by Radclyffe
“The more chance we might end up contaminating our own land or someone else’s,” Pete Townsend shot out.
“One thing I never do, Mr. Townsend, is provide facts before I’m very sure of what I’m saying. There’s no room for guesswork in my business.” Clay remembered him in the tavern when he’d had his hand on Tess, had loomed over her as if he’d been trying to intimidate her. Tess hadn’t backed away from him, but the tension around her eyes signaled she was uncomfortable. Clay didn’t like people who made Tess uncomfortable. She gazed at him steadily for a long moment until the room grew suddenly quiet. Men like him would see her directness as a challenge, and she wanted him to. If he planned on bothering Tess, she wanted him to remember her face. And it was time to send the rest of her message to everyone else in the room—she had come to do a job and she planned to do it. “I don’t make empty promises…and I don’t run from threats, empty or otherwise. I don’t ask for trouble, and drilling indiscriminately is the fastest way to run into it.” She kept her eyes on Townsend, whose mouth had curled into a snarl. “I don’t much like surprises. When I sink my drills, I already know what I’m going to find.”
She glanced around the room and saw less animosity and suspicion in the faces looking back than she had before she’d started talking. The decision to crash the meeting had been worth it, no matter how much the cost in pain. “I appreciate you letting me interrupt your meeting. I’ll leave my cards at the back of the room with my number. Any of you can reach me if you have questions or anything else you’d like to discuss.”
She glanced quickly at Tess, whose brief smile did more to help the headache than any of the painkillers she’d taken earlier, and walked back down the center of the aisle with measured steps. Ella, who’d been leaning against the wall next to the door, followed Clay outside.
Once on the steps, Ella angled close to her and pressed a hand to the small of her back. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better,” Clay muttered. Ella had parked the SUV on the grass close to the front of the building, and Clay didn’t have far to walk. Even those twenty paces took most of the energy she had left. By the time Ella opened the back door of the SUV for her, Clay was light-headed. Behind her, people began filing out of the Grange, their voices a low indistinguishable rumble on the air, like thunder in the distance, presaging a storm to come.
Clay gripped the top of the rear door and eased onto the seat. She paused before settling in for the ride, searching the faces leaving the building. Tess came down the steps with a middle-aged man half a head shorter than her, and whatever they were saying made Tess laugh. The gibbous moon, sailing free above the clouds, lit her features clearly. She was more beautiful than she’d been as a teenager, and she’d stopped Clay’s heart then. Now the luminous glow of her delicately etched features created such longing, Clay’s chest ached with some primitive need to reach out and claim her for her own.
Tess turned her head as if she could feel Clay’s gaze, and her lips parted as if she meant to speak. Clay gripped the door handle and pulled herself back to her feet.
Ella, just about to swing the door closed, said, “What are you doing?”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Clay, you’re in no—”
“I’m okay.” Clay made her way across the grass to Tess. Strangers she barely noticed streamed by on either side of her. She and Tess might have been alone on the pine-needle-strewn slope leading down to the lake’s edge where they’d met so many nights under the moon. The cool breeze off the lake was missing tonight, though, and the distant cry of the loons had been replaced by a symphony of croaks and buzzes and chirps. They weren’t teenagers and they weren’t at the lake, but Tess was still all she could see.
“Hi, Tess,” Clay said, a million other words choking in her throat.
“I didn’t expect you’d come tonight,” Tess said, although she didn’t know why she was surprised. Stubborn didn’t begin to do Clay justice, and she was very good at hiding what she felt—at least from most people. But Tess wasn’t fooled. Clay’s voice had been steady and strong the entire time she’d stood in front of the room, but her eyes had been nearly black with pain, and a fine sheen of sweat had coated her brow. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, let alone walking around. How did you get Ella to let you come here?”
“I threatened to fire her.”
“It would take more than that,” Tess murmured, sliding her hand around Clay’s forearm. She tugged gently. “Come on, you need to get back in the car. Ella needs to take you home to bed.”
Clay’s brow elevated and her quicksilver grin flashed. “What if that isn’t what I had in mind?”
“Stop that,” Tess said, ignoring her skipping pulse. She couldn’t control her biology, and Clay just had that certain something that tripped all her switches. “You’re in no shape to flirt, either.”
“I’m not flirting.” Clay laughed softly, and the low husky rumble was as seductive as a kiss. “What I am, though, is really hungry. I need dinner. Come with me.”
“What? No!” Tess jerked her hand away and glanced around for Ella to bail her out. Ella leaned against the SUV, her arms folded across her chest, a faintly amused smile on her face. When she saw Tess looking her way, she shook her head. Tess glared at Clay. “No.”
“Why not? I bet you haven’t had anything to eat. I haven’t. And I don’t think either of us had breakfast, either.”
“Whether I ate or not is irrelevant. I’m not having dinner with you.”
Clay sidestepped and blocked Tess’s path. “It’s only dinner, Tess.”
Tess had to stop too or run into her. Clay was only inches away in the dark, but Tess felt her along every inch of her body. Nothing with Clay was only anything. “What are you doing?”
“I’d like company for dinner tonight,” Clay said. “Your company. We’ll eat and relax. We won’t talk business.”
