More Than a Rancher

by Claire McEwen

  “I don’t know,” Jenna said. “It’s complicated.”

  “You know I made a pass at him, right?” Tess asked. “I’m sorry. If I’d known he was your date, I never would have done it.”

  “It’s okay, Tess. You didn’t know.”

  Samantha was looking from one of them to the other in disbelief. “Get this country girl up to speed here. Jenna, you invited him to Marlene’s but didn’t tell Tess? And, Tess, you didn’t know who he was and made a pass at him?”

  “You can’t blame me!” Tess smiled appreciatively. “He’s a handsome guy.”

  “Jenna, why are you keeping this so secret?” Samantha asked.

  “There wasn’t much to tell. There still isn’t. He lives in Benson and I live here. His brother’s only studying with me for another week or so. It was just a temporary thing, while he teaches a cooking class in the city.”

  “Jenna, do not get into this pattern again.” Tess’s expression was stern. She always looked out for those she loved. “You are so nice, and you let men take advantage of you. He’d better be paying for those lessons!”

  Jenna smiled at her friend’s fierce protectiveness. “He’s paying the full rate, don’t worry.”

  “What’s this guy like?” Tess turned toward Samantha. “Is he good enough for our Jenna?”

  Samantha took a sip of her champagne and stared into it, as if the answers might be found in the bubbles. “That’s a tough question. He seemed nice when he cooked for us at the ranch. That’s where he and Jenna first met. He’s gorgeous and obviously talented. Jack has enough faith in him to invest a bunch of money into the restaurant he’s planning.”

  “But?” Tess prompted.

  “He used to be really horrible about women,” Jenna blurted out with a knot in her stomach. “You know, egotistical, unfaithful, that kind of thing.”

  “Great.” Tess sat back, looking defeated. “Jenna, that is not what you need.”

  “It’s pretty much the last thing I need.”

  “But the problem is,” Samantha chimed in, “there’s this crazy chemistry between the two of them that just about lit our house on fire when they were together.”

  “Oh.” Tess was silent for a moment, staring down, tapping her fork on her napkin. Jenna could tell she was worried—Tess never fidgeted. “Jack left New York a long time ago. Maybe his information is old.”

  Jenna was relieved that her friend had introduced the idea. It made her feel a little less desperate. “He says he’s totally changed—left all his bad habits behind in New York. But I don’t know.... Can people change that much?” She remembered her dad, heading into a hotel with yet another random woman.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t count on it,” Tess said. “But hey, if he’s been around, maybe he’s totally amazing in bed or something. It might be worth it.”

  Jenna suddenly remembered the way he’d felt, so deep inside her on that bench. The blush returned.

  “Jenna, have you slept with him?” The grin on Tess’s face would have been at home on an alley cat.

  “Shush!” Samantha scolded her. Then she brought her voice down to a stage whisper. “Jen, did you? Isn’t that playing with fire?”

  “Probably.” Jenna leaned an elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand. “It was really, really amazing,” she confessed.

  “Sometimes it’s fun to be a pyro,” Tess murmured.

  Jenna laughed. It was good to have a friend who was never shocked. “I guess I took a page from your book for once, Tess. I just wanted to be with him. I know there’s no future for us in the long term. But we really like each other, so I just went for it.”

  “But, Jenna, what about everything we talked about in Benson? About you staying focused on your career right now?” Samantha signaled to the waiter. “We’re going to need some more champagne, please.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about that a lot since Sunday night....”

  “Which is when, I take it, you had wild sex?” Tess interrupted.

  “Yes, and...”

  “And where exactly did this wild sex take place?” Tess was like a terrier with a bone when it came to details.

  “Aquatic Park.”

  “What?” The squeal that emerged from her two friends had people at neighboring tables looking over.

  “You heard me!” Jenna said, unable to keep the grin off her face. It was kind of fun to be the wild one in her little group for a change.

  “As in outside? Where anyone could have seen?” Tess asked, her voice much quieter now, thank goodness.

  “Well, it was foggy and dark,” Jenna answered. “But, yeah, I guess someone could have seen something.” And then her composure was gone and she buried her face in her hands for a moment. “Can you believe I did that?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

  “No,” Samantha answered.

  “Yes,” Tess said. “And it’s about time, too. After all those years of waiting around for Jeff to get home from a gig, it’s good you had yourself some fun.” She raised her champagne and Jenna brought hers up to clink glasses with the wildest woman she knew.

  “I guess you’re right.” Jenna sighed. The cool bubbles calmed as they slid down her throat. “It seemed like the perfect opportunity to have a fling. He lives in Benson and his class here in San Francisco ends next week. So there’s no interference with my work and no risk I’ll get emotionally involved.” Ha. She already was. Jenna might be avoiding his calls but she hadn’t stopped thinking about him for more than five minutes.

  “Well,” Samantha conceded, “maybe it’s good in that way. Your goals won’t get derailed.”

  “Exactly.” Relief that her friend understood was quickly usurped by the general confusion she’d felt all week. “But in the short term, I’m like a fish out of water. What do I do next?”

  “Don’t look at me!” Tess chided. “I generally just avoid the guys I sleep with. Then I don’t have to worry about any awkward questions like that.”

