I hop out of my truck and hurry around the front, opening the passenger door for her. She walks closer, smiling at me.
“Birthday girl,” I say to her, sweeping my arm toward the open vehicle.
She laughs, a tinkling, happy sound. Instead of climbing into the truck, she steps closer to me. Rests her hand on my forearm. Leans in. Brushes a kiss on my cheek. She smells like a hundred different good things.
“Hello,” she says, and when she pulls back, I catch the faintest scent of wine on her breath.
She exclaims over the roses, acting as if they’re the best gift she’s ever received. That must be a million miles from the truth.
We’re pulling out onto the main road, the roses nestled in her lap, when she admits she drank half a glass of wine while getting ready. “I’m nervous,” she says, shrugging lightly. Her fingers trace the outline of a rose, curling inward toward the center.
It’s hard for me to imagine. Tenley seems more confident than any woman I’ve ever met.
“Why?”
“You all are being so nice, and I know it’s genuine. It’s off-putting.” Her tiny chuckle sounds embarrassed. “I know that seems ridiculous, but aside from Morgan and Gretchen, I don’t have any true friends at home. A night out for my birthday might include twenty people, but I’d feel mostly alone surrounded by all of them.” She shrugs again. “Everybody wants something. From me. From everyone else. One gigantic means to an end.”
Well, that’s… shitty. I feel bad for her. I reach for her hand, lifting it from her lap and resting it in mine over the console. “When you have people around you tonight, you’re not allowed to feel lonely.”
“Honestly, Warner, since I’ve come here, the last thing I’ve felt is lonely.”
I’m trying not to let her words affect me, but it’s no use. They shift and squirm in my chest, settling into a space beside my heart. Tenley being comfortable in my hometown, on the ranch that I love, means everything to me.
When we walk into The Orchard, Jo is the first person to greet us. She has long blonde hair with pink ends, and today it’s wound into a thick braid that hangs over her shoulder.
“Warner, hi!” She walks around the hostess stand, smiling, and offers a handshake. I’ve known her since we were young, but she’s always been reserved.
“Tenley, this is Jo. Dakota’s general manager and friend.”
Jo shakes Tenley’s hand, too. “I’m going to be really honest here,” Jo says, her cheeks growing pink. “I’m a huge fan of your movies and I had to tell myself not to freak out when I met you. It was a legit pep talk.”
Tenley laughs, but it sounds different than every other laugh I’ve heard from her. Not fake, necessarily. Practiced.
“Thank you,” she answers, and the handshake finally ends. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too. Dakota talks about you a lot.”
The pink on Jo’s cheeks deepens. “Come on.” She pivots with a wave. “I’ll show you where we set you up tonight.”
Tenley goes first, and I start after her. Two knuckles on my right hand slide the length of her back, parallel to her spine, and I hardly realize I’m doing it until I feel her deep intake of breath.
“Here we are,” Jo announces when she reaches the little room off the main building. The French doors are open, facing the courtyard where all the oversized party games are set up. Connect 4, Cornhole, Ladder Toss, Jenga, and a few others I don’t know. Inside the room, the long wood table is covered in a white lace tablecloth, some kind of fancy plants in the center of the table, and candles.
Tenley squeals. Her hands go to her mouth. The sound draws Dakota from the room, and she steps through the French doors just as we reach them.
“Dakota, I’m…” Tenley shakes her head. “This is incredible.”
“It was fun.” Dakota smiles at Jo. “Jo and I put it together earlier.”
“You’re joining us, right?” Tenley looks hopefully in Jo’s direction, but Jo’s eyes are on something inside the private room.
Wyatt. She doesn’t look happy.
“I have some things to finish up,” she answers, eyes coming back to us. “But I’ll join you later.”
Dakota pulls Tenley inside and Jo leaves. Tenley is more excited than I’ve ever seen or heard her. She comments on everything. The greenery in the middle of the table (Eucalyptus), the white wine Dakota pours for her (Sancerre), the folksy country music playing (a local band).
Wes stands talking to Wyatt, bottles of beer in their hands.
“How did you get beer?” I ask, interrupting them. “I thought this was a wine bar.”