“Then what do we talk about?”
Clay laughed. “Whatever people talk about when they’re having dinner together. The food, the weather, baseball scores.”
Tess frowned. “I don’t follow baseball.”
“Don’t say that too loudly.” Clay’s eyes danced and some of the darkness in them receded. “Ella is a fanatic. She can quote any statistic for the last hundred years, probably.”
“You’re both very strange,” Tess said.
“Come on.” Clay took her hand, surprising Tess so much she didn’t pull away. Clay tugged her toward the car, calling to Ella, “Tess and I are going to dinner. We’ll drop you at the B and B.”
“You can’t drive, Clay,” Ella said.
Relieved at the opportunity for a buffer between her and Clay’s unnerving magnetism, Tess jumped in. “Well, you can come to dinner with us too.”
Ella glanced at Clay. “Actually, Tess, you can drive.”
“Oh, but—”
“Really,” Ella said. “I appreciate the invitation, but some other night would be better.”
“It’s settled, then.” Clay pulled Tess into the SUV with her, and Tess sank into the buttery leather as far away from Clay as she could mange. As the SUV slid away from the Grange into the dark countryside, she wondered what she was doing. No, she knew what she was doing. She wanted to spend time with Clay, as foolish as that might be. She’d wanted to be with her from the instant she’d seen her walking down the center of the room. Before that even, when Clay had roared up to her farm on a shiny black motorcycle. Being around Clay was more exciting than anything else she knew. Just dinner, Clay had said—she could go along, and pretend that’s all it was.
*
Tess drove to a small, casual restaurant in Greenwich where the home-cooked food was excellent and the service unintrusive. Beside her, Clay sighed, leaned her head back, and seemed content not to talk. Tess didn’t mind the silence—it gave her a chance to observe Clay unobserved. Fatigue and pain had painted shadows beneath her eyes, but she was still beautiful—her face boldly
carved and strong, her body compact and radiating a muscular sensuality. Tess barely resisted the urge to rest her hand on Clay’s thigh, instead gripping the wheel even harder. She couldn’t trust herself to behave rationally around Clay—her emotions were all over the place—first angry, then protective, then aroused.
“Wonderful,” she muttered.
“What?” Clay asked without opening her eyes.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Nope. Just enjoying the quiet.”
Tess slowed to park. “We’re here.”
Clay caught her arm before she could open her door. “Do you think it’s as strange as I do that one minute I think I know you and the next I have no idea who you are?”
Tess’s throat closed. “Please don’t, Clay. Not tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Tess.” Clay rubbed her eyes. “I’m off my game.”
“I’d prefer that to what I’m sure is a very smooth and practiced routine, if I were interested in any game at all. Which I’m not.” She tried to keep her tone light. Clay had opened herself up, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving herself vulnerable in return. Clay was not herself tonight, she’d admitted as much. And Tess had no idea who she really was or what the next day could bring.
“Okay.” Clay smiled weakly. “Just dinner.”
After they ordered, they didn’t talk about business or baseball or the weather or politics. Clay asked her about the farm, and before Tess realized it, she was explaining to Clay what it took to convert a standard dairy farm to an organic dairy one. When she paused to let the waitress take her plate away, she shook her head. “Wow. I sure monopolized that conversation. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Clay said, finishing her second glass of iced tea. “It’s fascinating. I never realized it took so long to make the transition, but when you outline everything that has to happen, it makes sense. All the animals, of different ages and history, getting certified—it’s like a rotation system, right?”
Tess nodded. “Something like that, yes. The calves and ones under a certain age are naturally certified from birth since everything they’re ever fed is organic, and presumably everything they’re drinking is too. But the older ones—well, it takes time.”
“I think it’s great, Tess. And jumping on the yogurt thing now is a really smart move.”
Tess swelled with pride. So many people had tried to dissuade her, first Ray before he’d become too disinterested in anything to care what she did with the farm, and then a half dozen neighbors including Pete Townsend, who told her the plan was costly, time-consuming, and might not pay for itself. Of course, usually their advice was followed by a lowball offer to buy her land. As if she would just give it away. For the longest time, she’d been completely alone in her dreams. Hearing Clay support her made her happy.
“What?” Clay asked gently.
Tess felt her face flush. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just—not very many people have been supportive of my plans.”
“Well, that’s because they don’t know you very well,” Clay said with conviction. “Or they weren’t paying attention. It’s obvious you wouldn’t start something if you didn’t have a pretty good idea it would be successful, and you’ve clearly researched everything thoroughly, and you’ll do whatever it takes to succeed.”
“Why are you so sure of that, Clay?” Tess asked, almost daring to believe Clay really saw her, really understood.
“We might not know each other now, but we aren’t strangers either. Some things don’t change.” Clay’s face grew solemn. “And I know the things about you that will never change—your determination, your drive, your passion. If this is what you want, I know you’ll fight for it, and I know you’ll succeed.”
“Even if that means fighting you?”
“You don’t have to fight me.” Clay leaned forward, her gaze so magnetic Tess felt herself being pulled forward, deeper into the vortex of Clay’s spell. “Let me help you.”
