End Of The Road: (A Clean Romance Novella) (Women's Adventure in Alaska Romance Book 3)

by Renee Hart

  She wrapped up her work a bit early and ducked out of the office, not caring if Yvette would have anything to say about it. She'd worked enough extra hours over the past few days that she'd earned an early night out. When she got home, she opened a bottle of wine and sat in the seat by her window, looking out over the gardens. Samson was out there, tending to his herbs. So was Topher, measuring his tomatoes with a caliper and writing down the results on a notepad. She sipped her wine, watching him, then shook her head. Who measured their tomatoes like that? She just didn't understand him.

  But she also didn't know what to do about him. The simplest thing would be to confront him, to tell him she knew he was using herbicides that were against the community rules. But he would just deny it, and even if she showed him the test results, he could easily claim that she had faked it. And what purpose would the confrontation serve? They would argue, he would attack her credibility, and it would do nothing other than creating a divide in the gardening community. Even if she got most of the other neighbors on her side, they technically couldn't ban Topher from doing what he wanted on his plot. He would just keep using whatever he wanted, and bragging about his amazing tomatoes. He'd go to the gardening show at the end of the season, win a blue ribbon, and show it off to everyone, making them all jealous of his skills and his success.

  Tessa finished off her wine glass, a thought occurring to her. It was silly. Almost impractical. But it was also the best chance she had of getting back at Topher for what he'd done.

  She grabbed her phone and called Samson. Even though he was right outside, she didn't want to go out to the garden and be seen by Topher. She felt a bit foolish for it, since it wasn't like he'd know she was conspiring against him. But she felt like staying in her apartment, spying on the garden through the window, was the thing to do.

  She watched Samson through the window as he jammed out to the music from his iPod, bobbing his head back and forth like an adorable dork while he tended his herbs. When his phone started ringing, he pulled out his ear buds, then patted his pockets until he found his phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe,” Tessa said. “I've got an idea.”

  Samson looked around, watching Topher. He lowered his voice as he spoke into the phone. “About the 'situation,' you mean?”

  Tessa snickered at the way Samson was speaking in code. “Yes, dear, the 'situation.' Operation Show Topher Who's Boss. I think I know how to get back at him.”

  “I'm listening.”

  Out the window, she could see Samson eyeing Topher suspiciously. She shook her head, wondering if he was taking this too seriously. Or if she herself was.

  “I think,” she said, “that instead of trying to expose him, or stop him from using those herbicides, we need a different approach. It's not like we can really do anything about what he's doing.”

  “Yeah,” Samson said. “I talked to Mrs. Mackenzie today. I didn't tell her I was asking about Samson, but I asked her what she thought the community could do if 'someone' was found to be violating the rules. She suggested a strongly worded letter. Or that the neighbors stop trading produce with the guilty party.”

  “All of which would be ultimately useless gestures.” Tessa nodded, having come to the same conclusion as Samson. “Topher would ignore a letter, and he doesn't trade with anyone anyway. He thinks his crops are too good for the likes of us.”

  “So what's your plan?”

  Tessa smirked, pouring herself another glass of wine. She leaned back in her seat, studying Topher through the window and swirling her wine around in her glass. “Simple,” she said. “You know how they say, 'fight fire with fire'?”

  “You want to burn his plot down?”

  “Ha! No.” Tessa snorted. “But I think what we need to do is to take down Topher on his own terms.”

  She watched as he picked up a rather large squash, using his calipers to measure its width and height. He held it up with an admiring eye, nodding to himself.

  “We're going to hit him where it hurts,” Tessa said. “Right in the tomatoes.”

  Chapter 10

  They met that night at Terry's apartment. Terry served tea, while Tessa paced around the apartment, gesturing animatedly with her hands while she laid out her idea.

  “Topher's completely focused on winning the gardening contest,” she said. “He doesn't care about organic foods, healthy eating, getting in touch with the Earth, or any of that. He's in the gardening business for the prestige.”

  “Not a lot of prestige to be had for growing a tomato,” Terry said, snorting.

  “Not for most people.” Tessa shrugged. “But in certain circles, it's a pretty big deal. Everything has its niche. Some people train for months to win video game tournaments. Other people try to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest fingernails. To people in that niche, it's the most important thing in their world.”

  “And Topher's world,” Samson said, while he cradled a steaming mug of tea in his hands, “is tomatoes.”

  “Bingo.” Tessa drove a fist into her palm. “So if we want to pay Topher back for ruining our tomatoes, we need to beat him at his own game.”

  “So you want to poison his crops?” Terry asked, frowning. “Doesn't seem like the right thing to do. Especially when he isn't really hurting our tomatoes on purpose. He's a jerk, but he's not that mean.”

  “No,” Tessa said, making a slashing motion with her hand. “We don't have to touch his tomatoes. We just need to grow better ones. And enter that gardening contest. And beat him.”

  Samson and Terry exchanged a look. Samson set down his tea and folded his hands. “Hon, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but...your tomatoes are...”

  She stared at him, a pout forming on her lips.

  Samson cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, they're a bit shriveled, that's all. You won't be able to win a contest with them.”

