Him. Him alone. He could’ve had this gold. Instead he’d fallen for glitter.
“But now I realize how incredibly stupid I’ve been,” she said. “Because I have standards, Keith. And I want to be with a guy who recognizes his own worth. I want to be with a guy who thinks of himself as highly as I think of him.”
She didn’t wait for him to come up with words he didn’t have. She threw her truck into gear again and drove away into the darkness.
* * *
KRISTA DOCKED THE Claverley pickup with its wide hood and high suspension at the gate into the hayfield where Will was baling. At least, she assumed he was somewhere out there. She could only make out row after row of cut hay to where they wavered and then dipped behind a large hill. Had she screwed up Dave’s careful instructions? When she’d volunteered to take supper to Will, Dave had pulled out a stubby carpenter pencil and the back of a receipt from a farm supply store and drawn a map, complete with landmarks of a water trough and a rock pile.
He’d also demonstrated how to open the gate. First insert the bottom post and then get behind that fence post and pull the top end of the fence post toward you. He took so long with her that she said, “I think it would’ve been quicker if you’d taken it out yourself.”
He touched his hat. “I doubt it’s me he’s bent on seeing.”
Krista didn’t know if Will wanted to see her, either. Especially since she intended to end their relationship. Yes, breaking up in a pasture over supper wasn’t classy, given that he’d invited her to come out to catch a little time together. But nothing had changed her mind in the last two days since the babysitting debacle, and she’d learned her lesson from the fallout with Phillip about delaying painful conversations.
And this one would be painful. Her love for the quiet, obstinate, water-phobic rancher had sunk into her very marrow. She didn’t want to end things with him, as she had with Phillip. But neither could she see a way forward. And she bet he’d come to the same conclusion. That’s why he’d withdrawn from her ever since the day on the lake. That’s why he made this meetup so short and so mazelike. He probably hoped she wouldn’t show.
And she hoped she was dead wrong.
As soon as she swung from the truck, narrowly missing a plate-size cow patty, she heard what she assumed was the rumbling of Will’s tractor. Dave had said that he might be “working the corners” and “would take a bit to come around.” Rural language was peppered with these vague descriptors, odd for a people so down-to-earth. “Around about.” And the double negative from Dave when Janet had interrupted to ask if he wanted steak or roast tomorrow. Don’t matter none to me, hon. Credit to him, he’d thrown in a rhyme.
Will’s outfit pulled into sight. She had never heard that term in relation to equipment before. The nose of the giant green tractor crested the hill, pulling a round machine which she took to be the baler. So, she’d made it to the right place.
She waved but the sun was glaring off the tractor windshield, so she’d no idea if he’d seen her. He passed her, his back to her. Was he ignoring her? He stopped the tractor and dropped a bale from the machine like a chicken laying an egg. Oh. Cool.
He turned off the tractor and crossed the stubbly field to her.
Dusty and dirty, he looked great. As he approached, he held up his hands. “You pack wipes?”
Not the romantic opening she’d expected, but then again this was Will. “On the passenger side of the truck,” she said. While he sanitized, she sized up a spot to set up their picnic. What could be more idyllic than a checkered cloth spread out on a field. Except the field was poky and dirty, and the pasture was pockmarked with gopher holes or cow patties.
Will settled the matter. He opened the tailgate and swung the cooler and himself onto it. Of course. He gestured for her to join him.
By the time she crossed to him, he was studying the contents of the cooler. He didn’t seem happy. After offering to bring him supper, she’d been seized by a sudden anxiety of what to make for him. Not owning a cookbook herself, she’d flipped through Mara’s shelf and then gone online. Mara had assured her that whatever Krista made, Will would love. But what kind of message was she sending by slaving over a meal that she was using as an excuse to break up with him? So she’d gone to the grocery store and picked up a bunch of dishes—fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, crabmeat salad, and yogurt topped with granola and berries. On a whim, she’d also grabbed jalapeño olives. All in their plastic take-out containers. But now she saw it through his eyes. A cooler full of random offerings because she had no idea what he liked and didn’t care to find out. Had he figured out her reasoning? She didn’t want him to know. Not yet.
Krista hoisted herself onto the tailgate, the cooler between them. “I didn’t want to risk you getting sick on my cooking. I’m only good at salads. I figured you’d want more.”
He nodded and took out the chicken, potato salad and—the olives. He flipped the lid inside up on his lap, opened the food and tucked in, using the plastic cutlery she’d only remembered when she was halfway out of the store. He tossed a couple of olives in his mouth like popcorn and indicated her empty lap. “You’re not eating?”
“No, I—I’m not hungry.” She was. Starving. Except it didn’t seem right to break it off with him between mouthfuls. “Besides, I forgot to pack extra cutlery. Silly me.”
He nudged the olives closer. “Don’t need anything for these.”
She plucked out one and popped it in, the hot pepper tingling her mouth. “I took a chance on these. I didn’t know if you’d like them.”