  “What have you been doing?” Samantha asked.

  “Honestly? I’ve been doing exactly what Tess said. Avoiding him.” Jenna felt guilty every time she looked at her phone and saw a new message from Sandro.

  “Really?” Her friends said it in unison, but Samantha looked shocked while Tess looked delighted.

  “I’m just not up for any more heartache. I guess it’s like a preemptive goodbye.” Jenna tried to muffle her doubts about her own behavior. It wasn’t like her to ignore someone’s calls. And it wasn’t like her to be such a coward. But her revelation in the cab the other night had been spot on. She was addicted.

  Ever since Sunday she’d been craving what she and Sandro had had together at Aquatic Park as if it were water or food, necessary for survival. So, as with any addict, she needed to quit. Cold turkey.

  As an attempt to justify her actions, she added, “I just thought it might be nice to be the one who leaves first for a change.”

  “You think?” Tess said blandly, encompassing all Jenna’s bad luck with men in those two simple words. Laughter momentarily pushed away her nagging conscience as the truth in Tess’s words sunk in.

  “Okay, enough!” Jenna said when their laughter subsided. “This was supposed to be Samantha’s day and we’re talking about me.” She tried manufacturing enthusiasm, even as the fact that she still had to call Sandro back and tell him goodbye felt like misery waiting to happen. “We need to plan our assault on the next shop. Samantha, your dress ideas, please.”

  Samantha pulled out a folder full of photos she’d ripped from bridal magazines. As Jenna scanned the pictures, memorizing her friend’s dress preferences, she tried to quell the jealousy that crept in. Jealousy that Samantha got to walk down the aisle and join her life with the man she loved, while Jenna was going to say goodbye to Sandro, and move forward al
one.

  * * *

  “WHAT THE HELL?” Sandro looked at Paul, then set down the hammer he was holding.

  “I want to enter the talent competition.” Paul’s jaw was set at a stubborn angle.

  “You want to get up and dance in front of the entire town?” Sandro had visions of eggs being thrown.

  “There’s scholarship money at stake. I could use it for lessons. Next time you have a cooking class, I could go back to San Francisco with you and work with Jenna some more.”

  Jenna. She hadn’t returned his calls. After a couple lame voice mails, he’d had to just stop trying. He was willing to be slightly pathetic, but a guy had his limits. The trouble was, the memories of the time they’d spent together wouldn’t fade. Right in the middle of his day, out on the ranch or here in the restaurant, he’d get some image so sharp and clear it was as if he were transported back to that moment with her. He’d lose all sense of where he was and get lost in the scent of her, the feel of her, how she looked at her dance competition, hanging off the side of a cable car, or shuddering over him at Aquatic Park.

  “Sandro? Are you listening?”

  Case in point. He dragged his mind back to Paul. “But it can’t be that much money—is it worth it? People are gonna give you a lot of crap, Paul. Just Joe and Gabe alone are going to heap it on. Dad’s going to walk around with a cloud of disappointment hanging over him, and for the next three years, until you can get out of here, you’ll have to watch him do it. Trust me, it isn’t fun.”

  “I’m ready to do this. I want the money and more than that, I’m tired of lying to Mom and Dad. I want my family and friends to know who I am and what I do.”

  Sandro took a gulp from his water bottle and set it down a little more heavily on his half-built bar than he should have. Water sloshed out on the raw wood. With a curse, he grabbed a rag and mopped it up, glad for something to do, even if he’d have to sand the watermark out later.

  “Look, Paul, I’ve supported you in taking these classes. But you don’t know what you’re in for if word gets out you’re a dancer. What about school? No offense to Benson, but I’d bet a lot of the guys in your class are budding little hicks. They’re gonna be thrilled to have a dancer to pick on.”

  “I can handle it, Sandro. There’re a few kids like that, but I have a lot of good friends.”

  “They’ll call you names. Tell everyone you’re prissy. All kinds of things like that. You read it in the news all the time. Bullying is so bad these days kids are killing themselves over it.”

  “Sandro, jeez, have you been reading Mom’s magazines? You’re paranoid! I’m okay. I’m not ever going to kill myself. I don’t care what people say about me. I just want to perform in this show and win the money.”

  He knew he had to let his little brother make his own choices. But it was hard. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Or get all screwed up inside, like me.

  Paul must have known Sandro’s initial tirade was over, because he looked relieved. “I think things are different than when you were in high school. Kids do more stuff like this. They go line dancing. The school has a drill team now and guys are on it. There’s a coed chorus and they dance a little, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking of trying out for the drill team when school starts.”

  “I guess you’re right, then. Times have changed since I went to Benson High.” Sandro felt some relief at the thought. Maybe all this time, he had been overreacting.

  Paul started sanding the bar again. “Sandro, I don’t really know what you were like when you were my age. But I think maybe I’m different. Stuff doesn’t bug me as much as it bugged you. I don’t really care what other people say.”

  Sandro hoped that was true. He really did. But he knew he had to trust Paul. That was the underlying message, loud and clear. It hit him then that a bit of Jenna had rubbed off on him, if he was suddenly thinking about things like underlying messages. He wished she were here right now. If she were, she’d agree that he and Paul were different. She’d mentioned it before. Somehow his baby brother was a hell of a lot more resilient than he’d been.

