Claire McEwen - Convincing the Rancher

She didn’t know what to do, so she did what she was best at. She went into business mode. “So thank you for taking his meeting with me...again. As I told you yesterday, I’m in town because I work for a public relations firm that has been hired by Renewable Reliance.”

“Yes, the wind project,” he said, his voice as dry as the desert. “I remember.”

She plowed on. “I’m in charge of community relations.”

“Well, you’re off to a great start. Considering that you’ve already had relations with the town mayor.”

Tess stopped abruptly as the initial hurt turned to fury. “Is this how you’re going to handle this? Did you want me to stay so you can be self-righteous and hold that night over my head? Because I seem to remember that I wasn’t alone in that hotel room. In fact, you invited me back to your room.”

Slaid stared at the ground, and they walked a few steps in awkward silence. Then he broke it. “I was rude. It was a stupid thing to say. We agreed to keep things professional and I dropped the ball. It won’t happen again.”

She was momentarily disarmed by his apology. “Well, it was a fumble, but maybe you can recover.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You know football?”

She needed a cordial relationship with him to make any progress with the community, which is how she justified her little white lie. “Sure. Some. I’m a San Franciscan. We love our Forty-Niners.”

“So much that you ran ’em out of town.”

Tess stared at him a moment, racking her brain for what she knew about the football team—something to explain his comment. A lightbulb lit in some dim corner of her mind. San Franciscans hadn’t been able to agree on replacing foggy and crumbling Candlestick Park, and a neighboring city had happily jumped in to build the football team a new stadium. She gave a little laugh of relief. “Oh, yes. They’re the Santa Clara Forty-Niners now. It doesn’t have quite the same ring.”

“But they’re keeping their old name, right?”

“Oh, right. Of course.” She was the one fumbling here. Hoping he’d attribute her red cheeks to the wind, she switched back to the topic she actually knew something about. “About the windmills— My job will be to interface with the community and make sure you, and the people of Benson, have up-to-date information about the project. I’ll be responsible for presenting the environmental impact reports and creating opportunities for public input.”

“And if I tell you that the only input the people of Benson will give you is a resounding no ?”

“Then my job is to tell you that you’re putting the cart in front of the horse. Renewable Reliance has a right to perform this exploratory process. They’ve already been granted the necessary permits from the Bureau of Land Management. And there will be plenty of opportunities for you and the citizens here to weigh in.”

“But personally, you think this project is bogus.”

“There is no personally. I’m here to do my job—to present information about the project to the public. I don’t weigh in on the projects I represent.”

“But, I take it, the information you present will be your client’s side of the story.”

“Of course. But it will be a true story. Just the facts.”

“Facts can be bent.”

“By everyone involved,” she argued, “including you.” She wanted to kick herself as soon as she said it. What was it about Slaid that made her lose her cool? She should be buttering him up right now, making him and his town feel special, lucky to be chosen as the site of a wind farm. Instead she was trading insult for insult.

They’d reached the door for Benson Wilderness Outfitters, and Slaid grasped the handle and pulled it open for her, but his expression was far from chivalrous. “I don’t bend facts,” he said.

“Well, neither do I.” He waited and she waited, hands on her hips. Finally a slight smile of dawning understanding curved one corner of his full mouth. “You’re not going to let me open this door for you, are you?”

“You go ahead,” she answered. “I can get my own doors.” She didn’t want his bogus chivalry, but if he waited any longer she’d have to give in. She was rapidly going numb, and she craved the warmth she knew would be inside the shop.

“Stubborn much?”

“It’s considered an asset in my field.”

“I’ll bet.” Slaid went in first, letting the door swing shut behind him. Tess grabbed the handle and jerked it open again, relieved to feel the warm air on her frozen face.

Slaid walked partway across the shop, then turned to face her. “So you’re pretty good at your job? That’s why they sent you out here?”

“That’s what my boss told me, but I think he was just desperate to get someone out here to this godforsaken place.”

“Oh, no, not godforsaken.” Slaid’s smile was suddenly gentle. “Spend some time out here in these hills and mountains, and you’ll know we’re right in the heart of God’s country.”

“I may have to pass on that opportunity, Mr. Mayor. Trekking the great outdoors is not my style. Plus, I doubt that God would welcome a poor sinner like me strolling around his chosen land.”

Slaid laughed and pointed to a wall of outdoorsy-looking boots, similar to his own. “Why don’t you get some more practical shoes anyway, just in case God’s a little more welcoming than you give him credit for?”

Despite all the tension between them, Tess had to laugh at that. She went over to study the boots, wondering which ones were the least ugly. This was strange. She’d never had a business meeting that involved shopping before. And she’d never have guessed Slaid would be so helpful. He quickly pointed out the most feminine and classy looking of all the hiking boots on the wall, and also found her some wool socks to try them on with. Then he came back with another pair of boots for wearing around town—knee-high black leather with a sturdy rubber sole and low heel. The kind of boots a lot of women were wearing to stride around San Francisco these days, though so far Tess had passed on the trend. But once she slid them on over the wool socks, she knew her style was going to change, at least for now. They were comfortable and, more important, warm.

Then Slaid wandered over with a knee-length down coat in a rich, dark teal blue with fake fur lining a generous hood. Tess slid it on and was pleased to see that it was actually cut in a feminine line, not too thick and bulky. He handed her a sweet, matching teal wool hat and another one in black. He had her choose two kinds of gloves—black fleece for everyday and another pair, more like ski gloves, for when it snowed. Tess hoped she’d be long gone from Benson before that happened. After a couple of turtleneck sweaters were added to the pile, Tess stared at Slaid in awe. “You are a way better shopper than most of my girlfriends!”

He grinned. “I have a teenage son. I’m used to shopping quickly, before he gets too mopey.”

She kept forgetting he had a son. Of course she did. She knew almost nothing about Slaid, except what Samantha had told her and what he looked like naked...and wanting. Tess quickly pushed that image from her mind, but not before it heated her face. She turned to a rack of scarves and studied them intently.

“How about that eggplant color,” Slaid suggested. “Or the dark blue, to match your eyes. They really are so blue they’re almost purple, aren’t they?”

“The eggplant might go best with the teal coat.”

He picked up the scarf and gently wrapped it around her neck. His fingers brushed the skin there and she shivered, fighting the sudden urge to lean into them. “Yep. Your eyes are almost purple.”