“Like jalapeños, like olives. Never had them together before.” He squinted at her. “Not your thing?”
“If I enjoyed swallowing fire, it would be.”
“You want a bit of the potato salad to take away the sting? We can share forks.”
That seemed far too intimate, considering what she really shouldn’t put off saying. She caught him discreetly flexing his right arm.
“Your shoulder’s acting up,” she said.
“Bit of a kink from turning to watch the baler,” he said. “Don’t worry, no lifting. That’s all she said I shouldn’t do.”
Krista started. “Who’s ‘she’?”
Guilt crossed his face, and he dipped his head to the potato salad. “The physiotherapist.”
“You said you’ve been in the field the past week. When did you have time to see her?”
He kept his head down. “It was before then. I can’t remember.”
Anger prickled in her gut, hotter than any stupid jalapeño. “You deliberately didn’t tell me.”
“Because you would get all worked up.”
“Sorry for caring.” She did, too, desperately. This was not going to be easy.
He set down his salad and touched his finger to her bare knee. She shifted away. “Listen, Krista. The physio warned me not to lift too much. That’s all, I swear.”
“How much is ‘too much’?”
“Anything where I start feeling it.”
“Will! You were ‘feeling it’ two days ago when you were carrying Austin. I noticed you wince. How much does he weigh? Thirty pounds? Is that why you tried to get out of babysitting the other night? Because you were worried you might have to lift him and tear your shoulder more?”
“I left because I figured you could handle things for a while. Apparently, I was wrong.”
They’d not discussed the events of that night, though she was pretty sure that the Claverleys had probably all taken a vow on the family bible never to leave her alone with Austin or any Claverley minor ever again. Not that there’d likely be another chance after she and Will finished with each other.
She let her anger feed her. Easier to make the break with a white-hot iron.
“Don’t try to change the subject. Don’t you get that you are risking your ability to lead the life
you want by not taking care of yourself right now?”
“I don’t need the lecture, Krista. I get it from my physiotherapist and the doctor.”
“What does your doctor have to say?”
“Nothing yet. The tests haven’t come back yet.”
Krista shoved her hands into her hair. This was worse and worse. She stared out across the pasture, while he tore through his potato salad, clearly eager to get back to hatching bales.
“Did you mention the no-lifting prescription to your mother? Or the tests?”
“What does my mother have to do with this?”
“Because I can guarantee that if you had mentioned either of those things to her, she wouldn’t let you anywhere near this tractor. You would probably be getting served supper in bed.”
“She doesn’t exactly pamper me.”
“And you don’t seem to pamper yourself, at all,” she said.
“I am taking it easy,” he said. “I already told you that.”
“I closed a fence! That took effort from my shoulders. You open and close that fence and probably a dozen others, on top of swinging sledge mauls and toolboxes and saddles and what all, all day long. And you’re still planning that celebrity ride!”
He started to smile, that slow, easy Claverley classic that had always made her go weak. Even now she could feel her stomach clench, but she wasn’t giving in this time.
She hopped off the tailgate and began to pace, which wasn’t easy when long stalks of grass caught in her flip-flops. “Don’t you dare, Will. You mistake my ranting here for someone who cares. Fine, I do care. But not the way you think. I care about your selfish disregard for your health and what it might have meant for our future together.”
He stopped chewing. “‘Might have meant’?”
His flat voice chilled Krista, but he needed to hear this or—more to the point—she needed to say it. “You go off and commit to something, even when you know it’s not in your best interest. Worse, knowing it can damage you. And then you tell me that you want to see if we have a future together. I’ll tell you what I see for a future. A life with a man who can’t carry our kids in his arms.”
His eyes glimmered. “So, you want kids, then?”
“When did I say otherwise?”
“About the same amount of times you said you did. And after what happened the other night—”
“Since you keep bringing up my evening with Austin, let’s be honest. Yes, it was difficult taking care of him. I’ve never babysat a kid so small before. But I was also frustrated because I couldn’t get in touch with you. You weren’t doing it deliberately, I understood that, but I realized that a life with you would pretty much be a life alone.”
He shook his head. “What do you mean? It’s a busy time of year for me.”
“And it’s busy for me, too. And I’m doing it alone, which is my choice and given the nature of my business, the way it’ll always be. There’s no one to call upon, is there? There’s no substitute Krista out there, and that’s fine. I didn’t name it Krista’s Place for nothing.”
“You think it’ll be different with another guy?”
“Will, this isn’t about another guy. It’s about you and me.”
Will tossed the salad back into the cooler. “Really? Because as big and empty as this place is, it always feels as if we’re dealing with your ex.”
“I would love nothing better than for him to leave me alone.”
“I would love the same thing, but being with you is like hooking onto a net that drags everything with it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He took off his baseball cap, scratched his forehead and set his cap back down, his jerky movements conveying his irritation. “It means that everybody comes with stuff. You come with a stalker-ex and a family—”
“What’s wrong with my family?”
