It was a serious moment for him, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being way too kind! My last boyfriend was cheating on me the entire relationship and I only just figured it out the day I met you. How’s that for wise?”
“But you believe in good, Jenna. You see the good. You have hope and optimism and I lost all that.”
“I guess I do.” She thought of her family and the terrible fiasco of a dinner they’d had so recently. “Well, most days I do.”
“You make me want to hope, too.”
“What would you hope for?” She closed her eyes, keeping her arms tight around his waist. “If you were hopeful?”
Sandro sighed and she felt his chest move. “I’m not sure. All I wanted before I met you was peace and quiet and a restaurant in Benson. Now it’s more complicated. I know I want to keep Paul safe and make him happy.”
“Does that mean he can keep dancing?”
She felt his smile against the top of her head. Then he straightened and put his hands on her shoulders, setting her a step back from him. “See? You don’t give up.” Sandro put two fingers under her chin and tilted it so she was looking up into his face. In the orange glow of the streetlight his eyes were soft. “You’re teaching me not to give up, either. And, yes, he can dance.”
His mouth came down on hers and his lips were gentle, exploring, sliding over hers so quietly. Jenna felt the thrill of this new intimacy, of knowing him so much better than she did before, of being wrapped up with him so closely. His mouth opened hers, and she savored his taste, kissing him back, tracing her tongue over his teeth. The gentleness between them shifted, heated, and he quickly became more demanding, pushing down, taking control. Jenna closed her eyes to better taste the salt of him, to savor the way his hair felt silky tangled in her fingers, to know the way it felt to be trapped by the steel of his muscled arms.
Sutter Street was gone and there was just Sandro. He turned her carefully until she was the one leaning on the gate. He pressed against her, his lean length covering her until her awareness narrowed to the iron bars on her back and the muscle and strength of him along her front. Her breasts ached where they brushed his chest, and heat that was almost pain pooled in her abdomen.
His hands wrapped around the sides of her neck, her ribs, her waist, and she sensed him everywhere, along and around her. She pushed away from the gate to press closer to him and a low sound escaped his throat when she did. One hand unbuttoned her coat at the same time that she was trying to calm her shaking hands enough to unzip his. He deftly won the race and his fingers slid under her thin sweater, bringing the damp night air with them. His wide palm found her rib cage. His fingers found her bra and dipped inside it seeking her breast. She moaned when he found it and he kissed her more deeply.
The sound of nearby voices distracted her. A car door slammed behind Sandro, then another, and Jenna heard a woman’s high-pitched giggling. And in response, a gruff voice so familiar she’d know it anywhere. She gasped and pushed Sandro off her, yanking her sweater down, thankful they were in the shadow of the dark building.
She straightened and watched her father pay the driver through the yellow cab’s window. Her stomach flipped in a sickening thud when he took the arm of a woman about half his age—a platinum blonde in a fur coat who leaned on him as he guided her up the steps of the hotel across the street.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, and started buttoning her coat as fast as she could. “Oh, no.” Tears were starting and she brushed them away with her sleeve.
“Jenna, what’s going on?” Sandro asked. “Do you need me to back off?”
“It’s not you.” She pointed to the hotel, where she could see her father and his companion through the windows speaking with the receptionist. “That’s my father,” she said quietly. “In the lobby there.” She pointed. “He’s supposed to be home with my mother.”
Sandro craned his neck and she saw his face tighten in anger when he caught sight of her dad.
“I am so sick of him and his lies.” The shock was fading as anger took over. White-hot self-righteous anger as recent memories flooded in. His disdain for her at dinner the other night. His callous treatment of her mother and the way he’d brushed off Jenna’s concern about her mom’s drinking. He was probably hoping his wife would just drink herself to death, and he could have all the women he wanted without the stigma of a divorce.
She waited for traffic to clear and started across the street. Sandro followed and when they got to the foot of the hotel steps, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “Hang on, Jenna. What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to yell at him—what do you think?” Jenna broke free and climbed the steps quickly, afraid she’d lose sight of them. She rummaged through her purse with one hand as she climbed, trying to find her cell phone. She pulled it out and turned it on. “And I want pictures.”
She pushed her way through the revolving door, scanning through the glass for her dad and his...girlfriend? Hookup? They were still at the front desk. The receptionist was handing her father a key. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it reverberating through her body. She paused on shaking knees. “Say cheese, Dad!” she called, almost spitting the sarcastic words out. And when he whirled, the color draining out of his face, she snapped a couple of photos. “There. Now you have your night out recorded for posterity!”
Her father let go of his companion’s hand and stepped forward nervously. “Jenna! What are you doing here?” he hissed. “Were you following me?”
“You think you’re so important in my life that I’d follow you around? I was walking by and I saw you go in. When are you planning on telling Mom about this?”
“Your mother? There’s nothing to tell. I was just walking Marie here to her hotel. She’s in town for business.” Marie was standing behind her father, and Jenna saw her frown when he lied.
“Oh, really?” Jenna stepped around her father so she could be face-to-face with Marie. “Marie, hi, I’m Jenna. You’re here on business, huh? You weren’t about to sleep with my father?”
