ZACH SHOWED UP at exactly seven o’clock the next morning and he seemed to think he deserved a medal or something. Jason merely directed him back to the wall he’d been dismantling and started pulling nails out of the used board. He actually liked pulling nails. There was something satisfying about the feel of the metal pulling free of the wood.
Simple pleasures...like running a pattern, dodging his coverage, looking over his shoulder and seeing the ball coming in right on target. Yeah. A simple pleasure that he’d been paid lots of money to partake in, which in turn prepared him for absolutely nothing once his career had ended.
He was lucky, though, that he’d taken care with his money instead of blowing it all. Financially, he was going to be fine, as long as he didn’t do anything extravagant—like try to live without an income. He needed a job and he needed a reason to get out of bed in the morning. A plan.
Zach didn’t glower at him today, but he wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine, either. As long as he wasn’t blatantly rude, Jason planned to ignore him. It worked out well. Zach ignored him, he ignored Zach. Finally the kid couldn’t take it anymore.
“So you’re all rich and shit, right?”
“I planned for my future, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jason said.
“So why are you doing this?” Zach stood upright, holding the crowbar loosely in one hand.
“I like it.”
Zach stared at him. “How can you like this?”
Jason shrugged. “I like being outdoors.” More than he ever thought he would when he wasn’t practicing or playing. He wedged his crowbar in between two boards and pried. “What’s not to like?”
“Pay’s crap, it’s temporary and like you said, it’s outdoors.”
“I would have thought you’d like the outdoors,” Jason said.
“Why?”
“You’re a ranch kid.”
Zach’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “Was a ranch kid.”
“So you never liked the outdoors?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve come to realize that I won’t be working on a ranch.”
“There are other ranches.”
“You know my situation, don’t you?” Zach spoke flatly, in a voice that indicated that he didn’t want sympathy. That he would find it embarrassing.
“I know that you were supposed to work on your family ranch and it fell through.”
Zach snorted. “That’s an interesting way to put it. Fell through. Yeah.”
Jason didn’t reply. There was nothing to say and talking would only make Zach feel more self-conscious.
“My dad hooked up with this woman and he doesn’t want me on the ranch.” His expression was openly challenging, although Jason didn’t know what he was being challenged to do. Or not do. “My dad sucks.”
“My dad wants me to sell cars for my uncle.”
“How the hell is that the same?” Zach demanded.
“It’s not, and you know what? You can drop the hells and shits around me.”
“Do they offend you?” The kid sneered as he spoke.
“Yeah. They do.” He didn’t have the cleanest mouth in the world, but he was conscious of what he said and when.
“Bullshi—” Zach’s voice trailed as Jason gave him a hard look. “Fine. I’ll watch my language. I’d hate to burn your ears.”
“Thank you.” Jason went back to the woodpile.
“Is this for real?” Zach asked from behind him.
“When we know each other better, we can hang out and drop the f-bomb and have all kinds of fun. But one thing you need to know—people judge you by your language. If you’re not with friends, watch what you say.”
Zach’s forehead wrinkled and Jason thought the kid was on the edge of telling him to go to hell. Just because. He didn’t. Instead he gave his head a shake, as if trying to make sense of a world gone mad, and went back to stripping boards off the frame.
Once again they ate on their respective tailgates and Jason wondered if he’d made a mistake by telling the kid to watch his mouth, because now he was totally silent. He didn’t know if he was being taught a lesson, or if Zach didn’t trust himself not to curse. Jason assumed it was the former, so once again he ignored the boy.
His phone rang in his pocket and he was tempted to ignore it, but couldn’t because it might be Kate calling about their father. He pulled out the phone and was glad he hadn’t given in to the temptation to reach into his pocket and silence it. A San Diego area code showed on the screen.
His heart gave a hard thump as he answered.
“Mr. Hudson? This is Amanda Morehouse from Brandt University athletics department. How are you today?”
“Doing well,” Jason said. Except for a sudden and unexpected clenching of his gut.
“Excellent. I see where you applied for the position of assistant to the associate director of athletics and I would like to set up a time for a preliminary interview if you’re interested in pursuing the position.”
