Grit: A Love Story on 7th and Main Read online

  The hand at her hip began massaging her thigh.

  “Your hands are so strong.” Her eyes rolled back, just from the feel of his fingers on the bare skin of her thigh.

  “My hands are very strong.” He bit her lower lip. “But don’t worry. They know what they’re doing.”

  The tips of his fingers were callused but smooth. Was it the rock climbing? Nothing was rough about them. She’d been expecting rough.

  The thumb on her breast didn’t stop, and the hand teasing her inner thigh moved higher.

  “Like this?” he whispered against her lips.

  All Melissa could do was nod.

  “How about this?” His fingers teased higher, but not as high as Melissa wanted.

  Just to make sure he got the message, she spread her legs wider, the fabric of her dress straining.

  She pulled away from his mouth and looked him dead in the eye. “Like this.”

  He didn’t make a sound, but his lips formed the word Fuck and his dark eyes lit with greed.

  Cary’s mouth landed on hers with new urgency. His hand moved up her inner thigh and teased the fabric of her panties before he moved them aside and his fingers were on her.

  She moaned in his mouth, and she wasn’t quiet.

  He nudged her legs wider and moved closer, teasing her as his thumb worked on her breast.

  Melissa felt light-headed from the rush of pleasure. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. The churning thoughts in her mind fled. There was only this.

  Cary’s mouth.

  Cary’s hands.

  Cary’s fingers between her thighs.

  Two of his fingers dipped inside her, not deep, just a teasing promise of things to come while his thumb worked her clitoris, and she nearly wept from the pleasure.

  She couldn’t even think to kiss him. She pressed her face to his neck and let the tension build and build until the wave crested and her body took possession of her mind.

  “Let me see.” Cary let go of her breast and grabbed the hair trailing down her back. He tugged it until she fell back against his arm. “Missy, look at me.”

  Melissa met his eyes, but she wasn’t thinking of anything other than the waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

  “Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered.

  The pleasure went on and on, and Melissa couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe.

  Cary’s fingers slowed and eased from her, working her down from the high of climax. “You are so beautiful.”

  “So are you.” It was the first thing that came to her mind and it tumbled out.

  He smiled the purest smile she’d ever seen from him. “I’m beautiful?”

  “Handsome, I mean. You’re handsome.”

  “I don’t mind being beautiful if that’s what you want to call me.”

  She hugged him, hiding her face against his neck. You are beautiful.

  Beautiful, beautiful man.

  Steady man.

  Sexy man.

  Good man.

  She sighed, and it felt like her whole body was loose. Her thigh was pressed against the erection beneath his slacks, and she started reaching for him, only to have Cary bat her hand away.

  “Not tonight.”

  “What?”

  He kissed her long and sweet. As he did, he adjusted himself and moved from between her legs. He smoothed her dress down and ran his fingers up and down her knees.

  He pulled away from her mouth. “Tonight was about you.”

  “How about you?”

  The corner of his delicious mouth turned up. “Tonight was about me too.”

  “Cary—”

  “When can I see you again?”

  “Uh…” She tried to make her brain work. “We have the Jordan Valley picture thing tomorrow morning, remember?”

  He planted his hands on the dresser, caging her in. “When can I see you again?”

  “Oh, you mean…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Um…” Was she actually making plans to see Cary just so they could fool around? She wouldn’t have time for dates in the middle of the week, but the idea of going two weeks without having his hands on her had suddenly become kind of torturous. “Text me on Tuesday?”

  “Good.” He stepped back and held his hand out, helping her off the dresser. His eyes were fixed on her legs. “Have I mentioned how much I like that dress?”

  She suddenly felt self-conscious again. “I feel like it’s too short.”

  “It’s not.” He took her hand and led her to the door. “Trust me, it’s not.”

  Dresses and kisses were the last thing on Melissa’s mind the next morning. It was hot as Hades in the middle of Cooper’s Field, but dozens of families had gathered under a stand of oak and sycamore trees on the far edge of Melissa’s property near Jordan Valley Road. Allen Ranch was in the distance.

  Cary had thought of a fund-raiser to both collect money for fighting the development company and to raise awareness in town about what the council was voting on in a few short weeks.

  Joan had set up a booth with homemade lemonade and iced tea with a big sign overhead. Save Jordan Valley. Say NO to Allen Ranch! She was passing out drinks and handouts with a summary of the development plan along with the names and phone numbers of all the Oakville council members. On the bottom of the handout, it said in giant letters: Make your voice heard!

  To attract people, Cary was taking family portraits for free, spending a few minutes with each family that showed up and taking beautiful pictures against the rolling fields and oak trees of Jordan Valley, while other volunteers led hikes and showed visitors around.

  Melissa was wrangling the volunteers who had shown up, handing out information and lemonade and talking with a reporter from the Metlin Gazette while they walked around. Emmanuel Ortiz was a guy she’d gone to high school with and he’d grown up in Oakville, which was the only reason he was paying any attention to the situation.

