Slater joined in the applause and spoke low near her ear. “More paintings, huh? I guess you’ll have to stick around here a little longer.” God bless Mrs. Becker.
“Looks that way,” Morgan said, and she didn’t look sad about it at all.
Mrs. Becker continued, thanking each member of the committee until she came to Slater. She pointed him out and said some nice words about his help with the food pantry. He hoped she’d keep it at that.
“In addition to giving so much of his time, Slater has given a significant monetary donation in memory of his late father.”
So much for hoping.
Morgan looked at him, eyes wide with admiration. “You did that?”
Slater shrugged it off and nodded to those who had turned to look at him, hoping to quickly deflect the attention. He hadn’t wanted his gift to be announced, but he did want to honor his dad.
Mrs. Becker wasn’t ready to move on, though. “On a personal note, I have known Slater’s family for many years, and I can tell you with certainty that Jack Hensley would be so very proud of his son—not just for carrying on his legacy as the owner of Rolling Oak Ranch, but also for the kind and caring man he’s become.” Mrs. Becker found Slater’s eyes. “Thank you for making this food pantry possible.”
The crowd cheered again and Slater dropped his gaze to the floor, letting the words of affirmation wash over him. He hoped she was right. He deeply wanted to make his dad proud.
Finally, Mrs. Becker began to wrap up her speech and Slater glanced at Morgan.
Her eyes were narrowed, questioning. Her brow creased. The intimacy and admiration that had been beaming from her moments ago had vanished. Her posture was rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Slater glanced over his shoulder to see if there was something he’d missed.
When he faced her again, she spun on her heel and walked out.
What just happened? Slater had no idea what was wrong, but if the glare she’d shot him was any indication, he was at fault.
He trailed after her, out of the gym and down the hall, scanning three different rooms before he found her bent over her phone in the corner of the office.
“Morgs?”
Her chin snapped up, but she didn’t speak. Something fierce blazed in her eyes, but he couldn’t tell if it was hurt or fury. Neither was good.
“Everything okay?” A ridiculous question given her expression and posture.
Her stare bored a hole through him for a few more seconds. “Just tell me why, Slater.”
“Can you give me a clue here? What are we talking about?”
She breathed a humorless laugh, one that said she didn’t for a moment believe he didn’t know, and turned her phone towards him. “This.” Her tone was razor sharp. “This is what we’re talking about. You being a liar.”
His online dating profile stared back at him and his heart plummeted. “Morgan, please. Let me explain.” He reached for her, but she side-stepped him.
“You have an explanation that this is wrong somehow? That this guy”—she jabbed at the screen—“isn’t you?”
Slater dropped his chin, pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is me, but—”
“You set me up again.” She shoved the phone into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Rolling Oak Ranch…Jack Hensley…RancherJack. I can’t believe it took me this long to put all the pieces together.” She looked at the floor and shook her head. “I knew it. I knew you were up to something, but I’m an idiot, so I talked myself into trusting you. What grand spectacle did you have planned for me this time?” Her eyes met his again, full of accusation. “Something to humiliate me at the reunion? Oooh, how about here at the food pantry? That would be fun.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Well, good luck with that.” She pushed past him in the office doorway.
His hand slid into the crook of her elbow as she brushed by. “Please,” he begged. “Just listen. I was going to tell you everything at dinner tonight.”
She stilled but didn’t look at him. “Wow, what an awesome plan for a date.”
“I made a big mistake by not telling you it was me. I should’ve told you in the very first message, but I saw an opportunity for redemption, and I couldn’t let it go.”
Chin set like flint, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Unbelievable. You know how insane that sounds, right? You try to get my forgiveness for one thing, so you set up a whole other thing that’s meant to deceive me?”
He hadn’t thought of it like that. “I know that’s how it looks, but it’s not, I promise. I didn’t do it on purpose. I was on that website to find a date. I didn’t know I’d find you. I wasn’t setting you up for anything. Please believe me.”
“Me being utterly humiliated is the only possible outcome of that scenario, which is exactly what you were going for.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was a mistake. A huge, stupid mistake, granted, but that’s all it was—a mistake. I was an idiot ten years ago, Morgs. And I was an idiot not to tell you that was me online, but I…” love you. He stopped himself before he said it. “I’d never do anything to hurt you again.”
“Well, you did. Oh and by the way, nice touch with that whole kiss in the parking lot thing. That really sold it. You almost had me.”
Her words slashed at him, and she stormed away before he could say anything else.
There she went, taking his redemption—and his heart—with her.
12
The following Friday afternoon, Morgan drove back to Ross. She’d come early to deliver the paintings to Mrs. Becker before the reunion meeting at the coffee shop.
She’d hoped the process of creating the artwork for the food pantry would be a good distraction, that it might give her a slight respite from her heartache over Slater. It did feel good to have a brush in her hand again, to see the colors take shape on canvas, but there was no preoccupying her heart or her mind. She simply couldn’t stop thinking about him. About what he’d done.
He’d tried to call several times in the past week, but she’d ignored him. He’d tried to send messages through the dating site, too, but she’d deleted them without reading a word. What was there to say? There was no excuse for his behavior.
