For Sam: A new-girl small town cowboy romance

Chapter 1 Sam

Present Day

A deep sigh of relief washes over me. Less than one month after the night of my first big event for the city of Greenstone I have all the data entered, the equipment ordered for Rebecca, our new vet in the area, and just finished the final thank you note. They’re all hand-written, well, hand-calligraphed and there was no script so every single one is unique and tailored to the donor of the item or the highest bidder. Everyone in attendance that I was able to note has their more simple thank you as well.

Oh dear, I hope I didn’t miss anyone.

All of the cards stick halfway out of their envelopes so I can triple check they’re going to the right home. It’s easier for me to mark them as complete on my list. Or lists. Actually, list of lists.

I resist the urge to check everything a fourth time. Good grief, Sam, this isn’t fifth grade when you accidentally gave Brady Johnston the Valentine you wrote for your best friend, Terry, at the time. I groan, remembering the look of betrayal on her face when he showed the entire class what I had written on the card. “I love you the most!” was supposed to go to her while Terry’s was one of the generic ones from a pack. My body flushes with shame but I force myself to loosen my tensed up shoulders and take the final sip of my iced coffee with a splash of oat milk.

I might as well relax because these can’t be sent until the post office opens tomorrow morning. It’s just one more night before I’ll have my kitchen table back. Normally, my home office is more than big enough for the work-overflow from my office at city hall, but this project called for more surface space than usual.

My phone and watch vibrate, helping refocus my thoughts more efficiently than any technique I’ve tried in the past twenty years.

Tommy: Did you remember to drink water today?

Butterflies fill my stomach.

Tommy Landen’s checking in on me again. Who does that? My ex of two years didn’t even notice when I dyed my hair fire-engine red that one week. I could have drank nothing but cherry cola for a year and he would have been none the wiser. But that’s Tommy, always looking out for people.

Sam: Five full bottles. And that’s not counting when I refilled the bottle when it was only halfway empty.

Ever since the auction cleanup day in May, he sends me reminders to drink water because I was clearly dehydrated after that huge night. It’s sweet that he thinks to check in.

Not that he’s checking in on me for any reason other than just being a nice guy. An easy-going guy would never settle for someone so neurotic like me.

Not that he’s thinking about being with me. Even though I’ve been thinking about him for months.

Stop.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am worthy of love. Love from someone other than my parents. Real love. Not love that tries to keep you in a mold, but love that frees you to live as your true self.

Another vibration.

Tommy: Even better than yesterday! You’ll need a bigger bottle for the council meeting tonight, maybe fill it with caffeine.

Another vibration.

Tommy: Or booze.

I feel like I’m walking right into his plan by asking, but I take the bait.

Sam: And why is that?

Three dots appear immediately, so I watch and wait, letting my nerves twist themselves in knots.

Tommy: Because there’s a fire safety course coming up. We don’t need to practice anything and we already do the required drills, but each year we have someone who wants to do something with a crazy amount of candles, or something like that, so we get to learn about what we’ve all been tested on annually.

I can almost hear the tone of his voice, the way it animates even something that could be mundane to someone else. He adds life to everything he touches.

Sam: I’ll be sure to take good notes and might even bring hot tea along with my water. Can’t take any chances.

My thumb hovers over the message, ready to unsend it, but he’s already read it.

Tommy: I wouldn’t expect anything less from the town’s PR expert.

My cheeks burn.

Sam: Hardly an expert, as we’ve already established.

Those three dots are immediate once again.

Tommy: I’m pretty sure that we’ve established you’re so much more than an expert at this point.

My stomach flips at his praise as my thumbs automatically move to type out something self-deprecating. Before I even type one word, I lift them off the screen with a grimace. It wouldn’t do any good to contradict Tommy about how I do my job because he always has a new reason for why I’m good at what I do. And maybe, for once, I can accept a compliment with grace. Or at least use the distance of texting to appear to take that compliment with said grace.

Oh. He’s typing again.

I wait.

And wait.

What on earth could he be talking about? Did he remember something I messed up? My brain starts to sift through details of the past few days and I’m about to mentally go through everything from the fundraiser when my phone’s vibrations help me refocus.

Tommy: I know that it can be hard, especially in a town that still might feel new to you, to feel like you’re really in your groove. But what you did for the auction fundraiser really was special. Not only was there a great line-up of bachelors ;) but half of the town showed up. That’s no small feat. We’ve had so many community functions that have truly been flops, but you’ve already found ways to get people excited and come together. Plus, that night raised record numbers of funds for something that the community desperately needed. So, chin up, take credit where credit’s undoubtedly due, and I’ll see ya tonight.

How the heck am I supposed to reply to that? I’m surely not going to tell him that my eyes are welling up with tears. Instead, I lamely like the message. Hank raved about my performance, even though all I saw were the ways it fell short. But seeing this from Tommy versus my boss? It hits differently. It’s not the first time he’s told me that I did something great, but it’s like he knows what my brain needs to shut off the doubts that always creep in.

I walk into the kitchen to refill my water bottle that has three stickers stuck to the metal. The first that I put on was one I got the day I started working for this small town: a holographic Greenstone sticker. Avery, who I’m guessing will officially be Tommy’s sister-in-law before the end of the year, gave me a tour of Barnett Farms and afterwards, I placed an order for one of their stickers that has a bundle of veggies with BF in the corner. The tour felt like an official turning point for us and we’ve been becoming friends after a semi-rocky start. And then Tommy, not Jackson, who was my fake-dating-buddy when I first arrived, which was the likely reason for Avery’s initial frostiness towards me, brought me a black-and-white Landen Acres sticker saying that my water bottle needed to be “better aesthetically balanced” since the first two stickers were too close together.

All three have made me feel more and more welcome here. I’ll always be a “transplant” as newcomers are called, but I really have been treated with more kindness here than any other city, and I mean big city, I’ve lived in. Which only means I feel a whole new type of pressure to do well. I’ve never wanted to belong to a place as badly as Greenstone. There’s something that calls to me here and it’s not just because it’s a small community. This is a place where everyone truly knows each other and supports everyone. I’ve always wanted to be part of something that changes lives for the better and be seen for exactly who I am.

Another vibration gets my attention.

Tommy: A few of us are getting drinks after the meeting tonight, so this is a multi-part question, I hope you’re ready for it! Part I - Would you like to come out with us? Part II - Would you be okay if I drove you? Part III - Would you like me to pick you up from your place to go to the meeting and drinks? (I won’t have more than one beer and won’t have any if you’re at all uncomfortable with me driving. We usually hang out for about two hours and get apps and I’ll eat and drink a ton of water either way.)

Oh my.

Did he just ask me out?

No, this is a group thing.

Hank mentioned it earlier this week in passing. Can’t be a date.

But he wants to pick me up so we can go together?

No, he’s not asking me out. He just wants me to be comfortable with being able to have a drink myself.

Yes, that’s what he’s offering.

I need to stop reading into things that aren’t there.