Tessa
Back when I worked as an accountant for a fairly large software company, we had regular performance evaluations. If I had to assess my own efforts as far as my plan to attract Gray, I’d have to say my sales were lackluster which could be tracked to a very iffy sales pitch and outreach campaign. In other words, I was failing. Spectacularly.
Sure, I’d known it was a crazy plan when Laura and Gigi helped me plot it, but either I really meant it when I said I was going to take more risks in my life or I didn’t. And I did. I was almost thirty, darn it. All I had to do was close my eyes and remember all I’d been through to know I needed to go after my dreams now.
I’d simply have to do better at all of Gigi’s suggestions the next time I saw Gray. Which should be sometime today, as he’d called yesterday to let me know the van was finished and ready for delivery.
My week had been productive. After taste testing my treats with some of the regulars I’d come to know at the local dog park I’d narrowed down to the most popular flavors, tweaked the recipes to perfection, and finalized my treat menu. Today I was baking a few batches that I planned to drop off around town as free samples. I had tunes cranking on my iPod, Sully keeping me company in his bed in the corner, and the first batch already in the oven.
The doorbell rang, which meant Sully went into alert mode, hustling from the kitchen to sit waiting at the front door. I followed, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel in a feeble attempt to get the bacon smell off them before opening the door.
“Gray! You’re here already.” I hadn’t seen him in a week, and I’d swear, I always thought I remembered how good-looking he was, but he was always more than I was ready for. “How’s it look?”
“Nice. Rick did a great job.” He jerked his head toward the driveway. “Come check it out.”
“Actually, I’m in the middle of a batch of biscuits. Do you have time to come in while I finish first?”
“Dog biscuits? That’s what smells so good?” He looked disappointed. “Sure, I’ve got time. Eli’s coming to pick me up, but stopped at the hardware store for a piece of trim.”
He followed me inside, squatting down to greet Sully, rubbing his belly in Sully’s favorite spot. I had no idea how Gray knew about his spot. “Hey, Sully dude. How’s it going?”
The oven timer sounded, so I moved on through to the kitchen, leaving man and dog to their bonding. After another quick hand wash, I checked the biscuits. Still soft in the middle. I set the timer for three more minutes. “This oven is driving me crazy.”
“I’m ready to work with you to draw up that proposal whenever you are,” Gray said. He stood looking over the oven. “It’s amazing it’s still working as old as it is.”
“I was waiting to see the van before committing to the reno, remember?” I took my next batch of dough from my stand mixer and rolled it out on my marble counter. The marble counter was the best thing about the kitchen. Wonderful for baking. I held up one of the cookie cutters I’d found in an Etsy shop. “Look, isn’t this cute?”
“Mini fire hydrants. Nice.” Gray moved to stand closer, bending down with his face near my neck. “I don’t mean to be forward, but you smell delicious, Tessa. What is that?”
“Bacon,” I said, grinning at him over my shoulder.
“Ah, well that explains it then. What else have you got?” He leaned to look over my shoulder. “A bone. And a fish, for the cats. Nice. Equal opportunity treats.”
“I honestly have no idea if cat and dog owners treat their pets similarly, but I figured, why take a chance at angering potential clients in the beginning?” I pressed the bone cookie cutter into the dough in offset rows to maximize my space.
“How many trays do you use when you’re baking them?” Gray asked. When I looked up to respond, his gaze was moving around the kitchen as if taking inventory. “And how many racks does your oven have?”
“Four trays, two racks.” The timer rang, and I stopped cutting the bone-shaped biscuits to check. This time they were ready, so I slipped on a pair of oven mitts, grabbed out the trays, and that was when I realized I didn’t have a clear space on the counter for them. “Ack! Gray, could you move the bags of apples from the end over there?”
“Done,” he said, grabbing up all four plastic grocery bags in one hand and moving them over to the kitchen table. “Those smell really tasty. Are you sure they’re for dogs?”
“Go ahead and eat one.” I laughed, setting the trays down, before going back to close the oven. “It’s the same ingredients I’d bake into cookies for humans. Organic too. It’s just some people can’t make that mental leap.”
“Me. I can’t. Sorry. That smell is even making my mouth water, but the fact that they’re shaped like—what are those?—squirrels and I know they’re for dogs—can’t. But if you use that dough with cookie cutters shaped like a baseball bat or a pick-up truck, I’ll be the first person in line.”
“You know that isn’t logical, right?”
“Right-brained, all the way. I find logic too confining.”
“Left-brained. I find logic comforting.”
Our eyes caught and held, and I almost blurted out, “Wow, I guess it’s a case of opposites attract.” Except not, since I was the only one attracted, so not really a case like that at all. But it reminded me I needed to focus more on Gigi’s techniques.