“Nothing, except they love being on the water, and I’ll probably have to go on that boat again—”
“If you are ever invited,” Krista said. “How has my family become part of this?”
“Because aren’t we talking about our future together, and doesn’t that usually include families? Isn’t that what’s got you so upset—because you’d have to deal with my family?”
“How can I not?”
“Yes, it comes with the territory, but is it really that you can’t deal with me? We could’ve had a nice, quiet meal together, you and me. And believe it or not, ever since you texted, at noon, I could hardly wait for this moment. You and me, talking about our days and making plans because hey, I’m finished this field tonight and could plan time with you.”
“And exactly what would we plan to do together? Go to the beach? Take in a rodeo? Hang out with my family? Hang out with yours? I suppose I could give you a pedicure. That went well. I could talk to you about my day, but I can’t share what my customers said or even who they are, and what do you care if I can’t decide which line of lotions to carry?”
He drew himself up, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Krista?”
“I want you to be honest with me. I want you to genuinely answer this question. Now that we’ve dated, do you believe you and I have a future together?”
His eyes flickered away, and in that tiny motion, she realized his answer was the same as hers. That this conversation was probably the same one that had played in his mind for a while now and accounted for his quietness around her. He sighed and raised his eyes to hers. “No. We don’t.”
And there it was. She was right. Time to finish what she’d started. “Then it doesn’t matter if we care for each other, and I do care for you, Will, in a way that I haven’t cared for anybody.” She wouldn’t speak of love now, that seemed cruel and pointless, to them both. “In a way that hasn’t changed since I was sixteen. And maybe when I was sixteen, we were more compatible than we are now because then I didn’t have a different life to give up. But now—”
She broke off. Restarted. “If either of us has to give up who we are to be with the other, then what’s the point?”
Will lowered his head and she saw his hands flex. “Bridget warned me that you’d dump me.” He raised his head; his eyes burned into hers. “That you’d dump me and not look back. Isn’t that what you’re doing, Krista? The heart wants what the heart wants, and your heart wants out.”
No. She wanted a way in, but both of them knew it was impossible. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want out.”
“Go, then,” he said. “I’ve got a field to finish.”
As she bumped back to the yard in the truck, her insides bumped and rattled along, too. She was coming apart but she had to hold it together until she was once again in the safety of her own home. She parked the truck and hurried across to her car. Janet stood from her flower bed, Austin happily playing in the dirt. She likely wanted a report on Will’s progress. Krista yanked her car into reverse. Well, he could tell her.
Oh, he could also tell her what the physiotherapist had said.
Except he wouldn’t.
She slammed the car back into Park and marched across the lawn to Janet.
“I won’t be showing up here anymore, which I’m sure is a big relief to you. But it might interest you to learn that your bonehead son, the older one, has decided to disobey his doctor and destroy his life. You can do something about it, or be like me and turn your back on all that.”
Having finally said everythig she intended, Krista spun away and left.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WILL INTENDED TO load up on cereal, toss back his pills and take his coffee down to the barn to work with the horses. But he arrived in the ranch kitchen as his mother poured the dregs of the pot into her cup.
“I’ll make another pot,” she said.
But he was already tucking in a new filter. Though, gi
ven his state of mind, he might chew the ground beans straight from the bag. He switched on the coffeepot and leaned against the counter.
In his high chair by the table, Austin shoveled scrambled egg into his mouth.
“When did he start using a spoon instead of dropping it?”
“After watching his grandfather operate the front end loader, no doubt.”
Will reached into the cupboard for the cereal box.
“That’s Krista food,” his mother said. “I’ll make you scrambled eggs, too. Hash browns are warm in the oven.”
“Krista food?”
His mother got cracking. “She fed it to Austin when she was taking care of him. Pieces were stuck to his bib.”
Krista wasn’t his anymore, but Will felt a shot of defensiveness. “She fed him. Along with bathing him.”
“I’m not complaining. Austin is not her responsibility.” She was whipping the eggs into a froth. “Krista stopped by before she left last night.”
If possible, the pain in his shoulder ratcheted to torture levels.
“Why didn’t you tell her about what the doctor had said?” She poured the eggs into the hot pan with a great sizzle.
“It was no secret. She already knew.”
“She knew you had a weak shoulder. But you deliberately hid from her how bad it was. And I bet you’ve hid the worst of it from your father and me, too.” He couldn’t meet her eyes and she grunted, whisking the crap out of the eggs.
He sighed. “Point is, I didn’t want her to see how bad my shoulder might be.” Will opened the oven to take out the hash browns and load them onto his plate. “It’s all right for a guy to have an injury that heals, but something chronic and permanent, something that prevents him from carrying on with life, that’s completely different.”
His mom ladled out his scrambled eggs. “So you withheld the truth to impress a girl. And how did that work out?”
She had him. “I’m eating.” He made a beeline for the table. He flicked egg from his nephew’s hair and replaced it with a kiss. “Tell me what you’ve got planned today, buddy.”
Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set Page 90
