More Than a Rancher

by Claire McEwen

  Both departures had been sad, but this time there was a whole lot more peace in his heart. That scared kid had faced a rough road ahead. Hopefully, if Sandro followed the steps he needed to, his road would be a lot easier this time, and he’d get a much happier ending, as well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “IT’S COMPLETELY TRANSFORMED!” Jenna couldn’t decide what to admire first. The forgotten ballroom was alive again with sparkling chandeliers, clean windows, new drapes and carpets, and the refinished, polished dance floor.

  “It’s going to be wonderful.” Emily gave the top of the reception counter one last wipe with her dust cloth. Her entire cleaning crew stood with them at the edge of the gleaming dance floor, admiring the results of their hard work.

  “Well, you and your crew made it happen,” Jenna told her. “I can’t thank you enough.” She wanted to hug the woman she’d gotten to know as they’d labored side by side. She handed her the check instead. “So you’ll come back for the weekly cleaning? Once I get my programs under way?”

  “It will be our pleasure,” Emily assured her.

  Jenna said goodbye and waved to Emily and her crew as they headed down the marble stairs to the lobby below. Then she went back into the ballroom—her ballroom. She walked to the middle of the dance floor and caught her reflection in the wall of mirrors that she’d had installed last week. She looked tiny and alone in the huge sheet of glass.

  Well, she was alone. She was making peace with that fact slowly, day by day. Working on her ballroom for the past couple weeks had been a good distraction from her heartache, but she still missed Sandro constantly.

  Watching herself in the mirror, Jenna did a pirouette, then another. Maybe she’d offer some ballet classes here. It would be a good idea to have classes she could teach on her own while she searched for a new dance partner.

  A noise from the lobby stopped her midturn. Somebody was coming up the stairs. The cleaning crew must have left the door to the street ajar. In the future she’d have to make sure it was locked when she was here by herself. Jenna quietly walked to the side of the dance floor until she was in the shadows behind one of the old columns.

  A man paused by the reception counter at the entrance to the ballroom. The light in the entry was off and Jenna couldn’t see his features. Her heart thumped as adrenaline kicked in. Who would come here in the evening like this?

  “Jenna?” the man called softly.

  His voice was electric current in her system. “Sandro?” She stepped out from behind her pillar. “What are you doing here?”

  He moved into the light of the dance floor and hesitated, waiting as she walked toward him on shaking legs.

  “I came to see you. Marlene told me where you were.”

  She was pretty sure her heart did a backflip. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  Jenna stepped close enough to see the details of his face—his mouth tilted up but not quite smiling, his dark eyes studying her intently. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said softly, still not fully able to absorb his unexpected presence.

  He looked around, taking in the room. “This place is incredible. You did it!”

  She was still having trouble absorbing his presence. Sandro was in her ballroom! “I did. Well, with a little help from my mother, in the end.”

  “Your mother helped? I thought she didn’t approve of your dancing.”

  “Apparently she does now.” Jenna couldn’t stop staring at him—at his strong jaw, his broad shoulders under the familiar leather jacket, the dark waves of his thick hair. She wanted to run her hands over him to make sure he was real.

  “It’s incredible to see you again.” He brought his fingers up to her face and smoothed a curl along her forehead. “You look beautiful. It suits you—this fancy old ballroom.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Especially the cherubs.”

  “I’m trying to think of names for them.” Jenna pointed to the chubbiest one, who was sitting away from the others, looking a little miffed. “I’m pretty sure that one is Cosmo.”

  Sandro laughed. “It fits him.”

  Jenna had to ask, though she wished his answer didn’t matter so much. “So how long are you here in San Francisco?”

  “Forever, I hope.” He stepped forward until he was inches from her, looking down into her eyes. “I want to make a life here, Jenna, with you.”

  Jenna’s heart was in the air before her feet left the ground. She jumped and landed in his arms. He chuckled, soft and low, as he staggered back under her sudden weight.

  “Are you serious? You want to be here? With me?” Jenna wrapped her arms and legs around him and he held her close, burying his face in her hair, spinning once around with her.

  “I don’t want to be away from you again, Red.”

  Jenna didn’t think there was a name for the emotion she felt. Excitement, relief, joy, gratitude, all mixed into one overwhelming sensation. She pulled back a little so she could kiss him softly. A welcome-home kiss. A kiss he responded to and took deeper with one hand woven into her hair, pulling her into him.

  When it ended, happy tears blurred Jenna’s vision. She put her head on Sandro’s shoulder, her arms around his neck as he held her easily in his strong arms.

  Neither of them spoke, just held on tight to each other until finally he set her down in front of him.

  “Sandro.” Jenna looked up at him and took his hands in hers. “Tell me everything! Why did you decide to come? Did you just get to San Francisco today?”

  He smiled at her interrogation. “I came because I realized that you were right, Jenna. I should be here. I want to be with you. And there isn’t a better place to open my restaurant—to cook the way that I want to.

  “When I looked down the road at what my life in Benson would be like, I realized I’d be missing out on so much, just because I was scared to trust myself again.”

