Convincing the Rancher (22 page)

“Yeah.”

It was none of her business. She should send the boy on his way and figure out how to fix the fence. But she’d been that teenager who couldn’t control her temper. She’d thrown her share of backpacks.

“Anything I can do?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

“Nah,” he answered. Then he paused, staring at the hole where the picket had been. Maybe he felt as though he owed her an explanation, because he started talking, not shifting his gaze from the fence. “I lost my temper. At football practice. Another kid was bugging me, kept saying stuff, and it just got to me. I went after him. Hit him. Coach kicked me out of practice for the rest of the week.”

“That makes sense.”

He looked disappointed. “Of course you’d say that. You’re a grown-up.”

It took her a moment to realize where they’d missed each other. “No, I meant
your reaction
makes sense.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, you can’t hit people, but if the other kid was goading you I can understand why you wanted to.” She’d succumbed to the taunting too many times to count. “But can I give you some advice?”

“You can give it. Don’t know if I’ll take it.”

“Fair enough.” She couldn’t help but smile at the sassiness. That sounded like her, too. “Look, you’ve got to realize that when you have a temper, other kids notice it, too. And some kids will try to provoke you, because they know you’ll do something wild and get yourself in trouble. It’s entertaining for them. So they set you up. And when you have some big reaction, you’re doing exactly what those kids want you to do.”

“How do you know?”

She hesitated, then decided to be honest, realizing as she said the words that she was revealing more about herself to this boy who she’d probably never see again than she had to her best friends. “Because I threw my backpack, too. And I got in fights at school, and worse.” She’d been kicked out of three high schools—once for wrecking a locker, once for fighting and the last time for throwing a chair at the window. It took all of that for her to realize she had to control her reactions.

“No way. You don’t look as if you were a kid who got in trouble.”

“Well, I don’t get mad like that anymore. I mean, people make me mad, of course, but I don’t throw stuff or hit them or anything like that.”

“What do you do?”

“Leave, if I can. Go someplace else. Or try to talk to them. Or ignore them. And sometimes I’m just really polite to them, even if I want to be the opposite. Like I said, you have to remember that those kids are
trying
to set you off, so don’t give them the satisfaction.”

The boy sat down on the curb and tried to fit all his books back into his busted backpack. Tess handed him the ones she’d picked up. There was no way the ripped fabric could hold all his stuff. The poor kid must have a ton of homework.

“Are you a teacher?” He eyed her suspiciously.

“Nope. I’m doing some work here in town right now. But I remember being your age really clearly. I got in a lot of trouble, made some mistakes. I guess I know a little about how it is.”

“So you’re not mad about the fence post?”

“Well, do I wish you hadn’t broken it? Yes. And I’m glad it didn’t actually hit me. But it’s also just a picket. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure it can be replaced.”

“I’ll help if you want.”

Tess smiled at his effort to take responsibility. “Thanks. I’d like that. How about if I get a hammer and some nails and a new picket and I’ll leave them on the patio? Sometime over the next week, after school or something, you can come by and fix it for me?”

“Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”

They sat on the curb in companionable silence for a minute. Then the boy said, “What’s your name?”

“Tess,” she answered.

The sound of a truck engine had them both looking up. Tess recognized Slaid’s pickup and stood up. The boy did the same.

Slaid pulled up to the curb by the house and jumped out of the cab. “Devin? Are you okay?”

Tess looked at the boy. “You’re Devin?” She’d been sitting on the sidewalk having a heart-to-heart with Slaid’s son? She felt sick.

“I’m fine, Dad.” The sullen look was back on his face, as if he was bracing himself for a lecture.

“Coach Ellis called me, son. Said you got into a fight during practice. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Nope.” Devin looked at the ground and scuffed his feet and Tess had to mask a smile. He was 100 percent classic teenager at the moment.

“We’ll talk at home, then.” Slaid turned to Tess, and his expression warmed a little. “Hey, Tess.”

