The blush on my cheeks is unwelcome and embarrassing. I should be better at not showing what I’m really feeling, but this situation isn’t exactly one I’ve found myself in before. I turn so I can see him. He wears jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap, the same as he did two days ago.
I know he hears the name his mom said, but it doesn’t register until he’s halfway through saying, “Hi, Morg—” His eyebrows pinch together. “Wait, what?” His gaze shifts to his mom, as if he’d misheard her. I look over at her too.
“Tenley Roberts, Warner.” Juliette gives him a come on look. “The actress you’re going to be working with.”
My gaze swings back over to Warner. His jaw is flexed, his eyes narrowed at me. “Right.” The t sound is so pronounced it’s all I need to know he’s angry I lied.
I stand up and round the couch, my leg brushing Dakota’s knees as I go. I extend a hand like I’m introducing myself properly, but my eyes are imploring him to understand. He was so kind to me two days ago, going so far as to use rocks to write his license plate number, and I lied to him. I know I had the right reasons for giving him a fake name, but I still feel badly about it. It’s obvious honesty means a lot to him.
“It’s nice to see you again, Warner.” I’m sure every single member of the Hayden family is confused by my wording. “Thank you for agreeing to step in for Cary. I appreciate it.”
My hand dangles in the air, waiting for him to take it. He stares at me, his toffee eyes dark and cold, nothing like two days ago. He places his hand in mine, and I try not to feel it everywhere. A zinging through my body, like an injection into my bloodstream.
Juliette clears her throat, not like she feels a tickle but more like she’s giving Warner a proverbial kick in the ass.
Warner sucks in a breath. “It’s no problem, Ms. Roberts. Here at the Hayden Cattle Company, we aim to please.” He drops my hand, gives both me and his entire family a dirty look, and disappears the way he came.
Slowly I turn around to face his family. I’m mortified. They all look surprised and curious.
I explain. “Warner and I met two days ago on the highway a couple hours outside of Sierra Grande. My car broke down and he pulled over. He was so helpful and nice.” My teeth capture my lower lip and I bite down, my gaze returning to the space where Warner was just standing. “I didn’t tell him my real name…” I trail off, unsure how to explain my reasons to the Hayden family.
“You don’t owe us an explanation,” Wes says, walking over to Dakota and pulling her up off the couch. They make a striking couple, with her strawberry blonde hair and his dark features. “Please excuse my brother today. Normally he’s the most good-natured of all of us.” Wes looks at his parents. “Warner dropped the kids off with Anna this morning. I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” Understanding dawns in everyone’s eyes. This person, Anna, has meaning. Wife? Ex-wife?
Juliette stands up, but Beau stays seated, his knee crossed over his other knee in a figure four. He runs his fingers over his jaw, thinking about something. From the chair, a snore drifts softly from the elderly man introduced to me as Gramps, and I smile as I remember what he’d said to me when we shook hands. I’m so old I don’t have a name anymore.
Juliette touches my shoulder. “Tenley, I’m sorry about the way Warner behaved. Personal problems or not, that’s not how I expect guests to be treated in my home.”
“Get the switch,” Wyatt says, smirking. Dakota laughs and Wes rolls his eyes. Juliette gives Wyatt an affectionate side-eye. Gramps snores again, louder this time.
“Well, thank you all for the meeting. I’ll see you back here on Monday, like we talked about. Maybe Warner will be feeling better by then.” I take a step back but Dakota pulls away from Wes and walks to me.
“I’ll walk you out,” she offers, looping her arm through my elbow.
We’re through the front door when she says, “The Haydens can be terrifying, I know. I’ve had my own fair share of drama with them. But I promise you, Warner really is the nicest of the bunch. He’s never been anything but kind to me. He’s just going through a hard time.”
“With his wife?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too interested.
She pauses on the top step of the porch stairs. “Yes.” She nods, but she doesn’t offer anything more. As much as I’d like to hear about it, I also like that Dakota’s not divulging. In my experience, trustworthy people aren’t easy to come by.
I walk down the steps and look toward my car. Libby’s on her hind legs, her paws on the dash, watching us. After the visit to the vet yesterday, where he removed a thorn from her paw and I learned she wasn’t microchipped, I decided it was safe to give her a name. The vet said he’d never seen her before.
“Thanks for walking me out,” I say, my gaze swinging back to Dakota. She’s leaning against one of the two beams that flank the stairs.
“No problem. Maybe one of these days when you’re finished shadowing, we can grab lunch at my place.”
For a second I think she’s talking about her house, but then she adds, “Sorry, I mean The Orchard. I own it, that’s why I called it my place. It’s a restaurant. Sort of.” She waves her hand around and laughs. “Anyway, I’ll see you soon.”
She retreats back into the house and I go to my car. When I climb in, Libby scurries into my lap. She’s part beagle, according to the vet, and a few other breeds. He said if I really want to know, I could get a DNA test, but I don’t want to. I already love her, knowing her heritage isn’t necessary. I considered putting up lost dog signs, but I can’t list my name or phone number. For now, it’s just me and Libby.
And Warner.
Who is apparently having trouble with Anna, the woman he dropped his kids off with. I can see this whole situation like a storyline, and it sounds as intriguing as the soap opera my parents starred in.
***
I’ve never had so little to do before. Or so few people to do it with.
I’m sitting on the back porch, my feet propped on the railing, when I make the decision to go into town. I’m hungry, and cooking for one is making me sad. I’ve spent the last two years cooking for two, or getting takeout for two, or considering another person in general. With Tate gone, I only need to think about myself. I know it’s a healthy thing to be able to be alone, I just don’t like it very much.
Once inside the house, I lock the door leading to the back porch and place my empty glass of iced tea in the kitchen sink. I change my clothes and coax Libby into the crate I bought yesterday at the pet store, which she definitely does not want to do. I feel bad for crating her, but this isn’t my house. To make up for it, I drop in two of the toys I picked up when I bought the crate.
“Stop with the puppy eyes,” I instruct her, but she doesn’t listen. If anything, she turns on the pitiful look even more. “I’ll bring you back a treat,” I tell her, sticking two fingers through the skinny bars and scratching behind her ears.
It’s a nice night and an easy drive to town. The air is a little cool, though the day was warm. I learned yesterday that there can be up to a thirty-degree difference between daytime and nighttime temperatures in the desert, so I tied a long sleeve shirt around my waist before climbing into Pearl. I also pulled on a hat and wound my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. I don’t have security right now, largely because I refused them when my dad suggested it. The last thing I wanted to do was show up in a sleepy small town with two big, burly, scary-looking men going everywhere with me. Sticking out like a sore thumb was not my goal. And, as I meander through the downtown area with its cute streetlights and stores, I think I made the right call.