“Even better,” she says warmly. “I was talking to Jason this morning, and we know you’ll have to basically be here for a month to make this happen. I’m going to send you a proposed budget and what we’d suggest as your payment, which I hope you feel is generous and appropriate, considering the commitment. We also recognize that while here, you can’t be growing a new business, which is an accommodation we’re making in your pay.”
“This job will single-handedly be the reference I need to get new jobs.”
“We hope it will be,” she says. “And listen, we’re redoing the plumbing in the cabin. It’s a long story, but there were pipes running from the orchard that caused widespread flooding and other issues.”
“Orchard? There’s an orchard there now?”
“Yes. Jason’s dad tried to transition from cattle to apples. Ultimately, it’s going to be profitable, but it was launched on a small budget and poor construction. Anyway, I talked to Sue at the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast. She has a room for you for the next week on us. After that, we’ll have a couple of options here at the ranch. Does that work?”
“Yes, of course. I love Sue. She and my mom were friends back in the day.” It’s the first time that I think I might have to tell my parents what’s going on. Word will get back to them, and I don’t want them to be upset. Well, they will be upset that I’m back in Sweetwater, but the burn will be more bearable if the news is delivered by me.
Jessica continues. “Sue told me you’re lovely, just like your mom, which I knew already. Can you confirm the email for the proposal and a bank account for a wire?”
We exchange the needed information, and Jessica says her final goodbye. “Give me an hour and check your email. I’ll get the wire complete right away. Talk soon.” She hangs up, and I frown. She’s sending the wire before I read the proposal? My phone buzzes with a text, and I glance at my Apple Watch to read: Starbucks withdrawal is real.
I laugh at Linda’s message and climb out of the car. A few minutes later, I’m sitting in her room listening to her tell me all about a male nurse with a “beautiful butt.” “Seriously,” she says. “It’s a work of art. I’d stay a day longer to ask him on a date, but I’m not up to the rejection right now.”
“Who says he’ll reject you?”
“He’s married.”
“Oh.” My eyes go wide. “Oh. You want to ask him out?”
“No. Yes. No. Of course not. It’s a bad joke. All the nice butts are married. Tell me about the project for Jason.”
I give her the full rundown. “I’ll be gone a month, though. Will you be okay?”
“Honey, you’re renting an office, not in business with me, outside of saving my ass by taking the photography job, which I’ll pay you for.”
“You paid me by giving me the chance to get this job.”
“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Jason and the Horse Wrangler,” she says. “Can you introduce me?”
My stomach knots, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my. What nerve did I just hit?”
Leave it to Linda to miss nothing. “He was the only man I’ve ever loved, but now I hate him, so sure, I’ll fix you up. In fact, he’s single, and he has quite the nice butt. I can attest to that. In fact, I can attest to that quite recently. As in last night, but that’s okay. It was a blast from the past. I was testing him for you. My best friend and my ex. My two best friends, one from the past and one from the present. The perfect couple. You would—”
“Stop right now,” Linda orders. “Stop what you’re doing right now.” She points at me. “Breathe. Deep breath and then start again. What did that asshole do to you?”
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah….
Why did I just open this Pandora’s Box? Why? “Can we just forget I said all of that?”
“Ah, no. And no.” She sits up straighter. “Talk to me. Why do I not know any of this?”
“I always had a crush on him, but he and I never really happened until after college.”
“You never said a word about him, at all.”
“He was like a rock-star crush. That’s what he felt like until the summer after college. You and I lost touch for a while back then. And besides, it happened, and then it was over.”
“Clearly not,” she says. “Talk to me.”
“I told you what there is to tell. We were all close growing up.”
“Now, see, you didn’t tell me that part.” She motions me on. “Keep going.”
“I was close to Jason, too. We were like siblings, but I crushed on Roarke. I was too young for him, and he treated me like a kid sister. Then I went home the summer after college, while I was sending out portfolios and résumés, and we fell in love. We were engaged. We ended.”
“You were young, honey. He was young. Time heals and time matures. Maybe now—”
“He cheated.”
Her eyes go wide. “With who?”
“Cindy Lou Phew.”
She laughs. “No, really.”
“That was her name. She’s a model. Look her up.”
She grabs her phone and does just that. “Oh, Phew, like phew—oh God. Forget the cursed name. She’s gorgeous.”
“Right.” I stand up. “I need to go.”
“Honey, don’t run from me. I didn’t mean to take you down Avenue F for fucked-up. How did he know Cindy?”
She didn’t mean to take me down Avenue F, but here we go. Down Avenue F. I grab the rail at the end of her bed. “The whole Horse Wrangler thing. He did that kind of thing before it was ever on the internet. He was hired by Macy’s for the Christmas parade. He was managing the horses for a group of models riding them.”
“Were you there?”
“I was, which made it worse, or maybe it made it better because I found out the truth. I don’t know. Either way, he disappeared for a couple of hours.”
“Disappeared?”
“He told me he was meeting with Macy’s executives, but then I got an anonymous video of him with Cindy hanging all over him.”
