“You were pretending to be asleep?”
“I woke up at the end.” He swipes the air, like he’s pushing that aside. “I’m talking about all the other times I’ve seen you with her.”
“You mean picking her up here for work after I take the kids to school?”
“That, yes, but also how you’ve made it clear to the cowboys that they are not to look in her direction.”
“I want them to be respectful of her. They’re representing the HCC.”What a crock of shit.
Gramps knows it. He makes a disbelieving sound with his lips.
“Doesn’t matter what kind of emotions she brings out in me, Gramps.” My head shakes, and I push aside thoughts of that incredible kiss a few days ago. Four days, to be exact, but who’s counting? “We’re just friends. The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers.”
Gramps makes the sound again, making it all too clear what he thinks of my protests. “Your marriage was over a long time ago, Warner, and you know it. The only difference is that now the state knows it too.”
I give him a withering look. “Tell it like it is, old man.”
Gramps picks up his iced tea. “I’m too old to beat around the bush. You just remember the only person holding you back is yourself, Warner. When you get to be my age, something like waiting long enough after divorce to start dating again is just shit simple. Don’t give the concept of time so much power over your life.” He sips his tea and wipes a hand across his mouth when he’s finished. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
I nod and stand. Gramps sets the empty glass on the table and places the palms of his hands on the armrests. He stands up without too much difficulty, and I see now that the chair sits taller than the other set we have out here. I’m almost certain Wes did that on purpose, so that Gramps wouldn’t struggle to get up. I’m even more certain Wes didn’t tell him why he bought the chair, because if he had, Gramps would’ve set fire to it.
“It’s time for my nap,” Gramps announces, passing me. He stops at the front door. “Tell Tenley I said hello, Warner. And remember what I said. Time is relative, and if it’s people’s opinions you’re worried about, well…” He shrugs. “Fuck ’em.”
“Thanks, Gramps,” I say, laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He goes inside, and I hustle to my truck.
* * *
The photo shootis being held at the abandoned Circle B ranch on the far west side of town. I wouldn’t even call it Sierra Grande, except that it is just barely inside the town’s limits. I know the ranch well, because it was a prime party location in high school. It probably still is.
I park my truck alongside a line of haphazardly parked vehicles. There’s a trailer off to the side, and a row of tents set up nearby. People walk around with purpose. They carry equipment, clipboards, and various items. One person wears something that appears to be an apron around her waist. It seems like a lot of work just to take some pictures. I’m as obviously out of my depth in Tenley’s line of work as she is in mine.
I get closer and a trailer door swings open. A man dressed in jeans, a button-up flannel, and a cowboy hat steps out, followed by Tenley.
A long skirt floats around her ankles and she wears a top that looks a bit like a bra but also like a sort of shirt. It shows most of her stomach. Her blonde hair is big and curled, and there’s more makeup on her face than she usually wears.
“Warner!” Her eyes light up when she spots me, her hand raised in the air. She meets me halfway, the man she walked out of the trailer with in tow.
“This is Calvin. My costar,” she adds, assuming correctly that I have no idea who he is.
“Nice to meet you.” I offer a hand to Calvin. “I’m Warner Hayden.”
Calvin shakes my hand. He smiles, and his perfect teeth sparkle. “Tate who?” he says teasingly, glancing at Tenley.
She narrows her eyes. “Stop. You know Warner is letting me shadow him on his family’s ranch. Showing me all the things so I’m familiar with them for the movie.” She smiles sweetly at me.
“Tenley, Calvin, are you two ready?” someone yells. “The lighting is best right now and I don’t want to miss it.”
It takes me a few seconds to find the person yelling, but Tenley and Calvin look immediately to the source. It’s an older man with wavy salt and pepper hair, his arms crossed and staring over this direction. I don’t appreciate the exasperated look on his face.
Tenley squeezes my forearm as she passes by on her way to the guy who yelled. I watch her and Calvin joke with one another as they walk.
“Hi,” a guy says to me, leaning into my line of sight. “Are you a friend of Tenley’s?”
“Uh, yes.” As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I am. A friend who kissed her four days ago and hasn’t since, but not for lack of wanting to.
“Would you like to sit?” He leads me to a seat under a tent.