  “I’m so proud of you, Sandro. So happy for you.” Jenna stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “I know that wasn’t an easy decision.”

  “And as for the second half of your question...” He hesitated slightly. “I’ve been here for two weeks.”

  At first Jenna thought she couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “You’ve been here for two weeks and didn’t let me know?” All of her buoyancy at seeing him seeped away.

  “I wanted time to make sure I’d be okay living in the city—that I could handle it here without making poor choices.”

  She tried to understand his logic. But all she could think was that he’d been here two weeks and hadn’t called. She’d been so sad, she’d missed him so much, and almost the entire time, he’d been right here, not missing her enough to pick up the phone. “Where have you been staying?”

  “I crashed at Gavin’s for a few nights, but then a studio apartment opened up in his building. I’m renting it. I’m in the Mission District—at Twenty-Fourth Street and Guerrero.”

  “The Mission District?” she repeated in disbelief. “I live four blocks from you.”

  “It’ll make it easy to spend time together.” Sandro was looking at her hopefully.

  What did he want from her? A pie and a card saying welcome to the neighborhood? He’d been here two weeks, four blocks away, while she’d been mourning him. “I don’t understand why you didn’t get in touch earlier.” She moved back a few steps, putting some space between them.

  “Jenna, you saw how I was. Totally stuck. Unable to move forward because I was so afraid I’d end up like I was in New York. But then I remembered what you said, that the safety I was looking for had to come from inside me. And it hit me that I could live in San Francisco, as long as I make sure that I’m a much stronger person than I used to be.

  “So I drove here a couple weeks ago and started going
to AA meetings. I’ve been at a meeting every night since I arrived, just to get in the habit. I want to do this right, Jenna. I’ve been spending my free time reading their literature, learning about the Twelve Steps and finding a sponsor.”

  Anxiety pitted Jenna’s stomach. “But you’re not an alcoholic! You told me yourself that you never really craved it. Did you start drinking again? In Benson?”

  “No. But I do have a problem with alcohol. I might not crave it the way some people do, but when I was drinking, I didn’t drink to enjoy it. I used alcohol to fill a void inside me. I used it to numb my emotions and take away all the stress that I didn’t know how to deal with.

  “If I want to be with you and have a restaurant here, then I’ve got to figure out how to handle stuff without drinking, or doing drugs, or sleeping around, or running off to Benson, or any of the other things I used to do because I didn’t know how to stand still and face whatever I was feeling.”

  She tried to take in his words. Everything he said made sense, but Jenna was unable to reconcile the Sandro she knew with this self-described addict.

  Jenna shivered—the ballroom seemed cold suddenly. Tears stung her eyes. This dream she’d had, of her and Sandro together, suddenly seemed like just another one of her dead-end relationships. She used to pick men who cheated. Now she’d fallen in love with an alcoholic? Someone who’d be going to AA meetings all the time, who’d be uncomfortable at parties, who would never be able to just enjoy a glass of scotch with her? And he worked in restaurants, constantly surrounded by the temptation of alcohol—what if he relapsed?

  She’d tried to have faith in him when he told her he was no longer a womanizer, like her dad. But now he was an alcoholic, like her mom—she wasn’t sure she had enough faith left to handle this latest revelation. She tried to plaster some kind of smile on her face. “Sandro, it’s so good to see you again, but I’ve got a lot to do.”

  The hope in his expression dimmed. “Can I see you later? Take you out?”

  Jenna’s entire image of him had been knocked askew. She didn’t want to think that he was like her alcoholic mom. Not after her mom’s drinking had caused so much stress. And honestly, after a few weeks of family meetings at her mom’s rehab facility along with her regular Al-Anon meetings here in the city, she was sick and tired of twelve-step programs and alcoholism.

  She shook her head no and grabbed at the easiest reason for a fight. “Why do you want to date now? You obviously didn’t miss me! You were here for two weeks and didn’t tell me!”

  “Jenna, I did miss you. I left Benson for you. Maybe it was a bad decision, but I didn’t stay away these past two weeks to hurt you. I was trying to make sure that I could come to you with my head held high, knowing I was healthy and strong. Knowing I was the kind of guy you deserved!”

  “But what if you’re not the kind of guy I want?” It wasn’t until she saw the stricken look on Sandro’s face that she realized she’d actually said the words out loud.

  “Jenna.” His eyes were dark with anguish. “I love you.”

  “I’m so confused.” Jenna rubbed her hands over her eyes as if it would clear her mind. “I love you. I fell in love with you. But you can’t just announce you’re an addict and that you’ve been going to AA every day and expect everything to be instantly normal between us! I know this is going to sound horrible, but I don’t know if I can handle more than one alcoholic in my life!”

  Sandro ran his hand through his hair in a gesture so familiar it made Jenna’s heart hurt. But she had to voice her fears and the anger that made no sense but was boiling inside her.

  “Can’t you see? I’ve already got my mom to worry about—now I have to worry about you, too? What if you and my mom both relapse at the same time? Though I guess—” her voice was more bitter, her words more hateful than she’d planned “—I’m already spending a few nights a week at Al-Anon, thanks to my mom. So I guess if you and I are dating, I can multitask. The two-for-one alcoholic special.”