“Hanging on him? What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, not going down a path that offers excuses for Roarke. Been there, done that, didn’t save my heart from destruction. “I’m done talking about this,” I add. “I really need to go. I have to pack and make arrangements for the trip.”
“So a holiday festival, huh?”
“Christmas festival,” I amend.
“Christmas festival,” she repeats and points to the chair next to her. “Talk to me about the event, nothing more, I promise. Yes?”
I hesitate, but I don’t push back. I actually need to talk to her about this. “Yes,” I agree, sitting down in the spot she requested I sit. “And depending on the budget, I’d like to have your team handle the photography. If you’re up to it?”
“Hell yeah, I’m up to it,” she says. “That kind of event belongs on my résumé. And I love the holidays. Please tell me you’re putting Santa hats on Roarke and Jason and standing them under some mistletoe. That will get people to the event.” She grimaces. “Sorry, Hannah. I guess Roarke and mistletoe don’t mix for you. That was so stupid of me. I blame the drugs. They gave me lots of drugs. I’m a horrible friend.”
“You are not a horrible friend.” I have a flashback to kissing Roarke last night, and my cheeks heat. “You’re in business mode, thinking smart. Roarke’s a single man. He can kiss whoever he likes under the mistletoe, and since Jason isn’t a single man, he can’t. In other words, a campaign with Roarke under the mistletoe might be exactly the right way to get the women to town.”
“Hannah,” she says softly. “Don’t—”
“I am. It’s a great idea. I might need to use some of your contacts in the press.”
“What about mistletoe and the cowboys at the ranch? And a few hot baseball players fro
m Jason’s team? Not Roarke.”
“Roarke—”
“Hannah—”
“Linda.”
She glares, and I start rambling about a bachelors auction to bring people to town, going with what works at the moment but getting excited about the idea as I talk. Linda perks up, and she lets the topic of Roarke pass us by. Or I think she does. Once my purse is on my arm and I’m headed to the door, she calls out, “Did he admit to cheating?”
I don’t have to ask who “he” is. Of course I know. I turn to face her. “He denied it, but he didn’t fight for me. He let me walk away.”
“Maybe your distrust hurt him?”
It’s not a thought I haven’t had myself, but it still doesn’t feel right. “Maybe. Get some rest. I’ll call you later.” I turn and disappear into the hallway, feeling the knife of the past twisting in my heart. So much so that I’m parking at the mall to shop, and I don’t even remember how I got there. My email alerts me to a new message from Jessica, and I pull it up: Hey, you! The wire is sent and the budget is attached. Let me know your thoughts. If the money isn’t fair on your end, don’t hold back. Talk to me. See you tomorrow!
I pull up the paperwork and about fall over at the size of the budget. This is going to be the best holiday festival imaginable, even in the short time window allowed. I tab to my income page, and this time, I about choke. I’m quite certain there’s a typo and an extra digit in front of the total. I quickly pull up my bank account and find the pending transaction for the same amount. I dial Jessica.
“Hey,” she greets. “You got everything?”
“Yes, but I think there’s an error. You paid me too much.”
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
“Jessica, you paid me twenty-five thousand dollars for a month of work.”
“You’ll need to hire staff. You’ll need to be here for a month and—”
“This isn’t an error?”
“No. We trust you, and you know we’re requiring a confidentiality agreement so—”
“Wait,” I say. “You’re paying for my silence? I thought Jason and Roarke trusted me?”
“They do. Of course they do. They just have legal terms and—”
“I’ll sign the agreement, but I’m not taking that much money. I don’t need to be paid to be silent. I’m a friend, family, even. Or I thought I was. Maybe I’m mistaken on that. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jessica.” I hang up, throw my phone in the seat, and grab the steering wheel. How was I so wrong about my life back then?
I decide the mall is not going to happen. I’ll just buy some boots at the country store in Sweetwater. I need to go home and pack. Home. Sweetwater was always home, but that’s like saying Jason and Roarke were always family. And yet, they need to buy my silence?
I pull out of the parking lot and make the short drive to my apartment. I’ve just stepped back inside my place when my phone rings again. I stare at the number because even by memory, I know it. It’s Roarke. My God, is Roarke the one who now gets to fire me for hanging up on Jessica? I inhale and answer the line. “Calling to tell me why you want to pay me off?”
“We gave you what we’d give anyone else. Do you want us to cheat you?”
“Anyone who needs to be paid off to ensure your privacy is cheating you. I don’t need to be paid to keep your secrets.”
“You need to be treated fairly.”
“I thought—” I stop myself from saying, I thought I just needed to come home. I don’t know where that comes from, but it’s on the tip of my tongue.
“You thought what?”
“I thought we were friends, damn near family. I thought—”
“You and me, we’re a hell of a lot more than friends, and you know it. You pushing me away last night doesn’t change that.”
“We’re—”
“Us,” he says. “And that means something.”
“It means nothing. Not anymore.”
“Hannah,” he says, his voice low, rough. “You know what I regret?”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“You not coming with me last night.”
Me, too, I think, which only serves as proof that sleeping with him was a mistake. I’m not done with him and that was the idea—to feel done. “I’m going to donate the money,” I say, changing the subject.
