The Hometown Hoax (The Hoax Series) (18 page)

Zack shrugged. “Well, I know I just met the guy, but he already seems a lot better for you than I ever was.”

Logan put his arm around Tessa in an attempt to quell her trembling. “You’re shaking.”

“He knew too,” she whispered. “Who else knew about Logan?”

“What?” Zack asked.

“Who else knew about Logan and me being fixed up this week during the camping trip?” she asked louder.

“I don’t know. I heard it mentioned a few times, but it wasn’t like the talk of the town or anything.”

“I don’t believe this,” she said.

“I thought we’d worked through this already. You’re acting like this is news, but we knew about the matchmaking plan yesterday.”

“Yes
we
knew yesterday, but
the whole town
knew before that. That’s what I’m talking about, Logan. That’s why I need out of this place. I can’t trust anyone here.”

“Tessa, calm down. Let’s go have some lunch and we’ll figure this out.” Logan tried to steer her toward the door of the diner.

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you. You don’t think this is a big deal because you like that they stuck their noses in our business. You did it too, going behind my back with Zack about the art classes. You’re a meddler like the rest of my family, like the rest of this town! No wonder they love you so much already. You fit in perfectly.”

“Tessa, that’s not fair—”

“The unfair thing is that I’m the only one who ever sees there’s a problem with how this town works. I thought you were different, Logan, but you’re the same as the rest of them. I’m done with everything related to Cutter’s Creek, and now that includes you.”

She slipped out of his arms and disappeared into her rental car while he stood there stunned and unmoving. Her words sank in like bricks. As she peeled out of the parking lot, she didn’t even give him one last glance. He’d lost her, like everyone else in his life.

They’d known each other a total of six days, but it felt as if he’d been waiting for her his whole life. Now that she was gone, something inside him was missing, but he didn’t go after her. He couldn’t.

She’d judged him based on the actions of others and accused him of purposefully betraying and hurting her, something he’d never willingly do. If she could be so wrong about him, maybe he’d been wrong about falling for her.

Chapter Eighteen

T
essa took a slurp from her bottle of water, draining it, then tossed it to the floor of the passenger side. It didn’t make a sound as it landed on the pile of crumpled, used tissues. She’d grabbed a fresh box from the cabin when she’d hastily packed her things, and now the box was empty.

So was her chest.

Once upon a time ago, she’d had a heart in that spot, but it had been replaced with a void so big she could park her rental car in it. Her family had done nothing but hurt her with this trip, tricking her into falling for Logan so she’d inevitably move home. Worse still, Logan was like the rest of them, meddling with her life so he could benefit from it. Well, it was her turn to start benefitting from her life.

Driving across the George Washington Bridge, the traffic was bumper to bumper, surrounding her on all sides. On the route back, the roads had been relatively empty except near the cities. She had to admit, she preferred the wide-open roads to the congested ones. The busier they got, the more nervous she became. By the time she hit the bridge to cross into Manhattan, her nerves were on edge and her hands were sore from gripping the steering wheel.

She was awestruck by the immensity of the city. Somehow, it seemed even bigger than the first time she’d seen it. The buildings loomed above her, making her feel small and insignificant in their vast shadows. As she pulled into the rental car place, fatigue over the marathon drive and exhaustion from crying finally took its toll. Her legs shook as she got out of the car, retrieved her belongings, and returned the keys. The night clerk barely offered her a grunted acknowledgement as she signed her name on the credit card slip.

If she’d been in Cutter’s Creek, the clerk would have thanked her by name, called a friend to pick her up, and offered her a cup of coffee while she waited. Then again, if she were back home, she wouldn’t need a rental. If she needed a ride and didn’t have her own vehicle, someone from town would drive her wherever she needed to go. Hell, if she’d asked, someone would’ve driven here, picked her up to bring her camping, and returned her without so much as batting an eye at the inconvenience, because it wasn’t an inconvenience—it was something you did for a neighbor.

As she walked the last few blocks to her apartment building, lugging her bags with her, the heat of late summer smothered her, draining the last of her energy. The stench of decomposing garbage washed over her in waves as she passed by the piles of black bags on the curb waiting for collection. Had it always smelled this bad in the city or was it a particularly stinky night? Regardless, the smell was overwhelming and by the time she made it into her apartment, she needed a shower. Creeping to the bathroom as quietly as she could so not to wake her three roommates, she rinsed off, put on her coziest pajamas she had, and climbed into bed.