“I’m interested.”
“Excellent. We can schedule you for Wednesday at eight or Thursday at nine.”
“Wednesday.”
“Excellent. You’ll need a phone and a laptop...” She continued with the instructions while Zach, who’d been watching him closely, balled up the paper bag his sandwiches had come in and eased himself off the tailgate. Three “excellents” later, Amanda finished, wished him good luck and Jason hung up.
“Hot date?” Zach asked.
“Job interview.”
“Huh.” Zach reached for his hard hat and plopped it onto his head. “If I was rich, I wouldn’t work.”
“Guess we’re different, then.” Because Jason would be bored out of his skull.
* * *
JASON AND ZACH had been getting ready to leave when Allie drove onto the ranch, late due to grocery shopping. After she’d unloaded her car and put away her purchases, she set a frozen dinner in the microwave and then paced the kitchen a few times. She felt antsy, unsettled. In need of something that didn’t have a name.
Jason?
Okay, maybe part of what she needed did have a name. But this edgy, unsettled feeling had to do with something more than Jason’s overall hotness and her reaction to it. It was tied in with her job and her future and her general frustration about having no clear direction. And there were other things she needed to face.
The microwave dinged, but Allie ignored it. She wasn’t hungry.
Do it. Now.
Squaring her shoulders for battle, Allie headed upstairs to the attic entrance at the end of the hall. Once there, she folded the rug back so that the door could swing out. A wave of cold musty air hit her as she opened the door, and she wrinkled her nose as she reached up to pull the light cord.
She hadn’t been up these dusty stairs since Kyle left. She hadn’t wanted to go up them. Hadn’t wanted to disturb the memories she’d stored away. Her sisters had had no such qualms. They’d raided the attic, brought down her garden paintings and hung them, thus shocking the hell out of her when she’d come home on a school break.
The rest of her paintings were leaning against the far wall of the attic, each covered with an old bath towel or cloth in a weak attempt to protect them from the dust. It had worked...kind of.
Allie didn’t look at the paintings as she stacked them, covers still in place. There were eight in all. Her “major” works. She took them downstairs, leaving the attic door open behind her, and then slowly uncovered each painting and laid it out on the living room floor.
She remembered them, yet she didn’t. There were landscapes, garden scenes and two still lifes of different arrangements of Jolie’s rodeo gear. They were all colorful, all done with loose brushstrokes that her art teacher had once told her he envied. He’d liked her work a lot, had encouraged her to go to art school, but now that she’d had a good half decade away from painting, she could see things she would change.
A knock on the door made her jump. Jason. She got to her feet, crossed the room and opened the door. He shifted his weight, just as he had that night he’d first shown up. If anyone had told her then, after she’d sent him packing when he’d asked to buy her ranch, that not only would he be on the ranch on a daily basis, but that her body would also go on high alert every time she was close to him, she would have laughed. But right now she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt self-conscious about her life laid out on the floor behind her.
“You’re still here?”
His mouth tilted. “It appears I am. What’s up, Allie?”
And just like that the focus shifted from the reason why he was standing at her door to what was eating at her. She was going to have to work on her game face.
She gave a slight shrug. “Just facing my past.”
“Sounds heavy.”
She forced a smile. “It’s not really.” She gestured at the canvases on the floor behind her. “I hauled paintings down from the attic.” She hesitated ever so briefly before saying, “I need to do something with them.”
It was the honest truth. The need to see the paintings in decent light, to gauge her personal reaction to them, had been weighing on her for the past several days. It was as if her artwork were yet another chapter in her life that needed to be closed.
“You said this was a phase.”
Allie made a noncommittal noise as Jason edged by her to get a better look at her work. After a few seconds, he glanced up at her, his gaze clear and questioning. “Why did you stop painting?”
“I had other things filling my time.”
“These are good.”
“Know a lot about art?”
The comment came out sounding snottier than she’d intended, but before she could take it back he surprised her by saying, “Yeah. I do. I dated a gallery owner for a while. Learned some stuff. Took a few classes.” He shrugged.
