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

by Hart, Renee

  “We're going to hit him where it hurts,” Tessa said. “Right in the tomatoes.”

  Chapter 10

  They met that night at Terry's apartment. Terry served tea, while Tessa paced around the apartment, gesturing animatedly with her hands while she laid out her idea.

  “Topher's completely focused on winning the gardening contest,” she said. “He doesn't care about organic foods, healthy eating, getting in touch with the Earth, or any of that. He's in the gardening business for the prestige.”

  “Not a lot of prestige to be had for growing a tomato,” Terry said, snorting.

  “Not for most people.” Tessa shrugged. “But in certain circles, it's a pretty big deal. Everything has its niche. Some people train for months to win video game tournaments. Other people try to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest fingernails. To people in that niche, it's the most important thing in their world.”

  “And Topher's world,” Samson said, while he cradled a steaming mug of tea in his hands, “is tomatoes.”

  “Bingo.” Tessa drove a fist into her palm. “So if we want to pay Topher back for ruining our tomatoes, we need to beat him at his own game.”

  “So you want to poison his crops?” Terry asked, frowning. “Doesn't seem like the right thing to do. Especially when he isn't really hurting our tomatoes on purpose. He's a jerk, but he's not that mean.”

  “No,” Tessa said, making a slashing motion with her hand. “We don't have to touch his tomatoes. We just need to grow better ones. And enter that gardening contest. And beat him.”

  Samson and Terry exchanged a look. Samson set down his tea and folded his hands. “Hon, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but...your tomatoes are...”

  She stared at him, a pout forming on her lips.

  Samson cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, they're a bit shriveled, that's all. You won't be able to win a contest with them.”

  “And you can't just go to the store and buy a big tomato,” Terry said. “I've never entered the contest myself, but I've been to a few. You're supposed to bring the whole plant, still on the vine. And to win, you have to have the biggest, ripest, most beautiful fruit of them all.”

  “And I can't see how we can grow a better tomato between now and the end of the season,” Samson said, spreading his hands. “We've only got about six weeks, and it could take twice that long to grow something from scratch.”

  “And if you get caught trying to bring in something you didn't grow yourself,” Terry added, “you could get disqualified. I know it might sound silly to get so worked up over a tomato, but like you said, people in that niche take this sort of thing real serious.”

  “Okay, I admit that the plan has some flaws,” Tessa said. “But work with me here. Taking that blue ribbon away and making Topher walk away from that contest empty-handed is the best way we have to get back at him. We just need to find a way to make it happen.”

  “Okay,” Samson said, “we'll make it happen. But how? We can't sabotage Topher's tomatoes, because that's cheating. And we can't grow our own tomatoes fast enough. So what does that leave us?”

  Tessa drummed her fingers on the back of a chair, wracking her brain for the answer. It came to her in a flash. She snapped her fingers and pointed triumphantly into the air.

  “We hire a ringer!”

  * * *

  One of the advantages to being part of a community of gardeners was that they all knew a lot of people, who all knew a lot of other people, who were all serious about gardening.

  Over the next week, Tessa worked with Terry and Samson to network among everyone they knew, asking about who grew the best crops, the ripest tomatoes, and the finest produce in the county. Tessa did some online searches as well, searching various gardening blogs and forums. They found a few people that were already entered into the contest, which didn't do them any good. They needed someone that could represent their gardening community, someone they could sponsor in the competition so that Topher would know that they were the ones who beat him.

  Eventually, Mrs. Mackenzie heard what they were up to and suggested they go speak to her nephew. “Conner's a wonderful gardener,” she told Tessa over a glass of lemonade. “I taught him everything he knows, from when he was a little boy. That was when my husband was still alive, you understand. Conner used to come over to our house and help me tend our garden. Oh, it was so beautiful.” A wistful look entered her eyes.

  “Do you think he'd be interested in entering a contest?” Tessa asked.

