Samson quickly got up and set his book aside, then straightened his clothes. He was normally a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, but he'd gone all out tonight with khakis and a button-down shirt. She even saw a pair of leather loafers sitting by the couch, though Samson was barefoot now.

  “Oh no,” Tessa said, setting her milkshake and bag on the table. “Did I ruin it? If I'd known you had something planned, I wouldn't have stayed at work so late!”

  “Well if you'd known about it,” Samson said, smirking and putting his arms around her, “it wouldn't have been a surprise.”

  “Silly.” She playfully smacked him on the chest, then laid her head against him. “Next time, call me and, I dunno, trick me into coming home early.”

  “I'll fake a heart attack,” he said. “I know then you'll come running.”

  “Don't joke about that.” She smacked his chest again, harder this time. “I'd just about lose it if you wound up in the hospital.”

  “Really?” he asked, looking down at her with a curious smile on his face.

  She blushed and turned away. “Of course.”

  “I guess I just wasn't sure you felt that strongly for me.”

  “Do I not make that clear?” she asked. She looked up at him, pouting. “You know I care about you, right?”

  “I hope so.” He stroked her hair, looking into her eyes.

  “I must not say it enough, then.” She sighed and pulled him close, her head pressed against his chest. “You're a sweet, kind, caring man. You make me smile. And I haven't been this happy in a very long time.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Well, you're going to give a guy a big head.”

  She giggled, then peeked over Samson's shoulder to look at the table. “Can we still have dinner? Or did I ruin it by having a burger first?”

  He held her chair out for her and poured them each a glass of wine, then fetched dinner from the fridge. He'd made shrimp salad, with some kind of sweet little fruit cakes for dessert. They drank wine and ate, talking and joking about life and all of its ups and downs. They didn't once bring up the issue with Topher and the mysteriously wilting tomatoes, and it felt nice for Tessa to have a night where she had no worries and everything felt carefree.

  After dinner they sat together on the couch, Tessa sitting between Samson's legs and leaning back against his chest. They watched as the candles burned down to almost nothing, content to hold each other in comfortable silence.

  Finally, Tessa said, “You keep this sort of thing up, I might just have to keep you around.”

  “Oh?” Samson chuckled. “And here I thought you only liked me for my herbal teas.”

  She laughed and nuzzled against him. “I mean it.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because I'm not planning on going anywhere.”

  Tessa set down her wine glass and closed her eyes, letting her man hold her while her thoughts started to drift off. She thought about the future, wondering where all of this was headed. She hadn't given it much thought before now, with how busy her life had been. She was just content to have Samson there each day and night. Though maybe, she thought, they were heading down a path that was leading them to something more serious.

  Maybe, she thought. But her thoughts were too scattered now, and all she could focus on was how warm it felt in Samson's arms, and how right at that moment, there was no place else in the world she would rather be.

  Chapter 9

  The next day at work, while she was writing up her final reports on the results of the product recall, Tessa got a phone call from Samson's professor friend, Gregory.

  “Hey, Gregory,” she said, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder while she typed. “Did you get those test results back in?”

  She looked around for Yvette to make sure she wouldn't be caught on the phone. Yvette had been in an especially bad mood over the last few days, thanks to dealing with the recall. Not that she had to do any of the work herself. It was all coming across Tessa's desk, and all Yvette had to do was report the results to the people upstairs.

  “Yeah, I've got them right here,” Gregory said. “And I can tell you, this stuff definitely isn't made from oranges.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Gregory started listing off a bunch of terms she didn't understand, but which certainly sounded like artificial chemicals. “Hold on,” she said, interrupting him. “Give me the layperson's version.”

  “The compound is a rather harsh chemical herbicide. If this has been getting on your plants, even indirectly, it would definitely explain the problems you've been having.”