Her lips parted a little as she held his gaze. “Okay.” She swallowed, then allowed herself a frown. “Why are you still here?”
“I’ll be late on Wednesday. I have a Skype interview at eight o’clock.”
Skype meant not local. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what job he was interviewing for, and where it was located, but it really wasn’t any of her business. Right? And she shouldn’t have this hollow feeling growing inside of her at the thought of him leaving. Of course he was eventually going to leave. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. It’s with my alma mater. Assistant to an associate athletic director.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Assistant. I, uh—” she shrugged before plowing ahead with the truth “—thought that you’d be applying for a major-league coaching job of some kind. College, the pros...”
“You have to work your way into those. It takes time.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. She’d assumed that Jason, with his career and connections, would slide into some top-level job after his dad convalesced. Assistant to an associate?
“There are a lot of guys leaving the pros every year. It’s not as easy as you would think to remain in the sport.”
“That makes sense.”
“I’ll get here as soon as I can and I’ll tell Zach he doesn’t need to show up until after nine. He shouldn’t tackle things alone.”
“True. And you know, you could interview here if you wanted. The house will be empty and you could have privacy. Not that you wouldn’t have privacy at your home.”
“I wouldn’t,” Jason said flatly. “Not unless I pay my sister to entertain my father.”
Allie smiled a little. She’d met Jason’s dad a time or two and he did seem like a strong character. “I don’t lock the door when I leave, so if you want to use this place, do.”
“You don’t lock up?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re here and I assume you’d notice if anyone was robbing me. And there’s always the off chance you’ll need to clean a wound or something.”
“Or something.” He hooked his thumb in his belt loop, fighting a smile. “I might take you up on the offer.”
“Feel free,” she said again.
“Thanks. Well, I’d better be going.” He nodded at the paintings. “I like your work, Allie.”
“Thank you.” Once he’d gone, she turned her back to the door and leaned against it, trying to see her paintings through his eyes—the eyes of an uninvolved bystander. He was the first person other than her sisters and Kyle to see her work. And he liked it.
Allie didn’t want to feel validated by his assessment, but she did. When she’d started painting, it’d been for her and her alone. A way to push reality aside as she disappeared into her own realm. And then, when Kyle had pointed out that the time she spent painting could be better spent on other things, she’d had to agree. Stuff needed to be done. Money needed to be earned. Even when she’d painted in short sessions, Kyle had tried to pull her away. At the time she’d felt gratified that her husband had wanted to spend so much time with her. Looking back, it seemed more likely that he’d simply been jealous of anything that didn’t involve him.
Allie stacked the canvases and headed back up the stairs. When she’d brought them downstairs she’d hoped she’d be able to throw them away. Cart them out to the trash and be done with them.
Didn’t happen. For whatever reason, she wasn’t yet ready to let go.
Nudging open the partially open attic door with the toe of her shoe, Allie headed up the narrow attic stairs and then deposited the artwork against the far wall. Maybe all she needed was a little more time—or to forget the canvases were there and move on with her life.
* * *
JASON CLOSED HIS laptop and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. It was nine o’clock in the morning and he felt wiped out. So this was an interview.
Nothing in Jason’s career or schooling had prepared him to field forty-five minutes of questions from a panel of four—none of whom seemed that thrilled with him or his accomplishments.
Over the years he’d done the occasional sports show interview and had met with various company representatives to discuss possible endorsements, but those people had wanted something from him. They weren’t trying to weed him out of the pack so that they had fewer candidates to choose from. And, according to the rather dour lady in charge of compliance, they had a large field of qualified applicants. By the end of the interview, Jason was very much aware that he’d been interviewed as a courtesy, because he was an alumni. Because Coach had called in a favor.
Not a good feeling.
In fact, it was depressing.
Jason packed up his laptop and headed for his truck. He’d appreciated Allie’s offer to interview in the privacy of her home, but ultimately had asked Kate if he could use her place while she played gin with Max. Now he was glad he’d done that so that he had some time to come to grips with his new reality—the reality in which he wasn’t all that important to the world at large—before going to work with Zach, who was a rather observant kid and not shy about sharing his observations.