In our last meeting, along with telling Gray ‘no’ as often as I could, I’d utilized steps one and two: Do not make eye contact. Ignore him until you’ve piqued his interest.
I was on step three now: Gain his attention. A loud noise, or even a firm voice will work.
“Okay, these have got to cool before I can bag them up, so I’m ready to take a break to check out my van.” I blew a treat cool, tossed it to Sully, then picked up an old newspaper and smacked it against my palm, getting Gray’s startled attention. “Let’s go.”
Gray gave me the side-eye before fishing the set of van keys from his pocket and handing them over to me as we went outside.
Once at the van, Gray opened the sliding door, and backed out of the way for me to look.
“Oh, wow.” I forgot all about Gray and the plan. Because in front of me was my dream come to life. For the last two years, while I lay in a hospital bed, or recovered from another surgery, or during my many hours of therapy relearning how to walk—this idea inspired me to keep going. It gave me something to think about during all the long sleepless nights. On the days when it felt like I’d never get well enough to leave the rehab facility—these plans became my goal. “It’s just like I pictured it.”
I stepped inside and had trouble knowing where to look first. It looked organized, practical, and carefully crafted. I ran my hands over the stainless steel counter, opened the refrigerator and freezer, excited to see they looked roomy enough. I pulled every sliding drawer out and in, and then checked out the storage area for dog food and the tub on wheels.
“It’s perfect.” I jumped out onto the driveway and threw my arms around Gray’s neck for a hug. “I can’t thank you enough. You turned my dream into a reality.”
I felt his hand run lightly down my hair, and his other hand slide across my shoulders, hugging me back. “All I did was hand it over to Rick, but you’re welcome.”
That wasn’t true. He’d been the one to find the suppliers and had designed the van with an eye to efficiency and work flow. I felt his arms slowly, tentatively, tighten around me.
“Hello, Tessa. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Well, darn. I pulled back the tiniest bit from Gray’s hug, to find Paul was standing on the driveway. How did I not even hear his car pull up?
“Paul. What are you doing here?” He was a bad penny. He was ants in your pantry. He was a bat in your Christmas tree. All those things showed up in places you didn’t want them. That was Paul.
Gray put his hands on my upper arms and gently moved me away.
“Just driving by on my way to work. I saw you out, so I stopped to say hello.” Stepping forward, Paul stuck his hand out to Gray. “Paul Jenson. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Gray Thorne.” He shook hands, then stood back.
“This is new, Tessa.” Paul stood back, examining the van. “I didn’t know you wanted to start your own business.”
Wanted to? I guess if he’d stuck around, he’d know that starting my own business hadn’t been a choice. It was one of the options I had left to me after my recovery from the TBI. Between the many broken bones, and pins holding two of my limbs together, I couldn’t sit in front of a computer all day anymore. And my brain couldn’t sustain the many long hours of focused concentration needed for my old accounting job. Which I’d loved. So, no, starting my own business hadn’t been something I’d wanted to do.
It had ended up something I’d needed to do. It had given me a goal. A reason to force myself to get out of bed and work through the pain. It hopefully would provide me with a way to make a living.
But Paul didn’t know any of that because he broke our engagement a week before I’d transferred to the rehab facility. The man I’d thought would be there to support me on my long, painful journey back to normal—bailed. I think he looked at me stuck in that hospital bed with so much of my recovery uncertain and decided it wasn’t what he’d signed up for.
I honestly didn’t begrudge him making that choice. Once I got over the devastation of his rejection, once my own healing had begun, both physical and mental, I was able to see he’d done me a favor. From where I stood today, I could simply accept he wasn’t strong enough for the journey I needed to travel. Or didn’t love me enough. And maybe, just maybe, the fact that watching him walk away didn’t break me, meant I hadn’t loved him enough either.
But I also felt like because of that, I didn’t want to let him back in. I didn’t want to share any of my private dreams and goals. When my future looked bleak, he chose not to be a part of it. I got over that. But for him to come back around now that I’d gained some semblance of normalcy back… That was not something I was going to let happen.
“Surprised me too, but life has a way of doing that.”
Yikes. I guess my voice had an edge to it because both Paul and Gray’s heads whipped around to look at me.
“You always were smart,” Paul said. “Food trucks are becoming very popular, so your timing couldn’t be better.”
He said that like I’d chosen the timing. I’d had no animosity to Paul once I’d gotten over the shock of his breakup, but he was beginning to piss me off now.
“Did you convert this for Tessa, Gray? It looks like you do good work.” Paul moved toward the van to look inside.
My gut said no way. I side-stepped over in front of him and slid the door shut. Because no. It felt like he was trying to slide back into the important places in my life reserved for people I trusted. People I loved. People who’d stuck with me when things were ugly. And he wasn’t one of those people.