More than anything she wanted to fall asleep after the excruciatingly long day, but sleep eluded her. Instead, her mind replayed every moment of her trip home—almost running into Logan on the way to the campground, spending time with her family, the hike, the times she’d spent in Logan’s arms. By the time she’d gotten to the events of that day, her breath hitched in her chest as her body shook with tears.

Everything was a mess.

After her fight with Logan and Zack, she’d gone back to the camp and packed her things and left without even saying goodbye to her family. They’d called a couple of hours later to check on her and she’d assured them she was okay. She was anything but okay.

She’d never been less okay in her life.

L
ogan rolled over and stretched. He couldn’t remember ever having such miserable sleep. The night had been spent tossing one direction then flipping over to the other. Every time he faced toward Tessa’s empty bed, the pit in his stomach grew.

He’d taken his time getting back to the cabin after his fight with her. For a while, he’d stood around outside of Randy’s Diner not knowing what the hell had happened. Finally, he’d gotten back in his car and headed for the campground, deciding that no matter where he stood with Tessa they needed to talk it out. She had to know he hadn’t meant to overstep any bounds and if he had by talking to Zack, then he was sorry.

By the time he’d gotten back, she was gone, along with all of her things.

Her empty bed mocked him, reminding him of how badly he’d screwed up. Instead of going after her to fix things right away, he’d been stupid and had let her get away. Hoping she’d answer her phone any of the times he’d called had been an exercise in futility. He’d left voicemails knowing she was unlikely to listen to them. He’d texted her too. At least those he was sure she would see, whether or not she’d actually read any of them.

He dragged himself from the cocoon of his sheets and into a hot shower. Water couldn’t wash away the ache settled deep into his bones like a chill on a frigid night. He hadn’t even known her at this time the week before, but now he couldn’t imagine this time next week without her in his life. His life had suddenly become some kind of torturous purgatory between having Tessa and losing Tessa and he had no idea where he’d eventually land.

Once out of the shower, he carelessly shoved his belongings into his bag. Little things didn’t matter anymore, not when the big things in his world continued to fall apart. First he closed the doors to his dream gym, then he’d gained and lost Tessa in less than a week, and now he was stuck in a town with a bunch of people who would probably hate him for making her leave again.

He tossed his bag into his car and went into the main cabin to say goodbye. Wanting to slink away with his tail between his legs was one thing, but he wouldn’t be rude enough to do it.

“You look like hell,” Travis said as Logan walked into the living room.

“Thanks, man. I can always count on you to tell me the truth.” Logan attempted to joke, but he lacked the needed enthusiasm or sarcasm. “I’m heading out. Are Martha and Joe around? I wanted to say thank you for having me here this week, even if it didn’t end up as planned.”

“They’re out on the lake. I’ll make sure to tell them,” Sally said from her spot on the couch beside Travis. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Tessa. We thought you two would hit it off.”

“We did.” Logan flopped down into a chair. “We got along great. I think that’s part of the problem.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mary said, as she walked out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee in her hands. “Drink this. You need it.”

He accepted the proffered coffee with gratitude.

“How can people get along too well? Either you want to bang each other or you don’t. There isn’t such a thing as wanting to bang too much.” Travis stuffed a chunk of bagel into his mouth.

“Banging? That’s so classy,” Sally said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one who married him,” Mary said, laughing.

“What was I thinking?”

Logan sipped his coffee. “Tessa hated that you guys set us up and that we were a good match. She’s tired of everyone trying to influence her decisions or making them for her.”

“So it’s our fault she left yesterday? I feel terrible.” Mary twisted her hands in her lap.

“No, that honor lays solely with me,” Logan said, looking down at his half empty mug.

“What did you do?” Sally asked.

“I thought I was being helpful but apparently I got her a job with her ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh. Dude. That’s…bad,” Travis said.

“Yeah. Lesson learned.”

“You’ve got a plan to get her back, right?” Mary asked.

He shook his head. “I wish.”

“You better make it something amazing,” Sally added.

“Thanks for the added pressure.” Logan stood. “If you hear from her, tell her…”

“That you miss her?”

“That you’re sorry?”

“That you want to bang her again?”

Logan sighed. “Tell her to answer my calls so I can say all that stuff to her myself.”

L
ogan filled a grocery basket with essentials—chips, dip, beer, a vegetable tray, steak, and potatoes in an attempt to have a proper meal. He hadn’t really eaten much since Tessa left and regardless of his lack of appetite, he had to get back on track before starting his new job.

