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“So what’s the endgame here?” Terrell had asked over a midafternoon coffee. “With Beckett?”
“Why does there have to be an endgame?” Why did everybody keep asking that? So Beckett was moving out. So what? It had never been a long-term plan. “Do you ask everybody that when they get into relationships? Who knows what will happen in the future, what, four months after they meet the guy? That hardly even counts as a relationship.”
“If they’re living together and she’s teaching his kids to ski? Andsoclearly loves them? You telling me you’re just in this for the sex? I’m sure the sex is fabulous, because I’ve seen the guy—not to mention the size of those hands, because, whoa, and I’m not even talking about the way he fills out those jeans. Or, you know what? I’ll talk about it. He’s soclearlybringin’ the heat. I’ve also seen your face when you’re with him, and if you’re trying to be discreet, you’d best work on your poker face, because, girl, you’re gettin’ plenty. You telling me that’s all it is?”
“What? I know how to ski, I like kids, and I’m good at teaching them. Why shouldn’t I do it? I already taught Troy to swim. And they loved it.”
“You loved it, too,” Terrell said. “I saw you. You do realize he’s a construction manager, right?”
“So? That’s not a good enough job for me? It’s a high-level job. He works on high-level projects. I like an … an active man. What’s wrong with that?”
“I like an active man, too,” Terrell said. “Yes, I do.But that’s it exactly. You can’t not know this. When do you ever not know anything?”
“What?”She was really getting impatient now. They were grabbing a quick coffee to warm up in the lodge, then going out to do a final few runs, and she wanted to start doing them. She did not want to have whatever this conversation was. “I am thirty-eight years old,” she reminded Terrell. “I am a successful professional woman. I can’t believe how often I have to point that out. Am I wearing a sign that says ‘Clueless Teenager’? No, I am not. I am fully aware of my circumstances, but thank you for your concern.”
Terrell sighed and asked, his voice maddeningly patient, “How many other high-level construction projects are there in Sinful, Montana?”
“Oh.” She felt her stomach lurch, that sickening feeling of dread that seemed to reach everywhere. For noreason.Whatwasthis? Why was Terrell trying to rain on her parade? “Obviously, he’s …”
Terrell didn’t let her finish, which was good, because she didn’t know what she’d have said. “He’s renting,” he pointed out. “Not buying.”
“He owned a house before. In Brisbane.” Ha. There you were. “For heaven’s sake. It’s not like he’s a wanderin’ man, and he’ll never settle down, because he runs around, around, around. His wife died, and he—”
“Brisbane is a big city,” Terrell said. “A growing city. A city with a whole shitload of major construction. I looked it up, because to becompletelyhonest here, the whole ‘gay black man in Montana’ thing isn’t going as well as I could’ve hoped, and I didn’t hope all that much. And I’m a wanderer myself, or why would I be here? Australia has a somewhat unfortunate record in regard to Black people, though. As in, it killed almost all of them.”
“Well, indigenous Black people,” Quinn said. “I’ve heard. It’s probably different now, though.”
“Yeah, not going to bet on that,” Terrell said. “Are we just going to pivot tactfully away from my point, then, and pretend you’ve already noticed that your job is absolutely not portable, unless you go back to practicing law againandget a license to practice in wherever the next state is—and hope it’s not the next country, because then you’rereallyscrewed? Do I pretend you’re keeping in mind that Brett Hunter has developments all over the world and is always looking for new ones, even though anybody with the observational skills of a fruit fly would say that yousoclearly aren’t? You’re a small-town girl, and this is your small town. Where does Brett Hunter’swife live? Here, even though she’s Australian. It’s not like she can live there, not if she wants to kick back with him at night instead of doing another Zoom call.”
“Yes,” Quinn said, “and I live here, too. So?”
“She’s also a chef,” Terrell went on, as if he hadn’t heard her, “and has a gourmet food business. Now,that’sa portable job. You know why that matters? Because I’m guessing he’s not going to be here forever. Hunter has something like nine housesnow.Hebounces around all over the place, and he’s not even the one managing those new construction projects. So this Beckett guy?”
“What do you mean, ‘This Beckett guy?’” That was Quinn, trying to rally. “Youlikehim.”
“Sure I like him. He’s hot as hell, he’s got a great accent, he’s got that quiet, amused, strong thing going on, and he looks at you like he’s thinking about what he wants to do to you next, or maybe just like he thinks you’re brilliant and he adores you. I can’t always tell the difference.” Terrell talked right over her retort. “But he’s not a contractor, putting in somebody’s new kitchen, building somebody else’s house. Those jobs he works on? They can be tens of millions of dollars. Hundreds of millions, that’s what he’ll be shooting for, and money like that isn’t exactly floating around here.”
“I …” Quinn began, then couldn’t think how to go on.
Terrell stood and gathered his trash. “I’m going to say one more thing, and then I’ll say, ‘Terrell, you did your best. Can’t make the horse drink.’ Final phase is scheduled for completion in two years.”
“So that’s two years,” Quinn said, grabbing her own trash and swinging her hard, clunky plastic ski boots out over the bench, focusing on keeping her core tight. Form was important. “An awfully distant time horizon, especially for somebody with my track record. Why are we even talking about this?”
Terrell sighed. “No idea. Forget I brought it up.”
“So what?” Quinn asked. Yeah, that wasn’t forgetting it, but she was getting mad. “I’m supposed to break up with him now to avoid being hurt in two years? I should just quit while I’m ahead and lock myself in my house forever in my wedding gown like Miss Haversham and feast on my golden memories of great sex and teaching his kids to ski?Great Expectations.Dickens.”
“Thanks,” Terrell said, “but I got the reference. Sorry. It’s been hanging out in the back of my mind the more I see you with the guy, and I said it. Maybe I’m worried about you getting hurt. Or maybe I’m just bitchy, bitter, and jaded.”
“Your own date didn’t go so well last night?” Quinn asked. “I can’t believe that.”
“Oh,” Terrell said, “I think we could both tell stories. Face it, we’re odd ducks. That’s the definition of odd duck, they go quacking around alone. Never mind. Let’s ski. My next boyfriend could be right out there, looking at my delicious booty in these tight ski pants and deciding to bring his multimillionaire self on over and get him some of that. Maybe the Quinn Jeffries plan is the right one. Ask the guy to move in. Put it all out there on the line. Go for broke. If you lose—nobody ever died of a broken heart, right? You just get back in the saddle again.”
“Cowgirls don’t cry,” Quinn said, feeling her stupid chest tighten as it had so many times over this past week.
“What?” Terrell asked.
“My dad always said that. Cowgirls don’t cry. You get back up again and start over.”