Marie went pale under her makeup. “Well, I...”
“Jenna, how can you be so rude?”
“That’s what you care about right now, Dad? That we’re polite to each other? That we don’t make a scene?” She took a step closer to him and stopped, hands on her hips. “Personally, I think what matters is that you’re cheating on Mom. Though, come to think of it, that’s not really news, since you’ve done it so many times before. So maybe what we should be talking about is how you keep lying to her about it. Deep down she knows you’re lying and it’s making her crazy. It’s making her drink!”
“Jenna, you’re overreacting—”
“Stop! Stop pretending that you’re better than me simply because you lack any emotions! You might know some things about business, but you don’t know crap about being a good person. Stop lying to Mom and the rest of your family. It is not okay!” Her voice was ringing out loud and clear, and the few guests who’d been relaxing in the lobby armchairs were on their feet, hesitant, probably ready to dive under the tables if Jenna truly lost it and pulled out a weapon or something.
But she stopped short of completely losing it. She might have, but a large, warm hand gently gripped her shoulder and she glanced back. Sandro was there, and there was comfort in his presence. She took a deep, shaky breath and the fiery anger slowed to a sizzle. Relief surfaced. At least her dad’s infidelity was out in the open now, and maybe her mom could finally heal.
Her father was staring at Sandro with a stricken expression. He turned to Jenna. “You brought one of your boyfriends in here to witness this?”
She laughed at his attempted insult. “Dad, this is Sandro. We were just out for a drink tonight. He followed me in because he’s nice, and he wanted to be supportive of me. Two things you couldn’t possibly understand.�
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“Evening.” Sandro nodded at her dad. He kept his hand on Jenna’s shoulder, making it clear that he had her back.
“So, Dad, are you going to tell Mom about this? Or should I?”
“What happens between me and your mother is our business, Jenna,” her father said loftily.
“So I take it that means you’ll tell her? Remember—” she held up her camera “—I have photos.”
Marie looked so shocked that Jenna wondered if the woman had even known her father was married. His gold wedding band was missing from his hand.
“I think I’ll just call it a night,” Marie said, taking the keys out of her father’s hand. “Good night, Charles.”
She turned on her stilettos and marched over to the elevators. Her back was to them as she waited for the car to arrive. She didn’t turn around again.
Jenna’s father sighed, watching her with regret etched on his face.
Regret, not guilt, Jenna noted. “Go home and talk to Mom. She deserves to know the truth.” A numb exhaustion crept over her—she didn’t want to be here anymore.
Sandro must have seen it, or sensed it. He steered her firmly to the lobby door, pushing it open for her with one hand, supporting her across the shoulders with the other, away from her mess of a father and out into the welcoming fresh air.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JENNA WAS SHAKING, grateful for Sandro’s arm supporting her as they silently descended the steps back down onto Sutter Street. She walked quickly once they hit the sidewalk, and to her relief, Sandro merely followed, giving her some space. He didn’t speak until she led them back to Hyde Street. She needed to walk, to burn off the anger and hurt, and there were steep hills there.
“Jenna, wait.” She paused in front of a laundry. It was open late and the homey scents of soap and dryer sheets wafted onto the sidewalk. “Can I do anything for you?”
She didn’t want to talk, couldn’t talk. She just wanted to keep moving until the lump in her throat dissolved. “If you need to get home, I understand,” she told him. “But I think I’ll take a walk.”
“I can go with you, if you’d like company.”
“Sure.” She did want his company, which was kind of odd. Sandro the recently reformed womanizer seemed a strange person to seek comfort from tonight.
Sandro took her hand and they started up Hyde. Jenna tried to process what she’d seen—her dad about to sleep with someone. She tried to let it go. Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. But the Serenity Prayer was offering little serenity at the moment. At least there was exercise. After conquering a few steep hills, Jenna felt some of the emotion subsiding. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that,” she said.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I don’t usually scream and yell in random hotel lobbies.”
He smiled down at her. “I didn’t imagine that was your usual style.”
She felt the need to explain herself. “Just a couple weeks ago I was at my parents’ house for dinner. I tried to bring up that my mom is drinking too much. My dad treated me as if I was some kind of crazy person. A pariah. He practically threw me out of the house. So tonight, to see him doing something so wrong, after that night and after all the years he’s spent judging me and looking down on me simply because I wanted to dance—it just made me crazy.”
“I get it.” Sandro smiled. “I admire you, honestly. I sometimes wish I could just have it out with my dad like that. Tell him to stop trying to get me to take over the ranch for him.”
“He still thinks you might?”
“While I was growing up, and ever since I got back home. I offer to help. Of course I want to help out—I love the ranch. But I feel like he’s always hoping it will turn into more. It won’t, because my first priority is my restaurant and it always will be. Plus, it’s not fair to my brothers. Joe and Gabe really love the ranch. They’re the ones who want it. I’m sure it hurts them that he can’t acknowledge all they’ve done and instead spends so much time trying to convince me to take their place.”
They’d crossed Jackson Street, and a rumbling and clanking behind them had them both glancing back. A cable car was rounding the corner to turn onto Hyde. “Have you ever ridden one?” Jenna asked.