Every day, multiple times a day, he’d called Tessa. And every day, multiple times a day, she’d ignored him. Knowing he screwed things up with her was one thing, but not being given the opportunity to make things right was intolerable. Even if she never forgave him, he still wanted to say the words he’d been repeating in his head but refused to say to her voicemail—I love you.

He’d been surprised when the pit in his stomach wouldn’t subside. Slowly the discomfort migrated through his body until it rooted in his chest and blossomed into all out heartache. The constricting pain, similar to being in a vice grip, hadn’t dissipated yet. Even when he slept, he had dreams of being squeezed in the tight coils of a boa constrictor or sandwiched between two tectonic plates.

He added a bottle of ibuprofen to this basket, the kind that had the PM behind the name because it included a mild sedative. Hopefully it would let him relax enough to knock him out for a night of good sleep before he started work in a few days.

“Mrs. Matherson, how are you today?” he asked, purposefully using her name. It was a technique he used at school too. He always tried to use people’s names to commit them to memory faster and so the person felt a connection with him.

“I’m okay, Logan. How are you settling in?” she asked, taking each item out of his basket and scanning it.

As they came down the short conveyor belt, he bagged them. “Mostly settled in now. Starting at the school on Monday.”

“Have you had any luck with Tessa yet?”

He knew it would annoy Tessa to know he was talking about her personal life, but he needed to talk to someone and his options were limited. “No. I keep calling and texting, but she’s ignoring me.”

“Have you tried sending flowers? Her favorites are irises. It was her grandmother’s name. Maybe you should try sending her some of those?”

“Thanks for the suggestion. Maybe I will.”

Would it help win her back to send her a bouquet of flowers? How would he explain knowing which ones were her favorites? Surely the thrill of receiving them would be short-lived once she realized he’d learned that tidbit of information about her from someone in town. As much as he wanted whatever edge the insider tip would bring him, he wasn’t willing to risk inadvertently crossing that line again between her private life and the rest of the town. Any gesture he made would have to come from his doing only.

Chapter Nineteen

I
t had been twenty-four hours since Tessa’s last big snot-filled cry. She took it as a personal accomplishment and a sign she was finally getting over everything that had happened with Logan. Sure, it had taken a week, but progress was progress. Maybe today she’d be able to get on with her life and with her plans.

All week she’d been trying to convince herself she did, in fact, have plans, despite what reality felt like. She had hundreds, maybe even thousands of galleries to query, and she’d only contacted a fraction of those so far. Now was the perfect time to get back on track.

After a quick shower, she dressed and even put on a coat of mascara. If she looked ready to take on the world, maybe she’d start to actually feel that way too. Maybe she’d apply the same principal of thought to her portfolio. If she wanted a fresh start with the galleries, maybe she should give her portfolio a fresh makeover. Pulling the large black case out from behind her closet door, she flipped it open and examined the first piece—a watercolor of the Empire State Building. Simple, elegant, and lit by the rays of the sun reflecting off the metal façade so it practically glowed. It was beautiful, but it was also somewhat ordinary and not that different than what she’d seen someone selling on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street for fifteen dollars.

Huh.

Maybe that wasn’t the best one to start her portfolio with after all. Not horrendous, but certainly nothing special either. It lacked that certain indescribable quality that turned a painting into a masterpiece. Pulling it from her portfolio case, she set it aside on the floor, out of the way so she could focus on the others.

The next painting also seemed to lack something that set it apart. She felt the same about the next three. No wonder galleries wouldn’t give her a job—her cityscape paintings were boring.

After flipping through the whole portfolio, she was left with only four paintings that she thought had merit. All of them happened to focus on people—playing in the park, walking a bunch of dogs, eating a hotdog, and cuddling on a park bench while children played on the swings. These ones had heart and substance. They told a story. As good as she thought these paintings were, they weren’t enough. Four pieces did not make for a sufficient portfolio to show prospective galleries.

Her sketchbook still sat on top of the dresser where she’d left it when she’d gotten back from camping. She hadn’t looked in it since, not wanting to be reminded of her time with Logan. Now it beckoned to her, begging her to reach for it. All week Logan had told her how much he loved her drawings, but he wasn’t an artist so what did he know?

One of the last pages she’d used had been the moonlit night they’d sat on the dock and talked. She’d been so comfortable with him that night. Everything had felt so right between them, so easy, as if each of them made up a half of a whole when they were together.