  “Why, I don't know,” Mrs. Mackenzie said. “But it wouldn't hurt to ask. I'll give him a call and let him know you're interested in his tomatoes.”

  Tessa worried that such a phone call would sound weird, but it turned out that Conner was flattered. They made an arrangement to meet with him at his home out in the country. Tessa and Samson drove down there Saturday morning. Conner's house was surrounded by a beautiful flowering garden, and a wide field behind his home grew all sorts of fruits and vegetables. He greeted them as soon as they drove up and offered to take them on a tour of his fields.

  “I never did think about entering a contest before,” Conner said. He led them through the field, stopping here and there to check on some of his crops. He was dressed like a farmer in denim coveralls and a flannel shirt, with a wide-brimmed straw hat to protect him from the sun. “I sell most of what I grow. Well, what I don't eat, of course.”

  “Top prize is $250,” Tessa said. “And a first place ribbon.” She knew the cash prize was negligible compared to what some serious farmers and gardeners would spend on seeds, fertilizer, and other gardening supplies. Though she hoped it would be a nice incentive for Conner to join their cause.

  “What would I have to do, exactly?” Conner asked. he stopped in front of a row of tomato plants. The crops were ripe and thriving. Tessa spotted a few tomatoes right away that might be good enough to enter into the contest.

  “Well, there's a $10 entry fee,” Tessa said. When Conner looked hesitant, she added, “But as your sponsors, we'd cover that, of course.”

  “We will?” Samson asked, frowning at her. She shot him a look. “Uhh, we will!”

  “Plus we'd cover the cost of whatever you need to help get your crops ready for the show,” Tessa said. “Extra fertilizer, that sort of thing.”

  “And, what?” Conner asked, frowning. “You'd want to split the prize money?”

  “No, no!” Tessa shook her head and waved her hands in front of her. “You'd get to keep that. We're doing this for the prestige. The New Eden Apartments Gardening Community would just want our name listed as your sponsor. Get our name in the paper, along with yours. That sort of thing.”

  “Ahh.” Conner rubbed his chin. “We'd be in the news, eh? Really?”

  “Oh, definitely.” Tessa kept a straight face, even though she wasn't actually sure about that part. But she figured the winner would be posted on some kind of news, somewhere.

  “Well, it would be nice to get some acknowledgment for my work,” Conner said. “Heck, might bring me some more business down at the farmer's market. I could hang up the picture.” He held his hands up, framing the imagined photograph. “Conner Mackenzie's Award Winning Produce. I like the sound of that.”

  “So does that mean you'll do it?” Tessa smiled hopefully.

  “Well, sure. Why not?” Conner grinned. “Err, you did say you'd be paying for it all, right?”

  They worked out all of the arrangements, and over the next few weeks, Tessa stopped by each weekend to check on Conner's tomatoes. She even snuck out at night to measure Topher's crops so she could compare them to Conner's and find out which were bigger. And she spent more money than she probably should have on high-end fertilizers to help give Conner's crops as much of a boost as they could get.

  As the day of the gardening contest approached, she grew more and more nervous. She'd invested so much time and effort into this that she was starting to fear defeat. But she kept pressin
g forward. And every time she saw Topher out in the garden spraying his herbicide, it cemented her determination. She knew this was what she had to do.

  Chapter 11

  The night before the contest, Tessa and Samson had dinner together in her apartment. They talked for awhile over a bottle of wine, and eventually the topic of conversation came around to the gardening contest.

  “Are you sure you're not becoming too obsessed with this?” Samson asked. He wore a look of concern.

  “What? Me?” Tessa forced a laugh, shaking her head. “Look, I just want to make sure Topher gets what's coming to him, that's all. He ruined my tomato plants.”

  “So now you're going to ruin his chance to win the prize,” Samson said.

  Tessa frowned, giving her boyfriend an annoyed look. “Well, gee, when you say it like that, it almost sounds like I'm the bad guy.”

