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“I won’t go back to anyone like Talina,” he told himself firmly, and then he tucked his notebook away and got to work.
About noon, he got a text from Opal that said, I just landed in Denver, and I’ll be back on the farm tonight. I know you have your leatherworking class tonight, but maybe we can move our date up to tomorrow night?
Tag read and re-read the text, wondering how aggressive to be. He’d calmed down since that morning, since he’d written out his feelings and then put in a good half-day of work.
I can skip my class, he said.
No, it’s okay, Opal said. I’m meeting Molly and Jane for a late lunch, and Gerty’s doing a party tonight. It’s dumb, but I couldn’t say no.
Tomorrow is fine then, he said.
Thank you, Tag, Opal said, and he wasn’t sure what to do with her gratitude.
He’d been planning to take her out on Thursday when she was supposed to originally return, and he quickly tapped to get to the text confirmation of his reservation. He opened the link and found the option to modify the reservation.
“Please let them have time tomorrow,” he said aloud, wondering who wouldn’t have space for two on a Wednesday night. Still, he needed all the pieces to be in place if he was to open his soul and let Opal see all the darkest parts of himself.
Thankfully, the restaurant had space tomorrow night, and he changed the reservation with a few taps of his fingertips. He texted Opal to let her know what time and where, because it influenced what she wore when they went out.
Thank you, she said again. I’ll see you tomorrow.
He suddenly wanted to call her, to make sure she knew everything between them was fine, that nothing had changed. “But that’s just your side,” he said. “You didn’t tell her about your birthday, and she thinks something about that.”
Regret laced through him then, and he pulled out the notebook again. After writing down a few thoughts, he put it away and went back to the baler in front of him. He could fix a few things, but this might need to be taken in.
Cord Behr would know exactly what to do to get it to work, and it wasn’t like Gerty couldn’t afford to keep her machines in tip-top shape. Not only that, but Cord had married Opal’s cousin, and he might know a thing or two about how it felt to marry such a beautiful, powerful, rich woman.
His decision made, Tag pulled out his phone and dialed the mechanic shop, praying that Jane had already left for her lunch with Opal. Sure enough, Cord answered with, “Behr’s.” He almost barked it, and somehow that made Tag smile.
“Hey, Cord,” he said, immediately wondering how to turn the conversation toward personal things. He’d eaten plenty of meals with this man, enjoyed some holidays with him, and surely Tag could ask him a few questions. “It’s Tag out at Gerty’s place, and I’ve got a baler that I can’t get to hold the twine right.”
“I can look at it,” he said. “When can you bring it in?”
“Whenever,” Tag said. “Today, even.”
“I’ve got a truck here this afternoon I have to get through,” he said. “But yeah, bring it by.”
“Great,” Tag said. “Have you had lunch? I could bring you something to eat.”
“I’m not going to say no to lunch,” he said. “We packed food from home, but it wasn’t my favorite last night, so I won’t feel bad if I don’t eat it.”
Tag chuckled. “Fair enough. Steak sandwich from Mo’s?”
“All day long,” Cord said with a smile in his voice now. “And if you tell my wife I said I didn’t want to eat her leftovers, I will deny it until the day I die.”
Tag burst out laughing then, and he promised Cord he wouldn’t say a word to Jane about the leftovers. Then he backed his truck up to the baler, hooked it up, and headed to the shop, praying he’d get answers to more than one question this afternoon.
“Howdy, Tag.” Cord stuck out his hand and Tag put his in it to shake. “Baler problems?”
“It’s not like we need it right this second, but I’ve been goin’ through things,” he said, feeling a little foolish now that he’d arrived at the technician shop. He told himself Cord didn’t know why he’d really come, and perhaps he just wanted lunch with another human being—and to get some expert eyes on the baler.
He lifted the white paper bag. “Sandwiches here.”
Cord finished drying his hands, which he’d obviously just washed. “Let’s eat first. Sound okay?”
“Sure,” Tag said, letting his eyes sweep the bays where Cord worked. “You’re done with the truck?”
“Found the problem right after you called,” he said. “I sometimes just need to step away, and the answers come.” He flashed another rare smile in Tag’s direction. “We can eat in the office. It’s the cleanest place.”