That night she’d learned about his gym. He’d taken a risk opening it and then had to shut it down because the city was too hard, too challenging, and he’d struggled as long as he could. But instead of completely giving up, he’d made a new plan, switched gears and thought of something different he could do to make his dream a reality.

Logan was a survivor. He persevered where others would’ve given up. He’d tried to help her figure out how she could too. Instead of listening, she’d brushed him off. What if he was right? What if what she needed was a new twist on her art career?

Comparing the moonlit night sketch to her Empire State Building painting, the two pieces were about as different as they could possibly be. One was warm, comforting, and so full of emotional depth that it practically oozed with the sounds of nighttime creatures and water lapping at the shore. The other was cold, hard-edged, flat, and silent.

She’d been so in love with the idea of being in the city that she hadn’t realized how little love there was in her cityscapes. She’d thought she’d captured the essence of the city in each painting, but all she’d done was draw a picture of a building. Her pictures from home were all heart and storytelling. Each one gave her a tiny peek into life in Cutter’s Creek—a life that was full of warmth, love, hospitality, and community.

Damn it. She’d been so stupid.

Without thinking too deeply about how much she might make a fool of herself, she called her top gallery and asked for another meeting. He’d asked to see other work and now she could offer that to him. With her appointment scheduled, she carefully selected the best drawings from her week back home and added them to her portfolio.

A spike of excitement shot through her. This time she wouldn’t fail.

L
ogan stood on the side of the gym clapping and cheering the fifth graders on as they tried to dribble basketballs up and down the court before taking shots at the net. Most balls rolled away or were kicked by clumsy feet. Almost none made it into the basket, but he didn’t care. They were learning the sport, having fun, and getting some much needed exercise in their otherwise stationary school day.

It had been two weeks and he’d settled in nicely to the new school. Sure, it wasn’t as good as having hours he created, but it wasn’t terrible either. School ended at three and then he was free to do what he wanted for the rest of the day. Of course, most days that had consisted of a workout then lazing around his small apartment trying to figure out how to get Tessa back. So far, his plans totaled zero.

The buzzer rang signaling the change in classes. This batch of kids would leave and he’d get a new one. Every thirty-five minutes the same thing happened.

“Okay everyone,” he called, clapping his hands to get their attention. “Toss the balls back into the bins and line up by the door.”

The children did as they were told while he stood in front of the doors where they’d file out and the next class would file in. “What do you have next, Michelle?” he asked one of the girls near the front of the line.

“Ugh. Art. I hate art.”

“Really? I thought that was usually one of the favorite subjects at school.”

“Maybe if you’re good at art, but if you suck, like I do, then the class is the worst.”

“I’m positive you don’t suck at art, Michelle. What are you guys doing in class right now?” he asked, while also waving at the last few kids to hurry up. They had to go as a group to their next room. He couldn’t let them leave until he had each one accounted for.

“We’re drawing birds,” Tom said. “Really stupid birds.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t let us draw anything else. Just birds,” Robby added.

“Try your best. It’s the heart you put into your drawing that makes it special, not the perfect technique.” With the last two kids now in line, he opened the door and shooed them down the hall to their next class. “See you next week.”

As he reset his gym for the next group, he thought about the kid’s bird art. They had to be better artists than he was. He could barely draw a stick bird. There’d been a couple of birds in Tessa’s book. They’d been great, of course. That girl could draw anything and make it incredible.

An idea hit him like a basketball to the forehead. Maybe he should take the advice he’d given the kids and put his heart into a few drawings of his own. He’d managed to lose Tessa by showing off her private sketchbook to Zack, so maybe he could win her back by showing her one of his.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of children coming and going from his gym. He was with it enough to instruct them and make sure none of them hurt themselves, but while he stood clapping and cheering, his mind was formulating a plan. By the time the last bell rang for the day, he had a list of supplies he needed and immediately went to Zack’s hobby shop.

He searched the aisles, finding each of the items he needed and was headed to the checkout when Zack wandered up.

“That a gift for Tessa? Hoping to win her back with art supplies?” Zack asked.

Logan wanted to share his plan and get Zack’s opinion, but if there was one thing he knew drove Tessa crazy, it was the town people finding out about her life before she did. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“No. These are for me actually. I thought I might do some drawing this weekend.”

Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“I thought you weren’t an artist.”

“I’m not, but I’m trying to be.” He paid for his supplies and said a quick goodbye, making plans for the following week to meet up to watch one of the games on the big screen at the bar since he still hadn’t made it there yet.

