“Cat got your tongue, Romeo?” Jake’s voice cut into my thoughts.
I cleared my throat and checked my line. Still nothing. Fishing was dumb. “We’re just friends.”
“I just find it surprising you haven’t asked out any other girls this whole summer. That seemed an important clause for you to put into our agreement.” He raised his eyebrows at me while I stared at him, slightly dumbfounded.
“Maybe I have.”
He snorted. “Just give me something, man. Do you like her?”
I shook my head. “Should we paint each other’s nails and swap friendship bracelets first?”
“You know I don’t have the cuticles for nail polish. Answer.”
Sighing, I said, “Yeah, I like her. Who wouldn’t? But I’m not looking for anything serious.”
I got Jake to pull a ceasefire on his questions, and we left for home soon after. I needed a nap. A weaker man might have thought this was about the money. The truck. It wasn’t at all. I hadn’t wanted Jake to thrust his stupid bet in my face. I didn’t care about the money or the truck. Not at the expense of Jake. It felt dirty and had from the start. Jake had his own issues he needed to work out. I didn’t need his dad’s guilt money either. It only complicated things. HE complicated things, starting with the night at The Grub Shack. He had forced my hand. Tessa was going to get hurt, and I hated that. She’d already had one huge heartbreak in her life, and now I was going to do it to her all over again.
Who would be the guy to fix her new memories of the orchard? FLOP.
Maybe if I hadn’t met Val, I’d be different. Maybe Tessa wouldn’t scare me. But Ihadmet Val. And Tessa had met Tyler—a man she had trusted and thought she loved. And he had destroyed her. Who was to think I’d be any different?
Jake’s bet saved me here. He had given me my perfect out. I could date other girls. It was stipulated in the contract. Ishoulddate other girls. Thisthingthis summer wasn’t going to affect me. I was set. I didn’t need the white picket fence or a stubborn baker-slash-physical-therapist woman coming into my life and thinking I was something else, only to be disappointed.
You know those people who aren’t afraid to take what they want? The guy who takes the last slice of pizza everybody was eyeing awkwardly? The friend who calls dibs for the master bedroom in a rental house shared with other people? The guy who cuts the line? Those people who take the best of everything at the expense of everyone else? While I find them to be mostly annoying, I had to admit, they were also a little inspiring in how they lived their lives. They must have this sense, deep down, that they deserve the best. I had always been a middle guy. I’d happily take the unobtrusive room in the basement, claim I was too full for the last slice, and I’d ignore the line cutter. Always playing it safe. Low risk and low reward was my game.
I tried to think of one word good enough to describe Tessa, but it was impossible. There wasn’t just one word. She was a feeling. She was all the words together. Magnetic. Radiant. Funny. Beautiful. She was storm clouds and rain and the best summer day. She was pink toenail polish and a ponytail. She was cutoff shorts and a teasing eyebrow. A porch swing after a long day. A large Pepsi, not diet. She was soft and prickly. Salty and Sweet. The best combo. She was perfect. No. That wordwastoo sterile.
Damnit…she was magnificent.
FLIP.
But Tessa was also high risk.
Even though it felt wrong in every limb of my body, and my heart began to beat in that you’re-making-a-huge-mistake way, I had to do something. It was getting hard to breathe. Tessa was stifling the life out of me. I wasn’t right for Tessa. She didn’t need me. She may have thought she wanted me, but she didn’tneedme. I had to stick to the plan. And for some reason I couldn’t quite define, I picked up my phone and dialed a number.
FLOP.
* * *
“Logan!”
My eyes fluttered open. It was later that afternoon and I had been taking a nap in the bunkhouse. From the sounds of the booming racket going on downstairs, Stitch had decided to take a nap as well.
“Logan.”
“Yeah?” My eyes focused on my dad peering over at me from the top of the stairs.
“I need some help checking a few cows at Willow Creek.”
I swung my legs out of bed and stood, stretching my arms. “Don’t you dang farmers ever rest? It’s Sunday.”
Dad laughed. “Getting soft from that cushy Monday-through-Friday job, are you?”
“I used to think of you before I took a nap every Sunday in Boise, but now I hardly give you a thought at all.” I grinned at my dad’s appreciative chuckle as I followed him down the stairs.
“We rest on Sunday, but the cows don’t sleep, and neither do we.”
“I could have sworn I saw you resting pretty deeply at church this morning.”