  He sighed. “All right. I support your decision, Twinkle Toes.”

  Paul’s wide smile was filled with relief. “Thanks, Sandro. And you’ll help me tell Mom and Dad, right?”

  He was about to say no, but then he remembered what he’d been like just a few short weeks ago. Telling Paul to give up his dreams based on things that had nothing to do with his brother and everything to do with his own fears and his own mistakes. He owed him one.

  “Sure, Paul, I’ll help you tell them. But not just yet. I’ve finally got some time to work on my restaurant this week and I’m not giving that up. And then we’ve got our last weekend in San Francisco. How about we hold off for a bit before we drop this bomb?”

  “Sure.” Paul’s eyes were shining—he was that happy. “And thanks. You’re the best. I know it will all work out.”

  Sandro hoped he was right, for both of their sakes.

  * * *

  SAN FRANCISCO WAS nice right before dawn on a weekend morning. In the last half hour, while he’d been leaning against his truck on the sidewalk near Jenna’s dance studio, Sandro had heard a few cars and seen a couple joggers, but mainly the street was empty. Teaching in San Francisco had reminded him how much he truly enjoyed city life. He liked it calm and still, as it was now, and crowded and bustling, as it would be in just a couple hours. Cities had their own moods, as if all the people in them came together to become one giant creature.

  He definitely missed being a part of it. When he let himself think about it, he could see a life for himself here. San Francisco was a much smaller city than New York. Way more comfortable. He could picture a restaurant here kind of like Oliva but a little less upscale, a little more rustic. He could imagine a cool living space, maybe a loft in an old converted warehouse.

  But that was a pipe dream. He didn’t do well in places like this. He hadn’t even been able to handle one party without running out and making Jenna feel horrible. He’d returned to Benson for a reason and he had a good life waiting for him there. A safe life.

  The fog was thick and Sandro was getting cold. But he didn’t want to wait in his car, because then he might miss her. He’d learned that Jenna was very skilled at avoidance, which was why he was up at the crack of dawn, trying to catch her on her way into the ballroom.

  He felt like a stalker. He couldn’t believe that he’d been reduced this. Part of him was pissed that she wouldn’t answer his calls, and part of him thought it was kind of ironic. Legendary ladies’ man Sandro Salazar finally meets the woman of his dreams, and she won’t even talk to him.

  All weekend he’d been trying to speak with her in person, since she wouldn’t return his calls. But when he’d dropped Paul off at the ballroom on Saturday morning, his heart racing a little at the thought of seeing her again, she hadn’t been there. Instead he’d found Brent, who’d informed him, with barely disguised glee, that Jenna had an early-morning appointment and would be arriving late to class.

  So Sandro had made a new plan to catch her at the end of the day. He’d even bought flowers. But when he’d arrived to pick up Paul, bouquet clutched in his hand, Jenna had been nowhere to be found. When he’d asked Paul, his brother had said she’d rushed out straight after class, car keys in hand.

  It was the first time he’d ever had nonstop thoughts about someone that didn’t just involve sex. He wanted to know how her week was going. He wanted to hear her thoughts and feelings. He wanted to just hear her. Trust his luck that the only woman he’d ever had all these cravings for wanted nothing to do with him.

  He figured he knew why. Here he’d been telling her he’d changed, that he was a different guy since leaving New York. Yet the first chance he got, they were having sex in so
me dark corner. Outdoors. She’d said she was fine with it, but once she got home and thought it through, she’d probably felt completely disrespected, and he didn’t blame her.

  But maybe if he could apologize, explain things, ask for a do-over, she’d be willing to give them another chance. Because there was something between them that he wanted, and needed, more of.

  He heard her car before it came into view, the staccato of the Mini engine echoing off the silent buildings. His mouth went dry and he sipped the coffee he was clutching for warmth more than the caffeine buzz. She pulled up to a parking spot across the street, hopped out and stepped lightly over to the sidewalk to pull her large bag out of the passenger seat. “Jenna,” he called softly.

  She hesitated for a moment, then turned to look at him. She looked as adorable as usual in skintight pegged jeans, pink Converse low-tops and a bulky navy blue sweater wrapped around her against the chill. Slowly, she crossed the street to where he was waiting.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “That should be music to my ears.” She gave him a wry smile.

  “Yeah, I figured with most women that’s better than a pickup line.” He regretted it as soon as it was out of his mouth.

  She bit her bottom lip. He could almost hear the thinking. Well, you should know.

  “Jenna,” he said softly. “Talk to me. Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?”

  She instantly softened. Of course she would. She was way too kindhearted to ignore the pathetic desperation in his voice. “No, you’ve been great.” She looked around, as if hoping for some kind of rescue from this conversation. When none came, she spoke again. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I think I did. You obviously regretted what happened between us last weekend.”

  She was worried that he regretted it? “I could never regret that, Jenna. I just wished I’d given you the romantic experience that you deserved. Champagne. Roses. A bed. Somewhere warm and private and beautiful.”