  “Didn’t the Oakville city council have a budget shortfall last year?” Manny asked, pointing his voice recorder in Melissa’s direction. “There’s been talk of the high school closing. Possibly the middle school too. Are you saying that these empty fields and hills are more valuable than Oakville students? The development would solve the budget shortfall with new property taxes.”

  Melissa had been expecting that question. “I’m sure it would, but it would also tax our water supplies and infrastructure. Because the council has rejected our request to hire an independent firm for an environmental impact study, we don’t really know what the effect of two thousand new tract homes, a clubhouse, and a golf course would have on our community. That’s a lot of people and buildings to put in an area that you can see right now.” Melissa pointed toward the distant foothills. “See where that dark granite rock juts out?”

  The reporter squinted. “Yes.”

  “Imagine a line going from there to the road. That is the southern boundary of Allen Ranch. Now imagine two thousand houses and four thousand people crammed into that area. Look at the road. Do you think it’s going to accommodate four thousand more residents? It’s a two-lane road.”

  Manny had to smile. “That’s a lot of traffic.”

  “Exactly. So they’re going to want to expand the road. Look at the farms along the road. Are the farmers going to want to sell their land to expand the road for what is essentially a country club they can’t visit? Who’s going to make them? The federal government?” Melissa knew if there was one thing the residents and Metlin and Oakville shared, it was suspicion of the federal government. “If anyone tries to take good productive farmland for a road we don’t need to a place we don’t have any say over, people will sue. And who will be defending those lawsuits? Where will the money come from?”

  Manny was nodding. “So you’re saying that the money the town will make in new property taxes might get eaten up by lawsuits from residents?”

  “I don’t know if the town will get sued. I’m not saying that. But I f
ind it impossible to think it’s not going to cost us money.” Melissa put both hands in her pockets. “I’m not antidevelopment, but it’s just not a good site. Why here?”

  Manny spread his hand out. “Beautiful, empty land? The same reason people are taking pictures out here?”

  “It’s not empty. It’s grazing land. There are creeks and hiking trails. Bird-watching areas. Picnic spots. There are houses on that land that have been there for over a hundred years. Not to mention that there are two Yokuts sites on the Allen ranch that Native people have been visiting for like two thousand years.”

  His eyes glinted. “There’s Yokuts land over there?”

  Melissa spread her arms wide. “Come on. This is all Yokuts land, but the sites on Allen Ranch aren’t formally Yokuts property. They shouldn’t have to be. The Allens and the people before them just had mutual respect, okay? They didn’t need to make it a legal thing, because they respected the people who visited and didn’t disturb the sites. Is JPR Holdings going to respect that? Or are they going to build a golf course on it?”

  Manny said, “I might have to make an appointment with the Yokuts council to see what they think about this.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “Thanks, Melissa.” Manny held out his hand and turned his voice recorder off.

  “Thank you. We really appreciate the coverage.”

  “So your last name is Rhodes now, right?”

  “Yes. My late husband was a Rhodes.”

  “I was really sorry to hear about that.” Manny put his recorder in his backpack. “I remember that accident, but I didn’t realize that was your husband. What do you think he’d think about all this?”

  Melissa shook her head. “He’d be appalled. He loved Oakville. Loved the hills and Jordan Valley.”

  Manny squinted. “I was talking about the Rhodes family and JPR Holdings.”

  Melissa froze. “What about them?”

  Manny’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Do you not know?”

  Self-preservation took over. “Manny, are we off the record here?”

  Manny spread his arms out. “Dude. You danced with me at senior prom when everyone else was ignoring me. I’m not gonna be biased, but I’m not looking to ambush you.”

  “I had a feeling that they knew something because Abby recognized the guy they sent to the council meeting, but honestly, my in-laws and I don’t have the best relationship. So no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Manny scratched his chin. “Shit. So… I did some digging to find out who were the actual owners of JPR Holdings because it sounded dodgy to me, and I thought it might be an angle.”

  “Is it?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. It’s just a bunch of different people. Nothing even close to illegal. The guy who actually bought the property put it together once he realized ranching wasn’t a weekend sport, you know? He decided to develop it, and he went looking for investors.”

  “Where do the Rhodeses come in?”

  “Kind of on the ground floor. They know the guy and were some of the first people involved.” Manny grimaced. “I hate to tell you this, but all in all, your in-laws own about a quarter of the company that’s trying to turn Jordan Valley into houses.”

  Melissa was livid when she showed up in Kettleman City later that afternoon to pick Abby up. She gritted her teeth, smiled, and waited until her bouncing daughter had bounced herself into the truck.

  Then she approached Greg. “You’re part of JPR Holdings.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes, we are.”

  “Why would you do this?” Melissa no longer had any fucks to give. “Why would you do this to Abby? You know how Calvin felt about our ranch. Do you really think money you don’t need is worth this? What’s the game plan? Make us so miserable we want to leave and move to the coast?”

  Greg’s smile was patronizing. “Not everything is about you, Melissa.”