“Not to be rude, Paul, but I’m a bit busy…”
“I won’t keep you then.” He threw a glance at Gray, who stood legs planted, arms crossed over his chest, a few feet away from me like he was standing guard. He nodded and left down the driveway, turning back around, as he kept walking backward, calling, “Hey, I’ll call you soon—we need to talk.”
“Sure, Paul.” I threw him a wave and turned away. I had no need to talk to him.
“What?” I tilted my head back to look up into his face. And I wondered what would have happened if Gray had been my fiancé when I’d been in the accident. I remembered his passionate defense behind “Six Brothers” and I decided Gray wouldn’t have bailed. Even if he’d decided he didn’t love me enough to face a future with someone who at that time wasn’t sure if she’d walk again, he wouldn’t have bailed. No. With a surety I could take to the bank, I knew he’d have stuck during the horrible months of surgeries and pain and rehab. He would have stuck through the worst. I also knew, looking at the gleam in his eyes now, already looking protective when he didn’t know a single bit of my history with Paul, that even if he had broken off the engagement—he’d have still stuck. Stuck by my side during the hard road back.
Call me crazy, but I just knew. Knowing that took my breath away because it made me want exactly that so much more than even a few days ago. And that scared me, because with Gray’s history, he was a long shot. Such a long shot, I knew I needed to make sure I could make it on my own instead of becoming too invested in the dream of a future with Gray.
It was time to pull back and focus on me. On my life. I’d been procrastinating for too long. Pulling back would give me time to regroup. Because my plan to tame the wild beast that was Gray Thorne wasn’t working. I needed to take a step back and rethink this.
Eli pulled into the driveway just then, flashing us a smile through the windshield while he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to an old Beach Boys song sliding through his truck’s open windows. Right. I’d forgotten he was dropping by to pick up Gray.
“Listen, thanks for delivering the van. I love it. If you have the invoice, I’ll take care of it now.” I wanted this tied up in case I decided to do more than regroup.
“I’ve still got to write it up, so I can bring it when we meet next to discuss the house renovation.” His eyes moved over my face, still assessing. As if he was still trying to figure out the whole Paul interaction.
But there was nothing to figure out. Not with Paul. What I needed to figure out was what the heck I was doing with Gray and was it a risk worth taking. I needed space for that. I felt like I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere recently, and I needed to backtrack to figure it out.
“Gray, go ahead and email me the invoice. I’m going to put the renovation on hold for now. Maybe talk to a few more companies.”
“You haven’t even let us submit a proposal,” he said, his voice clipped. “I thought the whole point of doing your van was for you to see how we worked. And unless there’s something you’re not telling me, I thought we executed the van reno excellently and in a timely fashion. You certainly seem satisfied with the end results.”
“I’ve got no complaints about your work.”
“We always appreciate feedback from our clients.” He stepped closer, until I could see the silver and yellow flecks in his blue eyes. “If you found our work satisfactory, what’s holding you back from moving forward with SBC?”
He was awful close and edging into my space. I knew that because I had to tilt my head even further back to keep looking into his eyes. Plus his sexy male scent wound around my lower belly and tugged. I crossed my arms over my chest and opened my mouth when I shouldn’t have.
“You. You are, Gray.” See? I should haven’t said a thing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What did I do? Because from where I’m standing, I’ve bent over backward to make you happy. And if you aren’t, then maybe you aren’t the kind of client we want to work with.” He was bent down enough to be in my face, his blue eyes blazing. Frown lines ran deep across his forehead, and his dimples had disappeared with his frown.
“The kind willing to pay you? Whatever. I’m sure Beck will go for that reasoning.”
“Do not call Beck.” Now he leaned in so close our noses were practically touching. I could smell the wintergreen of his gum. “I’m the point man on this job.”
“Eli’s right there in the truck. Why can’t I talk to him instead?”
“Because you can’t. You’ll need to call me. But feel free to get other bids. I guarantee you won’t get the same quality of work anywhere else.”
“Fine. I just might.”
“Knock yourself out, lady.”
“Whatever.” Gray gave me one last intense look, then turned and walked down the driveway to Eli’s waiting truck.
Well, Awkward Tessa just bought me the time I needed to regroup. She also might have pissed Gray off enough that if he never heard the name Tessa Madigan again, it would be too soon.
My inner voice hissed, “Do not let him walk away.”
My brain, being the voice of reason, chirped in with, “If it was meant to be, it’ll happen.”
My lady parts hyperventilated more than a little. “You’re letting him walk away? Did you not see that great ass?”
“Everybody, shut up,” I grumbled, watching Gray Thorne drive away.