“I thought you liked talking to Gen,” Breanna said to her mother. “I see you two in here having tea, laughing like teenagers.”
“You mind your own business,” Sandra told Breanna.
“She should mind her own business?” Ryan said.
This was the first Ryan had heard of Gen and his mother having tea and laughing. What were they talking about? Were they talking about him? What were they saying that was so damned funny? He found the whole idea disturbing.
“What the hell is wrong with Gen Porter, anyway?” Sandra went on. “You think you can do better?” She grunted. “That’ll be the day. She’s not Tara, you know. You think she is, but she’s goddamned well not.”
“I don’t even know what’s happening here,” Ryan said. His head was starting to hurt. “It’s like I came in here in the middle of an argument I didn’t know we were having. Puts me at kind of a disadvantage, don’t you think?”
Orin came into the room, pulling on the light jacket he wore every day during the spring months. “What argument are we in the middle of that Ryan didn’t know we were having?” he inquired.
“We’re not arguing about a damned thing,” Sandra said. “I’m just pointing out that your son’s an idiot.”
“Oh,” Orin said. He sat down at his place at the table and Sandra put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. “Ryan, right?”
“Of course, Ryan.” She shot Orin a dirty look.
“Son,” Orin said, stabbing a piece of bacon with his fork, “you’re probably better off just doing whatever your mother’s telling you to do.”
“Goddamned right,” Sandra said, plunking a carton of milk down on the table.
“Is Uncle Ryan in trouble?” Lucas said, running into the room with his brother close behind him.
“No, I’m not in trouble,” Ryan told him.
“Yes, you are,” Breanna said. She turned to her son. “He is.” Then she chuckled under her breath and started on her breakfast. “Better him than me.”
The thing was, Ryan wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t asked Gen out yet. He knew it was kind of an asshole move to kiss her and then fail to make any kind of follow-up. And he knew she wasn’t Tara. He’d never thought she was. The fact that his mother had even brought her up baffled him. What did that have to do with this?
Ryan thought about it as he rode Annie out to the northeast pasture to check out how the new calves and their mothers were doing. The sun was warm, with a hint of a breeze off the ocean. Annie huffed and picked along the trail, in no hurry. Neither was he. He had a lot on his mind, and being alone out here gave him time to let it all roll around in his brain, changing shape until—one would hope—it eventually made sense.
Ryan had met Tara when he was about twenty-six. He was out of college and back here working the ranch, and she’d come down here with her parents, a couple of upper-middle-class suburbanites who, amid their midlife crises, had decided to try their hands at winemaking. They’d bought a winery near Paso Robles and opened a tasting room in Cambria, and Tara had run the storefront for them until a fungus on the wine grapes had ruined their crop. Then they’d decided that maybe winemaking wasn’t as easy as they’d thought it would be.
Tara had asked Ryan to bail them out. With his trust fund, he could have done it easily enough. He might have given them the loan they wanted if they’d been a different sort of people, but Tara’s parents were the kind who blew through money carelessly. In the time they’d owned the winery and tasting room, they’d learned little about wine, grapes, or how to run a business. It was just a lark for them, something to tell their friends about on their next Caribbean cruise. So Ryan had said no, and they’d closed the shop, packed up their crap, and moved back to the suburbs.
For some reason, it had never occurred to him that she would go with them. He’d thought he loved her. He’d thought she had loved him. He’d been having visions of building a new house on the ranch property, of kids running around in the yard, of Tara waiting for him when he came home all dirty and exhausted, smelling like hay and horse. But when he’d refused to give her parents the money, things had changed between them. Money always changed things.
Everybody needed to have one great heartbreak in their lives, and that was his. When she’d left, he’d felt raw and fragile for a long time, so long that the rest of his family had looked at him with concern when they thought he wouldn’t notice.
Eventually, he’d just had to get on with his life.
Eventually, he’d healed.
And Gen wasn’t Tara.
Tara had been cool sweetness, and Gen was all fiery heat. Tara was peace; Gen was vibrant life. He could just see her out there in New York, charging up Fifth Avenue in her towering heels and her clingy black dresses, confident and purposeful. The thought made him smile.
She’d own the place.
New York.
Ah, Jesus.
It hit him so suddenly that he stopped, climbed off of Annie, and paced around in the grass, his head down, his hands planted on his hips.
Shit.
Was he really this dense? Gen wasn’t Tara, no. But Gen was talking about leaving town, just like Tara had.
That had been fine when they’d just been flirting, when he’d just thought of her as a sexy woman he liked, someone he could spend some time with.
But then there was the kiss, and the kiss had mystery and promise and longing in it, things he hadn’t felt since …
… since Tara had ripped his heart out and stomped on it.
He was an idiot.
His mother had seen what was happening, but he hadn’t. He shook his head at the thought that he was just another stereotypical male, so out of touch with his feelings that he couldn’t even see what was happening in his own mind until a woman pointed it out to him.
The breeze ruffled his hair, and Annie made a chuffing noise as Ryan stood there and looked out at the ocean. He mounted up again, turned Annie around, and headed back home.
Ryan marched into the house, looked around for his mother, didn’t find her, and then finally tracked her down in her garden, where she was weeding rows of peas. She was down on her knees on a foam mat, gloves on her hands, one fist full of prickly weeds, when he stormed up to her.
“I have feelings for Gen Porter, and I’m afraid I’m going to fall for her and she’s going to leave for New York,” he said without introduction.
Sandra peered up at him with a half smile on her face, using her free hand to shade her eyes from the sun.
“I guess the penny finally dropped,” she said with a hint of triumph.
“Well,” he said.