I know who the message is from, but just in case I send him a message confirming it’s Conrad. He responds in the affirmative. I write my lawyer an email, instructing him to draw up a sale agreement. I have no hope of listening to the rest of this call now, I'm too keyed up.
I text Conrad.My lawyer is drawing up the papers. I'll have them to you ASAP.
He responds with his email address, telling me not to try to reach him at the property because he won't be there. He moved out this morning.
What the hell?
The guy refuses to budge, and suddenly he's running? What happened?
"Mr. Bennett, is the connection bad?"
I snap back to the meeting. "It was, but it's better now. Sorry about that."
Andre repeats his last question, I answer, and we spend five more minutes discussing when the next meeting should be. Incredible how much time we waste having meetings about when our next meeting will occur.
I hang up and take a deep breath, then shoot Farley a text telling him to call off his digging. Adrenaline courses through me. It always does when I'm on the cusp of a deal. I shake my arms at my sides, trying to release some of the energy. It's nearly impossible. I'm due at Dakota and Wes's place in a couple hours, and I don't want to show up looking like I just tanked a whole pot of espresso.
If I’m being honest, it’s not just energy over an impending deal that has me hyper. I’m hoping I’ll be lucky enough to see Jessie while I’m out at the HCC. I was daydreaming during the call with my team, thinking of excuses I could come up with to ask Dakota to call Jessie over. So far I’ve come up empty.
I decide to go running, which normally I can't stand, but I need to do something with my limbs. A nearby trail winds over the Verde River and into the cottonwoods, and it’s just long enough that I can run it and have enough time to shower and change before heading out to the HCC. I switch from my typical dress pants and shirt and into a T-shirt and shorts. I lace up my shoes, slide in my headphones, and head out of the hotel.
I have two voice mails I need to listen to, so I start my run with those. I want to get them out of the way so I can spend the rest of it listening to the kind of music that will keep me running. The first one is my admin, asking if it's okay to buy lunch for the office tomorrow.
The second is from my lawyer, asking for additional details on the sale agreement. I'll call him back when I'm finished with my run. I'm reaching for my phone to switch over to music when I hear it. My own voice, coming through my ears, but the words themselves are Brea's. She'd written me a note and asked me to speak it into my voice mail. One day, it occurred to her she'd never been able to leave a voice mail before, and she wanted to.
I'd forgotten it was there. Or I'd made myself forget, I'm not sure which.
"Hi, Sawyer. This is Brea. Your wife with the nice ass. I just want you to know I love you to the moon and back. One day, I'm going to have your babies."
My voice pauses, and my laughter rumbles into the phone. I hear the smack of a kiss, and then I say, in words that are my own, "I love you, my wife with the nice ass."
The voice mail ends. My knees buckle. I make my way to a cottonwood tree, grabbing its trunk in an attempt to balance, but it's flimsy. So I shake it instead. My eyes are hot, and the tears form.
A hand touches my back and I jump away.
Jessie stands two feet from me, eyes wide. Concern and fear flash through them. "Sawyer, are you okay?"
I rip my gaze from hers, wiping my eyes on the shoulder of my shirt. "I'm fine," I bark.
"You don't seem fine." She adjusts her weight. Her cheeks are pink. Her sports bra and leggings tell me she was running too.
"Why are you so far from home?" The question struggles from my chest. It's hard to think about anything but Brea's words.
"I can't run at the HCC. There aren't any good trails. And it's pretty here."
I sigh and look down at my shoes. I heard her answer, but I'm not really listening to it. "I need to get back," I tell her. I grab my phone and find my music. "See you later," I mutter as the music fills my ears.
She says something, but I can't hear it because the volume is turned up too loud. I might've missed what her lips said, but there's no missing what she communicates with her eyes.
She's worried about me. And curious.
But most of all, I've hurt her feelings.
Dakota textsme as I'm taking the turn from Sierra Grande onto the road that leads to the HCC.
I grab my phone and read the message. Dakota is asking me to go to the main house instead of her place. She refers to it as thehomestead. She tells me it'll be the first house I see as soon as I make the turn and drive under the HCC sign. This is useful information, because as often as I've ridden from Wildflower onto HCC land, I've never ventured near the Hayden home.
Will do,I say back, without asking why.