  Samson shrugged. He looked away, not meeting her eyes. “I'm not saying that, exactly.”

  “Then what, exactly?”

  He sighed and chewed on his lip. “Look, all I'm saying is, you're putting an awful lot of effort into making sure Topher doesn't win a silly blue ribbon.”

  “And a cash prize.”

  “Yeah, and how much money have you spent in the last few weeks to keep him from winning that?”

  Tessa looked away, digging her toe into the ground. “I'm not...sure. Exactly.”

  Samson gave her an impatient look. She refused to meet his eye. She hadn't quite spent as much as he thought on fertilizer. Just one jug of a really good brand that had cost her $124.95. Which wasn't that much. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

  “Maybe it's time to call it quits,” Samson said.

  “How can you say that?” Tessa planted her hands on her hips. “After what Topher did...”

  “All he did was spray some herbicide on his weeds.” Samson stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, listen. I think I know what's really going on here.”

  “What's going on is—”

  “Listen to me,” Samson said. “You were feeling guilty about what happened to Terry when he got sick. You thought it was your fault, and when it turned out it wasn't, you were left without an outlet for your guilt. So you directed it at the only target that was available. And hey, I'm no real fan of Topher, either. But come on. Like it or not, he works hard all year long to prep for this contest. I don't think it's fair of us to steal that from him.”

  “I can't believe you're taking his side.” She pulled away, turning her back on him.

  “I'm not taking anyone's side.” Samson sighed. “Look, Tessa, you know I love you. But—”

  “You do?” Tessa turned towards Samson, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, yeah.” He shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets.

  Tessa pouted, crossing her arms and looking down at her feet. “Well, that's the first time you ever said it.”

  Samson came over to her and wrapped his arms around her. She held herself tense for a moment, then gave in and laid her head against his chest. “Maybe this wasn't the best time,” Samson said. “But I mean it. I do love you.”

  “I love you too.” Tessa closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

  After a long silence, Samson said, “But I mean what I said. I think maybe you should give this up. Trying to get back at Topher is turning you into a spiteful person. And that's not the Tessa I fell in love with.”

  She pulled away, shaking her head. “I think maybe you should go.”

  “Tessa...”

  “Samson, please.” She turned away, hugging her arms around herself. She was filled with too many conflicting emotions right now, and she couldn't sort them all out.

  “All right,” he said. “I guess I'll see you when you get back tomorrow.”

  She shot him a shocked look. “You're not coming?”

  “No.” His jaw was set in determination. “I'm sorry, babe. It just doesn't feel right. But...good luck.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Samson left, and Tessa found herself alone and confused. When this whole mess had started, everything had seemed so clear. Topher was the enemy, and the enemy had to be stopped. That was how these things worked.

  But everything Samson had said was clashing with what she'd told herself she believed. Was she really just being spiteful? Was it possible that Topher wasn't such a bad guy after all?

  She poured herself another glass of wine and sat by the window, looking out over the darkened gardens. In the faint light from her window, she could make out her own shriveled tomato plants. They'd withered away to almost nothing in the last few weeks. She hadn't really been tending to them at all.

  She sipped at her wine, looking at her shriveled plants, and spent the rest of the night wrestling with the conflicting feelings churning inside of her.

  Chapter 12

  The morning of the gardening contest, Tessa went down to Terry's apartment and knocked on the door. He called for her to come in, and she found him huddled on his sofa, wearing his bathrobe and cradling a hot mug of tea in his hands.

  “Oh, Tessa, dear,” he said. “Is today the day? I've been a bit under the weather. I guess I just forgot.”

  “Is everything okay?” She looked him over with a concerned frown, fearing another trip to the hospital.

  “Oh, nothing too serious.” He forced a smile, though she could see the strain in his eyes. “Just my age catching up with me. Especially with all this heat we've been having lately.”

