The Last One (12 page)

We unloaded the bed in silence. I liked to tease Sam, and I was enjoying seeing how far he’d let me push before he either gave in and admitted he felt some attraction to me or began to push back. But I didn’t mess with his work. I wanted to be helpful, so I did exactly as he told me and carried baskets to the end of the work table.

When we’d delivered the last load, one of the women looked up at us, grinning. “Sam, you got yourself a new helper, eh? Pretty new girlfriend?”

“Not my girlfriend.” Sam’s jaw was clenched. “She’s just a college student, staying with us for the summer to teach art.”

The woman only shook her head and winked at me. I smiled back, even as I felt Sam’s obvious rebuff.
Just a college student.

“Maddy, you’ll finish up here and lock up? Turn everything off?” Sam addressed the woman who’d been teasing him.

“Sure thing, Sam. Just like every night. I got it covered. You look like you’re dead asleep on your feet. Better go home and get some rest.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, last day of onion season’s a killer. Thanks, Maddy.” He waved to the other two women and headed back to the truck.

I walked behind him and got back into the cab in silence. Sam started it up again without looking at me. I snuck glances at his profile and realized Maddy was right: he did look exhausted.

“So was onion harvest everything you’d hoped it would be?” He was trying to be sarcastic, I knew, but I decided to pretend otherwise.

“Yup. I now feel qualified to call myself an onion expert.”

“Huh.” The side of Sam’s lip curled. “If that’s what it takes to make you think you’re an expert, I’m a little worried about these art classes you’re supposed to be teaching.”

“Hey.” I sat up straighter in my seat. “You can make fun of me trying to help with onion harvest, you can say I’m immature or whatever because I got crazy drunk one night, but don’t mess with my art. I take my craft seriously. And I’m very, very good at it.”

He had the good grace to look contrite. “Sorry, low blow. I’m tired. I don’t do well with tired.”

“Yeah, I get that.” The house came into view, and I took a deep breath before I asked my next question. “Is that really all you think of me? Just a college student who’s staying at your house while I’m teaching art?”

Sam parked the truck by the shed, but he didn’t open his door. I didn’t move either.

“What else do you want me to say? That’s who you are.”

“But ...” I wasn’t sure how to put into words what I wanted to express. “But from the other times. We met twice before I even got here.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But the first time, you were too hammered to open your eyes, let alone talk. And the second time ...” He stared out the windshield into the dark. “I was yelling too much to get to know you. So even though I saw you before, I don’t know any more about you than I would if I’d met you for the first time the other day in my living room.”

I played with a loose piece of plastic that had peeled up from the seat. “I guess that makes sense. I think—” I paused, trying to choose the right words. “I think I feel like you made an impression on me. Even though I really didn’t remember anything about the car breaking down that night, I still had a memory of you the next morning. Just a flash, but it was there. That’s why I got so hurt when you yelled at me at Boomer’s. I thought you were a nice guy, and then you weren’t. At least, not that day, to me.”

Sam’s cheek twitched. “I can see that. But, well ...” He shrugged. “What does it matter?”

I ran my tongue across my bottom lip. “Maybe because I think I’m kind of attracted to you. And I think maybe you are to me, too. That’s why you got all over me that day, and that’s why it upset me when you did.”

He didn’t rush to deny it, as I thought he might. For a full minute, he didn’t respond at all. When he did, his voice was flat.

“Listen, you don’t know me at all. I don’t know you. So any, um, attraction we might feel is probably just circumstantial, and we need to ignore it and move on. I’m much too old for you, and I can tell you for sure, I’m not interested in someone like you. So if you stick to your art lessons, which is why you’re here, and I concentrate on my work, the summer’ll be over fast enough.”

I slid a little closer to him on the seat. “You said you’re not interested, but you didn’t say you weren’t attracted.”

He finally looked at me, and the angry passion nearly made me shrink back. “Who the hell wouldn’t be attracted to you? You’re beautiful, you must know that. And you give off this vibe ... I don’t know what you’d call it, but it’s there. Doesn’t matter, though. Just because you feel something doesn’t mean you have to act on it. And trust me, I’m not.”

He opened the door, got out of the truck and slammed it behind him. I watched him stalk into the house. He didn’t look back to see if I were following him inside.

I sat for a long time in the dark cab, alone.

I WAS USED TO living with women. My grandmother had lived with us until her death, so between her, my mom and Ali, Dad and I had been outnumbered. And even after she wasn’t around, it always felt like the females were predominant in our home. I was okay with that; they treated me well, fed me and kept me from making stupid mistakes most of the time.

After Grandma and then my parents were gone, it was just Ali and me. She was young, but she’d picked up where Mom had left off, taking on the cooking and most of the housework. Her marriage to Craig was a little bit of a surprise, and it left me with a house that felt empty. I learned to get by on my own. When Ali and Bridget moved home, my sister’d picked up her role in my life as if she’d never left, and there was no doubt her little girl had me wrapped around her finger. I was used to being in the minority. I could deal with it.

Or so I’d thought.

In the two weeks she’d been living in our house, somehow Meghan had shifted the balance so that sometimes I felt like I was an interloper in my own home. I thought I knew what it must be like in a college sorority, thanks to the giggling, the private jokes and the chick flicks on TV in the evenings. My sister had morphed from the mature, responsible woman I’d known for the past seven years to a teasing, winking teeny-bopper.

