The Mating Game by Lana Ferguson - 33

“So we’re wanting to get you into our midseason slot,” Heidi is saying. “We had a show that was just canceled for 2026, and we think Rustic Renovations will be the perfect replacement.”

I blink back at her, processing. It’s everything I want to hear, but my mind is miles away right now—specifically in Pleasant Hill, Colorado. I can’t help wondering about Hunter’s interview—how he’s doing, if he’s nervous, if he remembered to smile. It’s making this meeting a hell of a lot harder to get excited about than it should be.

“That’s…that’s great,” I manage with a smile. “I’m thrilled to hear it.”

Heidi nods, her mauve-painted lips revealing perfect teeth as she snaps her fingers at her assistant, who scrambles over with a folder. “This is the proposal we’ve put together. It’s mostly standard; it outlines your signing bonus and per-episode pay, as well as the locations and projects we already have lined up for you.”

That makes me sit up. “I don’t get a say in the projects?”

“Unfortunately,” Heidi says with a slight frown, “there’s a lot of legal stuff involved in this sort of thing—insurance waivers and such. Things we have to take care of well in advance. It’s just easier if we pick your projects.” She gives me another reassuring grin. “Don’t worry, we’ve all thoroughly scoured your channel, and we’re more than sure that you’ll approve.”

I flip open the folder, skimming the contents briefly. I know I’ll need my lawyer to look over everything, but currently I’m looking for the one thing that matters most. I release a shuddering breath when I see the signing bonus—thirty grand. More than enough to schedule dad’s operation. Does it even matter that I don’t get to pick my projects with that much on the line?

“This looks great,” I tell her. “I’ll need my lawyer to look over everything before I can sign a contract, of course—”

Heidi nods. “Of course.”

“—but I’m pretty confident that we’ll be agreeing to the terms.”

It’s not like I have any other choice, really.

“That’s so good to hear,” Heidi says, beaming. “We have your first project all lined up—we’ll have you starting in two weeks.”

Cold runs through my blood. “So soon?”

“Yes,” Heidi says with a nod. “Like I said, we’re fitting you into a canceled slot, so we need to move as fast as possible. Truthfully, we’re already behind on filming.” She gives me a pointed look. “So I hope that you won’t need too long to look things over.”

My mouth opens and closes as I think of the project I left behind, all the unfinished things still in Colorado, seeing it practically slip through my fingers. Seeing the man I left there slip with it. How could I possibly ask him to wait around for me while I undertake all this, knowing I’ll have to abandon him in his hour of need?

“You can take the packet with you,” Heidi tells me. “We’ll need Legal to put together a formal deal agreement for you to sign if you say yes, but we can expedite that—don’t worry. In fact, if you can get me an answer by Monday, I can guarantee we’ll have you signed by the end of next week.”

It’s everything I’ve wanted, everything I’ve been dying to hear since this became even a remote possibility—so why the hell am I hesitating? I know deep down that I can’t afford to, that no matter what my heart might be saying, I will be saying yes to this before Monday’s end…I just didn’t expect it to feel like this. I expected to feel accomplishment, to feel some sense of gratification at having reached the ending I’ve been working so hard for, and yet…all I feel is…empty, mostly.

But still I paste on a smile, tucking the packet under my arm as I rise from my chair and hold out my hand in offering for Heidi to shake. She takes it with a matching grin, no doubt knowing as well as I do that I won’t be saying no to this. No matter how much it will hurt me to do it. Which is something I never could have anticipated.

And when I leave her office, when I step out into the bright waiting room, with its sleek tiles and cream-colored walls that feel like they’re closing in…there’s only one voice I want to hear.

“… So you just left?”

I sigh as I grip the steering wheel. “What choice did I have?”

“It sounds like you’d rather have made a different one,” Ada says.

I’ve spilled my guts to Ada about everything that’s happened the last few days—about the heat, about Hunter, HGTV…all of it. She listened patiently as I recounted everything we did and everything I felt, and she was thoughtfully quiet throughout all of it.

