Jeannie Watt by A Difficult Woman

house. They met at the tailgate.
    “Do you really think I would use you?” he asked as he dragged the next bag of grain to the edge of the truck bed.
    “I don’t know you.”
    He cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. “Take a wild guess.”
    “That is what I’m saying,” Tara replied in a tight voice. “ I don’t know. I’m not good at judging those kinds of things—even with people I thought I did know.” She grabbed an armful of wallpaper and stalked to the porch.
    Another piece of the puzzle fell into place, a piece with Ryan Somers’s name written on it.
    Matt lifted the grain and took it to the barn. When he came back, Tara was still in the house. He hauled the other two bags of grain, took two twenty-pound bags of cat food to the barn, thinking that his cat could probably eat both of them in one sitting, and then went into the house carrying two buckets of paint.
    Tara was stirring the contents of a Crock-Pot. She didn’t bother to look up when he came in the door and put the paint next to the stack of wallpaper. Matt’s stomach rumbled as he inhaled the savory aroma of the stew. But there was a very real possibility he wouldn’t be eating stew anytime soon.
    “When did you hear about my ‘girlfriend’?” he asked.
    Her eyes drilled into him. “This morning.”
    “Before I got here?”
    She nodded, sipped the broth she’d spooned up.
    “Rafe stopped by. He said you’d been at the Owl late last night—”
    “Early this morning,” Matt corrected her, wondering once again about Rafe’s relationship with Tara.
    “Early, then.”
    “I couldn’t sleep.” The words came out before he thought about them.
    “Why?”
    He hunched his shoulders. Her eyes narrowed, but she accepted his nonanswer. Neither of them was being straight with the other, and they both knew it. Neither of them was trusting by nature. And neither was going to willingly share the details.
    Matt decided he could accept that, as long as it was mutual. But he had to set her straight on one important point.
    “I wasn’t using you, Tara.”
    “Thank the Lord for small favors,” she muttered before stalking to the cupboard and taking out one…no, two bowls. “Come and get it,” she said in a clipped voice.
    Matt dished up, but hesitated before sitting at the table, wondering if she really wanted him there. It was the first time they’d eaten together, the first time she hadn’t given him his food and disappeared with her own.
    He got his answer a split second later in the form of an impatient nod. He sat and began eating. Tara swallowed about three spoonfuls of stew, then pushed the bowl away. She was pale except for the flushed red spots on both cheeks and she looked cranky enough to hunt bears with a switch. She pulled an envelope out of her back pocket and put it on the table. Matt glanced at the letter and then at her.
    “Official confirmation from Mr. Bidart of Bidart Industries,” she explained. “For the reunion. Three rooms and the party. Plus a deposit.”
    “That’s good.”
    Tara nodded wearily. “Yeah. It is.”
    “But…?”
    Tara hesitated and Matt knew it was hard for her to say what was on her mind, that confiding did not come easily to Tara. So he was surprised when she abruptly said, “I’m afraid I won’t have the house done on time.”
    She leaned back in her chair. “I need this booking. And I’m working against time here.”
    She lapsed into silence, her pensive gaze settling on her stew until Matt said, “Look at me, Tara.”
    She did.
    “I promise we will get this house done.”
    “You sound confident.”
    “You need your house done, we’ll get it done.”
    She reached for the envelope, studied it briefly, then tapped the edge on the table. Her brows drew together. “How come you’re being so nice, when I haven’t exactly been pleasant?”
    Matt shrugged. “I need the work.”
    “No, really.”
    “Really.” He did need the work, just not for