“And the most competent person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not sexy,” she added, almost belligerently.
“Have you seen yourself in those little running shorts? Agree to disagree.”
“You’re a fucking movie star,” she practically exploded. “And I’m—I’m—I’m average. Ordinary. Foul-tempered, grouchy, judgmental—” Joan cut herself off, but I knew, in her head, the list went on. “I’m just me,” she finished quietly.
I took another step toward her, and this time, she let me. Her blue eyes were wary and guarded, but she stood her ground. And I thought to myself,That’sthe woman I know.
I reached out and took her hand in mine. “I like that you don’t smile much,” I admitted. “Because when you do, it feels like I earned it.”
Truthfully, I hadn’t had to earn anything in a long time. I was essentially the spoiled celebrity she’d always assumed I was. I had staff and people to manage my life and career. Auditions weren’t typically required anymore. People jumped through hoops to please me, not the other way around.
Georgie was the first person in quite a while who needed more from me than just the bare minimum that I was used to.
Joan side-eyed me. “Probably a nice change of pace having someone scowl at you. You’re so used to women bending over backwards.”
“Hot.”
She rolled her eyes. “And throwing their panties at you.”
I made a face. “Gross. Why do I want strangers’ panties? Also, can we not call them that? I’m not a rock star on a stage. That doesn’t actually happen.”
“You know what I mean,” Joan insisted. “Women falling at your feet. I’m not like that. I’m never going tobelike that.”
I smiled sadly. “I know. You’re not exactly impressed by me.” Initially, that had seemed refreshing, a novelty in a world where all I ever got was attention. Now, though, it made my chest ache.
Joan’s fingers tightened around my own. “I’m not taken in by the fame thing, no. But that doesn’t mean I’m not impressed. I admire what you’re doing for George. How you refuse to give up on him. You’re never discouraged. You work hard, despite what you want people to think. You’re good to your team. You take care of people. I like you, Ian. I do. But our worlds feel so far apart. I’m not ever going to be like the women you’re used to.”
“I know,” I repeated. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. And I wouldn’t want you to be. I like you the way you are. Grouchy and judgmental. Smart and generous. Hardworking, kind, and dependable.”
“You’re so good at that,” she whispered. “Saying the right thing.”
“You think I’m just playing a role, reciting some lines?”
“No,” she replied quickly before pausing and confessing, “I don’t know what to think.”
It hurt to know she didn’t trust me, but then I reminded myself that we’d only known each other a few months. Joan was the sort of person who didn’t rush into things. Everyone in her life—everyone she cared about—had earned their place, proven their worth.
I tried to think of how to explain it.
“Acting ... it’s just a job,” I told her. “It’s not the only thing about me. People can be more than what they do.”
“I’m not. I’m a farmer, and I’m a Judd. That’s who I am.”
Oh, Joanie.
With my other hand, I cupped her jaw. “Is that what you really believe?”
“It’s the truth,” she asserted.
“You are so much more than the box you’ve put yourself in. Even with how dedicated, competent, and passionate you are. You’re also your own person outside of the farm. You’re a neighbor, a sister, a daughter, a friend. You’re reliable. Everyone in Kirby Falls and that unhinged Facebook group knows they can count on you. You collect dolls because you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. You plan bachelorette parties even though you’d rather die than line dance. You donate your time, energy, and resources to help people. You’re?—”
I had to take a breath and let it out before admitting, “You’re the only person Georgie responds to. You’re safe and steady. You’re exactly what he needs in a way I could never be. So, I don’t accept that you’ve simplified yourself down. You’re more than your job, and so am I. I’m not lying to you or pretending or acting when we’re together. You can’t explain away my feelings for you by assuming I’m falling into some pattern or habit because of who I am. I know trust doesn’t come easy for you, but youcantrust me.”
I leaned down and pressed my forehead to hers. “If you want me to leave you alone, I?—”
“I don’t want that,” she interrupted, and I was grateful. I hadn’t been exactly sure how I was going to finish that sentence.
