by Jennie Marts
“Oh, she knew. Everyone always knows.”
“Hoss, you have got to get over this thing about women using you to get to me. It happened a couple of times, and once was when we were in high school. So what? If that was the kind of women they were, you didn’t want them anyway. And that was a long time ago. We’re grown men now. And believe me, you’re a hell of a lot better catch than I am anyway.”
“Oh yeah, right. You’re just a rich guy who’s a professional hockey star.”
“So what? You’re just a rich guy who runs a successful ranch.”
“Those are completely different kinds of rich.”
“Doesn’t matter. There’s no reason for any woman to pick me over you. We’ve both got money, and we’re both successful. Plus we’ve both got the James family’s devilishly good looks.”
Mason let out a light chuckle.
“My point is that you’ve got plenty of things going for you, Mace. And Tess saw those things in you. She couldn’t care less about me. Even today, when she came to talk to Quinn and me, all she could talk about was you and how she didn’t want to hurt you.”
Mason’s hand stilled on the dog’s back. “What do you mean when she came to you and Quinn? Came to you about what?”
“To tell us the truth about who she was and why she was here.”
“I didn’t know she did that. Did she admit that the only reason she was here was to dig up dirt on you and write some trashy article for a rag magazine?”
“Not in so many words, but yes. She told us the truth about the story and why it was so important. But she apologized and said she wouldn’t turn it in until we read it and gave her our blessing.”
“But she’s already turned it in.”
“I know. We told her she could.”
“But why? Why would you let her turn in a story like that? Why would you let her print a bunch of trash about you being a bad boy who couldn’t settle down and Quinn being a gold digger?”
Rock let out a chuckle. “Because that wasn’t what the story was about. She told us her boss wanted some kind of ‘hit piece’ that covered all the dirt of our wedding and smeared my name, but that’s not the story Tess wrote. She wrote this beautiful article about redemption and forgiveness and how we found each other again after all these years. It was really freaking beautiful, man. I acted pissed, but it almost brought me to tears. Hell, it did make Q cry.”
Mason shook his head. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His brother was actually sticking up for Tess—for the woman who had tricked them. For a reporter, for frick’s sake.
“You usually hate news stories about you.”
“I know. But that’s because they usually report on what a schmuck they think I am. This was different. And it wasn’t all about me. Or Quinn. I mean, it was. But it was also about second chances. I’m telling you, it was good. And it impressed me that she came to us first and talked to us about it. She was all torn up, and she was freaking out about how she was going to tell you about it when you got back. It’s obvious that woman really cares about you.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that she lied.”
“True. But we’ve all made mistakes and done things we wish we could take back. I know I’ve done tons of stupid shit, said loads of things I wish I could forget or erase. And so have you. That’s what makes us human. And the fact that we’ve all screwed up is what gives us the strength to offer forgiveness to others.”
Mason shrugged. Could he forgive Tess?
“Letting yourself care about someone is almost a guarantee that you will get hurt. No relationship is perfect, and sometimes you hurt each other. But then you forgive each other and move on. Because the good stuff far outweighs the bad. So you just have to decide if she’s worth the risk of getting hurt. If she’s worth fighting for.”
Mason rubbed a hand across his neck and offered his brother a wry smile. “You say some pretty smart stuff for being a dumb jock.”
“That’s because I’m a dumb jock who knows what he’s talking about. Remember, I almost let my pride get in the way of winning back the best thing that ever happened to me. I made stupid mistakes with Quinn, and it almost cost me everything. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s what big brothers are for. To watch out for their little brothers and knock some sense into them when they need it.” Rock finished the last swallow of his beer and stood up from his chair. “Now, quit your moping and go to bed. I need you sharp tomorrow. I’m getting married, you know.”
Mason chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”
Chapter 22
Tessa stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, her eyes dry and gritty from her crying jag the night before.
“Good morning, sunshine,” her grandmother said, holding up the pot of coffee. “Pour you a cup?”
Tess nodded and sagged into a kitchen chair.
Mimi set a steaming cup of coffee and the container of creamer in front of her. “You planning to mope around here all day?”
“That was the plan. You got a better idea?”
“In fact, I do.”
Before her grandmother could share her idea, Tess’s phone rang. Hope sprang in her chest that it was Mason, but it was only her boss.
She considered for a moment letting the phone ring. He could leave a message if it was important.
But in the middle of her pity party the night before, she’d made a decision. A big one.
She was tired of being asked to write hit pieces that aired dirty laundry and shared the secrets and gossip in Colorado. Writing Rock and Quinn’s love story had filled something in her. She was proud of what she’d created. It wasn’t just a story about two people; it was a story about all people. A story about second chances and forgiveness and grace.
It was the kind of story she wanted to write again. And that’s what she was going to tell her boss.
She picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Hi, Tess,” her boss’s voice boomed.