“He didn’t really give me any other option,” I tell her. “He barely acted like he wanted me to stay.” Ada is silent as she seems to consider, and it makes me uneasy. “Well?”

“I’m thinking that I might understand where he’s coming from,” she says finally.

“What do you mean?”

“I just…I know what it’s like to push everyone away because you think they couldn’t want you.”

My chest squeezes at her admission, and I know she’s thinking of her own issues, of how she uses her humor and her jokes to hide the fact that she’s most likely lonely.

“Anyone would want you, Ada,” I tell her. “One idiot doesn’t change that.”

She sniffs. “I’m just saying, it sounds to me like Hunter was trying to protect himself from heartbreak.”

“I would never hurt him,” I argue.

“But it sounds like he might have a hard time believing that with everything he’s been through, yeah?”

“Maybe,” I admit. My breath comes a little shorter as I recall all that he’d said, and my voice is quiet when I ask, “Do you think he could be right? Do I feel this way because of hormones or biology or whatever?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she says. “There’s no way I could be sure. But I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own feelings, and I know what it’s like to find out everything you thought was real never was.”

“Ada, not every guy is going to be a bastard like Perry’s dad,” I tell her.

She blows out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. But it’s not about me right now. It’s about you. Ask yourself, Tess. Do you think you really care about Hunter? Does it feel like it’s just hormones?”

I let myself consider that, thinking about his quiet smile and his grumpy demeanor and his silly jokes at the most random of times, trying to imagine never experiencing any of it ever again. The thought fills me with immediate melancholy.

“It feels real,” I half whisper. “Is that stupid?”

“Not if you feel it,” Ada says. “You know your heart better than anyone else. And as scary as it is—and believe me, I know it is—sometimes you have to trust it. Even if it means you might get hurt. You’ll never know otherwise.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I say thickly.

“Of course I am,” she chuffs. “I’m always right.”

That gets a watery laugh out of me. “Of course you are.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Just remember that you can follow your dreams without giving up everything you love,” she tells me.

Love.

It feels strange to even think it, but it also feels odd how not strange it is. I’ve never felt longing like this, never felt this need to be with another person—to see them, to touch them, to simply be near them—and what else could that be if not love?

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating.

“Thank you,” I say. “I really needed this.”

“I’m always here for you, babe,” she assures me. “You know I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say with a broken sort of laugh.

“Now go rip off the Band-Aid and tell your parents everything you’ve told me.”

“Maybe I’ll leave out some parts.”

She chuckles. “Probably a good idea.”

“I’ll talk to you soon?”

“I hope so. Sounds like you might miss my birthday though, superstar.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

“Don’t be,” she urges. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“You’d better.”

I hang up the phone, feeling only slightly better than I did before.

The drive from the airport to Newport Beach takes barely half an hour—I’m bone-tired after two flights in a twenty-four-hour period—and I’m grateful for the proximity of my childhood home now more than ever. It’s the same as always—red door, shingled roof that’s seen better days, wide wraparound porch that holds memories of hide-and-seek and tag and hot cocoa while it rains—and I know that inside is an abundance of love and understanding that I can’t get anywhere else.

Well, at least that’s what I thought until very recently.

Mom’s car is gone from the driveway, but Dad’s old pickup is parked where it always is, and I realize after checking the time that Mom has most likely run off to her weekly book club meeting with her girlfriends. It’s not ideal, since I wanted to tell them together, but I know if I don’t get all this off my chest now, it’s going to eat me alive. The excitement is too great, as is the strange forlornness that I can’t seem to shake.

I knew from the minute I signed the contract that I needed to tell my dad in person, but now that I’m here…there’s a wariness in me. Almost as if I’m worried he’ll be upset that I’ve been keeping things from him.

I knock before testing the handle, then turn it and push the door open before calling, “Dad?”

“Back here,” he says.

I find him in his old recliner, already lowering the raised leg rest and looking at me with pure confusion as he pulls himself from the chair. “Tess?”

“Hey, Dad,” I say, moving to meet him for a hug. “Surprise.”

“What on earth are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Colorado.”

