by Jeannie Watt
“But what about personal satisfaction?”
“I...” Allie closed her mouth abruptly then narrowed her eyes, assessing him. “What do you suggest?” Because if he suggested that they tumble into bed, as much as she’d like that, the answer would be no.
“Art.” Allie gaped at him. “I’ve seen your work, Allie.”
“I told you... I don’t paint anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because I painted to escape. I no longer need that.”
“Can you paint for other reasons?”
“Can you leave well enough alone?”
He leaned closer, his hand settling on her shoulder, and she felt the odd sensation of energy flowing from his body into hers. “If you’re going to work in a job that doesn’t fulfill you, you need to have something in your life that does. It obviously isn’t the ranch, so what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it, Allie.”
“I’m tired of feeling like a loser.” She shot him a fierce glance. “Don’t you dare say, ‘Then be a winner.’”
“Why would I say that?”
“Because it’s a sports platitude and you’re a sports guy.”
He smiled and slid his hand on around her neck, easing her closer. “I was this close,” he admitted, and after fighting herself for a moment, Allie let her forehead come down to rest on his solid shoulder.
“You are a very frustrating man,” she muttered.
“I take after my father.”
Allie pulled back before she allowed herself to move closer. “I need to go.”
He gave a slight nod. “Think about what I said.”
As if she had a choice.
Somehow Allie managed to get herself out of the truck without either kissing Jason or smacking him for saying something else she hadn’t wanted to hear. He kept doing that, damn it. Pointing out uncomfortable truths.
Once inside the house, she waited by the door until she heard him drive away, not moving until she could no longer hear the Ford’s engine.
Well, this has been an evening.
Allie tossed her coat onto the chair and headed for the stairs, snapping lights off as she went. It was only nine o’clock, but she was done for the day.
She reached the top of the steps and then, instead of going down the hall to the bedroom, she moved the rug so that she could open the attic door. Okay. Yes. She would confront this now. Night of truth and all that.
She stomped up the attic steps, bypassed her canvases and started rummaging through the boxes she’d stored before her relationship with Kyle had started going south—back when she thought putting away her brushes and focusing on her husband would fix everything wrong with her marriage.
She found the box she wanted on the bottom of the stack and after restacking everything, dragged the box out to the middle of the attic, under the slightly brighter light directly beneath the hanging bulb. After putting the lid aside, she kneeled and started sorting through the supplies inside. Her good brushes, bought one at a time with the extra money she’d earned babysitting in high school—money her mother had insisted she spend on herself instead of adding it to the family coffers—were on top, wrapped in newspaper to keep the bristles intact. Allie lifted them out and laid them carefully on the floor. Her oil paints were packed into a flat plastic food container, cushioned with paper towels to keep them from rolling around. The watercolors were similarly packed away. The acrylics, the medium she preferred, were dumped into a larger container helter-skelter. Most of the tubes were half-empty and when she squeezed one, it was hard. Naphthol crimson, of course. The expensive one. Titanium white, burnt sienna, ultramarine blue, cadmium yellow...she might be able to salvage some paint out of those tubes.
Sitting back on her heels, Allie debated, then repacked the paints and brushes. She pulled the string on the overhead light, leaving the box of paints center stage as she walked back to the narrow stairs. Maybe she’d haul it downstairs, maybe she wouldn’t.
Allie snapped off the stair light, closed the attic door and put the rug back in place.
Her stomach was in a knot—just as she’d known it would be—and she had no idea whether or not she’d climb the stairs again anytime soon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE NEXT MORNING Jason came downstairs to find Max staring morosely into his decaffeinated coffee.
“So you decided you still live here.”
“I think that was your decision,” Jason said. Although he could admit to being relieved when he didn’t find his stuff waiting for him on the lawn when he got home.
Max gave a grunt of acknowledgment. It had always been this way after their battles. Max acted as if nothing had happened and they were both supposed to act as if nothing hurtful had been said or done. Jason hated that, hated the feeling of unfinished business.
“I made an offer on a place nearby.” He figured his dad needed to know that his son wouldn’t be there monitoring forever. Max would have his freedom.
Max’s gaze came up. “When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Something permanent?”
“I may not live there full-time, but I plan to have a home in the Eagle Valley no matter where I land.”
“Where do you think you’re going to land?”
Max’s tone wasn’t nearly as bitter as it had been the night before. Jason poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across the table from his father. “I don’t know, Dad.”
Silence stretched between them and then Max said in a low voice, “What do you want to do?”
“Million-dollar question.”
“I thought you wanted to go to work for Brandt.”
“Interview didn’t go that well. I need more experience in the real world, it seems.”
“Ah.” Max nodded without looking at him.
“Seems kind of stupid to be so unqualified at my age.”
“You have an excuse. You were...busy with other things.”
Yes, he was. And he had the aches to prove it. It felt good to just talk to his dad with neither of them triggering—although that could happen at any minute. He rolled his neck. No tension. Crazy.