“Listen, Gordon, before you say anything, there is something I need to tell you. I spent a lot of time with Rock and Quinn, and they’re good people. I wrote a great story—one I’m proud of—and I’m not going to change it.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, good. Because I loved it. We’re going to run it in the next edition. It’s not our normal style, but the article was in-depth, and you captured a lot of details while drawing the reader into the story. You delivered on your side of the deal, and I’ve already cut you a check for the full bonus—two thousand dollars. You can pick it up in payroll on Monday.”
Well, she hadn’t expected that.
She paused and considered turning down the money. Just to prove to Mason he was more important than any story.
But maybe she should have considered that the day before. Heck, maybe she should have considered not turning in the story at all. Or trying to retract it after she’d sent it.
Rock and Quinn had been so great. Yeah, they’d been mad at first, when she’d admitted to being a reporter, but both gave their blessing for the article after she’d explained everything and they’d both read it.
She’d been so happy, so glad to be able to turn in the story and get the money to help her grandmother, that she’d dictated it into her phone and sent the first draft to her boss as soon as she’d gone back to Mason’s.
In hindsight, she probably should have waited to talk to Mason. But what was it they said about hindsight—that it was a mother, or a dish best served cold with perfect vision? She couldn’t remember the exact metaphor, which made it an even better metaphor for the jumbled-up mess she’d made of her life the past few days.
Which seemed par for the course for her life.
All she’d wanted to do was help her grandmothe
r save their house. She hadn’t planned on hurting anyone and sure as heck hadn’t expected to fall in love. But that’s what she’d done. On both accounts.
And in the end, Mason was the one who’d ended up saving their house. Her grandmother had stopped at the bank on the way home from Denver and already paid off the late mortgage payments. So Tess would take the money from the magazine and use it to pay Mason back.
“That sounds fine,” she finally told Gordon. “But what about my job?”
“It’s yours again if you want it.”
Did she want it?
“Sorry, Gordon, but I loved writing this story…loved writing about something good, something that inspires people. I’m tired of being asked to report on news that showcases the worst in them. And I want a chance at some of the bigger features. I want to write articles that help people or offer some kind of hope. And if I can’t do that with you, I’ll find another magazine.”
She really meant it. She was tired of messing things up, making bad decisions that just screwed everything up.
“You don’t have to find another magazine. I was really impressed with this article. It’s the best writing I’ve seen from you, and I was thinking the magazine might benefit from something in this style anyway. Maybe we could come up with a monthly feature for you to work on. Why don’t you come in and see me this week, and we can talk more about it?”
“That sounds good.”
“All right. See you then.”
“See you then.” She hung up the phone with a satisfied grin. “Well, I told him.”
“You sure did,” Mimi said, raising her coffee cup in a toast. “I’m proud of you, girl.”
Tess clinked her cup to her grandmother’s and took a sip of coffee. Then she set down her cup and let out a sigh. “Now if I could only fix the other thing I screwed up. The most important one.”
“Why can’t you? Have you tried talking to him?”
“That’s part of the problem. He won’t talk to me. He said he didn’t want anything to do with me. And I tried texting him a couple of times last night, but he didn’t reply.”
“I’m not talking about this stupid texting nonsense. I’m talking about actually talking to him. And if he doesn’t want to talk to you, you need to find a way to make him listen.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know, by doing something different that’ll show him he’s worth the effort and that you want a second chance. Hire a skywriter, serenade him with a boom box, flash him your boobs, it doesn’t matter. Just do something. Do something that shows him he matters to you…that he’s important.”
“And you think flashing him my boobs is going to accomplish that? My boobs aren’t that great.” Although, it had been the way they’d met, so it might be worth a try.
“Don’t blame me. You got those from your mother’s side.” Her grandmother gave her chest a shimmy.
Tess rolled her eyes. “Not helping.”
“Okay, maybe that wasn’t one of my best ideas. You’re the creative one. I’m sure you can think of something big that will prove to him you’re truly sorry and deserve a second chance.” Mimi picked up her cup and took another sip of coffee. “Or you can sit around here all day in your pajamas and feel sorry for yourself. It’s your choice. But if it were me, and I had a chance at fixing things with a hotsie-totsie piece of cowboy beefcake, I’d sure as hell try.”
She made a good case.
And Tess couldn’t fix anything by sitting around moping.
She took a deep breath. She didn’t have to just let things happen to her. Not anymore.
The last few days had taught her that she was stronger than she thought, that she could be funny and self-assured and part of something bigger than herself. She’d already stepped out of her box with Mason. She’d shown him the real Tess—the Tess she truly was, and the one she wanted to be—and he’d liked her, maybe even fallen in love with her.
All this time, she’d felt unworthy of being loved, been crippled by the feeling that she didn’t deserve happiness because of what had happened with her parents. She’d been viewing herself through the eyes of some jerk and a few coworkers and had only seen the parts where she wasn’t enough, the parts they’d mocked and joked about.
