by Merry Farmer
“I certainly feel like I’m being pushed now,” he snapped back.
Sandy sucked in a breath, no idea if she felt insulted or guilty for crossing a line. But no, she wasn’t crossing a line. There was something brewing between her and Jogi. There had been for weeks now. What kind of woman would she be if she didn’t help him to achieve his fullest potential? The man needed a little nudge.
“All I’m saying is that you clearly have a deep love of photography,” she pressed on. “And from what little I’ve seen of your work, you’ve got talent too.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, pouring water from his bottle into the tin pot he’d left by the campfire earlier.
“No, I mean it. You’ve got to fight for what you want, Jogi. You can’t just settle for something that will pay the bills, not when your love lies elsewhere.”
“I love my job,” he said, half laughing, half exasperated. “PSF is an awesome company to work for, and I’ve made a lot of friends there. I have no problem with my life the way it is.”
“How can you say that when you’ve got a talent, a passion, that you’re not developing?”
“Look, let’s drop this,” he insisted, suddenly tired. “We’re out here to have fun, not to get into…whatever this is. I work for PSF. Photography is my hobby. And yes, I love it, but I’m a realist.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She couldn't let it go. As much as she knew she probably should, it was a tragedy to her to see Jogi giving up on his dreams for something as mundane as practicality.
“It means that life isn’t always about chasing rainbows,” he said, meeting her eyes with harsh steadiness. “Not everyone has to struggle to achieve greatness. Some of us are perfectly happy to live an ordinary life with a few fun hobbies on the side. I’m fine the way things are.”
“But why settle for fine when you have the tools in your hands to be extraordinary?” As loud as the voice in her head screamed for her to let it go, her heart just couldn’t. Her heart burned. And because her genitals were so keen to get involved, it burned even hotter.
“I’m done talking about this,” he said abruptly, shaking his head. “We’re out in the wilderness, and we have to get along if we’re going to make it to the end of this thing.”
“We do get along,” she said in a far quieter voice, praying it was still true. “We get along really well…don’t we?”
She hated sounding vulnerable. She hated being vulnerable. But she waited for Jogi’s answer with a gaping dread in her chest. Dread worse than any of the times when she was an awkward, gangly teen, the only black girl in her class, desperate to have the cute boys like her, as different as she was, and for Ronny Bonneville to leave her alone.
Jogi let out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. A weak smile spread across his lips. “We do get along,” he said. “There’s no doubt about that.”
The knot of insecurity that had formed in Sandy’s gut loosened, and she smiled. “And don’t you forget it.” She fell back on sass to boost her confidence.
Lucky for her, it worked. Jogi’s shoulders loosened and he laughed, cheeks going pink. “Now what do you say we kick back and enjoy the brilliant sunset that’s starting over there while dining on the finest dehydrated beef stroganoff that Howie’s money could buy?”
Sandy laughed. “I’ll stick to my energy bar, thank you very much.” She held up the bar in question and her water bottle along with it. “But I’ll take you up on that sunset.”
“Are you sure?” Jogi waved the envelope of “food” in front of her, tempting her, the boyishness back in his smile. “I’d love to get an action shot of your reaction when you taste this stuff.”
Sandy laughed outright and made the face she was sure Jogi wanted to capture. Whatever bump they’d hit in the road, they’d sailed past it. She breathed a huge inner sigh of relief and playfully pushed his outstretched hand and the dehydrated meal away.
“Seriously. As gorgeous as it is out here—and as desperately as we both know I need a break to unwind—” She sent him a knowing look that he returned with a sympathetic smile. “—I can’t wait until we get back to civilized dining.”
“Tell me about it,” Jogi agreed. He grinned at the fire, then turned to smile at her. “I tell you what. Once we’re back home, I’ll take you out for the finest wining and dining experience Haskell can provide.”
“Steaks at the Cattleman Hotel?” She feigned surprise and excitement.
