Chapter 20 #3
“Talk to me, cowboy.” I hope my voice sounds soft, nonthreatening.
My sisters tell me that I use my lawyer voice way too much, the one that makes people jump to attention and worry they’ve done something wrong even when they haven’t.
It’s never felt like a liability until this moment when I want Fitz to feel comfortable opening up. “What has you stressed?”
He shrugs. “Just this and that.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Come on. You can do better. Use your words.”
He flinches and shoots me a side-eye, and I worry I’ve pushed too hard. Gingerly, I reach for his hand, half-expecting him to jerk it away when our fingers touch. But he closes his palm around mine and my pulse jumps like I’ve been wired to a defibrillator.
At this small point of contact, I can feel the drumming of his heart like it’s a part of my own body. I hope the connection fuels him. Makes him brave. But he says nothing.
“I told you about my job, or at least my frustrations with my job,” I coax.
“What's going on with yours?” He nods, but again, he doesn’t say anything.
I feel like I’m treading a fine line between convincing a shy animal to trust me enough to take a morsel of food and scaring the creature away.
But I sense that we’re on the cusp of a deeper connection, and I want it.
“You can tell me something small and insignificant. One little detail. I just want to know you better.” I wait.
Still nothing. Just the even sound of his breathing, which has slowed since I took his hand.
“Otherwise, I'm going to have to keep asking the people around town, and who knows what they're likely to tell me.”
His gentle laugh reverberates through my body. The sound lifts my spirits. It’s worth anything I can give to feel it again. “Have you been asking about me, Duchess?”
“You better believe I have. Not that anyone's too quick to tell me much, but I did learn that you supply most of the restaurants in the county with pristine produce that they brag about on their menus. And that you raise cattle. Wouldn’t surprise me if you own all the land we’re looking at right now.
” I don’t know if it’s true, but that’s only because I’m slightly disoriented as to which direction we are relative to the town.
“Not really.” I can hear the smile in his voice without looking up.
I look up anyway because I like the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.
He’s gazing out with the kind of satisfied expression of someone who does own the land we can see, yet there’s something I can’t quite name behind that smile. Something unsettled.
He seems calmer, so I ask what I’ve been wondering about for weeks. “So do you pretty much run this town, or what?”
“Bit of an exaggeration.” He swallows his words like they hurt to admit.
“Is it?”
“Yup.” He looks away, and I can tell from the pink creeping over his ears that I might be closer to the truth than I realized.
“My family’s been here a long time. It makes people listen to what I have to say, but lately, I haven’t been able to help much.
I have to do better.” He clenches his jaw, and I feel the tension in his body, overwrought because he carries so much responsibility on his shoulders.
He huffs out a breath. “I can’t do shit if my business goes under because I can’t water the plants.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard him put it so starkly. “Are you in danger of that?”
“Yes.” The word feels like a bomb, and the pain on his face hurts me like it’s my own. Fitz releases my hand and it hangs limply by my side, amplifying the hollowness I feel.
He may want to push me away, but I still have fight in me.
“I’m sorry. I want to help. And look, you can have the water from our aquifer. Take it. You’ve seen our property. We’re not watering anything, so you should use it for what you need.”
The sliver of relief doesn’t blunt the pain on his face. “Thank you. But that wasn’t the point of this conversation. To pressure you.”
“I know. But until now, I didn’t understand the situation. You have to tell me these things or I can’t help. And still, the aquifer will only get you so far.”
His eyes flame with an intensity I’ve never seen before. Anguish mixed with pure exhaustion. “Right now, I can only think short-term. Where to drive the cattle so they can graze. Next week’s water. This year’s crops. A baby coming in a few months. The future…who can count on anything?”
His words are like a dagger, a new reminder to stop fantasizing about his sweet gestures like they mean we’re becoming a couple. Yet I want to erase his pain. Maybe more than I want anything else. Being there for other people is what I know how to do.
“I want to help you, Fitz.”
Still watching his face, I see his mouth press into a hard line. Seems like he’s opened up as much as he wants to for now. Then he shrugs.
It’s enough. A beginning.