But Mason hadn’t seen her like that at all. For the first time in a long time, she’d let her guard down. She’d lowered her defenses and let him see the real her. The woman who was helpful and useful, who teased and joked around instead of being a joke.
She’d shared with him her deepest secrets, her most humiliating moments, and he hadn’t laughed or pulled away or run for the hills. Instead, he’d gotten sad and mad, and was ready to dig in and go to battle for, and with, her.
For a few short days, she hadn’t seen herself as a slightly overweight, socially awkward, too-tall girl. Instead, she’d seen herself through Mason’s eyes. He’d made her feel like a confident, curvy woman who could be sexy and alluring, who could make a hot-as-hell cowboy fall to pieces with the touch of her hand on his skin.
When she’d been with Mason, she’d felt a new part of her blossom and grow. And not just the sexier part of her—the stronger part, the more confident part. The part of her that’d stepped out onto a porch to fight a couple of goons with a hockey stick. The part that’d wrangled cows and helped fixed a fence, that’d ridden a horse and stood up to her boss and fought for what she wanted. The part of her that’d sacrificed whatever it took to hold on to a little dog that she loved.
Pain tore at her heart as she realized she’d fought harder for the dog than she had for Mason.
So why was she letting the best thing that ever happened to her slip away without even putting up a fight? She wasn’t. Not now.
Not the new Tess.
The new Tess was going to put on some lipstick and a knockout dress and march into battle. Because what she had with Mason was worth fighting for.
And she would do whatever it took to prove that to him.
* * *
All the rehearsing must have paid off, because the wedding ceremony went off without a hitch.
Mason did his part—handed off the rings and smiled at Leanne, smiled at everyone, as he escorted her down the aisle after his brother and Quinn. He was still smiling—his cheeks hurt from smiling so much—but he was dying on the inside.
The happy couple sat at the head table, holding court as throngs of people flocked to give them best wishes and offer congratulations.
Mason needed a break. He didn’t think he could take one more well-wisher who smiled at Rock, then offered a pitying glance at him. Apparently, word had traveled fast that Mason had met someone new and that he and Tess were indeed an item. Unfortunately, the news of their breakup had traveled faster, spreading through the grapevine and the gossips in the reception hall.
He wasn’t sure which was worse: their earlier callous remarks about his sad state of singlehood or their pity for the fact that he’d almost had something, then lost it.
He pulled at his collar and made his way out of the reception hall. He needed some air.
A dark-haired woman stepped out of the kitchen and into the hallway in front of him. He recognized her as Angie Miller. She worked as a checker at the grocery store in town.
With a start, he also recognized the leather bag slung across her shoulder.
He quickened his step, trying to get a better look. Yes, he was sure—the brown leather and the little blue flowers along the top edge. That was Tess’s purse. It had to be.
But what was Angie Miller doing with Tess’s purse?
Maybe she had one that was similar. Yeah right.
Tess had said that bag was a designer brand and had cost her a pretty penny. There was no way Angie could afford a designer bag with one of her paychecks at the supermarket.
“Hey, Angie,” he said, catc
hing up to her and holding the door. “You leaving already?”
“Hey, Mason. Yeah, I got a shift at the market tonight. I was just helping my mom in the kitchen. She made Rock’s cake, ya know?”
“Oh yeah. It was great. Delicious.” He peered down at her purse and noted the silver daisy charm and the one flower that was hanging by a thread off the side. It was definitely Tess’s bag. But how did one go about starting a conversation with a woman about her purse? “Um, so that’s a nice bag you’ve got there.”
Real smooth.
She glanced down at the purse, then held it out with a note of pride in her voice. “Thanks. It’s not really my style. But it’s a designer bag—very expensive. It was a gift from my boyfriend.”
“Wow. Nice gift. Don’t you date one of the Harris boys?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, no offense intended, but where do you think he got the money to buy a nice purse like that?”
She shrugged. “He said he suckered it out of a rich city girl who traded it for some stupid farm dog that jumped out of their truck a couple days ago.”
Her words hit Mason like a punch to the gut. She had to be talking about Dewey. Tess must have traded her purse in order to keep the dog.
He pretended to study the bag. “I used to date a gal who had a thing for designer bags, and to tell you the truth, this one kind of looks like a knockoff to me. In fact, I’m almost sure it’s a fake. You can get those in Denver for, like, fifty bucks.”
She glanced down at the bag. “That son of a bitch. He told me this purse was worth five hundred dollars, and he gave it to me to square up the two hundred he owes me.”
Mason played it cool. He didn’t want to show his hand.
“He does sound like a jerk. And that’s a dang shame that now you’re carrying a cheap purse and you’re out the money that he owed you.” He rubbed a hand across his chin. “Tell you what… I’ve got a friend who would probably like that and wouldn’t know or care it was a fake. I’d give you a hundred for it.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “If it’s a knockoff, why are you willing to give me a hundred bucks for it?”