Damn it, he’d thought he’d had a pretty good handle on things—the reality of what was possible and what wasn’t—but now he had a small taste of how Pat must have felt after rejection after rejection. A very small taste. Pat was a performer who thrived on being the center of attention. Jason didn’t need that, but he was fairly used to being valued for his abilities. Now that the interview was over, he was wondering if he possessed any marketable skills at all. The Brandt panel had not been encouraging.
He stowed the laptop and started the truck, waiting for a car to pass before backing out onto the street. So what now?
More résumés. More interviews. There was something out there for him.
He didn’t want to work just anywhere. He wanted the job at Brandt.
* * *
WELL, IT HAD certainly been a day.
Allie headed up the walk to her front door feeling totally wrung out. After story hour had gotten out of hand, Allie scheduled a sit-down with the principal, who assured her that, oh, it was always difficult to control twenty-five kindergarteners when their teacher wasn’t present. Allie wasn’t lacking—she simply needed practice in classroom management. And she was getting better!
“It’s a knack,” Mrs. Wilson-Jones had reiterated.
A knack that Allie didn’t come by naturally. Nor one that she necessarily wanted to develop...and it was killing her. Then to add more joy to her day, she’d thought she’d seen Kyle’s truck parked on the street near the school as she and Liz and Margaret, the kindergarten teacher, had walked to their cars. The truck pulled into the street as they reached Allie’s car, leaving her to wonder if there were two light-blue F-350s with cab lights in town, or if Kyle had not wanted to approach her while she was with friends. Whatever the case, Allie found herself checking her rearview mirror every few blocks until she left town and, by the time she got home, she was irritated and tired and drove past the barn site without stopping to check on Jason and Zach’s progress, although she did note that the two of them looked a lot more satisfied with life than she felt at that moment.
What did Kyle want? She’d been clear about having no money and not cosigning a loan, so what? Maybe he thought he could wear her down.
That was probably it. Kyle could be tenacious, as long it didn’t involve following through on ranch repairs and improvements.
Feeling restless, Allie changed her clothes and left the house, following the path to her sad little garden spot. Oh, the hope she’d poured into this patch of ground. She’d had some good harvests when she and Kyle were first married, but as her day job and ranch chores ate into her time, her garden had suffered. Her marriage had suffered.
As did she.
But that part of her life was over and her garden spot was still here, overgrown with weeds. Stepping over the low fence, she bent down and pulled a handful of dry grass and weeds and tossed it over the fence. Another handful followed and then another. By the time Jason showed up, she had a good quarter of the space cleared and she was so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t hear him until he was almost at the fence.
“Oh. Hi.” She pushed the hood back from her head. “How’d the interview go?”
Jason shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Time will tell.”
“I see.” And she did. The interview hadn’t gone as he’d expected. He might be putting on his inscrutable man-face, but Allie could sense his tension.
“Gardening?”
“For the first time in about five years. I have some work ahead of me.”
“Want some help?”
She almost said no. She always said no. It was a habit she wanted to break. “Sure.”
Jason stepped over the fence much more easily than she had, bent down and started pulling weeds out of the damp ground. “Couldn’t you till the weeds in?”
“We could, but I’m working out a few frustrations.”
“Huh. I may put in a garden.”
“Your dad?” Or the interview?
He hesitated just long enough before saying “Yes,” to make Allie certain that the interview hadn’t been a slam dunk...or maybe he just didn’t know if he wanted the job. Yes. That seemed more likely.
“You?”
My ex-husband is driving me crazy.
“I’m seriously wondering about what I want to be when I grow up.”
From the look he gave her, she knew that he was reading her as easily as she was reading him. And what did that say about them? That they were closely tuned into one another?
She was certainly tuned into him. How could she not be when he was so close that she was aware of every move he made?
“The teaching thing isn’t working out?”