Why would he use a phony name on his profile, and even go so far as to arrange a fake date, unless he was setting her up for some huge, embarrassing stunt? All the stuff about good deeds and pretending to like her was just part of the ruse. Had his mom been in on it, too? That thought was just another crushing blow. Morgan had felt the love of a healthy, functional mother from Bonnie, but now that was gone, too. Reduced to debris in the wake of Slater’s devastation. Why hadn’t Morgan seen it coming? It was how he operated. It was in his DNA. Why had she thought he would change? Especially for her.
She’d racked her brain trying to figure out his plan. Puzzled over every suspicious thing that had happened since he showed up at that first food pantry meeting. Lying on his profile and somehow showing up as one of her matches. That ridiculous good deed plan to try to convince her he was a good person. As if. Every time she examined the pieces, she ended up at the same place—visualizing herself being utterly humiliated at her reunion. The details sometimes changed, but the overall image was always the same: her in the center of a crowd of laughing, pointing classmates, feeling so alone she could hardly breathe. She’d always known she didn’t belong in Ross. Why had she let herself be duped into thinking otherwise?
And to think, that day of the food pantry opening, she couldn’t wait to tell him she’d forgiven him. She’d even planned to ask him to be her date to the reunion, to say nothing of her hope that even more was brewing between them. That she was falling for him. How foolish she’d been.
And yet…
The void left in her heart was gaping, which was ridiculous. She’d only spent a few days feeling at home with the Hensley family, even less time feeling that way with the townspeople of Ross. Nothing worth mentioning to start with, so why did it feel like she’d lost
something so significant?
She turned left off of Main Street and pulled into the Community Center parking lot. As soon as she delivered the paintings, she’d head to the reunion meeting and tell the girls she was out of the pact. They only had a few months left to finalize everything, and Morgan would follow through on her commitments, but she didn’t know if she could bring herself to show up for the reunion. She certainly couldn’t bear the thought of running into Slater, and the idea of looking for a new date made her feel sick.
After parking, she went to the back of her SUV to get the paintings. Trying to banish thoughts of Slater, she carried the first large gallery-wrapped canvas from her car to the food pantry—now empty because it was almost closing time—but memories of him stayed with her even through her second and third loads.
On her last trip from her car, Mrs. Becker emerged from the office, gleefully greeted her in the hallway, and followed her to the distribution room. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve created for us.”
“I hope you like them.” Morgan propped the painting against the wall next to the others and removed the brown paper coverings from each canvas.
Mrs. Becker gazed at the pieces and pressed her palm to her heart. “Oh, Morgan, these are magnificent. I absolutely adore them. I can’t wait to hang them up in here.” She reached for Morgan’s hand. “You have an amazing gift. Bonnie was right.”
At the mention of Bonnie’s name, Morgan felt the weight of what she’d lost.
“Did I say something wrong?” Mrs. Becker asked, alarm growing in her voice. “What is it? Is Bonnie okay? Slater?”
Morgan glanced aside briefly to try to compose a response. “I’m sure they’re both fine.”
“Haven’t you seen them?”
Morgan shook her head.
“Why on earth not? You and Slater looked awfully cozy last week at the opening. I thought—”
“No.” Heat crept up Morgan’s neck.
Mrs. Becker studied Morgan’s face. “Want to talk about it?”
Tears threatened, stinging her eyes, but she blinked them away. Morgan wanted to be strong enough to handle this on her own, just like she’d handled every other disappointment life had thrown at her, but she was worn slick. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to share her burdens with Mrs. Becker. “Slater ruined my life.”
Surprise flashed across Mrs. Becker’s face. “I can’t imagine. What did he do?”
Before she could stop herself, Morgan spilled everything, beginning with the prank he’d pulled on her in high school and ending with their last conversation at the Grand Opening.
When she finished, Mrs. Becker pursed her lips. “So are you going to forgive him?”
“No. I don’t know. He’s hurt me too much. He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.” Morgan couldn’t blink the tears back anymore.
Mrs. Becker pulled her into an embrace and stroked her hair. “None of us deserves forgiveness, sugar. It’s a gift. You just have to decide if you want to give it or not.”
“It’s not that easy.” Morgan pulled back and swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “What if I forgive him and he turns around and hurts me again? What if that’s just the kind of person he is? I’m obviously a terrible judge of character.”
“If you spend any more time with him,” Mrs. Becker said, “I can just about guarantee that he’ll hurt you again at some point. Not because he wants to, but because he’s human. We mess up, it’s what we do.” She cupped Morgan’s chin, lifting her face until their eyes met. “But sweetie, life would be awfully empty if we missed all the joy simply because we’re trying to avoid all the pain. And as for Slater Hensley’s character, I can tell you there’s no better man in this town. Has he made some mistakes? Yes. I’m not trying to minimize your hurt, but even a good tree produces a few rotten pieces of fruit from time to time. You don’t cut down the whole tree because of them, do you?”
“I guess not.” Morgan sniffled.
