The Last One(30)

We unloaded the bed in silence. I liked to tease Sam, and I was enjoying seeing how far he’d let me push before he either gave in and admitted he felt some attraction to me or began to push back. But I didn’t mess with his work. I wanted to be helpful, so I did exactly as he told me and carried baskets to the end of the work table.

When we’d delivered the last load, one of the women looked up at us, grinning. “Sam, you got yourself a new helper, eh? Pretty new girlfriend?”

“Not my girlfriend.” Sam’s jaw was clenched. “She’s just a college student, staying with us for the summer to teach art.”

The woman only shook her head and winked at me. I smiled back, even as I felt Sam’s obvious rebuff. Just a college student.

“Maddy, you’ll finish up here and lock up? Turn everything off?” Sam addressed the woman who’d been teasing him.

“Sure thing, Sam. Just like every night. I got it covered. You look like you’re dead asleep on your feet. Better go home and get some rest.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, last day of onion season’s a killer. Thanks, Maddy.” He waved to the other two women and headed back to the truck.

I walked behind him and got back into the cab in silence. Sam started it up again without looking at me. I snuck glances at his profile and realized Maddy was right: he did look exhausted.

“So was onion harvest everything you’d hoped it would be?” He was trying to be sarcastic, I knew, but I decided to pretend otherwise.

“Yup. I now feel qualified to call myself an onion expert.”

“Huh.” The side of Sam’s lip curled. “If that’s what it takes to make you think you’re an expert, I’m a little worried about these art classes you’re supposed to be teaching.”

“Hey.” I sat up straighter in my seat. “You can make fun of me trying to help with onion harvest, you can say I’m immature or whatever because I got crazy drunk one night, but don’t mess with my art. I take my craft seriously. And I’m very, very good at it.”

He had the good grace to look contrite. “Sorry, low blow. I’m tired. I don’t do well with tired.”

“Yeah, I get that.” The house came into view, and I took a deep breath before I asked my next question. “Is that really all you think of me? Just a college student who’s staying at your house while I’m teaching art?”

Sam parked the truck by the shed, but he didn’t open his door. I didn’t move either.

“What else do you want me to say? That’s who you are.”

“But ...” I wasn’t sure how to put into words what I wanted to express. “But from the other times. We met twice before I even got here.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But the first time, you were too hammered to open your eyes, let alone talk. And the second time ...” He stared out the windshield into the dark. “I was yelling too much to get to know you. So even though I saw you before, I don’t know any more about you than I would if I’d met you for the first time the other day in my living room.”

I played with a loose piece of plastic that had peeled up from the seat. “I guess that makes sense. I think—” I paused, trying to choose the right words. “I think I feel like you made an impression on me. Even though I really didn’t remember anything about the car breaking down that night, I still had a memory of you the next morning. Just a flash, but it was there. That’s why I got so hurt when you yelled at me at Boomer’s. I thought you were a nice guy, and then you weren’t. At least, not that day, to me.”

Sam’s cheek twitched. “I can see that. But, well ...” He shrugged. “What does it matter?”

I ran my tongue across my bottom lip. “Maybe because I think I’m kind of attracted to you. And I think maybe you are to me, too. That’s why you got all over me that day, and that’s why it upset me when you did.”

He didn’t rush to deny it, as I thought he might. For a full minute, he didn’t respond at all. When he did, his voice was flat.

“Listen, you don’t know me at all. I don’t know you. So any, um, attraction we might feel is probably just circumstantial, and we need to ignore it and move on. I’m much too old for you, and I can tell you for sure, I’m not interested in someone like you. So if you stick to your art lessons, which is why you’re here, and I concentrate on my work, the summer’ll be over fast enough.”

I slid a little closer to him on the seat. “You said you’re not interested, but you didn’t say you weren’t attracted.”