  “And you can't just go to the store and buy a big tomato,” Terry said. “I've never entered the contest myself, but I've been to a few. You're supposed to bring the whole plant, still on the vine. And to win, you have to have the biggest, ripest, most beautiful fruit of them all.”

  “And I can't see how we can grow a better tomato between now and the end of the season,” Samson said, spreading his hands. “We've only got about six weeks, and it could take twice that long to grow something from scratch.”

  “And if you get caught trying to bring in something you didn't grow yourself,” Terry added, “you could get disqualified. I know it might sound silly to get so worked up over a tomato, but like you said, people in that niche take this sort of thing real serious.”

  “Okay, I admit that the plan has some flaws,” Tessa said. “But work with me here. Taking that blue ribbon away and making Topher walk away from that contest empty-handed is the best way we have to get back at him. We just need to find a way to make it happen.”

  “Okay,” Samson said, “we'll make it happen. But how? We can't sabotage Topher's tomatoes, because that's cheating. And we can't grow our own tomatoes fast enough. So what does that leave us?”

  Tessa drummed her fingers on the back of a chair, wracking her brain for the answer. It came to her in a flash. She snapped her fingers and pointed triumphantly into the air.

  “We hire a ringer!”

  * * *

  One of the advantages to being part of a community of gardeners was that they all knew a lot of people, who all knew a lot of other people, who were all serious about gardening.

  Over the next week, Tessa worked with Terry and Samson to network among everyone they knew, asking about who grew the best crops, the ripest tomatoes, and the finest produce in the county. Tessa did some online searches as well, searching various gardening blogs and forums. They found a few people that were already entered into the contest, which didn't do them any good. They needed someone that could represent their gardening community, someone they could sponsor in the competition so that Topher would kno
w that they were the ones who beat him.

  Eventually, Mrs. Mackenzie heard what they were up to and suggested they go speak to her nephew. “Conner's a wonderful gardener,” she told Tessa over a glass of lemonade. “I taught him everything he knows, from when he was a little boy. That was when my husband was still alive, you understand. Conner used to come over to our house and help me tend our garden. Oh, it was so beautiful.” A wistful look entered her eyes.

  “Do you think he'd be interested in entering a contest?” Tessa asked.

  “Why, I don't know,” Mrs. Mackenzie said. “But it wouldn't hurt to ask. I'll give him a call and let him know you're interested in his tomatoes.”

  Tessa worried that such a phone call would sound weird, but it turned out that Conner was flattered. They made an arrangement to meet with him at his home out in the country. Tessa and Samson drove down there Saturday morning. Conner's house was surrounded by a beautiful flowering garden, and a wide field behind his home grew all sorts of fruits and vegetables. He greeted them as soon as they drove up and offered to take them on a tour of his fields.

  “I never did think about entering a contest before,” Conner said. He led them through the field, stopping here and there to check on some of his crops. He was dressed like a farmer in denim coveralls and a flannel shirt, with a wide-brimmed straw hat to protect him from the sun. “I sell most of what I grow. Well, what I don't eat, of course.”

  “Top prize is $250,” Tessa said. “And a first place ribbon.” She knew the cash prize was negligible compared to what some serious farmers and gardeners would spend on seeds, fertilizer, and other gardening supplies. Though she hoped it would be a nice incentive for Conner to join their cause.

  “What would I have to do, exactly?” Conner asked. he stopped in front of a row of tomato plants. The crops were ripe and thriving. Tessa spotted a few tomatoes right away that might be good enough to enter into the contest.

  “Well, there's a $10 entry fee,” Tessa said. When Conner looked hesitant, she added, “But as your sponsors, we'd cover that, of course.”

  “We will?” Samson asked, frowning at her. She shot him a look. “Uhh, we will!”

  “Plus we'd cover the cost of whatever you need to help get your crops ready for the show,” Tessa said. “Extra fertilizer, that sort of thing.”

  “And, what?” Conner asked, frowning. “You'd want to split the prize money?”

  “No, no!” Tessa shook her head and waved her hands in front of her. “You'd get to keep that. We're doing this for the prestige. The New Eden Apartments Gardening Community would just want our name listed as your sponsor. Get our name in the paper, along with yours. That sort of thing.”

  “Ahh.” Conner rubbed his chin. “We'd be in the news, eh? Really?”

  “Oh, definitely.” Tessa kept a straight face, even though she wasn't actually sure about that part. But she figured the winner would be posted on some kind of news, somewhere.

  “Well, it would be nice to get some acknowledgment for my work,” Conner said. “Heck, might bring me some more business down at the farmer's market. I could hang up the picture.” He held his hands up, framing the imagined photograph. “Conner Mackenzie's Award Winning Produce. I like the sound of that.”

  “So does that mean you'll do it?” Tessa smiled hopefully.

  “Well, sure. Why not?” Conner grinned. “Err, you did say you'd be paying for it all, right?”

  They worked out all of the arrangements, and over the next few weeks, Tessa stopped by each weekend to check on Conner's tomatoes. She even snuck out at night to measure Topher's crops so she could compare them to Conner's and find out which were bigger. And she spent more money than she probably should have on high-end fertilizers to help give Conner's crops as much of a boost as they could get.

