Page 52 of Christmas at the Ranch
“You drove from Sun Valley?” she asked, surprised.
“It’s only four hours. Jeremy has an Alfa Romeo SUV, it handles like a sports car.”
Roger had always wanted to drive an Alfa Romeo. It was one of the things they were going to do in Italy.
“I saw your posts on Instagram about Jackson Hole.” Roger was still talking. “I thought it would be nice to see you.”
Samantha hadn’t checked her Instagram. Charlie must have posted that she was in Jackson Hole.
Roger moved closer, as if he was afraid she was going to walk away.
“I like your hair longer,” he commented. “Being a best-selling author agrees with you.”
“I’m hardly that,” Samantha said, and stiffened. Her mind flashed back to all the pain he had caused her. The weeks of lying on the sofa, watching sad movies and going through boxes of tissues.
The choking feeling rose up inside her and she forced herself totake deep breaths. Part of her wanted to lash out and tell him she had nothing to say to him. But there was something about seeing him, the familiarity in his tone, the way they could just pick up and start talking, that kept her rooted to the spot.
“You’re being modest.” He took her arm. “Why don’t we have lunch and catch up.”
Roger led her into a restaurant. For the first time since she arrived in Jackson Hole, Samantha didn’t pay attention to the menu. She let Roger order for both of them. She wasn’t the least bit hungry.
The waiter brought plates of bar food. There was a basket of buffalo wings and a pitcher of pale ale.
“I never expected you to be in a place like Jackson Hole,” Roger said, sipping his beer. “You don’t like to ski.”
“I’m only here for a week and I’m staying with friends.” Samantha bit into a wing and put it down.
This had been a bad idea. Just sitting across from Roger made her anxious.
Roger dipped a buffalo wing in ranch dressing. He leaned forward.
“I’m glad to see you, Samantha,” he began. “I’ve missed you.”
“It didn’t seem that way,” she returned sharply. “You left without telling me. You haven’t called once to see how I am.”
Roger rubbed his forehead. He placed his elbows on the table.
“I know now that was wrong,” he ventured. “You were so entrenched in New York. You had a good job and you were so close to your parents; you wouldn’t have come to California.”
Samantha’s head snapped up. Her eyes flashed.
“I’m an adult; you could have let me decide that for myself.”
“Neither of us were grown-ups,” Roger chuckled. “I thought itwas okay to heat up pizza for dinner and eat it on paper plates in front of the television.”
Samantha flinched. She still heated up pizza when she was too tired to cook. Roger probably had one of those services that delivered healthy meals of quinoa and kale that he ate while he worked out his leg muscles.
Her initial anger at seeing him seemed to ebb in the restaurant. This wasn’t New York, and they weren’t going home to their respective apartments. Samantha was on vacation and Roger was just passing through.
There was no point in arguing. Roger was part of another life.
“None of it matters.” Samantha shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“It matters to me.” Roger put down his fork. “It would have been my fault if you hated Los Angeles. I couldn’t take the chance.”
What Roger said made sense. But deep down, she knew there was something wrong with his reasoning. She just couldn’t figure out what it was. Instead, she changed the subject.
“I’m sure you’re enjoying it,” she said, trying another bite of food.