  Shame that she’d say something so poisonous hit her like nausea. The hurt on Sandro’s face didn’t help. “You’d better go,” she said abruptly. “I’m not handling this well. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m working with Gavin right now,” he said softly. “At Oliva. If you need me.”

  “Okay,” she said, blinking back tears. How was it that she had missed him, craved him, been so miserable without him, and now that he was here in some kind of twisted miracle, all she wanted was to be alone?

  Sandro turned and walked out of her ballroom. She heard the thud of his boots on the stairs and the slam of the door as he left the building. There was an extra click when he pulled it a second time, ensuring that it locked behind him.

  That last tiny gesture of caring for her was her undoing. Jenna walked over to the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows, where the lights of the city were glimmering in the gathering dusk, and sat down heavily on the floor. She’d tried to be so strong ever since she’d said goodbye to Sandro in Benson. She’d tried to find comfort in the idea that Sandro was a life lesson in loving and letting go—in trusting that the universe would provide and she would be okay.

  Now the universe had provided exactly what she wanted most but in such a flawed and faulty package. Addict. Logically, she knew that it was just a word. He was still Sandro. He’d told her about his past—his addiction shouldn’t come as a surprise. But somehow that one label changed her perception of him.

  And then the tears came. Tears for her mother, for Sandro, for how much everything had changed and was still changing. She cried because she missed the Sandro she’d fallen in love with, the beautiful, troubled man she’d known in San Francisco and the cowboy in Benson who had completely captured her heart. She cried because she wasn’t sure she recognized the man who’d walked in the door just now. An addict. A life spent in AA. It wasn’t how she’d dreamed it when she’d dreamed that Sandro might come find her in San Francisco.

  * * *

  THE SKY OUTSIDE went from dusk to dark and eventually she had no tears left. The anger was gone. The shock of everything Sandro had told her tonight had a softer edge to it. It was night now, but many of the windows in the buildings surrounding the ballroom had their lights on. A few weeks ago she’d looked at the view from Dolores Park, seen these lights in the distance and promised herself that someday her ballroom would be among them. Now here she was, in the window of her own ballroom, right in the middle of the city. She’d made that dream come true.

  Was there a way to make the rest of her dream a reality? Was there a way to go forward with Sandro?

  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The words of the prayer she’d relied on that night in Dolores Park wafted through her whirling thoughts. But serene was the last thing she felt right now. She’d been so horrible to Sandro tonight and he hadn’t deserved it. He’d been an idiot not to call the minute he’d arrived in San Francisco. But he’d thought he was doing the right thing.

  Even with no serenity in her tumultuous mind, could she find acceptance? Because she couldn’t change who Sandro was—she couldn’t change him into a non-addict. She had no doubt she loved him, but could she accept him?

  A new calm filled her, along with the rest of the prayer. The courage to change the things I can... She certainly hadn’t shown courage tonight. She’d been petty and selfish. Banging her head up against the things she couldn’t change instead of focusing on the one thing she actually had control over—her reaction. Her last words to Sandro had been brutal—definitely not the reaction she’d go with if she could redo that conversation.

  The wisdom to know the difference. Who knew what would happen in the future? Her mom could relapse, or Sandro might, or maybe neither of them would. She could stare at her tarot cards for days and they wouldn’t be able to predict that. She just had to go forward, live her life and do her best to be h
appy.

  She could do it alone, cut off from the man she loved, in an attempt to avoid potential pain from things that might or might not happen. Or she could jump in and pursue all the happiness that was there, trusting that she was strong enough and wise enough to handle whatever might come.

  And then the irony hit her. She’d gotten upset at Sandro for needing AA. And yet the prayer that was the base of all the twelve-step programs had just brought her hope, insight, clarity and, possibly, a way forward.

  Jenna jumped up and ran to the reception desk for her purse and coat. Flipping off the ballroom lights, she raced down the dark marble steps to the lobby and out into the street, tugging the doors shut behind her. A rare empty cab was waiting at the stoplight on the corner of Sutter and Hyde. “The Mission District!” she told the driver as she settled into the torn backseat.

  Jenna watched the city lights flash by and caught herself smiling. Love had walked through her ballroom door tonight. The universe was offering up its most precious gift. But it came as is, with quirks and flaws and no guarantees that it would last or always stay the same. And that meant she should cherish it even more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  IT WAS A Tuesday night, but the sidewalk in front of Oliva was crowded with people waiting for tables. Jenna wove her way through the throng to find the hostess stand.

  “Two hours for a table,” the young woman told her without looking up from her wait list. She tapped the pencil clutched in her tattooed hand on the paper in front of her. “Want me to put your name in?”

  “No, thank you. I’m looking for Sandro Salazar?”

  The hostess looked up immediately, revealing a pierced nose and eyebrow. “The new guy? He’s hot. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “Um, yes. He is. A friend.” Jenna shifted uneasily. This was the restaurant culture that Sandro had been so steeped in before. Would he be able to resist all the young women like this one who would be enamored of their gorgeous new chef?