“Talk to me before you do that. Come see me when you get here.”
I don’t want this request to please me. It’s business, and yet nothing about this man is business to me. “I actually need to talk to you about some ideas for the festival, so I’ll catch up to you.”
“We need to talk before you donate that money, Hannah. Promise me.”
“Fine. I mostly promise.”
“Mostly?” he challenges.
Once again, I change the subject. “How’s the mama horse and the foal?”
“I had to operate on her uterus, but we saved the pregnancy. She’s confined. She could use some love. The kind you give to the animals. Another reason to come see me.”
Memories of helping him with the animals suffocate me. Those were good times, special times. I’ve missed the animals. Damn it, I’ve missed him. “I’ll see you and her soon.” I hang up.
Chapter Fifteen
Hannah….
I spend the evening on my bed with a pizza big enough for two (which reminds me that I’m one person), while thinking through the festival and actually drafting a plan, including staff, timelines, and marketing. I have ideas and obstacles, one of which is simply the age of the kids. I have no idea if I’m catering to college-age students or ten-year-olds or both. We have motels nearby, only about ten minutes from town, a nest of hotels, in fact, with a big rest stop as the centerpiece. But will they be enough? Anyone coming in from Dallas will have to stay the night and there certainly aren’t five-star hotels for anyone to enjoy.
We.
I just said we like Sweetwater was still my place.
It is right now, I remind myself. It is for this festival. I want it to go well. I can’t blow this. This isn’t even about my career. This is personal, no matter how much I might want to say otherwise. This is a good thing that Jason and Roarke are doing. It’s good for the kids. It’s good for the town, and that town was my home growing up. My family lost everything they had there, and while I really don’t know how that happened because it was after I left, and to this day, my parents get upset when I try to talk about it, I have to believe more industry would have helped. Maybe my parents would have expanded into something beyond the crops that were susceptible to everything from weather to the economy.
I set my MacBook aside. I have to call my parents. I dread telling them I’m going back to Sweetwater, and I’m not really sure why, aside from I think the loss they felt there is quite embarrassing and emotional. I debate if this call is better made to my mom or dad and decide on my mom. She is always positive while my father is quite intense. I dial, and after a few rings, I get her voicemail. Great. I need to do this, what with my visit to Sweetwater being tomorrow. I try my dad. He doesn’t answer. This really shouldn’t surprise me. They both hold high-level positions at the Future Farmers of America, and the FFA convention is in two weeks. They lead exciting and busy lives. I’m not sure this Sweetwater stuff really matters anymore, but then, I’m not sure why they won’t ever talk about it, either. I try my mother again and leave a message this time.
My cellphone beeps with a message, and I glance down to find a photo of a bunch of hot firefighters in Santa hats: Use your imagination. Make this a Christmas festival no one forgets.
It’s Linda, and I text her back: You do know this is for kids, right?
Kids have moms, aunts, cousins, and grandmothers, she replies. And moms need motivation to drive to Sweetwater.
I laugh. She forgets that the kids are the moms’ motivation, but sh
e’s not wrong in a broader view of the public and general attendance, but I still don’t know enough about the vision and goals, I realize, to make these kinds of decisions. I really think that a bachelor auction, an adult event, the night before the festival could be good, though. My phone beeps again, and Linda’s still pitching: What about an adult night at the end of the festival? I’ll come check out the goods and spend money at the festival if you promise me a hot man at the end. A hot cowboy sounds good to me.
Aren’t you injured and in pain? I type. How are you thinking of hot cowboys?
Because I need a hot cowboy to come kiss it and make it feel better.
The way I thought Roarke would kiss it and make it feel better last night. And he did. I felt really good until it was over. Now it feels like I stirred a witch’s brew, and the pot is filled with trouble and heartache. Unbidden, my mind goes back to that conversation with him earlier:
“You know what I regret?”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“You not coming with me last night.”
I wanted to go with him, I think, but I can’t go down this rabbit hole of stupidity. I won’t. I’m not falling for that man again. He cheated. The end. He will not come back from that. We will not come back from that. For all I know, the man has a girlfriend right now, and I’m reading into things anyway. With a twist of my gut at that idea, I scoop up my work, pack it all up, and get ready to leave early tomorrow. I climb underneath the blankets, including the comforter my grandma made for me when she was still with us, and then plug in my phone and turn out the lights. My phone buzzes again instantly, and I cringe. I completely forgot Linda. I grab it, expecting to find a message from her. Instead, I find a shot of a gorgeous white horse: That’s her. She’s uneasy. She needs someone to sing to her.
It’s from Roarke, who clearly got my number from Jessica or Jason, and why wouldn’t he? He’s now one of my bosses. As for the text, he’s talking about me singing to the horses, to all of the animals he was treating. I did it even before we were a couple. It was my thing. I always came to his ranch and sang to the sick animals. I miss that. I miss the animals. I don’t even think about holding back on this. I type my reply: I would love to come sing to that beautiful girl.
Tangled Up in Christmas Page 8