Back at his apartment, he set up all his necessary supplies, grabbed a drink and a sandwich, and got started. He’d work all weekend if he had to.

Tessa wouldn’t return his calls and he had no idea if she’d read his texts. Surely she would open a couriered package. When she did, she’d open the cover, not only to his sketchbook for her, but to his heart, his life—everything he wanted to share with her. Hopefully it would be enough to start a conversation with her. After that, he’d do anything to earn a future with her, even if it meant giving up everything he was building in Cutter’s Creek. He loved it here, but it wasn’t the same without her and with total clarity he knew he’d do anything if it meant getting her back.

He’d even move to the city because with her there he’d always feel like he was home.

T
essa tried not to fiddle in her seat while Darren Pembroke of Pembroke Gallery looked over her new and improved portfolio. It had taken a week to get another appointment with him. This was it, her last chance. If she couldn’t do it with two meetings, she’d never get a third.

“These are great. I’m impressed with your skill and technique.” Darren looked up from the portfolio case. “I do have one concern.”

“What is it?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t show me these drawings before. They’re far superior to the work you showed me last time. Why didn’t I get to see these at our last meeting?”

What could she say? She hadn’t shown him because she thought they were crap and because she was trying to dump her old small town life for a new big city one. She couldn’t tell him the real reason she’d kept them from him. What if it made him distrust her judgment on what constituted good work over bad? “I was recently back home in Cutter’s Creek and that’s where I did most of those. They simply didn’t exist at the time of our first meeting.”

That sounded good.

“All of these were done recently? How long did each one take?”

What was the right answer he’d be looking for? She had no idea so went with the truth. “Some were as little as thirty minutes. Those ones usually have less detail. The others took closer to an hour.”

“That’s truly astonishing. With that kind of output, you could fill a gallery space within weeks.” His eyes seemed to sparkle with a hint of excitement.

“I suppose I could. A gallery this size I could probably fill in about three weeks, if I was asked to.” Her hint wasn’t exactly subtle.

“I think we could do that. I have an opening in a month. I think we could definitely get these framed in that amount of time if you can produce the work.”

“I can get started today. I’ll grab a map and hit the city, sketching as I go.”

“Oh no. I think there’s been a miscommunication.” Darren shook his head and sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to see anymore cityscapes.”

“Oh… Okay. What would you like to see?”

“I want more like these—landscapes, small town life, nature. All of it is great. I don’t want any tall buildings, concrete sidewalks, or yellow taxicabs. Can you do that?”

Could she? The more she looked at her sketches from home, the more she liked them. They gave her a sense of peace and tranquility, and made her feel like she was surrounded by the warmth of invisible arms hugging her. Could she capture the spirit of home while still living in the city? Would her memories be enough or would she have to visit home more often as a business trip for inspiration?

“I’ve got another meeting in five minutes. Why don’t you take some time to think about my offer, the timing and the kind of work I’m looking for and get back to me?” He stood from the table and offered his hand.

She stood and shook it then quickly gathered her things. “Great. Thank you so much for the offer. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Tessa walked out with her head in a fog. She’d had no idea her landscapes would be so well received, and by her top gallery no less. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, if she could make it work. She’d wanted to escape life in Cutter’s Creek, but it seemed that wasn’t meant to be. It was her home, her inspiration, but surely it didn’t mean she had to live there to draw it. She could finally have everything she’d wanted—live in the city and be a successful artist.

She grabbed a coffee and found a table on the outside patio to sit and revel in her gallery offer. Finding a clean sheet of paper and a charcoal pencil, she closed her eyes and put herself back on lookout point. It didn’t matter if she was sitting in Manhattan. The views of the Appalachian Mountains were forever burned in her brain in rich detail. She’d been immersed in that setting since birth. She thought about the wind on her face, warm and comforting like Logan’s touch.
No.
She didn’t want to include him in her thoughts.

Colors.
The colors of the mountain range changed throughout the day. During the bright sunlight-filled morning there were hues of greens and brown, like when Logan and her hiked to the lookout. Other times there were purples and dark blues, like when they watched the sunset over the treetops and the shadows lengthened from twilight to darkness. What did the trees in Cutter’s Creek look like in today’s dying light?

Her heart suddenly ached at the thought of her hometown.

Opening her eyes to release the memories, she put her pencil to the page and drew, trying to block out everything else around her and focus only on the landscape she wanted to create. More slowly than usual, the picture took shape. It was a little rough around the edges, but it was there. With more practice, she could totally draw scenes from back home while still here.