  “I don't want you to make yourself sick.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his shoulder. “You stay home and rest.”

  “All right. I hope you and Samson have a good time.”

  Tessa hesitated, not sure how to tell him that Samson wasn't coming. She decided to avoid the subject altogether. “I'm sure it's going to go great. I'll let you know when I get back.”

  She headed out alone and drove forty-five minutes to get to the location of the garden show. When she got there, she was surprised at how big of a spectacle it was. The event was being held at a farmer's market, and there were vendor stands lined up everywhere, selling everything from fresh produce to flowers to herbs to homemade arts and crafts. There were also a number of events taking place, including a line of displays for people who had used cross-pollination to grow special types of plants that were resilient against pests. There was another event on floral arrangements, and one for “edible bouquets” made from fruits that had been carved to look like flowers. Then there was a children's event, where kids from kindergarten age to adolescence showed off their knowledge of photosynthesis and the life cycle of plants.

  Tessa met Conner at the event for best produce, which was divided into different categories based on the type of fruit or vegetable on display. There were about a dozen entrants with tomato plants, each of them growing some of the biggest, plumpest, most ripe fruits Tessa had ever seen. They were all working on arranging their displays, spritzing water on the plants to keep them fresh, and doing last-minute pruning to make sure everything looked its best.

  Tessa helped Conner set up his display, along with a poster she'd made at home declaring the New Eden Apartments Gardening Community as Conner's sponsors. Though technically she was the only member of the community who had done any sponsoring.

  She did her best not to look directly at Topher while she was setting up, but he spotted her and came over to talk to her. “Tessa?” he asked. “I didn't know you were going to be here.”

  He eyed Conner's tomato plant critically, sizing up the competition.

  “Well, you always talked about it so much,” Tessa said. “I figured I should come by sometime.”

  “But this isn't one of yours,” he said, gesturing to the plant.

  “Well, no.”

  He studied the poster, frowning. “You're...sponsoring someone? That...that's weird.” He scratched the back of his head. “Why not grow your own? You grow tomatoes, don't you?”

  “Well, my cr
op didn't come in very well this year,” she said, crossing her arms. “Thanks to you.”

  “Thanks to me?” He got a confused look on his face. “What did I do?”

  “That herbicide you've been spraying?” She stared him down, finally ready for the confrontation that had been weeks in coming. “The wind's been picking it up and spraying it onto my plants. My poor tomatoes withered away to almost nothing!” She threw her arms up in the air, her voice raising near the end of her tirade.

  “Oh.” Topher chewed on his lip. “Well, why didn't you tell me?”

  Tessa blinked, lowering her arms. “What?”

  “Why didn't you tell me my spray was getting on your crops?” He gave her a confused look, sympathy showing in his eyes. “I could have put down tarps or something to contain it. I didn't know.”

  “But...but you...” Tessa shook her head, unable to form a coherent thought.

  “We're all a community, aren't we?” He shrugged, keeping his head down. “I know you don't like me much, or whatever, but I would've done something about it. If you'd told me.”

  “I...” Tessa stared at him, mute. “I...I guess I didn't think about it.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugged and turned away. “Sorry, I guess. I'll be more careful next time.”

  He headed back to his own plants, checking over them one last time before the judging.

  Tessa sat down on the stool by Conner's display. She felt dizzy. It slowly started to sink in. All these weeks, planning Topher's downfall...and she had never even tried just talking to him. Like a reasonable, responsible adult would have done.

  “I am such an ass,” she whispered, lowering her head into her hands.

  Her head was still spinning when the judges started coming around. She looked up at them, watching the group move from one display to another. They made notes and took measurements, checking each plant's height, weighing the tomatoes, and making other objective assessments. The winner would be judged based on the highest score in several categories, including size, color, and several other measurements. The judges made their way down the line, taking a few minutes at each display. By the time they got to Topher's display, Tessa was on the verge of having a panic attack.