“Absolutely.” Jogi winked. “It’s a date.”
“Yes, it is,” Sandy replied, grinning and wondering how she’d gotten lucky enough to be paired with him. Jogi was just the breath of fresh air she needed.
Chapter Two
Present Day…
Haskell, Wyoming was a town jam-packed with traditions that dated back over a hundred and fifty years. One of them was the weekly potluck picnic that took place after church every Sunday. That was a tradition Sandy could get behind. She sat with her friends near the end of one of the dozens of picnic tables that were now a permanent feature of the pavilion that had been built in the 1920s when the original church had burnt down and the new, bigger one, with all its out-buildings, had been erected to replace it.
Unlike the rest of her friends—who were chowing down on a wide array of homemade dishes—Sandy was tapping away at her laptop. Because unlike the Sunday picnic, other long-standing Haskellian traditions were not even a little bit fun. And if she didn’t figure out a way to stop the Bonnevilles from edging in on the bank, her family would lose the five-generation-long battle they had so far been winning.
“There’s nothing like potato salad to make a hot July day feel even more like summer.” Calliope Clutterbuck sighed with contentment on the other side of the table, oblivious to Sandy’s struggle. She took a huge bite of potato and hummed.
“I’m more of a pasta salad man myself,” Will Darling made one of his rare comments. He sat between Calliope and her sister—also known as his girlfriend-and-probably-soon-fiancé—Melody.
“What?” Melody balked, twisting to lean away from Will, a look of horror on her face. “You prefer pasta salad over potato salad?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Will answered with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.
“Uh, yeah.” Melody’s whole face radiated love, even though she was deep into teasing Will. “We’re a potato salad family, Will. If you’re going to live with us, with me, and get into my shorts at night, you might have to change your mind about a few things.”
“Or maybe you’re going to have to see just how wrong you are in the mayonnaise-based salad debate and join Team Pasta if you want me to—” Will lowered his voice, “—do that thing you like.”
Melody made a sound of mock indignation as their other friends snorted and giggled.
“Hey now,” Angelica Jones, the newest member of their friends group, spoke up from the far end of the table. “What about Team Chicken Salad? Frankly, I think we’ve got all y’all beat. Right, Dennis?”
“Yes, dear,” Dennis answered dutifully. Another round of laughter followed.
“See?” Melody asked, turning to Will. “That’s how you boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend is not a verb,” Will replied.
“I dunno, I kinda like it,” Rita said at Sandy’s side.
It was enough to prompt Sandy to glance up from her laptop and smirk at her sister. “This from the woman who hasn’t girlfriended in over a year.”
“I’ve done more girlfriending than you have,” Rita shot back at her. “At least I’ve been out with a few guys I met online. Whereas you?” She left her question hanging as she raised her carefully-shaped eyebrows.
Sandy felt the heat rise to her face before she could stop it. It took a supreme effort of will to stop herself from searching around the pavilion for Jogi. Instead, she focused on her laptop’s screen. “I don’t have time for dating.”
More than one of her friends snorted or scoffed in derision. “There’s always
time for dating,” Laura Kincade spoke from the end of the table where she sat with her new beau, Ted Flint, opposite Angelica and Dennis.
Sandy let out a breath and glanced up at them. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re sitting at the new relationship end of the table.”
Laura made a face at her that couldn’t hide the joy she felt, now that she and Ted had worked out their differences and were building something spectacular. The teasing face would have been more than enough of a reaction, but Laura had to go and add, “What about that certain someone you mentioned to me last month?”
The heat in Sandy’s face spread to her neck and lower. “I don’t have time.” She shrugged, hoping it made her look casual, and avoided everyone’s eyes by concentrating on her computer.
She never should have said anything to Laura about being interested in Jogi. The only reason she’d tipped her cards that way was because Laura had been deep in a hole, imagining that Ted could be interested in her. Sandy had taken one for the team by confessing she was interested in Jogi in order to make Laura feel better.
