Chapter 12
Fitz
I can’t decide whether to curse Chad or thank him for bringing the lack of cameras to my attention. When the alarm on my phone tells me someone has breached the invisible fence dividing my land from the atrocity next door, I wish I had camera footage to review.
Then I could make a quick decision about whether to call Chad, involve the police, or reset the fence and go back to work.
It’s probably nothing. Probably a ballsy animal who figured a little electric shock was worth grazing on a mile of ripe strawberries.
I have the current dialed up to the maximum, so any medium-sized animal would feel the shock and run fast in the other direction.
And it’s not like horses or cows are roaming around on the backside of my land where it meets the neglectful neighbor’s place.
Still, I hop in my truck with a can of bear spray and a walkie-talkie in case I need to get in touch with one of the guys working in the fields.
It only takes five minutes to reach the property, and I do a quick drive-by to check for any signs of an intruder on the side facing the road. Nothing looks amiss, so I park by the barn and walk my horse out of the paddock.
“Hey, Dolly girl, you want to take a little wander around?” I give her flank a pat, and her nostrils flare in anticipation of getting outside.
Grabbing a blanket off a hook, I saddle Dolly up, and she stomps her right forefoot impatiently like she always does. “Give me a sec,” I tell her, sliding the reins over her neck and pulling myself onto her back.
We ride on the trail that follows the perimeter of the property and round the bend toward the back side, which is separated from the neighbor’s land by a high berm and the invisible fence.
I know the approximate area where the alarm was triggered, but I don’t see any stray animals wandering around, so maybe it was a false alarm.
But when I do catch sight of the culprit, I wish to God I had those cameras because I really would love to see what happened before I got here.
Sitting on her rear end is Tessa, scrolling on her phone and looking just as beautiful but a lot more pissed off than she did the night we met. My heart hammers inside my rib cage.
I slow down a moment, making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. This is the same woman I haven’t been able to get out of my mind for weeks, isn’t it? She’s just as gorgeous as I remember.
And just as out of place here in the dirt.
When she squints up at me, at first, she looks relieved. “Oh, thank goodness. Can you help me?” She doesn’t recognize me. The sun is bright in her eyes, and I must look like a dark shadow on horseback.
“Sure, honey, once you tell me what you’re doing here.” I cross my arms and gaze at her, all disheveled in a silk blouse that has no place on a ranch. Can’t help but smirk.
I turn my horse so she can see me more clearly and watch her smile fade. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She sits up taller and squints at me.
“Fitz? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same thing, darlin’,” I say, extending a hand. She shakes her head and crosses her arms. Stubborn. Feisty. Dusty.
Gorgeous.
I’m happy to see her.
“On second thought, you can just ride on by, cowboy. I’m good.” She looks at her scraped-up knees, which say otherwise. I can’t take my eyes off her legs, which are long and lean beneath what looks to be a…skirt?
And little goddamn kitten heels.
None of what I see before me makes any sense, the least of which is why she’s here.
“What, you're going to sit in the dirt all day?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Maybe. Seems like a nice enough place to do some soul-searching.”
I laugh. “That why you broke through an electric fence, to search your soul? Woulda been easier to go to church, don’tcha think? We’ve got one down the way.” I point over my shoulder.
Tessa holds up a hand to shade her eyes from the sun, which is when I notice the scrapes down the length of her arm. I want to scoop her up and tend to her injuries, but her wary expression says I shouldn’t swoop in like some kind of hero.
I dismount Dolly, who goes to graze in the shade, and notice a navy leather purse in the basket of a bike a few yards away. I retrieve the purse and hold it up.
“I assume this is yours. We don’t grow these out here.”
She takes it from me and nods. “How did you know I was here? Do you have secret spyware or radar set up all around this place? Is that what goes on in this town? Because by law, you really should let people know they’re being watched or tracked or whatever you’re doing.
You could find yourself in real legal trouble for that if you’re not careful. ”
I sputter a laugh at her idle threats. I've lived in small towns all my life, and none of them have the kind of surveillance capabilities she's talking about. “You must be confusing this place with some CIA outpost or something you saw on TV.”
“Okay, how’d you know I was here?”
“It’s not against the law to protect private property with an electric fence. You’re trespassing on land that doesn’t belong to you.”