“I have serious doubts about teaching little kids and the only jobs listed are for elementary.” She tugged on the thick stalk of a volunteer sunflower, slowly easing the roots out of the soil. “I also have a secondary credential, but it’s in art. It’s where I did my student teaching and I loved teaching art, but it’s practically impossible to get a high school art job with budget cuts. I need another secondary endorsement. Social studies. Math. English. Something of ‘value.’”
“Do you like little kids?”
Allie pushed the hair from her cheek with the back of her wrist. “That’s the problem. I do...so much so that I let them get away with murder.” She reached down and yanked a weed. “They’re cute, you know. The lower grade teachers use library time to prepare for their classes, and when they leave the library...well, the word mayhem comes to mind.”
Jason gave a soft snort, but Allie couldn’t tell if he was laughing or commiserating. He stood up and tossed two handfuls of weeds onto the pile on the other side of the fence. “Can you make a living here on the ranch?”
“I don’t see that happening.” She spoke too quickly, sounded too defensive, so she made an effort to scale back her adamant response. “My sisters will be coming back.”
“Only one will live on the ranch, right?”
“Yes. Dani and Gabe will live in the Staley house.”
There was a long stretch of silence and then Jason said, “It’s not just your sister coming back to live here, is it?”
“No.” And that was as far as she was willing to go with that line of questioning.
“Personally, I think it’s a mistake to do something you don’t feel any passion for.”
“Easy enough to say when you haven’t worked in the real world before.” Allie looked up at Jason. “I’m sorry to sound harsh, but it’s true.”
The expression that chased across his face made her wish she hadn’t said anything. It appeared that Jason was getting a taste of the real world—the world where actual professional credentials counted.
“Maybe so.” He yanked up a handful of weeds. “But I stand by what I say.”
“I have a passion,” she said lowly, pushing back the prickles of guilt as she went back to work. “A passion for survival, a secure future and money in the bank. I have never found that ranching could give me that.”
“Yet you wouldn’t even consider selling me the ranch.”
Allie nearly tumbled over backward pulling a particularly stubborn plant, and Jason put his hand on the small of her back, steadying her until she regained her balance. She felt the warmth of his palm through her shirt. “It isn’t mine to sell.”
“What if it were?”
She stopped pulling weeds, but stayed crouched where she was for a moment. What if? “Yes, you could have it.”
“Even though it’s been in your family since it was homesteaded?”
“I have no tender feelings for this place.” She tossed another handful of weeds over the fence, then wiped her muddy hands on her pants. “So, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s eating at you?”
“I told you.”
“I don’t think so.” Bold move, but it would get him onto a different track.
His expression cooled and Allie realized that she’d just hit a brick wall. There would be no secrets shared tonight.
Fine with her. It made going into her house alone that much easier.
She stepped over the fence and had just made it to the other side when Jason took hold of her upper arm, keeping her from moving any farther. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For telling you what to do with your future, when I’m still figuring out mine.”
Excellent point, but she barely registered the logic as heat flared inside of her. There was something about the way he was looking at her—or rather her mouth—that made alarm bells go off in her head. But she did not step back and less than a second later, his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair, holding her face as he kissed her. Stunned her. Made her knees go wobbly. When he raised his head, Allie had assumed some witty remark would spring to her lips.
Nothing.
All she could think was that she really wanted him to apologize again. She pushed her hands up over his very hard chest, the picket fence separating them pressing into her thighs.
“Do you want to talk about that future?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because it involves someone else.”
Allie’s heart hit her ribs. “Do you have a girlfriend, Jason?”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t feel so relieved by that,” she muttered as she dropped her hands and stepped back.
“Why not?”
She gave a small scoffing laugh. “Because I’m working extremely hard to be self-sufficient and someone like you could throw a monkey wrench into that.” And judging by the deep urge she had to step over the fence and kiss him again, that was a true danger.
“Someone like me?”
She simply gave a shrug. How was she supposed to explain things when she was still figuring them out?
“Have you dated since your divorce?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should.”
She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing slightly as she did her best to hide the fact that her stomach had just somersaulted. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Let me know when you do.”
She worked up a smirk. “You’ll be the first.”