  “Bullshit. This is definitely about me. About me and Calvin refusing to be under your thumb. About us choosing to raise Abby in Oakville instead of near you. Well, I can tell you one thing, it’s not going to happen. This Allen Ranch thing? It’s dead. My mother and I—”

  “Wrong.” Greg’s smile never left his face. “You and your mother aren’t going to do a damn thing to oppose this. In fact, you’re going to dissolve the little protest committee you have going. I want you to make it happen.”

  Melissa was incredulous. “Are you nuts? Why do you think you have any right to—”

  “I have every right.” His voice rose. “You’re going to shut up about Allen Ranch, Melissa. You’re going to shut right the hell up or I’m going to call in the note. And I know you don’t have an extra seventy-five thousand dollars to pay us back. Not yet.”

  Her chin rose. “We have a contract. Calvin drew it up. He didn’t trust you either.”

  That stung Greg—she could see it in his eyes—but his smug smile never wavered. “My son was brilliant. Far too brilliant to have married you. You’re right. You did have ten years. That ten years is up.”

  “It’s been seven.”

  “It’s been seven since you took the money,” Greg said. “But we signed the contract ten years ago in May, Melissa.”

  Melissa’s stomach fell. “What?”

  “He signed the papers long before he brought it up with you. You were about to have Abby. He didn’t want to put another thing on your plate. He signed the contract ten years ago. Just because he waited three years to take the money doesn’t mean the contract isn’t valid.”

  Greg stepped back, and Melissa was still frozen.

  “So you’re going to shut up about Allen Ranch. You and your mom. You’re going to shut up about it, or I’m going to call in that note, take your ranch when you can’t pay it, and develop the whole damn Jordan Valley into houses I can sell off bit by bit.” He walked to his Range Rover and turned. “But don’t worry. I’ll let Joan live with you and Abby in Paso.”

  Melissa couldn’t move. Greg drove away, and she was still standing there, baking in the hot sun, ice running though her veins.

  Abby opened the truck door and poked her head out. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cary didn’t know what to think when Melissa knocked on his door at nine o’clock on a Monday night. He’d texted her earlier in the day, but she hadn’t mentioned getting together.

  “Hey.” He opened the door and let her in. “What’s up?”

  Something was definitely up. Her expression was frozen and blank. She walked wordlessly to the bed and sat down on the edge, her eyes staring at something he couldn’t see.

  Cary dragged over a chair from the table by the window. “Melissa, seriously, what’s up? You’re freaking me out. Is Abby okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Your mom?”

  “Mom’s fine.”

  “What is going on?”

  She covered her face with both hands, leaned forward, and breathed out a rough breath. “I fucked up, Cary. I fucked up so bad.”

  His heart raced. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I finally read the contract. He said we had ten years, and it didn’t even occur to me to doubt him. Now the money is spent and I have nothing. I have no wiggle room. All the savings I’d socked away went to rebuild the bunkhouse because I thought it would be a good investment, and now—”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He shook her shoulder. “Start at the beginning. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

  She looked up and her eyes were red. “A little over seven years ago, Calvin and I borrowed one hundred thousand dollars from his parents to complete the planting for the orchards. It should have been more than enough. We should have had time. Ten years should have been enough, even though I didn’t start right away because of the accident. I thought I had eight years left on the note when I planted the trees.”

  “Okay.” Cary nodded. “Why
isn’t eight years enough? How much do you still owe?”

  “Seventy-five thousand.”

  That wasn’t great, but profit from her acreage could take care of that in a year. “You planted four years ago. You still have three years, and you’ll have a full harvest next season. You’re making it right now operating the ranch with what you have, so if you put all the harvest profit into paying off the loan, you should be fine.”

  “That was the plan. But I don’t have three more years,” she said. “It’s already been ten years since it was signed, and the contract says the note is due ten years from signing. Not ten years from receiving the money.”

  Cary felt like his stomach had dropped to the ground. “Missy, why on earth—?”

  “Calvin signed it before Abby was born.” She shook her head. “He didn’t tell me at the time—he waited until she was about a year old. Then he waited to get the money from his dad, and by the time we actually had the funds, it had already been three years, but I had no idea.”

  Cary leaned back in his chair. “And you didn’t think to read the contract after he died because…?”

  “Why would I? I trusted what Calvin said. The money was there, and I was desperate to get started. We were already behind schedule. I’d waited over a year, and I knew I needed to start. To move on. Keep going.” She shook her head. “Now Greg can call in the note anytime, and if I don’t pay it, he and Bev can take the whole ranch.”

  So many things were wrong with this, but the timing bothered Cary. They hadn’t come to Melissa when the note was due. She said it had been agreed to before Abby was born, and Abby had celebrated her tenth birthday well over a month ago.

  “What do they want?” he asked. “This isn’t about money.”

  “Good catch.” Her smile was bitter. “They’re part of JPR Holdings. They’re the ones who are trying to build the Allen Ranch development.”

  He closed his eyes. Yep. That sounded like Greg Rhodes. “So that’s why the Fontaine name sounded familiar.”

  “Kevin Fontaine is a friend of my brother-in-law. I have no doubt Devin’s hands are all over this. He’s probably the P in JPR Holdings.”