Now the idea of sitting two feet from him and admitting she’d seen his TikTok videos? After she’d successfully avoided running into him for three years of being back in Calgary? It had been thirteen years since they broke up, but she’d never looked into Gentry’s eyes and seen the live-action results of her decision that day in September. That moment was cryogenically frozen in her past, and she’d be happy to let it hang in a mould on the wall a little longer.
After a few deep breaths, she copied the email address listed under his bio. At least this message would come from an email address he wouldn’t recognize. [email protected] didn’t exactly scream Jenna McAllister.
If he didn’t answer within an hour, she’d phone the number listed on the webpage, and he wouldn’t recognize her current number either. But, they’d see each other at the meeting unless she could find some excuse. Flu symptoms or period cramps seemed like plausible alibis.
Jenna drew a deep breath, then opened a new email and began to type.
Dear @maplestickhandler . . .
Chapter Two
Country yawned as he turned off his alarm and rolled over in bed, reaching for Krista. Her dark hair puddled on the creamy pillow, and her arms were folded around herself. When she shrugged away from his hand on her shoulder, Country stilled. “Sorry, did I—” Her eyes were wide, so he obviously hadn’t woken her, but the set of her jaw and deep exhale made the rest of his sentence fizzle on his tongue.
“Where are we headed, Country?” Krista rolled to lie flat on her back like she was being measured for a casket. The morning air was still, and he could smell her floral perfume on his pillow.
He blew out a breath. “Today? I don’t have specific plans until?—”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Krista turned her head. She had the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes.
Country propped himself up on his elbow and scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. This wasn’t a conversation he’d planned on having at eight o’clock in the morning before the sun was even fully up. “Krista?—”
“Why won’t you invite me to Sunday Supper with the team? Or to meet your parents?” Krista’s voice snapped like an elastic at the end of each question, and before Country could open his mouth, she flicked on the lamp, threw off the sheets, and dropped her feet to the floor. When she spoke again, her voice was low. “I don’t expect an answer. I only wanted to ask it out loud.”
Country rose, his mind still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that this conversation was unexpected. Krista had hinted for weeks that she wanted things between them to be more serious, but he’d hoped his lack of engagement had put the topic to rest. Along with a handful of other discussion points he was artfully ignoring.
Licorice whined and pawed at the boot room door as Krista pulled her jeans over her hips and fastened the button then threw her sweater on. She sat back on the bed to slip on her socks and spun to face him. “You’re a lot of fun, Country. But I’m thirty-six.”
“Did I miss your birthday?” He hadn’t. She’d thrown a big bash at her dad’s law office downtown before Halloween, and he’d made a point to show up after his second exhibition game with the Snowballs.
Krista rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to take life seriously at some point, you know?”
He did know. All too well. Before he’d gone to the bar with Krista the night before, he’d spent three hours analyzing soil sample results from six different pastures. The day before he’d spent an hour on the phone trying to determine why the deadstock removal company that was supposed to pick up a dead cow from their property hadn’t shown up.
He had six past due bill statements stacked on his kitchen counter and a business bank account that wasn’t full enough to write the checks. The ranch had been a boon for his family for three generations, and within a year of it transferring to him, the fourth generation was about to run it into the ground. If that wasn’t serious, he didn’t know what was.
Country motioned at the air between them. “This was supposed to be fun, Kris.”
She scoffed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “This was supposed to be going somewhere.” Krista muttered something under her breath as she walked to the door then paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I’m done, Country.”
“Yeah.” He wanted to apologize, but he’d already done that more times than he could count. At this point, he didn’t have a clue what he was apologizing for. Was he sorry that Krista wanted more than he could give? Was he sorry he didn’t want the same things she did? Was he embarrassed that he didn’t have a clue what he wanted?
He very much enjoyed the perks of being with someone, but he needed casual. Turned out, most women who didn’t annoy the hell out of him didn’t share the same opinion.
“I did have fun. I hope you know—” Krista’s voice caught, and she shook her head. “I need someone who can let me in. Be real, you know? I’m not looking for hookups.”
A weight settled on Country’s chest as Krista nodded once and strode into the hall. He waited until the front door closed before getting up and stalking into the bathroom. Once he’d taken care of business and splashed water on his face, he met Licorice on the back porch. The dog shook from head to toe with excitement as Country stroked his sleek black coat. It would take weeks in the spring to convince him he was a yard dog again after living on the dole when the temps were below negative twenty.
Country opened the back door, and Licorice bounded down the steps then bolted back up when he heard the ting of his food dish. That dog could run faster on three legs than most muts could run on four. He gave him one last pat and retreated into the heat of the house.
Country blew out a breath, the image of Krista looking back over her shoulder in the open doorway still fresh in his mind’s eye. That was a moment, wasn’t it? One where he should’ve chased after her—run out onto the porch in his boxers and told her he was ready to open up and be the man she needed.
He wanted to throw up just thinking about it. He’d made the mistake of chasing someone once, but the girl he’d spilled his guts to over the phone hadn’t appreciated the honesty. That era of wearing his heart on his sleeve had come to a close, not by choice, but by force.
He sometimes missed the freedom he’d felt before that night. The wide-eyed hope and willingness to jump in with both feet. It was like the first time he’d gone cliff jumping and trusted his older brothers inherently. Then knocking his shin on a rock that protruded farther than they thought and resolving to do his own reconnaissance from that point on.
He doubted he’d ever get that hopeful naivety back. Then again, he’d blindly believed a lot of things back then, including that women could only get pregnant three days a month. At least he hadn’t had to figure that one out the hard way.
Country stalked back to the bedroom, pulled on his work clothes, and meandered to the kitchen. He turned on the under-counter lights, started a pot of coffee, and pulled the eggs and his jar of saved bacon fat out of the fridge.
