Page 9 of Fall for You (Second Chances #7)

Alana

T he next two weeks passed quickly. I spent my days scouring advertising jobs across the county, reaching out to contacts, and obsessively refreshing my email to see if anyone responded. They didn’t.

I also spent some quality time with my family, getting to know my parents as an adult and quickly becoming close with my little sister Chloe.

The bulk of my time though was doing the marketing work for the Fall Festival.

At some point marketing morphed into much more, and in addition to making social media posts and sending out press releases, I found myself doing everything from soliciting donations to reviewing financial reports for Mayor Susie.

We had hit a stretch of unseasonably warm, dry days which meant it was time to repaint the Patterson Farm sign.

Things had been going great with Ronnie.

We’d fallen back into what felt like an easy friendship, texting a few times a day, and talking and laughing when we were together.

I was glad to have the ice between us melted, but I was also well aware that the more time I spent with my first love, the more she was starting to feel like my current love.

And that was a problem. After all, I was leaving town as soon as I got another job, and Ronnie was actively looking for love on some dating app.

When she told me about it last week, my first instinct had been white hot jealousy. Then I reminded myself of all the reasons we couldn’t be together, put on my big girl panties, and spent some time helping her find women to message on the app.

She’d gone on two dates so far, one for coffee and one for a drink, and both had been a bust. And yes, I was petty enough that I wasn’t sad about it.

I know, I was a terrible friend.

“What are you wearing?”

Ronnie started laughing as soon as I got out of my mother’s Volvo.

We were painting the Patterson Farm entrance sign today and since I didn’t really have any ‘old’ clothes that I could get paint on, I’d scrounged the Goodwill bag my mother always kept in the laundry room.

That’s how I appeared wearing an ancient pair of Keds with no socks, tan cargo pants that were way too short and a little tight across the thighs, and a dark green shirt that was missing two buttons and gapped across my breasts.

“Goodwill bag,” I said simply, although why my family thought the charity thrift store wanted these raggedy old clothes I had no idea. They all should be in the trash.

Ronnie smirked, but just said, “I got all the paint ready.”

“Oh thanks, I would have helped.”

“It’s all good, Jake helped after he and my dad set up the scaffolding.”

The Patterson Farm sign was erected about eight feet off the ground.

The sign itself was twelve feet long and four feet high.

We figured with a scaffolding stand in place, the two of us could repaint it in a couple of hours, using the faded design as a kind of paint by numbers guide.

It was a cute sign, there was no reason to change it.

I started on one side, repainting the faded pumpkins, while Ronnie worked on filling in the letters of ‘Patterson Farm’ with a shiny silver paint before outlining them in black.

As we worked we listened to some music. Ronnie had brought a Bluetooth speaker and queued up some songs from our youth. We wiggled and sang along to the music while we painted and got finished faster than I thought we would, given the size of the sign.

“We did a pretty good job,” I said as I sat back on the wooden platform and eyed the sign as a whole.

I took a long swig from my water bottle, then wiped my forehead with the hem of my shirt. Despite the cool temperatures, it was hot in the sun, and I’d worked up a sweat. When I looked over at Ronnie, she was staring at my exposed belly. Unconsciously I sucked it in as I put my shirt back in place.

“Yeah we do good work.”

Ronnie dropped down next to me, grabbing her own water, and I marveled at how much lighter she seemed now that she wasn’t so grumpy.

“Oh, I forgot to ask, how was your date last night?”

After chatting for several days on the app, Ronnie was meeting someone for a drink at a hotel about thirty miles from here.

“Apparently she thought since I agreed to meet her at a hotel bar, I was agreeing to sleep with her.”

My eyes widened. “No!”

“Yes. We’d been there about fifteen minutes,” Ronnie said.

“I’d had like two sips of my beer, and she looks across the table and says, ‘Let’s not waste time.

I’ve got a room upstairs.’ Then I’m like ‘What?’ and she goes, ‘You’re attractive enough.

I’ll fuck you,’ but the way she says it, it’s like she’s doing me a favor or something. ”

“You’re attractive enough?” I sputtered. “Wow, that’s ballsy, she should be so lucky to fuck you.”

“I know, right? I’m nobody’s pity fuck.”

Our eyes met and we stared at each other for so long the air became charged between us.

I couldn’t say who moved first, but suddenly we were both on our knees, shuffling closer, drawn together like two magnets.

Ronnie’s hands went to my waist, mine went to her shoulders, then we swayed closer until our lips were so close I could feel her breath mingling with mine.

“It’s crazy how attracted I am to you,” she whispered, obviously not super happy about it.

“I know, me too.”

Then we were kissing. Her lips pressed hard against mine, and when I gasped, Ronnie’s tongue swooped in to slide against mine. One of her hands came up to tangle in my hair, holding my head in place while she made love to my mouth.

I couldn’t say how long we kneeled there kissing, but when we heard a car drive slowly by and blow its horn, we both jumped back guiltily.

I didn’t recognize the driver – I’d been gone too long to recognize any cars driven by the residents of Hayword – but Ronnie clearly did because she swore loudly.

“That’s going to be on the town Facebook page,” Ronnie mumbled. “I’m pretty sure she took a picture too.”

“Who was it?” I asked curiously.

“Mrs. Grant.”

“Our high school English teacher?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah, she’s one of the biggest gossips in town.”

“You’re out now, right?” I asked, suddenly worried I’d exposed her to something she wasn’t ready for.

“Oh yeah, pretty much everyone knows I’m a lesbian, but I just don’t like those old biddies in my business.” Ronnie looked around the platform. “I guess we should get all this cleaned up.”

I helped her seal up the paint cans and carry everything down to her pick-up truck that she’d parked beneath us. Once we were finished, we stood there awkwardly, like neither of us knew what to say.

Ronnie took a deep breath. I figured she was going to tell us that we needed to just be friends, but she surprised me.

“Listen, would you like to come over for dinner? We could barbecue.”

Spend more time with this woman? Heck yeah, sign me up. Especially if more kissing was on the menu. But then I had a thought.

“Won’t your parents be home?”

Ronnie looked at me in confusion. “Maybe? I don’t know, I don’t usually monitor their comings and goings. Why?”

“Oh I just thought you might need to check in with them first before inviting me over.”

Ronnie laughed so hard tears started running down her cheeks.

“What’s so funny?” I asked in confusion.

“Alana, I’m thirty not thirteen. I don’t need my parents’ permission to have guests in my own home. I don’t even see them every day.”

Then I was really confused. “How do you not see them?”

The Patterson house was big but not big enough that you wouldn’t see the people you live with.

Ronnie stared at me, then comprehension dawned.

“I don’t still live with my parents, Alana. What kind of loser do you think I am?”

I frowned in confusion. “Where do you live then?”

“My grandparents left me a large tract of land at the back of the farm when they passed away, including that little cottage they lived in when they first got married. I live there. Remember? We visited my Grandma there a few times?”

“Oh yeah, I do remember. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just assumed that…” I paused, trying to put my thoughts into words. “The weird thing about being back here is that some things are exactly the same as I remember them, but other things are totally different. It’s a little disconcerting.”

Ronnie nodded. “Does that mean we’re on for dinner?”

“Definitely.”

“Just one request,” Ronnie said.

“What?”

She pointed to my paint spattered arms and matted hair. “Maybe take a shower first. You’re kind of a mess.”

“You have no idea.”