  As the day of the gardening contest approached, she grew more and more nervous. She'd invested so much time and effort into this that she was starting to fear defeat. But she kept pressing forward. And every time she saw Topher out in the garden spraying his herbicide, it cemented her determination. She knew this was what she had to do.

  Chapter 11

  The night before the contest, Tessa and Samson had dinner together in her apartment. They talked for awhile over a bottle of wine, and eventually the topic of conversation came around to the gardening contest.

  “Are you sure you're not becoming too obsessed with this?” Samson asked. He wore a look of concern.

  “What? Me?” Tessa forced a laugh, shaking her head. “Look, I just want to make sure Topher gets what's coming to him, that's all. He ruined my tomato plants.”

  “So now you're going to ruin his chance to win the prize,” Samson said.

  Tessa frowned, giving her boyfriend an annoyed look. “Well, gee, when you say it like that, it almost sounds like I'm the bad guy.”

  Samson shrugged. He looked away, not meeting her eyes. “I'm not saying that, exactly.”

  “Then what, exactly?”

  He sighed and chewed on his lip. “Look, all I'm saying is, you're putting an awful lot of effort into making sure Topher doesn't win a silly blue ribbon.”

  “And a cash prize.”

  “Yeah, and how much money have you spent in the last few weeks to keep him from winning that?”

  Tessa looked away, digging her toe into the ground. “I'm not...sure. Exactly.”

  Samson gave her an impatient look. She refused to meet his eye. She hadn't quite spent as much as he thought on fertilizer. Just one jug of a really good brand that had cost her $124.95. Which wasn't that much. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

  “Maybe it's time to call it quits,” Samson said.

  “How can you say that?” Tessa planted her hands on her hips. “After what Topher did...”

  “All he did was spray some herbicide on his weeds.” Samson stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, listen. I think I know what's really going on here.”

  “What's going on is—”

  “Listen to me,” Samson said. “You were feeling guilty about what happened to Terry when he got sick. You thought it was your fault, and when it turned out it wasn't, you were left without an outlet for your guilt. So you directed it at the only target that was available. And hey, I'm no real fan of Topher, either. But come on. Like it or not, he works hard all year long to prep for this contest. I don't think it's fair of us to steal that from him.”

  “I can't believe you're taking his side.” She pulled away, turning her back on him.

  “I'm not taking anyone's side.” Samson sighed. “Look, Tessa, you know I love you. But—”

  “You do?” Tessa turned towards Samson, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, yeah.” He shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets.

  Tessa pouted, crossing her arms and looking down at her feet. “Well, that's the first time you ever said it.”

  Samson came over to her and wrapped his arms around her. She held herself tense for a moment, then gave in and laid her head against his chest. “Maybe this wasn't the best time,” Samson said. “But I mean it. I do love you.”

  “I love you too.” Tessa closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

  After a long silence, Samson said, “But I mean what I said. I think maybe you should give this up. Trying to get back at Topher is turning you into a spiteful person. And that's not the Tessa I fell in love with.”

  She pulled away, shaking her head. “I think maybe you should go.”

  “Tessa...”

  “Samson, please.” She turned away, hugging her arms around herself. She was filled with too many conflicting emotions right now, and she couldn't sort them all out.

  “All right,” he said. “I guess I'll see you when you get back tomorrow.”

  She shot him a shocked look. “You're not coming?”

  “No.” His jaw was set in determination. “I'm sorry, babe. It just doesn't feel right. But...good luck.”

  “Gee, thanks.”


  Samson left, and Tessa found herself alone and confused. When this whole mess had started, everything had seemed so clear. Topher was the enemy, and the enemy had to be stopped. That was how these things worked.

  But everything Samson had said was clashing with what she'd told herself she believed. Was she really just being spiteful? Was it possible that Topher wasn't such a bad guy after all?

  She poured herself another glass of wine and sat by the window, looking out over the darkened gardens. In the faint light from her window, she could make out her own shriveled tomato plants. They'd withered away to almost nothing in the last few weeks. She hadn't really been tending to them at all.

  She sipped at her wine, looking at her shriveled plants, and spent the rest of the night wrestling with the conflicting feelings churning inside of her.

  Chapter 12

  The morning of the gardening contest, Tessa went down to Terry's apartment and knocked on the door. He called for her to come in, and she found him huddled on his sofa, wearing his bathrobe and cradling a hot mug of tea in his hands.

  “Oh, Tessa, dear,” he said. “Is today the day? I've been a bit under the weather. I guess I just forgot.”

  “Is everything okay?” She looked him over with a concerned frown, fearing another trip to the hospital.

  “Oh, nothing too serious.” He forced a smile, though she could see the strain in his eyes. “Just my age catching up with me. Especially with all this heat we've been having lately.”

  “I don't want you to make yourself sick.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his shoulder. “You stay home and rest.”

  “All right. I hope you and Samson have a good time.”

  Tessa hesitated, not sure how to tell him that Samson wasn't coming. She decided to avoid the subject altogether. “I'm sure it's going to go great. I'll let you know when I get back.”