“This property I’m looking at. It’s a small ranch. I’m thinking of maybe testing the waters.”
“You want to be a rancher?”
Jason gave a small laugh as he shook his head. “I like the lifestyle, even though my coworker assures me I have no idea what the life is really like.”
“I see his point. Your only ranch experience is tearing down a barn.”
“Helped birth a couple calves.”
Max’s eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t do well with the puppies.”
“I was six,” Jason growled. “Anyway, yeah. I like the Lightning Creek and I like having the animals around, so I was thinking of buying a small ranch and hiring someone to live on the place and manage it.”
“A hobby farm?”
“Ranch.”
“Huh.” Max’s mouth worked and then he said, “Not a bad idea.”
“And in the meantime, I have to figure out what I want to do with my life.” He met his father’s gaze, his expression intent. “I’m going to stay in athletics, Dad.”
“You could coach here. Volunteer your time.”
“It’s not enough.”
“You can hobby ranch, but not hobby coach?” Max asked darkly.
Jason sucked in a breath, then said calmly, “I plan to work at the collegiate level. For pay. That’s my first goal.”
“And I know how you are when you have a goal.” Max’s mouth tightened and then he got to his feet and went for the coffeepot, moving slowly. “And I hope I’m here to see you accomplish it.”
Guilt twisted his gut, but Jaso
n refused to let it take hold. He wasn’t going to get triggered. Not today.
He glanced up at the clock on the stove. “I need to get going. Ray is meeting me at his office to talk counteroffers.” Jason emptied his cup and then went to the sink to rinse it. “You want to come along?”
Max considered for a moment, then said, “I’m a little tired. I think I’ll watch the game I recorded.”
“All right.” Jason didn’t know if his dad was being truthful or manipulative, but decided to believe the best for now. “I’ll be at the Lightning Creek for the rest of the day helping Zach. Kate—”
Max waved a hand. “I’m fine. Get out of here.”
* * *
ALLIE FOUGHT A yawn as she packed her tote bag to go home. She’d had a restless night after her sortie into the attic, followed by an unsettled day at school, which had worked in her favor in an unexpected way. While she wasn’t exactly an ogre, she was a lot tougher than she’d ever been with kids who pushed the behavioral boundaries, which seemed to confuse her more active students. What? Nice Ms. Brody was getting mean? Allie had a feeling she’d dropped a few notches on the favorite-teacher list, but so be it.
Liz had stopped by at lunch to ask about Zach and Allie gave her a good report. As far as she knew, Zach was doing fine. Jason hadn’t complained anyway.
“Good to hear,” Liz had said. “He’s starting to act a little more like his old self, but he’s still so angry.”
“Time will help,” Allie said. It had helped her, but there were some scars that never fully healed. She wasn’t going to mention that. “Do you like teaching?”
Liz’s eyebrows lifted at the point-blank question. “I do. There are days I want to beat my head on my keyboard, and swear if I have to zip up one more coat or wipe one more nose, I’m going to go off the deep end, but the other days make up for it.” She smiled mistily. “It’s the a-ha moments that make everything so sweet.”
Allie had smiled at her, more convinced than ever than she was in the wrong profession and that she’d just wasted tens of thousands of dollars. Not the best realization in the world and it darkened her mood through the remainder of the day.
Liz stopped by again after school. Allie thought it was to talk about Zach but instead she asked, “Are you worried about whether or not you’ll like teaching?”
“I am. I look at how you guys somehow manage all of these kids, meet their needs, keep your sanity... I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Younger teachers go in balls-to-the-wall, flooded with optimism and the belief that they can save the world. Older teachers have more of a grasp of reality. Don’t let your fears override the possibilities.”
“Good advice. Thank you.”
Liz waved and headed out the door as Allie closed down for the day. It took a special personality to teach younger kids. Liz was a natural. Allie...not so much.
She said good-night to Mrs. Wilson-Jones as they passed in the hall and then headed out the exit and across the parking lot. Her phone rang as she unlocked her car and she knew from the ringtone that it was Kyle.
Allie tossed her bag into the backseat. Was she to be forever haunted by this guy?
The phone stopped ringing then started again a few seconds later. Allie turned off the sound. Kyle had his own family. She wasn’t part of it anymore. He needed to understand that, after five years of cleaning up after him, she was done.
What a winner she’d chosen, yet he had seemed so perfect. While her sisters had all had a rough start to their permanent relationships, she’d had a blissful beginning to her marriage. She’d thought she’d married the greatest guy on earth...then the reality started showing through the veneer.
Sometimes reality really sucked.
But only if you let it. Allie reached for her phone, glad to see that there was no voice-mail alert on the screen. Whatever Kyle wanted, it wasn’t urgent enough for him to leave a message.
She scrolled through her contacts and stopped on Jason’s number. He answered almost immediately.