I don’t want to tell him yet that I’m cautiously optimistic about a possible way forward for Willow Springs.
I’ve been doing research in my off hours, looking at how other water-starved communities have handled arcane laws that box them in.
It’s too soon to make any promises, but I at least need to know he’s open to ideas.
His shrug gives me the permission I need to keep digging.
Fitz goes over to where Dolly grazes in the grass and slides the saddlebags off her back.
Walking back over to a flat area to our right, he unzips a bag, pulls out a soft plaid blanket, and spreads it out on the ground.
Then he takes out a metal cooler that already holds a bottle of white wine, along with a couple of plastic zip lock bags filled with grapes, several hunks of cheese, and a sliced baguette.
My mouth waters. “Are you kidding me? You packed us a picnic?”
Is this something men do? No one I’ve ever dated has put a quarter of the thought into doing something so nice for me before. I don’t even know how to respond.
“Can’t have you going hungry on me. You’re eating for two.”
My chest swells with appreciation, and I feel a giddy thrill, even as I remind myself that this isn’t a real date.
“True. I may just eat for ten. But sadly, I can’t drink that wine.” It surprises me that he forgot that small detail when he’s clearly paid attention to nearly everything else.
He turns the bottle around and shows it to me. “It's nonalcoholic. Basically just carbonated grape juice, but I thought it would be fun.”
He fishes two towels out of the bag and unwraps wineglasses. I stand in awe as he sets it all up on a little foldable tray he pulls out of the other bag.
“This is quite a spread, cowboy. Kind of makes me think this isn't your first time doing this up here.” I work to suppress the inappropriate pang of jealousy.
“I've never been on a picnic with a woman, Duchess, never mind one as beautiful as you. I can’t handle romantic complications, so this… this is just for us.”
“That’s…maybe the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
He huffs a laugh. “You need to find some people to give you better compliments.”
“I found you.” I flinch when I realize that it sounds like I’m laying claim to him for good, so I immediately backpedal. “I mean—”
He smiles. “When you say something perfect, just let it be perfect.”
My pulse races. A crow flies overhead and caws at us, zooming off over the valley just as quickly. We share a long look. I didn't intend for my comment to evoke something so intense, and I worry that he’s reading something into my words even though they’re true. But I want to be honest.
“I feel lucky that you're going to be the father of this baby,” I say. “I know neither one of us planned this, and I really appreciate that you’re willing to do this with me.”
He closes his eyes for a long beat.
When he opens them, they’re soft and unfocused. He clears his throat and looks away. I start to worry I’ve said too much, but then he picks up my hand and interlaces our fingers.
“I know you’re someone who likes a plan…
I don’t know how fate made me a part of yours, but maybe there’s a reason you happened to come up here on your birthday.
Maybe there’s a reason I went out to the Hitching Post that night.
I hadn’t been there in months. Do you believe in divine intervention, Duchess? ”
“I don't know if I’d go that far. But I do believe in luck. I believe you have to be open to it if you ever hope to find it. And sometimes you have to make your own luck out of the opportunities you get.”
“I think that’s called being an optimist.” He leans in, his gaze thoughtful and a little intense with the weight of what he’s saying.
“Not how most people would describe me.” I look down, wishing I could be different. I love that maybe he sees something optimistic in me that even I don’t notice. I want to believe he sees the truth.
“I think you care for people and look for the best. Probably what makes you a good lawyer and a good sister. But does it ever get to be too much? Where’s the line you won’t cross, where you protect yourself from what everyone else wants you to do?
” His jaw tightens ever so slightly, and he glances down. He could be talking about himself.
“I…” I shake my head, unsure how to respond honestly to a question I’ve never asked myself.
His gaze reconnects with mine, his sincerity unmistakable. “You can lean on me, Duchess. That’s all I’m saying. Now that you have me, I’m yours. For whatever you need. The baby too.”
My pulse quickens again at his words. They’re exactly what I’ve never dared dream that a man would say to me, yet…here he is, telling me he’s mine. Except…that he only means that in terms of co-parenting and supporting my needs so we can give our child a good life.