“Hey,” she answered, trying to sound casual, as if she hadn’t been missing him every minute for days.

“Can I ask how you got involved in all this?”

Somehow she couldn’t mention the fence. Devin had offered to fix it, to make things right. She wanted to honor that. “I was sitting out front, trying to get some sun. Devin was walking by and dropped his backpack. It ripped. His books went everywhere.” She gestured to the shredded backpack lying on the ground at Devin’s feet.

“Thanks for helping him,” Slaid said quietly.

“It was my pleasure.” She gave Devin a quick wink. “He’s a cool kid.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” The horror in Devin’s voice was audible.

“We’re professional acquaintances,” Slaid told him. The word stung for a moment until Tess realized that of course he couldn’t tell his son they’d dated. Especially since they weren’t going to date again.

“Do you work in the mayor’s office?” Devin asked Tess.

“Not exactly...”

“Tess is working for the company I was telling you about, that wants to put windmills in Benson.”

Devin turned to Tess in dismay. “You’re the windmill lady?”

Tess smiled. “I guess you could call me that.”

“Huh.” Devin studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t want windmills, but I liked that band you got for the harvest festival.”

“Thanks.”

“Devin, we’d better get you home. I’m sure you have homework, and we need to talk about what happened at practice today.”

“I already talked with Tess.”

Slaid looked startled. “Really?”

Tess nodded, trying not to laugh at Devin’s assumption that a chat with a stranger could fend off the inevitable conversation with his actual parent. As if one adult was replaceable with another. She remembered being his age, and how generic grown-ups had seemed.

“Good. She’s smart. But you still have to talk to me, son. Let’s go.”

Devin gave Tess a shy smile. “Thanks, Tess.”

“Take care, Devin.”

Slaid gave her a long look, obviously curious about what she’d said to his son. But she took a cue from Devin and gave him a shrug. “See you later, Slaid.”

He opened the door and waited for Devin to climb up and fasten his seat belt before closing it. Then he turned back to Tess, a troubled look on his face. “A lot’s happened between us lately.”

“Yes.” She knew that was her cue to apologize for the other night, but she didn’t want to bring it up. If she did, she’d probably lose her willpower, beg him to spend time with her again. What he said next surprised her.

“We’re still agreed to disagree about the windmills, right?”

“Sure,” she answered, studying his face, looking for some clue as to why he’d brought this up now.

“Well, all right, then.” He looked relieved.

“But I’ll give you fair warning, Slaid. Attendance at my meetings is up. They’ve been going really well, too. At least, no one has seemed too upset.”

Slaid glanced to the side. He seemed to be considering something. “Mine are going well, too. Really well.”

“I’ll just have to work a little harder.”

His smile broke slowly over his face. “You are something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is a compliment.” He walked around the back of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you soon.” The engine came to life, and he and Devin both waved before they drove off.

Tess watched them go, still trying to figure out what that last exchange was really about. Maybe he’d finally accepted that they had no romantic future and he was trying to remind her that it was strictly about work now. The thought made her heart hurt. Even though it was what she’d told him she wanted.

She bent down to collect the pieces of the broken picket. There was a hardware store on the edge of town. She’d bring them the pieces and hope they could find her a replacement. And then she stopped in her tracks, picket in hand. She’d met Devin.
Devin
, Slaid’s adopted son, who was the same age as her son. And the world hadn’t fallen apart. She hadn’t run away screaming, or cried, or felt overwhelming guilt and remorse. In fact, the only thing that was different was that she liked the kid. She was glad they met—glad she’d been able to help a bit, and hopeful that she might get to see him again sometime.

She leaned the broken picket carefully against the wall of the cottage and sank back down on the bench in relief. It was heartening to realize that something that had seemed so scary and life altering could happen in such a quiet way, There’d been no drama, no angst. Just a kid who needed someone who could understand him. She was glad that someone had been her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“
I
THOUGHT YOU
weren’t much of a stargazer.”