“How are you so sure of that? Maybe I own this place.” She tosses a hand out, gesturing to the entirety of the ranch in front of her.
“You don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know who does, and it ain’t you.”
That shuts her up for a minute.
“Who’s the owner?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because the asshole next-door neighbor is suing us, and I’d like to line up an in-person meeting to tell that big jerk what’s what. The entire lawsuit is baseless, and I can prove it.”
“Suing…you?” There's no way she's the neighbor I've been trying to reach for months. The one who's ghosted every letter and email.
“You heard me.”
“You're saying you own that place?” I nod my head over the hill to the mess of a property that has been an eyesore to everyone in town.
“As of a month ago. My grandparents used to own it, and then my sisters and I inherited it. I'm taking the lead on renovating, so I'll be spending half my time here every week until the job is done.”
“Interesting,” I say.
“Yeah? Interesting enough that you’ll tell your friend who owns this place to drop the lawsuit? He can’t win it, you know. I don’t know what he’s paying his lawyer, but whatever it is, it’s too much.”
She owns the land next to mine. Her family hasn’t responded to countless overtures from me. Irritating. Infuriating, actually.
This would have been good information before I spent the better part of a month savoring the memory of her. And much as I want to lash out in frustration…I can’t.
Despite how little I know, I already like her more than most people I meet.
Maybe if I plead my case, she’ll help me secure the water I need so I won't lose my shirt next winter and my fields won’t go fallow.
Then again, she doesn’t seem like she came here to make my life easier. I put my hands on my hips, sizing her up. “Yeah? You a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“A good one?”
“What kind of question is that?” Her bottom lip juts out as though I’ve offended her.
I’d feel bad if she wasn’t sitting on my property talking about my lawsuit like I’m some country idiot who doesn’t have a case.
I wish she didn’t look so damn gorgeous, glaring at me like a sassy supervillain who I’ve tied up in ropes.
“The kind you should answer,” I say.
“Why?”
I rub a hand over my face, wondering if she’s always this difficult.
Of course she is. No one but someone difficult would wait until I sued her to come on out and find out why.
I debate what to do here. Not that I won’t help her if she’s hurt, but then what?
Bandage her up, send her on her way, and send my lawyer after her?
I consider that as I hack away some knee-high plants and extend a hand to her. She's smart enough to take it, and I heft her to her feet, but she doesn't stand for long.
“Ouch!” Hopping on one foot, she gingerly rests the other on its toe. I see the internal struggle in her eyes as she debates grabbing on for support.
“Jesus. You’re in pain,” I observe, exasperated by her carelessness but angry at whatever hurt her.
“Um, yeah, Captain Obvious.”
I turn so she can’t see me fight a smile. This woman. “Let's start at the beginning. How in the heck did you end up on my property?”
“Your property?” she asks. “This ranch belongs to some jackass who thinks a lawsuit will scare a couple of eighty-year-olds into signing over an underground spring in order to keep the rose bushes watered.” She looks over my shoulder at the acres and acres of crops growing behind me as though I haven't seen them before.
“Yes, I'm familiar. I’m not growing roses, by the way. That’s yarrow, and those are daisies. They’re native. I planted them because you can’t have organic farming without biodiversity. This is my ranch.”
She holds up a hand. “What do you mean, it’s your ranch?”
“Just what I said. I own this place. I’m the jackass who’s suing you.”
That does it. Wipes the smirky confidence right off her face. “You’re John Fitzgerald?” She slaps a hand against her forehead. “Oh my god. Fitz…Fitzgerald. Why didn’t I put that together?”
“Maybe because you’re too busy climbing up dirt in heels to think straight.
But we’ll let that slide when you tell me why you ignored the thirty letters I sent you before I resorted to suing.
Coulda made it much easier on us both if you’d just answered.
And by the way, you look pretty good for an eighty-year-old. ”
“Hang on, this is really your place? You work for the fire department, and you also own a ranch?” I don’t know why she’s so resistant to the idea that I own the place.
“Yes, I own it, but what makes you think I work for the brigade?” I ask.
“You said you did. That night at the bar. You told me you were a firefighter. Or was that a line you use to hit on women?”