And Bridget wasn’t any better. She was thriving with the extra attention and was quick to tell me each night how much everyone at school loved the new art teacher. She brought home different projects each day, and even I had to admit that it was cool to see the improvements in her work when she pointed them out to me. But the breaking point came one late afternoon when I came in from the fields to find the three of them in the living room, with the carpet rolled up, dancing to some crazy music from Meghan’s iPod blaster.

Seeing them jumping and gyrating around was the final straw. I needed to escape all the estrogen that was flowing through my house before it consumed me and I found myself doing the cha-cha slide or whatever the hell they called it. So as we finished dinner, I announced that I was going into town to run some errands.

“Tonight?” Ali frowned at me. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I can pick up what you need. I’m helping Meghan at the school for a few hours in the afternoon.”

“No, it really can’t.” I spoke more adamantly than I’d intended, and they all three looked at me in surprise. “I mean, I need this part for the tractor first thing in the morning. I’ve got to go round to Boomer’s and then to the hardware store and talk to Mitch. And I want to see if Mr. Harper’s around, so I can ask him about the bees.”

“Okay.” Ali shrugged. “I was just trying to save you a trip.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to head out now. See y’all later.” I practically ran through the door, and I was pretty sure I heard giggling behind me as I got into the truck. The sound went right up my spine and bounced around in my head. God, did I need this break.

I stopped at the hardware store first and picked up a few things I knew I was going to need in the coming weeks. None of it was pressing, but Ali would grill me if I came home empty-handed. I spent a solid half-hour shooting the breeze with Larry, the store’s owner. I worked for him part-time in the winters to make ends meet when the stand was closed, and he was a decent guy. It was a relief to talk baseball, whatever bugs were trying to eat my cucumber plants and even a little town politics. He didn’t once mention art, pop culture or nail polish, and for that I was grateful.

I swung by Boomer’s after that, catching him just before he closed up.

“Hey, boy. Whatcha need?” He leaned back against his paper-strewn desk, keys in his hand.

“Hey, Boomer. Do me a favor and take some part you have laying around that you don’t need and toss it in a paper bag for me.”

The older man folded his arms across his broad chest and cocked his head. “Say what? Little early for drinking, isn’t it, Sam?”

I shook my head. “Haven’t had a drop. But I told Ali I was coming out tonight to pick up a part I needed first thing tomorrow morning, and if I come home without a bag from you, she’ll know.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So you’re lying to your sister, huh? You got a girl out here in town, boy? Who’re you seeing?”

“God almighty, no. Last thing I need is another girl. That’s why I had to get out.” I shuddered, and Boomer chuckled.

“Ah, I see. You got that pretty little art teacher living out with you now, and the females are ganging up on you, huh?”

“Not so much ganging up as ... giggling. Boomer, you don’t know. They talk about the stupidest things, and then they laugh like it’s hysterical ... they’re making me nuts. I just had to get away tonight.”

“Hmm.” Boomer eyed me up and down. “Funny thing, wasn’t it, that girl getting the job here in Burton. You think that’s why she was here that night, scouting us out?”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “It was just one of those things. Coincidence.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have figured her to stay around once she knew it was your house she was living in. The day she came to pick up her car, I was afraid to leave the two of you alone. Wasn’t sure if I’d come back to see you in a knock-down brawl ... or on the floor doing some
other
kind of wrestling.” He smirked.

“What the hell are you talking about, Boomer?” He was too close to touching on the truth, and it pissed me off. “I was just telling her how she’d left her friend in a bad way, and she took it wrong. We were yelling, sure, but it wasn’t any more than that. I didn’t even know her. Still really don’t.”

Boomer guffawed. “The hell. You don’t need to know someone to feel the pull. I’m not saying anything about now, but that day, right here in this room, you were looking at that girl the same way I look at the cherry pie down at Kenny’s.”

“You’re crazier than they are.” I stuck my hands deep down in my pockets. “Are you going to give me a bag or not? Because if you’re just going to stand here and tease me, I may as well go home.”

He waved a hand. “Calm down, calm down. I’m going to get you covered.” He opened up a desk drawer and dug around for a minute and then came up with an old crankshaft. “Will this do?”

I nodded, grateful. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks, Boomer.”

“Any time, boy. And if things get bad with all them women, just give me a call and I’ll come rescue you.” He came around the counter and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Four daughters and a wife, remember? I feel your pain.”

I grinned. I’d forgotten that Boomer would definitely be the one who’d understand. “Thanks, man.”

“I got your back. Now get on out of here so I can close up, or the wife’ll be calling to see if I’m dead.”

I waved and headed back to my truck. Tossing the bag onto the passenger seat, I started up and headed out of town. The testosterone infusion had done its job, and I was feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks. I thought of Boomer’s words about Meghan. He was crazy. Ridiculous. I didn’t look at her any particular way. And if I did, what did it matter? It didn’t mean a damn thing.

I wasn’t one of those guys who needed drama as a side dish to women. The relationships I’d had in the last few years were low-key, quiet and kept far away from my family. The last had ended amiably back in the spring when Jaycee Mathers had decided to move to Nashville for a new job. Since then, with the planting and upkeep on the farm, I hadn’t had time to get involved with anyone else. Truth to tell, I didn’t miss it.