Big mistake. BIG mistake.
“Yeah,” Calliope took up the banner and ran with it. “Didn’t I see you and that cute Indian IT guy at the Cattleman Hotel a couple weeks ago?”
“Jogi,” Will said. “And I remember that too. You guys were awfully cozy when you came back from the orienteering event.”
“You were,” Melody added as if just remembering. She broke into a needling smile. “You guys were cute together. I was sure something was going on there.”
“Nothing was,” Sandy lied. She thanked God that the temperature was up over ninety-five and that she could blame her blushing and sweating on July.
“Why not?” Calliope pressed. “I thought you two liked each other.”
“We did like each other,” Sandy said, a note of exasperation in her voice. ‘Like’ being past-tense. And how! “That doesn’t mean you guys should start planning the wedding.”
“I like planning weddings,” Calliope teased. She straightened, glancing down the table at her coupled friends. “You hear that, guys? I like planning weddings. So get your wiggle on.”
Melody snorted, Will turned bright red, Dennis laughed and winked at Angelica, and Laura and Ted made googly-eyes at each other. Sandy’s gut twisted and writhed, and her chest squeezed. At least the rash of adorable reactions to Calliope’s comment gave her just the break she needed to go back to work.
“When there’s an announcement to be made,” Dennis said, “you guys will be the first to know.”
“But don’t hold your breath,” Ted added. “We’re having too much fun just dating right now.”
“Oh, come on,” Calliope complained, laughing. “You guys are killing me.”
“And what about you?” Melody asked. “You could always find some hunky hunkster to hunk up with.”
Calliope snorted. “It’s so romantic when you put it like that,” she teased.
“You can’t fool me,” Melody said, spearing a potato and shaking it at her sister. “I saw the way you looked at that hunky engineer. The one who coordinated the orienteering event.”
“Jonathan,” Will filled in, biting into a deviled egg.
“That’s the one. Hunky Jonathan the hunk.”
“Will you stop saying ‘hunk’?” Calliope growled at her sister.
“Don’t you want him to be your hunka hunka burning love?” Melody kept at it.
Sandy let the sisters’ mock fight fade into the background. She stared at her computer, her thoughts a riot. She should be crunching the numbers on the spreadsheet or reading the latest comments on the message board of the bank’s website. She should be emailing board members to assure them that everything was running smoothly, in spite of the fossil fiasco. Richard Bonneville was hard at work sowing discontent on the board, thanks to his effort to claim ownership of the valuable fossil found on the Flint ranch. The bastard had been working non-stop for a month to use that whole mess as a way to oust her dad, Wainright Templesmith, from his position as CEO of the bank. And she’d been working non-stop to counter his efforts.
At least, when she could concentrate on things.
Frustration boiled through her, and she clicked frantically through several tabs. There had to be an answer to this mess somewhere, just like there had to be an answer to the mess she’d made of her personal life. How could everything be sailing along smoothly one minute, only to fall apart in spectacular fashion the next?
It was her own fault. Her own damn fault. The words kept ringing through her head, stirring her frustration into an all-out panic attack as her friends laughed and joked away. She had to find an answer to what went wrong. She had to do something that would allow her to fix what had inexplicably broken. She had to—
“Oh no.” Like falling dominoes, the tabs on her laptop screen started to close and fail. They vanished like promises, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d saved. “No, no, no.”
She clicked on anything she could, tapping whatever keys she could think of to get them back.
“What happened?” Rita asked, glancing over her shoulder at the screen.
“I don’t know,” Sandy wailed. “I was checking the bank’s message boards and comparing them to the spreadsheets, when everything just started to close on its own.”
“Is it a virus?” Calliope asked, cringing.
“Those things can be vicious,” Melody added.
“I don’t know.” Sandy stared at her screen in horror, half expecting it to melt before her eyes. “I don’t think I clicked on anything. There weren’t any pop-ups or attachments or—”
“Here.”
