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“You were?” she asked innocently, making my heart twist.
“Sure was,” I replied. “And many girls back then would be mean to me. Because I had to help around the fam before I went to class, I smelled like horses and corn, which bothered me for a long while. I hated that I was unlike other girls. I liked boys a lot—” a strangled groan came from just outside, and I smiled, “—but I couldn’t get into makeup and manicures or writing love poems for the newest hot guy on TV. I’d rather be out there riding or fishing.”
“Didn’t your mom help you with those?” she asked, picking at the sheets.
“My mom…” I paused; was it the right time to pick at that scar? “My mom was not in my life. She came from a big city and married my dad, but the farm life was not for her. She left after I was born, and we, my dad and I, never heard from her.”
Sam’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay now, but back then, I was very hurt and angry about it, and it came out in many unhealthy ways,” I said. “I’d get mad at the slightest thing and didn’t even know why, but then one of my schoolteachers pulled me to the side and told me one thing I never forgot. She said emotions are like anything else you decide to do. If you can think about solving a math problem, you can decide how to control your emotions.
“Then she gave me a book and told me when I feel angry, to write it down, then draw a line, and on the other half of the page, list why I got angry. She said, ‘I can promise you that some of those reasons will seem silly but write them down anyway. After that, take a break, then go back and read what you wrote; I promise you, you’ll feel a little foolish about them.’ I did it, and guess what? She was right.”
From behind me, in my handbag, I pulled the book I had brought with me and handed it to her. “I think it’ll help you too. I want you to write down the things that bother you a lot, and the next day, I want you to read over them and think if they still bother you. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they won’t. This is all for you, Samantha. No one is going to read it unless you choose to let them do so, okay? It's not much, but it’s got stickers inside.”
Sam looked at the diary, then nodded. “…Okay.”
Relief washed through me strongly, and I hugged her warmly and then stood. “I’ll see you at school, Samantha. Have a good night.”
Leaving the room, I realized my suspicions were correct. John was a foot away from the door, if that much. “Eavesdropping?”
“More like monitoring the situation,” he grunted. “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I hope she will do as she promised me,” I said.
“Sam may be a bit troubled, but she always backs up her word,” John replied. “I do not doubt she’ll do right as you said.”
When we rounded the corner and got to my car, he jerked to a stop, looked at my little two-door thing, and burst out laughing.
I had to smother a laugh. “It's tiny, I know.”
“One of my legs is longer than this thing,” he snorted.
“Cocky much,” I teased while fishing out the keys from my pocket—only he grabbed my hand, turning me back to him.
This time, the air between us had changed to soft and tender. “Thank you,” John murmured. “It means a lot to me that you came to help Sam.”
“My pleasure,” I replied.
“I couldn’t help but overhear what you said about your childhood—”
“No,” I gasped sarcastically.
His lips twisted. “And since you know what it feels like, then you would have a better handle on what might be going through Sam’s head than anyone else. I want to hire you. I’d like you to come to the ranch on weekends and talk with Sam, Rayna.”
Hearing my name in his rumbly, rough drawl made a shiver race down to my toes and back up again.
“Sorry?” I said, swallowing over the lump that had just lodged in my throat. “…You want to hire me?”
ChapterNine
John
“Yes,” I replied. “There is no one else who would understand her, and I know this would be us doubling down on the conflict of interest part, but I cannot see another way through this. If you will counsel her, the best I can do is compensate you for your time.”
She licked her lips as I watched her tongue run across the delicate skin. It was a cruel reminder of the feel of her lips on mine, the taste of her kiss, and how she had made my world's realities disappear that night.
“You have my number, right?” I raised my hand to catch a strand of silky dark hair that had escaped her ponytail and slid the strands between my callused fingers. Slowly, I tucked it behind her delicate ear. “Think about it and call me after.”