A passel of butterflies bounces along from a flower-covered bush and scatters into the air around us. The distraction succeeds in making me stop overthinking what Fitz may or may not have meant.
He’s finished setting up our picnic. Everything is laid out like it’s ready for a photo shoot, with butterflies still flitting around.
Fitz gestures for me to sit on the blanket, where he’s placed a small bouquet of yellow wildflowers that are growing on the hill just below us.
I sit cross-legged, and he tucks a second rolled blanket into my lap. “In case you get cold.”
“You do come prepared.”
“Like a Boy Scout.” He puts an arm around me, and it's comfortable.
Like something one of my sisters would do in order to share a little body warmth and enjoy the view.
But let's be real. I don't have any other male friends who would take me up on a sunset horseback ride, set up a beautiful picnic, and make me feel this peaceful. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do because we live in different worlds.
For now, though, I tip my head against his shoulder and stare out at the incredible view. The sky shimmers in shades of pink and orange and gold.
“This place is showing off for us,” he says. “Like it knew I wanted to impress you.”
“You don’t need to impress me.” I consider whether to ask him more questions. If I can’t be bold and ask for what I want right now, how will I be able to do that when we have a child together? “But I do want to know more about you.”
“Yeah. Sure. Guess you should know a few things. As to the land around here, some of it came to me from my parents—my mom, really, who inherited it from her dad. He was a rancher and bought the land here when it was dirt cheap, and nobody wanted to be out here. There was no chance of growing anything. We lucked out, though, and found the rights to some water, which allowed us to develop our land, feed the animals, and plant on it. And that was the plan.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“My dad died. Acute liver failure.” He shoves a hand in his hair and looks upward like maybe he’s debating whether to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “My mom remarried and moved up north. I only see her a couple of times a year.”
His lips snap shut, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. I take the nugget of information and don’t press for more.
I want to offer him something in return.
“About the lawsuit, I found an old case that might help us. It sets a precedent for water rights, which means you and everyone else here could have a case against the Tomahawk Corporation. I want to meet with one of my colleagues to make sure I understand the implications correctly.”
“Us against Tomahawk?” He looks dubious, but there’s a new glint in his eye. “David and Goliath?”
“It’s possible. I don’t want to promise anything until I know all the parts and pieces, but I’m…cautiously optimistic.”
Fitz closes his eyes and gives me a tight smile.
“I appreciate you wanting to help. I’m running out of time with global warming being what it is.
You've seen the weather patterns around here.
We either need to change the way we grow everything, embrace full-on dry farming, or find water from a new source.
But that's expensive, and I don't want to bankrupt the land that’s been entrusted to me and lose everything.”
“I get it. I feel the same way about my family. My parents died when we were little on 9-11. A lot of people died. Obviously, it was a horrible day for my family, but my grandparents have been amazing. They raised five girls, and we always knew we were loved.”
“I’m really sorry, Tessa.” He hasn’t used my actual name much, and it sounds oddly formal.
“Thank you. We were lucky. We had the best role models.
And I knew my parents would want me to step up and take care of my sisters.
It's just the way I am. I worry about them and look out for them, and I probably always will.
Maybe that's why it never felt like the right time to be a mother. It always seemed like I was doing the job already, and I didn't want to spread myself too thin. Plus, you know, holding out for the handsome prince.” I laugh as though I’m kidding, which I am. Mostly.
“Doesn’t sound like you’d have time for the prince even if you found him.” I glance at him for signs of a smirk, some small suggestion that he’s referring to himself, but he seems focused on the view.
“Probably not. And now I’m thirty-five, so…time to start writing my story.”
“How does the story end, Duchess?” He leans back on the blanket, a little more carefree now. And completely unaware that he just asked a question I have no idea how to answer.
I shake my head and push away the wave of sadness that my story won’t end with the two of us together. “I wish I knew. For now, though, this is pretty darn good.”
I lean back too. The sky is cloudless, and the horses graze and whinny behind us. Fitz tips his cowboy hat back, and I get a good view of his chiseled face in the waning light.
Pretty darn good.