  Tessa sighed and rubbed at her eyes. It was what she'd expected, but now that she knew the truth, she wasn't sure what to do with the information. “Okay, thanks. I really appreciate this. Listen, can you email me a copy of those results.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She gave him her email address, then thanked him again for all of his help. In between working on her reports for the rest of the day, she did some online research, looking up the kinds of chemicals Topher was using in his herbicide. While none of it was necessarily dangerous, it was still far from the all-natural, organic compounds that Tessa and the rest of the gardening community insisted on using. If Topher had his own private garden somewhere, where his chemicals wouldn't affect anyone else's crops, then that would be his own business. But it riled Tessa up to think of him spraying these poisons so close to her little garden, getting them into the soil and letting the wind carry them onto her tomatoes. She didn't even use any kind of herbicide on her own plants. She did everything the old-fashioned way, pulling out weeds by hand and tending to her garden with loving care.

  She wrapped up her work a bit early and ducked out of the office, not caring if Yvette would have anything to say about it. She'd worked enough extra hours over the past few days that she'd earned an early night out. When she got home, she opened a bottle of wine and sat in the seat by her window, looking out over the gardens. Samson was out there, tending to his herbs. So was Topher, measuring his tomatoes with a caliper and writing down the results on a notepad. She sipped her wine, watching him, then shook her head. Who measured their tomatoes like that? She just didn't understand him.

  But she also didn't know what to do about him. The simplest thing would be to confront him, to tell him she knew he was using herbicides that were against the community rules. But he would just deny it, and even if she showed him the test results, he could easily claim that she had faked it. And what purpose would the confrontation serve? They would argue, he would attack her credibility, and it would do nothing other than creating a divide in the gardening community. Even if she got most of the other neighbors on her side, they technically couldn't ban Topher from doing what he wanted on his plot. He would just keep using whatever he wanted, and bragging about his amazing tomatoes. He'd go to the gardening show at the end of the season, win a blue ribbon, and show it off to everyone, making them all jealous of his skills and his success.

  Tessa finished off her wine glass, a thought occurring to her. It was silly. Almost impractical. But it was also the best chance she had of getting back at Topher for what he'd done.

  She grabbed her phone and called Samson. Even though he was right outside, she didn't want to go out to the garden and be seen by Topher. She felt a bit foolish for it, since it wasn't like he'd know she was conspiring against him. But she felt like staying in her apartment, spying on the garden through the window, was the thing to do.

  She watched Samson through the window as he jammed out to the music from his iPod, bobbing his head back and forth like an adorable dork while he tended his herbs. When his phone started ringing, he pulled out his ear buds, then patted his pockets u
ntil he found his phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe,” Tessa said. “I've got an idea.”

  Samson looked around, watching Topher. He lowered his voice as he spoke into the phone. “About the 'situation,' you mean?”

  Tessa snickered at the way Samson was speaking in code. “Yes, dear, the 'situation.' Operation Show Topher Who's Boss. I think I know how to get back at him.”

  “I'm listening.”

  Out the window, she could see Samson eyeing Topher suspiciously. She shook her head, wondering if he was taking this too seriously. Or if she herself was.

  “I think,” she said, “that instead of trying to expose him, or stop him from using those herbicides, we need a different approach. It's not like we can really do anything about what he's doing.”

  “Yeah,” Samson said. “I talked to Mrs. Mackenzie today. I didn't tell her I was asking about Samson, but I asked her what she thought the community could do if 'someone' was found to be violating the rules. She suggested a strongly worded letter. Or that the neighbors stop trading produce with the guilty party.”

  “All of which would be ultimately useless gestures.” Tessa nodded, having come to the same conclusion as Samson. “Topher would ignore a letter, and he doesn't trade with anyone anyway. He thinks his crops are too good for the likes of us.”

  “So what's your plan?”

  Tessa smirked, pouring herself another glass of wine. She leaned back in her seat, studying Topher through the window and swirling her wine around in her glass. “Simple,” she said. “You know how they say, 'fight fire with fire'?”

  “You want to burn his plot down?”

  “Ha! No.” Tessa snorted. “But I think what we need to do is to take down Topher on his own terms.”

  She watched as he picked up a rather large squash, using his calipers to measure its width and height. He held it up with an admiring eye, nodding to himself.