Tess swallowed, pulled away from Clay’s intense eyes. “I told everyone at the meeting tonight I was going to let your team on my land.”
“I heard you. Thank you.”
“I’m not sure I haven’t made a mistake.” Tess gripped the edge of the table. Steadied herself. “Now I’ll have to trust you.”
“Is that so hard?” Clay asked.
“Just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Clay grasped Tess’s hand, her fingers, strong and warm, sliding between Tess’s as smoothly as a glove.
“I’m sorry that you feel that way,” Clay said, “and I’m the reason that you do. But I’m asking you to trust me now. I promise I won’t lie to you.”
“All right,” Tess said. “Just this once.”
“It’s a beginning,” Clay said softly.
“No,” Tess said, pulling her fingers away. “It isn’t. It’s business. I need to know where I stand if and when you start drilling.”
Clay leaned back in her chair. “I meant what I said about the independent verification. Getting an outside group to confirm our findings might be the only thing to convince some of your neighbors.”
“I was thinking about that,” Tess said. “I think I know someone.”
“How is that?” Clay asked.
“We aren’t the only ones who’ve changed,” Tess said. “Dev Weber works for the DEC. And she studies water, among other things.”
Clay laughed. “You’re kidding me. Dev?”
“That’s not all,” Tess said quietly. “She and Leslie are together.”
Pain flashed across Clay’s face before she could hide it. “Are they.”
“Yeah, weird, isn’t it? Who would’ve thought.”
“Dev never talked about much of anything personal, and never about Leslie, but I wondered sometimes. When they were together, you could see it.” Clay grimaced. “Of course, I was pretty much only ever looking at you.”
Tess signaled for the waitress who was clearing a nearby table. “We’re ready for the check now.” When she was sure she could keep the anger and hurt from erupting, she glanced back at Clay. “Well, I’m glad we got things settled.”
“Did we?” Clay asked.
“We did.” Tess smiled. “For the moment, we’ll do business, but I’ll make no promises about the future.”
“No,” Clay said quietly. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Chapter Seventeen
Late in the morning of the twenty-eighth day without rain, Tess stood on her porch and shielded her eyes against the ever-present glaring sun, following the dark shapes of the off-road vehicles and trucks crawling slowly along the crest of the hill that rose beyond her barn. Clay’s crew had been prowling about at first light every day for five days, marking drill sites with sonar and boring holes and measuring water pressure in the underground tables and doing whatever else they needed to do to map the configuration of the natural gas pockets and project where the water they pumped down the shafts of the tubes they drilled into the deep shale would come from and go to. As she understood it, the water would be pulled from the local aquifer, millions upon millions of gallons, and forced down narrow channels thousands of feet into the earth to open pathways for the gas to stream upward and be collected. The water and chemical solvents and sand pumped in would flow back out into containment chambers where it could be collected and safely disposed of. She understood the theory, and she understood that theories did not always translate into practice.
The puffs of smoke from the diesel engines, the distant whine of heavy machinery, and the occasional rumble of male voices on the wind were foreign to the usual chorus filling her days. She sometimes felt as if an invading army had camped on her land while she waited behind flimsy barricades for the first volley to sail overhead and shatter the harmony of her life.
She feared the peace she might lose could never be reclaimed, and yet could think of no other course to take. She’d told Clay she would trust her and fretted she might have been a fool to think she could.
She hadn’t spoken to Clay except in a brief phone conversation two days after the dinner where they’d declared a temporary truce. Clay had confirmed she would be bringing her crew that day, and they’d been at it all week since. Clay had been polite on the phone, completely professional and carefully distant, and Tess hadn’t known how to ask her if she’d recovered from the hit-and-run.
She heard the distinctive roar of a motorcycle engine most mornings and saw Clay’s Harley parked at the foot of the hill, but Clay didn’t pull up to her porch in a spray of gravel and grit the way she once had, offering her a spin into the freedom of the road. Whatever fragile personal connection they’d forged hadn’t lasted beyond the dinner they’d shared. She’d made it clear she hadn’t wanted anything more, and apparently Clay had heard her.
She should have been happy about that, and she was—or she would be, if the nagging sense of something missing would stop plaguing her. The only thing missing in her life was rain.
Annoyed with her annoyance, Tess turned her back on the activity on the hillside and looked out over the fields as she did almost every hour, as if expecting to see something different. The crops were browner every day, and her feed reserves were growing slim. If she had to supplement by buying feed, she’d need to cull the herd after a few weeks. She simply didn’t have the money to feed the number of cattle she had, and she’d have no choice but to slaughter the cows near the end of their fertility cycle or those who didn’t produce as much milk as others. She’d lose all the way around if it came to that—dairy cows didn’t bring as high a price as beef cattle when slaughtered, their muscle mass being proportionately less, and she’d lose the milk that she would have profited from as well.
Tess sighed and leaned her head against the porch post, wondering if perhaps she ought to consider the rain dance Cliff had suggested. Out of better ideas and not quite ready to bare her behind to the moon, she turned to go back inside and stopped when she saw a black open-topped ATV barreling down the slope toward the house. Ella pulled up a minute later and jumped out.