Tess barely caught the glass of Scotch that went airborne as she jumped out of her skin. “Samantha! Oh, my gosh, you scared me!”

Her friend plunked herself down in one of the Adirondack chairs that surrounded the small fire Tess had made in her fire pit. “Jack had a meeting in town and I came with him. I called you but you didn’t answer.”

“My phone’s inside.”

“So you could sit out here and drink alone? Tess, you always have your phone. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know... Maybe the stars are growing on me.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay, Sam. Don’t you worry about me.” She’d been sitting out here thinking about all the lies and stories she’d told for years, to her friends, colleagues, everyone. The weight of them was oppressive. Here was her best friend, who had no idea that Tess had been abused by her parents, raised in foster homes and had a baby at sixteen.

And then there was the fictional backstory she’d created. Not purposely... It had just happened over time, as a result of those casual questions friends and colleagues ask each other all the time. Questions that Tess never wanted to answer truthfully because the truth was so depressing.

So when people asked where her parents lived, she’d started saying “New England” instead of “I don’t know.” When someone asked what her childhood was like she answered “great” and “fun.” And from that false foundation, a rickety house of other, lies were built up. Fictional schools, family vacations, pets and, just the other night, Halloween traditions.

She’d never meant to lie, but what choice did she have when most people really didn’t want to hear the sordid truth? And she didn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they did.

“Seriously, ever since you got here, you’ve been distant. Different.”

Tess sighed. “I guess there’s something about this part of the world that makes you think, you know?”

“What have you been thinking about?”

Tess took another sip of her Scotch and for one, brief moment, contemplated telling Samantha everything. But their friendship was already on shaky ground—if she revealed her lies it might totally fall apart. “Do you ever wish you were different than you are? I mean, if I could change myself right now, I might.”

“You’re perfect!” Samantha protested. “You’re Tess. I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else. What would you want to change?”

“I’d want to be braver. More willing to take a risk.” She stared at the blue center of the flames. “I feel like everyone is evolving, but I’m still exactly the same. First you moved away, and now Jenna is busy with Sandro and her ballroom. I think I’m stuck.”

“You could get unstuck.”

Tess sighed again. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe the right person will get you unstuck.”

Tess immediately thought of Slaid and doubted Samantha’s theory. He was the one making her feel the most stuck. “I don’t know. I think I’m just incapable of relationships. I’ve kept people at a distance for so long that now, when I might want to let them get closer, I don’t even know how to do it.”

Samantha watched her for a moment. “Do you want some advice?”

“Sure.”

“Stop running away.”

“I don’t run!” Tess protested. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“You are professionally, sure. But in your personal life? When you get uncomfortable, you disappear.”

And then Tess understood. “You’re talking about us. Because we haven’t seen each other as much as we thought we would when I first got here.”

“Partly, yeah,” Samantha answered softly.

“It’s hard. You’re my best friend, but we’re disagreeing over the windmills.”

“It’s more than the windmills,” Samantha said. “It feels as though you might be uncomfortable with me because I’m having a baby.”

Tess realized maybe she wasn’t quite as good of an actress as she liked to think. “No, of course not!” she said. “It’s just that you and Jack, well, you’re such a couple. And in the city I spend a lot of time with Jenna and Sandro, and they’re so happy and in love. I think I’m spending too much time with couples. Maybe I’m jealous.”

“But we don’t care if you’re a part of a couple or not. We just want to spend time with you.”

“I’ll make more of an effort,” Tess promised. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings.”

“You’re really not upset about the baby?”

How could she possible answer with complete honesty? No way would she spoil Samantha’s joy with her past mistakes. “Well, sometimes I worry that things will change even more. But logically I know it will be fine.”

“I can understand,” Samantha said. “But please let me know what I can do to help. I miss my friend, Tess.”

The hurt behind Samantha’s words made Tess’s heart ache. Samantha was an incredible friend—kind, funny, loyal and so good to her. They’d started off their careers together, helped each other, coached each other.