“Nope,” Sandro answered, and a wistful look brushed across his face. “That whole first year after I left home, when I lived here, I just worked nonstop. I never did any of the tourist stuff.” He smiled suddenly and reached for her hand. “Want to hop on?”
“Sure,” Jenna answered. Why not? She needed an adventure right now. A distraction. Anything. Sandro led her across the street at a jog and when the car pulled up, they jumped onto the outside step. It was nearly empty. Sandro handed the driver their fare and Jenna sat on the wooden bench that always felt like a piece of history. Sandro stood on the step along the outside of the car.
“You can sit.” She had to raise her voice over the clanking sound of the cable. “It’s a rare thing to get a seat—it’s hardly ever this empty!”
“I’ve always wanted to ride on the outside!” Sandro was hanging on to the brass pole and leaning out just a little, watching the pavement disappear beneath them. “Just like you see in all the tourist photos. Come on. It’s awesome—do it with me!”
Jenna got up and went to stand in front of him, hanging on to the pole as the street slipped dizzyingly by under her feet. It was exhilarating, especially as they jangled down the steep hills, past the old Victorian houses tumbling toward the bay. They were descending into thick fog, the world getting more hazy and mysterious with every block.
“This is way better than I thought!” Sandro called to her. The grin on his face made him look younger, more like Paul.
“It’s amazing!” she agreed. The lights on the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island were blurry patches of lighter-colored fog, but Jenna pointed them out anyway. It never got old, the vivid landmarks that defined her city.
The car stopped in Aquatic Park at the foot of Hyde Street. The enormous sign that usually spelled out Ghirardelli Square was just a smear of illuminated fog. Jenna led Sandro around the side of the old brick building and up the steps to the fountain, with its bronze lily pads and mermaids. The seafood restaurant was still open. “Do you want to go in for a drink or anything?” Sandro asked.
Jenna was cold but not ready to go inside just yet. She wanted to drink the damp fresh air in enormous gulps. It quieted her mind and lifted her spirits. She pulled her skirt down over her knees, wishing she’d brought more layers. Her vintage wool jacket wasn’t meant for outdoor adventures. “Can we keep walking just a little more?”
When Sandro nodded, Jenna led him down the flights of stairs to Beach Street. She crossed, heading for the bay. Waves sloshed at the tiny beach and they walked slowly along the sand. Jenna put her fingers in the water, inhaling the briny smell, and then reached up and touched Sandro’s forehead. “There. First a cable car ride, now baptized by bay water. You’re officially a true San Franciscan.”
“No, you’re a true San Franciscan, you groovy little pagan.”
Jenna burst into laughter at his unexpected teasing. “I’m not a pagan!”
“Just groovy, then.”
“Born and raised—what do you expect?” She dipped her hand in for a little more water and sent it spattering over his head. “Is that better?”
Laughing, he grabbed her around the waist and swung her up, dangling her over the foamy shore, threatening to drop her in. She wriggled in his arms and brought her knees up so he couldn’t get her feet wet. When he set her down, she took off running, glad she’d worn her comfy combat boots with her dress. Wide cement steps rose above the beach almost like an amphitheater and she darted up to the top, Sandro following, both of them laughing.
It was even darker up here. Mist-shro
uded cypress trees shaded them from streetlights. A wall blocked them from the rest of the park and Beach Street beyond. They flopped down next to each other on the top step. The muffled darkness of the foggy night worked its magic and they both quieted. Sandro put his arm around Jenna and she moved close, seeking his warmth.
It was comforting sitting in the anonymous darkness, listening to the water hit the sand. A foghorn cut through the quiet. Growing up in Seacliff, so near the entrance to the Golden Gate, Jenna had heard the sound most nights. Many people found it a mournful noise, but Jenna loved its somber tone.
“Are you okay?” Sandro finally asked. “About what happened with your dad?”
That was a challenging question right now. “I think so,” Jenna answered. “I just feel empty. It’s so out of my control, you know? I guess I just have to decide whether or not to tell my mother. I’m pretty sure my dad won’t.”
Staring out into the dark mist, she tried to absorb what had happened. What was wrong with her family? Her dad was cheating, and when she’d discovered it, she’d been wrapped up in the arms of a man so notorious for cheating that she’d been warned away from him by one friend and told his war stories by another. Why the need to play with such fire? Why was she putting herself at risk again? She must have sighed, because Sandro pulled away a bit, forcing her to sit up straight. He looked down. “Jenna?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”
“It can’t be easy knowing what you know about your dad.”
“It’s not him, really. It’s me. I’m pathetic. I’m like a case study in a self-help book for people who make terrible relationship choices. My father cheats. So what do I do? I find Brent, who cheated. I find Jeff, who cheated. And now I find you, who cheated on people up until about a year ago and, as far as I know, hasn’t actually put his new morals to the test.” She regretted her harsh words as soon as she saw him wince.
“I left the party last weekend because of my new morals. I turned down your friend Tess because of my new morals. Doesn’t that mean anything?” He looked out over the bay, and she could feel his frustration like an aura around him.
More Than a Rancher Page 16