“Hey, Allie. What’s up?” The deep timber of his voice rolled over her, through her.
“Are you still at the ranch?”
“Just packing up.”
“If you don’t have plans, would you like to stay for dinner?”
“I, uh...”
“Unless you need to get home and relieve Kate, of course.” There. She’d given him an out.
“Kate isn’t with Dad. We’re letting him fly solo for a while. And, yes. I’d like to stay for dinner.”
Allie’s heart did a hard thump and she had to remind herself that this was a friends thing. “Nothing fancy,” she said.
“I’m good with nothing fancy.”
“Great. See you in a few.”
The phone vibrated almost as soon as she set it down and after glancing at the screen, Allie focused back on the road. If Kyle didn’t stop calling, she’d block his number, except for the fact that she wanted to know if he was trying to get in contact with her. Then she could be on the alert against the possibility of him “bumping into her” and attempting to twist the guilt screws. After all, she had so much. He had so little.
Which was an uncomfortable parallel to the way she’d thought about Jason.
Allie’s jaw was aching by the time she turned on the road leading to the Lightning Creek and she made an effort to relax. Kyle couldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do...but he could drive her crazy.
If she let him.
Jason’s truck was parked in front of her house when she pulled into the Lightning Creek, and she could see him sitting on the porch steps, shoulders hunched against the cold spring wind.
“You could have gone inside,” she said. Or waited in his truck.
“I spent the day in the weather,” he replied as she latched the gate behind her.
“You were moving.”
“True.” His cheeks were red from the cold, making the color of his eyes seem even more intense than usual. Allie moved past him to open the door.
“Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
“When I said nothing fancy, I meant it,” Allie said as she set down her tote and moved to shrug out of her coat. Jason automatically took the back and then handed her coat to her after she’d slid her arms out. “We can have hamburgers or hot dogs.”
“Hamburgers.”
“Hamburgers it is.” She smiled up at him as if she were totally in control of the moment and then headed for the kitchen, the heels of her dress shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. “Are you wondering why I asked you to dinner?”
“Because of my dazzling personality?”
“Pretty much,” she agreed. “And I want to draw you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Draw me?”
“Yes.”
“Will I be clothed?”
She almost said, “Your choice,” but decided not to tempt fate—or herself. “A portrait.” She leaned into the fridge to find the hamburger. “I decided to test the waters. Try something totally new, and I’ve never done a portrait before.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the one who told me to go back to my art.”
“Revenge, then?”
“Maybe a little. I had my art all tucked away in the been-there-done-that category of life.” She opened the hamburger and then pulled wax paper out of a drawer, ripping off a sheet to make patties on.
“I’m not certain I want to go back.” She portioned out the meat and started to make patties. “My art was a lifesaver after my dad died. Painting helped me believe that the world could be colorful again, when it had seemed gray for so long. When I painted, I escaped into this wonderful world.”
“Why did you stop?”
Jason had moved closer. Allie sh
ook her head. “I was escaping too much, I guess. I had this idea that I could sell some of my paintings and earn some extra money, but Kyle put the kibosh on it. He hated the time I spent at the easel.”
“He sounds like an asshole. No offense.”
“He had a point. How much money could I make selling art? It was a risk, while getting a real job was a sure thing.”
“And you go for the sure thing.”
For once she didn’t feel insulted or defensive as Jason pointed out the truth. “Well, the beauty of a sure thing is that it’s a—”
“Sure thing,” Jason said, finishing her thought. “I get that. But sometimes you should take a risk, when it involves doing something you love.”
“That’s just it.” She turned to face him. “I don’t know if I love painting. I did before my dad died. Then it became a lifeline to sanity, but I’ve been away from it for so long that I don’t know how I really feel about it.” Her mouth tightened as she looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t do garden scenes and still life. It would remind me too closely of what I’m trying to move past.”
“Like living here on the ranch does?”
She gave him a startled look. “Yes. I guess so.” She went to the stove and turned on the flame under the cast-iron frying pan that always sat on the back burner. “So I decided to try a portrait, since I’ve never done one.” She gave a small laugh. “I don’t know if I can do one. You’re the guinea pig...if you agree.”
Jason shrugged, the movement accentuating the muscles of his shoulders through his shirt. “Sure. Just tell me one thing—will both of my eyes be on one side of my head?”
“No promises. Like I said, I’ve never done a portrait.”
“Guess this’ll teach me to butt into your business,” Jason said.
“Guess so.”
He came up behind her and settled his hands on either side of her waist and leaned down to nuzzle his cheek against her hair. “Can’t help myself,” he said. Allie leaned back against him briefly before forcing herself to stand upright again.
“Am I going to have to get cranky again?”
Jason laughed against her hair and then stepped back, dropping his hands. When she looked over her shoulder at him, it was to see a faint smile playing on his lips. She shook her head grimly.