“The sad-looking pecan trees took precedence over what makes Arizona’s economy?” He asks the question with a smirk, but his tone holds wonder.
“I already told you, those pecan trees are special and I’m not afraid to give them what they need to help them flourish. You see some derelict trees, but I see potential.” I shrug and sit back down on the bed. I’m three minutes late for The Bachelorette, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV.
Wes spends a nanosecond looking at the screen, then rolls his eyes and opens his book.
“Don’t act like you’re too good for this show,” I tell him.
He doesn’t respond, but he does smile. I peek at his book. Grisham. I was expecting Louis L’Amour, which makes me giggle and Wes glances at me. I shake my head at him, indicating it’s nothing, and turn my attention back to the TV.
Fifteen minutes in, I catch him watching. “Ohhhh,” I tease. “Someone likes the show they acted too good for?”
He frowns like I need my eyes checked and goes back to his book. The next time I catch him watching, I keep the teasing to myself.
We order a pizza, and Wes runs down to the front desk when it arrives. We eat the entire thing. The Bachelorette ends and we move on to Wheel of Fortune. I’m good at the game, but Wes is expert-level. He guesses the word long before any of the contestants.
I throw my last piece of crust in the open pizza box. “So far tonight I’ve learned you read novels, and should be a contestant on Wheel of Fortune. I feel our relationship is really progressing. We’ll be married in no time.”
Wes grabs my crust and takes a bite. “Roping and riding aren’t my only talents.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say, then realize how sexual that sounded. “I mean… well, I didn’t mean to make it sound like…”
Wes laughs at my awkwardness. “I know what you meant.”
The show ends and Wes stands, glancing at the digital clock on my nightstand. “It’s late enough to go home now.”
There’s a tug on my heart, like I don’t want him to go. I push it away. “Right.” I get off the bed and bend over, brushing crumbs from the bedspread.
“Thanks for having me over.” He’s swiping at the bed too, brushing off crumbs I’m not sure are really there.
I straighten and find he’s only a foot away from me. It’s the closest he’s been to me all night other than when he walked in, and I’m once again hit with the mouthwatering smell coming off him.
“No prob.” I dart around him, my voice at least two octaves higher than it should be. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
I huff a sound of playful exasperation. “I suppose so. There’s a concert in Desert Oasis park. The one downtown,” I add, in case he needs me to explain.
“I know of Desert Oasis Park,” he responds with a twinge of agitation in his tone, but he’s pretty much saying I grew up here, remember?
“Great. Spares me the chore of having to send you directions.” I flip him a sassy smile. “Anyway, I’ve heard it’s a big deal. I’ll be there, and I’d like you to join me.”
He nods once, in that slow cowboy way. “Then I’ll be there.” The words are as slow as his nod, and a flush warms the back of my neck.
“Great,” I say brightly, attempting to cover up his effect on me. “I’ll be the one in the red dress.”
Wes heads for the door. I follow him.
He pauses in the open doorway. Looks back at me. Brushes a kiss on my cheek. The heat on my neck burns hotter. I feel branded, like one of his cattle. “Thanks for tonight. You’re the best almost-fiancée a guy could ask for.”
“No prob,” I say in my best unaffected voice, but to my ears, it sounds like I’m choking on something.
He leaves, going right instead of left toward the elevator and main staircase. Curious, I watch him disappear through the stairwell door. I’ve only been that way once, because I didn’t want to chat with the front desk person and those stairs empty out to a side door with very little foot traffic.
I close my door and hurry to my bed, grab a pillow, and scream into it. The agreement seemed like a good idea at the time, but five days into it and I’m wondering if I was wrong. I think I might have real feelings for Wes, and that’s going to make all this far more complicated.
I contemplate calling my sister, but I don’t want to have that conversation. I promised her I’m fine.
Instead, I pull out my phone and start looking for local clothing stores. I need to buy a red dress.
20
Wes
I don’t particularly care for how I’m feeling right now.
Dry mouth.
Tightness in my chest.
Stomach that may or may not send my lunch back into the world.
Nerves.
A feeling that was beat out of me in the military. Nerves were a problem. Nerves could derail my job. Nerves could be the difference between safely deactivating a bomb or being blown into a puzzle nobody could ever put back together.
I’m not supposed to worry about that anymore though. Passing through the military exit door and into civilian life should just take it all away, right? As if changing your surroundings should magically erase years of experience.
I have to drive through town four times before I find a parking spot, and it’s nowhere near the park. I walk through town, and the closer I get, the thicker the crowd becomes. Dakota wasn’t exaggerating.
The park is packed. Blankets transform the grass into a sea of color, chairs cover the sidewalks. Parked food trucks line the street, each one with lines ten or more deep. There must be people from other towns here. It’s like the whole Verde Valley has gathered in Sierra Grande.
I stand back along the periphery and scan the crowd for Dakota, trying not to meet any curious gazes. It’s difficult. I can feel people looking at me, just like I did the day I drove Dakota into town to talk to the nail salon owner. My chin lifts, but on the inside, I’m fighting the urge to hop back into my truck and drive home. I know what the people of Sierra Grande think of me, and I don’t want their pity.
On my third sweep, I spot her. Or, actually, it’s she who spots me. Her waving arms call my attention and I start for her, stepping around the maze of blankets.
She also wasn’t lying about wearing red. The closer I get, the better I can see her dress. It’s strapless, and the color makes her hair look more strawberry than blonde. When I’m a few blankets away she climbs to her feet and smiles. It disarms me, and I barely catch myself from stumbling over the corner of a blanket.
She greets me with a quick hug, and the second her body is pressed to mine a small fraction of my nerves melts away.
“How was your day?” I ask, trying to settle onto her blue and white blanket. It’s awkward, fitting my frame onto this small blanket, like a bear settling into a twin bed for a long winter’s nap. Finally, I figure out that I can sit upright with my knees bent and my feet on the grass.
“Good.” She sinks down beside me and reaches for her water bottle, her hair brushing my forearm. “Great, actually. The order for the tile went through today. I’m thrilled with how fast it’s moving already. I mean, I know problems will arise. They always do.” She gestures with an outstretched palm. “Lumber will be backordered because the warehouse had a beetle infestation.” Her other palm lifts, like each one contains a potential setback. “Another project in a neighboring town will have ordered all the concrete on the week I need it. And on and on and on,” she offers me a grin. “It’s keeping me on my toes.”