I huff out a long breath. She’s unbelievable. “That wasn’t a line. I’m a trained firefighter because I do volunteer fighting. It’s common in small towns. You assumed the rest, Duchess. I had no idea you were looking for a firefighter fantasy, but good to know.”
“I do not have a firefighter fantasy.”
I smirk. “Whatever you say.”
She closes her eyes, frustrated. She’s pretty that way too, and I need to stop noticing.
“Guess I made an assumption. That's unlike me. But you shouldn’t assume either. I had no idea you wrote thirty letters. My grandparents have been in charge of this place, and they…haven’t exactly kept their eye on the ball. ”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
She’s feisty as hell, but that won’t help her ankle, which I can already see is swollen and painful.
“Can I at least get you to urgent care to get your ankle checked out? It looks like it might be sprained or even worse.”
“You a doctor in your spare time too?”
I huff my frustration. “You can’t walk on it, and I don’t see a lot of other options.”
She looks down at where it’s already a little purple. “I guess, yeah. I came down pretty hard when the dirt gave way.”
“Tell me what you were doing looking over the hill behind my property.”
“Like I said, I wanted to see why the asshole next door would care about our underground aquifer enough to sue over it.”
“You come to any conclusions?”
“Seems like you use a lot of water, from the looks of things.”
“It’s called farming. And it’s complicated, thanks to a bunch of arcane rules.”
I put an arm around her and help her to her feet, moving more slowly this time to keep her weight off the ankle. She leans on my forearm, gripping me gently with both hands, but as soon as she takes a step, her fingers dig in. I can tell she’s in pain.
“Easy…” My hand grips her shoulder, and she leans into me, barely putting weight on her injured foot.
“Good girl. Go slow.” She looks up at me through her long lashes and messy strands of hair. I tuck one tendril behind her ear, aware that I’m taking any excuse to have my hands on her. Her head tips against my chest, and I catch a whiff of mint and rosemary that takes me back to our night together.
Maybe I walk slower than necessary over to Dolly.
Keeping my arm around Tessa, I scoop her up, slide my arm underneath the backs of her legs, and lift her over the saddle of my horse so she’s sitting side saddle, her knees pulled together like a dainty princess. Then I pull off her shoes and chuck them into the field.
She looks at me, confused. “Hang on, what just happened?” She looks around as though she doesn't know how she ended up on top of my horse. I slide a leg over the saddle and sit behind her, guiding her body so she leans against my chest. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you a ride like I said.”
“On a horse?” she asks.
“Yeah. That's what we do out here, city girl. Horses are faster than cars most of the time when you’re dealing with bridal paths.”
“But, but…” She sputters out syllables but doesn’t get to the point. She looks down with eyes so wide she might as well be secured to a mountain top with a string of dental floss.
“You afraid of heights, Duchess?”
“No.” She chews her bottom lip. “Afraid of horses. I went to sports summer camps intentionally to avoid them.”
I almost laugh because Dolly would rather lick a person than bite, but I can see how worried she is.
“It’s true, what they say about horses. They’re more afraid of you, than you are of them.
Tessa, meet Dolly. She’s the sweetest horse you’ll ever know.
Nicer than most humans I’ve come across, and she almost never bucks women off the saddle. ”
“Almost never?” She scrambles toward me and clings to my arm. I try to ignore the zing that rips over my skin where she’s touching me. “Never, Duchess. And I’d take the fall long before I’d let you have anything but a soft landing. If you can bring yourself to trust me.”
“Not my go-to, trusting men who are suing me.”
“Well, given that I’m your best bet at getting bandaged up, I’d start now.”
I settle her back into place, riding side saddle in that skirt, and drape an arm around her waist, letting her legs dangle.
On the way past my barn, I hop off Dolly and retrieve a pair of cowboy boots and slide them onto Tessa’s feet, careful not to tweak her ankle.
Then I slide back into the saddle. “Better protection on a horse.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I slide onto the saddle, shaking my head at the turn this day took.
Dolly starts padding down the path. Tessa looks down at Dolly and side eyes me like she doesn’t quite know how she ended up here. Shaking her head, she huffs out a laugh. “Me on horseback in a skirt. This is certainly a first.”
I can’t begin to tell her the ways she’s got that right, even if I don’t entirely mind it. “You're telling me.”