“No, ma’am. You just throw out the bad fruit and move on. Slater’s a good tree, honey. I know it with everything in me.” Mrs. Becker ran her hands down Morgan’s arms. “You want to know something else? I’ve never seen him happier than he’s been since you’ve been back in town. The boy’s utterly smitten with you. I’ve known it for weeks.”
“He is?” Could that really be true?
“Without a doubt.” Mrs. Becker grinned. “Give him a chance.”
Morgan had a lot to think about. She thanked Mrs. Becker for listening and hugged her goodbye.
Stepping out of the Community Center, she realized she’d left her car’s lift gate open the whole time she’d been inside with Mrs. Becker. Irritation grated as she stalked across the parking lot to her SUV. When she went to close the door, her attention caught on the edge of Slater’s black binder. It had been hiding under her paintings.
Something made her reach for it. She couldn’t help herself. She sat in the open cargo section and flipped through the pages.
The same ray of warmth that had enveloped her the other time she looked at the book returned, but by the time she reached the last page, she was more struck by what Slater hadn’t included in the book. There were twenty-five good deeds, but none of the ones that she’d witnessed.
No smooth-talking Ernie on her behalf when she’d almost run over him.
No cooking dinner and taking great care of his mother.
No working all day to clear the driveway after a storm.
No throwing an elaborate party to honor the town’s widows and widowers.
No helping an employee in need.
No huge investment in the community food pantry.
No giving up his dreams to move home and carry on his father’s legacy.
And those were just the things Morgan was aware of. No telling how many more selfless acts he’d done.
She thought about what Mrs. Becker had said about cutting down a good tree just because there were a few pieces of bad fruit. If the binder were the only evidence, the fruit of Slater's life looked pretty robust. But there were more than those good deeds to consider.
Morgan, on the other hand, had been nursing the same grudge for nearly a decade. What did that say about her tree? Had she let bitterness and unforgiveness poison her whole life? How different would things be if she let it all go?
She thought of the sincerity in Slater’s eyes when he’d apologized for hurting her. Remembered how free she’d felt that day when she’d decided to forgive him. Could she move past yet another of his indiscretions and give him the benefit of the doubt?
Maybe it was time to do a little pruning.
13
Slater had moped around for the better part of a week, so much so that he was getting sick of himself. He’d been as irritable as grouchy Ernie, so his ranch hands were probably sick of him, too, but he couldn’t stem the tides of anger and sadness that kept engulfing him.
He took full responsibility for wrecking Morgan’s scholarship meeting. Even though that had never been his intent, he accepted the gravity of his actions. And he’d been wrong to deceive her about the dating site. He’d messed up, plain and simple. He’d apologized and meant it, but it was clear that no amount of groveling would be enough for Morgan. If she couldn’t forgive him after all this time and remorse and good behavior, then he wasn’t going to waste his breath anymore. He couldn’t own the disappointment she felt about her life. That was on her.
Slater made his way from the barn to the corral and could already hear the commotion inside the pen. Cattle bellowed. Male voices shouted. Metallic clanks and thuds sounded, which meant the ranch hands had already started working the cows.
When he entered the pen, he took his usual place at the chute and whistled for the first Red Angus to be sent through. He made quick work of vaccinating the animal, murmuring to her when she lowed in protest. When he was finished, he nodded for Jimmy to open the chute to release her and send the next one in.
The repetitive task had always been soothing, but it d
idn’t have its usual effect today. He guessed there wasn’t much of anything that could straighten his mood out, unless a certain dark-haired artist had a miraculous change of heart about him.
Slater and his men worked their way through the herd, and when they were nearly finished, Jimmy gave a quick tip of his chin indicating something behind Slater. “Yo, boss. You got company.”
Slater turned and saw Mom driving the Ranger, the ATV they used to get around the ranch, up from the house. And she wasn’t alone.
Morgan was in the front seat beside Mom. Slater’s pulse quickened at the sight of her. He motioned for one of the guys to take his place at the chute and strode to the fence.
Mom parked the Ranger next to the corral, and Morgan climbed out.
“Look who came to see you, darlin’,” Mom said. “I’ll be back at the house. Just call if you need me.” As she drove away, she flashed Slater a hopeful grin, which was better than the fretful glances she’d been casting at him all week. He hadn’t wanted her to worry, so he’d reassured her he was fine and had maintained his regular routine, but he knew he wasn’t fooling her.
Morgan stood on the other side of the fence, clutching his black binder. She wouldn’t make eye contact.
“Hey,” he said. “You come to yell at me some more?”
Her gaze searched the ground for a moment before lifting to his face. “I brought this back.” She offered him the binder. “Thought you might want it.”
“Toss it.” He propped his boot on the bottom rail and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need it.”
She kept the book suspended between them, but he made no move to take it. “Why are you really here, Morgan?” He needed to know and be done with it, because having her right in front of him—the harsh reminder of what could’ve been—was just plain torture.
She dropped the binder to her side. “I came to tell you…” She hesitated. “What I’m trying to say is…” She sighed and glanced to the sky as if searching for some divine intervention. After a moment, she looked at him again, her gaze intense. “The stuff in this binder isn’t a true reflection of your life.”
Matched Online: Anthology Bks 1-4 (Contemporary Romance) Page 21