From out of nowhere, Jogi slid onto the picnic bench beside her and grabbed her laptop. He turned it to face him, then started to click away at the keys. His face was a mask of concentration as he worked. Sandy couldn’t see the screen to judge if he was fixing things or destroying them. All she could do was stare at his face.
His gorgeous, over-serious face. She wasn’t forgiven. And seriousness didn’t sit well on him. With those almond-shaped eyes and the lines around them, Jogi should be smiling and laughing. But he was as serious as a tomb instead. The ache in Sandy’s gut grew harder, especially since he still hadn’t shaved. His beard was full and expertly groomed, and she couldn’t help but replay the night when she’d told him how much she liked it and that he should keep it instead of shaving once they were home from the wilderness.
She wondered if there was anything else she could say that he would listen to. Something along the lines of an apology.
Probably not.
“There.” He clicked the keys one last time, turned the laptop back to her, and stood. “You just hid a couple of the windows, and you accidentally closed two others. I retrieved the data for you. Check to make sure you aren’t missing anything.”
“And if I am missing something?” she asked in a voice far softer than how she usually spoke, glancing reluctantly up at him.
Jogi paused. He met her eyes and pressed his lips together, tense as a tiger. “I’m sure tech support at Haskell Computers can get it back for you,” he said, terse, breaking eye-contact.
Sandy lowered her eyes, her shoulders and her heart sinking.
“Well, bye,” Jogi said, and started to turn away.
“Wait,” Laura stopped him, half rising from her seat. “Why don’t you stay and have lunch with us.” Her eyes held a fervent gleam, and she was having a hard time hiding her smile.
“Yeah,” Dennis added. “Go grab yourself a plate and join us. We’ll scoot over and make room.
Everybody else at the table chimed in with similar invitations. They were all overeager, and at least half of her friends peeked at her as they made the entreaties. A different kind of heat flooded Sandy’s face—embarrassment.
Jogi held up his hands. “No, no, that’s all right.” His mouth twitched into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve already eaten. And besides, Scott’s
been pestering me to help him put together a PSF baseball team.”
“A baseball team?” Will blinked at him. “Aren’t you more of a cricket man?”
“That’s what I keep trying to tell him,” Jogi said, a little more at ease. “I’m hoping to convince him to get enough guys together to learn cricket.”
“I’ll learn cricket,” Laura said, still more than halfway out of her seat. “Sandy, you should come learn how to play cricket too.”
“No thank you.” Sandy barely spared a glance for her enthusiastic friend, forcing her eyes back to the computer screen and not anywhere near Jogi. “I’m too busy trying to prevent the Bonnevilles from launching a hostile take-over of the bank.”
“But you’ve got to take time for fun,” Laura insisted. “Jogi, tell her.”
“No,” Sandy almost shouted, glaring at Laura. Laura’s face fell, and she flopped back into her seat. Deep regret lashed at Sandy from all sides. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’m really worried about the bank. I have to handle this or I’ll go insane.”
Rita put a hand on her back, rubbing in slow, sympathetic circles. Aside from that, everyone at the table was silent and still. The mood had been wrecked and then some, and it was all Sandy’s fault. Again.
“All right, well, bye,” Jogi took his leave a second time. This time, no one prevented him. He walked away with hurried steps.
Sandy couldn’t stop herself from looking up and following his retreat, feeling like her heart had been ripped in two.
“What was that all about?” Rita whispered to her.
She wasn’t quiet enough.
“Did, uh, something happen between the two of you?” Calliope asked, leaning in over the table.
“No,” Sandy lied.
“Do you, um, want something to happen between the two of you?” Melody asked, equally as hushed. “Because I could get Will here to say something to him if you want.”
“No offense, but please leave me out of this,” Will said, looking like he would rather switch his pasta salad for potato salad than get involved.