“I was,” I tell him, moving to the couch, where he sinks down beside me. “But I came home because I have good news.”

His forehead wrinkles, his brown eyes that are just like mine squinting under his thick brows. “News?”

I take a deep breath as I gather my thoughts…and then I tell him. About the first time HGTV tapped our shoulders, about the waiting game we’ve been playing while they deliberated, about the offer—all of it. He listens with rapt attention, letting me get it everything out before he releases a heavy breath.

“That’s…Wow, Tess. That’s fantastic.” He chuckles softly. “Your mother is going to wanna whoop your ass when she finds out you kept all this a secret.”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I had good news,” I explain. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Get our hopes up?” He cocks his head. “This is your thing, kiddo. We would have just wanted to support you, is all.”

“About that…” I chew on the inside of my lip, trying to find a way to come out and say what I need to say. “I haven’t told you about the signing bonus,” I say. “It’s thirty grand, Dad. It’s enough to schedule that operation.”

His breath catches as he rears back, confusion painting his features. My dad is a proud man, and I’ve prepared myself for some pushback on this, so I’m already preparing my ten-point argument when he surprises me by throwing his arms around me, hugging me tight as he buries his face in my hair.

“Oh, hon,” he says, his voice thick. “My sweet girl.”

My fingers tangle in his shirt, my eyes prickling with tears. “I need you to be okay,” I say, sniffling. “This will make sure that you are.”

“Baby girl,” he chokes out. “I’d have been okay regardless. You didn’t need to do this for me.”

“Of course I did,” I argue. “Someone has to look out for you.”

He chuckles as he pulls back, wiping at his eyes. “You’ve gotten real good at that over the years, haven’t you?”

His hand touches my cheek, and I cover it with mine, feeling a tear slip out to collide with his fingers. He brushes it away, smiling.

“Tell me why you look so sad,” he says.

I startle, my brow wrinkling. “What? Of course I’m not sad. I’m happy, Dad. Really happy. This is what I’ve been working toward for months. Why on earth would I be sad?”

“Kiddo,” he laughs. “You’ve spent most of your life taking care of people, and I’ve always been so proud of you for that. It’s just who you are. Ever since you learned how to walk, you’ve been offering up a helping hand to one person or another, but you can’t fool me. You never could. I know when my baby is hurting.”

My traitorous eyes begin to well with more tears, and I feel them spilling like I’m a little girl again, my heart aching. “They want me to start right away.”

“And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t know ,” I cry. “I just…It’s just…”

“Deep breath,” Dad says. “In and out.”

I do as he says, drawing in a steadying breath and releasing it slowly until the panic rising inside me starts to quell. I have so many feelings right now that I don’t know what to do with.

“I met someone,” I tell him. “In Colorado.”

He looks surprised but masks it quickly. “You did?”

“I did,” I say with a nod, and his hand falls from my cheek to hold mine in my lap. “And he’s…Well. He’s wonderful, really.”

“And that makes you sad?”

I shake my head at his playful tone. “No. No . But he’s—he’s tied to that place. His entire life is there. He’d never leave it. And here I am in another state, about to be tied down to a contract for at least six months. Maybe more. I won’t have time to breathe , much less visit. How can I ask him to wait for me? He barely knows me. I can’t do that to him. But he’s…he’s lost so much already. I don’t want to be another thing he loses. I just don’t see how I can avoid it.”

“That…” Dad nods solemnly. “That is a tough one.”

He doesn’t know the half of it. If I were to tell him everything—about my new designation, about the heats, the shifting, all of it—his head might explode. Probably a conversation for a time when I’m not already falling to pieces. Besides, I think that’s definitely something I want to tell him and Mom at the same time.

“You know,” Dad says. “You don’t have to take this job. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I do,” I tell him chidingly. “Don’t be silly. I want to. I just…I want him too. I want both, and I don’t know if I can have that, and it’s killing me.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he says, sounding sincere. “I wish I had better answers for you.”

I nod morosely, wishing the same thing.

“But I do know this,” Dad says. “Love is rarely simple. It’s not always like the storybooks or the movies. Love is damn hard. We don’t always meet our person at the perfect moment, and we don’t always get the ending we thought we would.” He chuckles softly. “Trust me, I know. I’ve thought about endings a lot lately.”

“Don’t say that,” I say, my voice tight. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Maybe I will,” he says. “Maybe I’ll get that pacemaker and last another fifty years, or maybe tomorrow I’ll be a hit by a bus. No one can know for sure.”

“If you’re trying to cheer me up,” I say, my voice breaking, “you’re doing a terrible job.”

“My point is,” he goes on, “you gotta take what happiness you can when you can. There’s only so much of it in this world, and when you find something good, you gotta hold on to it real tight and not let it go. Because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, hon, and happiness doesn’t deal in what-ifs.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you care about this man of yours, you should tell him that.”

“I don’t want him to feel like he has to—”

“If you don’t tell him,” Dad stresses, “you’ll regret it forever. Because, Tess? Take it from someone who’s had to stare death in the face.” He squeezes my hand. “There’s no greater ache than the words we don’t say. They’re what haunts us forever, you hear?”

I press the heel of my hand to my eye, stanching the tears there. “I don’t remember you being so poetic.”

“Yeah, well. You live as much life as I’ve had to live these past few years…you start looking at things differently.” He gives my hand another squeeze. “You gonna think about what I said?”

“I’ll…think about it,” I agree warily. Even if I’m not sure telling Hunter would do us any good.

“That’s great.” He pats my knee. “And, hon? I’m so proud of you. It’s one of those things I don’t say nearly enough. You really have spent your whole life taking care of us in one way or another, and I want you to know I see that. I just wish someone could take care of you for a change.”

Someone did , I don’t say.

“Now,” Dad goes on. “How about some coffee? We could slip a little whiskey in and celebrate.”

“You know damn well you shouldn’t be drinking,” I scold.

He raises his hands placatingly. “Worth a shot, I guess. Besides, didn’t you hear? Practically getting a new heart, it seems like.” He winks at me. “Got my daughter to thank for that.”

I give him a watery grin, shaking my head. “Go make the coffee.”

“Can do, kiddo, can do.”

I watch him shuffle off into the kitchen, mulling over everything he’s said. I really didn’t mean to spill my guts like I did, but my dad has a way of seeing right through me like no one ever has. I’ve never been very good at hiding things from him. It’s a wonder I kept the HGTV thing a secret for so long without caving.

I lean back into the couch as I wipe my eyes, trying to focus on all the good that happened today. Trying not to think about everything I may have to give up because of it. I know I was right when I told my dad that Hunter is tied to that lodge, that there’s nothing on earth that could make him leave it—and how could I ask him to? Not after everything he’s suffered.

Maybe it’s just one of those things that’s not in the cards. Maybe we didn’t meet each other at the right time. I can’t even say if telling him how I feel would do anything but cause him heartbreak, and deep down, I don’t know if I’ll be able to bring myself to do that to him. I almost think it would be better to keep it all inside, if only to protect him.

You really have spent your whole life taking care of us in one way or another…I just wish someone could take care of you for a change.

I laugh scornfully under my breath.

Seems my dad was right.

A knock at the door makes me sit up, and I can still hear my dad moving around in the kitchen, so I holler at him that I’ll get it as I rise from the couch, wondering if maybe Mom forgot her keys again and came home early. That thought makes me wince, because there really is a good chance she’ll whoop my ass when I tell her the things I’ve been keeping from her.

God, I wonder if I can hide all the shifter stuff until I’m dead. That would be ideal.

I reach the door and wrap my fingers around the handle, preparing myself for one of her bear hugs that nearly crush me, already opening my mouth to explain my being here when I pull the door wide.

And then I freeze, shock trickling through me when I see who’s on the other side—sticking out like a sore thumb in the California sunshine with his beanie and his flannel and his larger-than-life presence, because how on earth is he here ?

I take a deep breath, barely managing to get a word out, and when I do, every feeling, every raging desire hits me with the full weight of a truck, coming back to me like I never left him, because—

“Hunter?”