Hometown Hope: A Small Town Romance Anthology

by Zoe York

  There was that word again.

  Trusting a woman who could hurt him…well, that was a tough row to hoe. He’d been telling Jennifer the truth the other night, about how women held more power in their little pinky than they even realized, but he doubted she truly believed him.

  Whether or not it was actually true.

  Yesenia pulled up in the family’s little two-wheel-drive Toyota, here for her chores for the day. Stetson waved to her as she jumped out, a pair of beat-up jeans and an even older flannel shirt tied at the waist. “Hi Stetson!” she said with a smile, her long straight hair hanging down her back in a black cascade. At only 16, she was already starting to fill out. She was gonna be one gorgeous girl when she got older. “How is my Nudges doing?”

  “Good,” he said with a big smile. “I think he’s putting on weight at a great clip. How’s his feed look – do I need to order some more?” He’d meant to check that yesterday when he’d been showing Jennifer around, but had somehow gotten sidetracked. Possibly by the cutest ass he ever did see, but that was a given at this point.

  “Nah. I think we have another week or so.” They wandered into the corral together and she loved on Nudges, who was happily living up to his name, joyfully basking in the attention she was slathering on. “Thank you again for the feed,” she said. “It means—”

  “No problem,” he said, waving it away. Yesenia thanked him every time the topic came up, which was embarrassing as hell.

  He hadn’t mentioned this particular fact to Jennifer during their tour because…well, money. The topic was a touchy one. He didn’t want to tell her that he was paying for all of the feed for a 4-H project for someone else, when he couldn’t even make his payment on his loan. But honestly, a few hundred dollars wouldn’t even make a dent in the interest on the loan, and it meant a lot more to Yesenia to be able to pay for this project. Times were tight for everyone; helping Yesenia make some extra money on the side was worth it.

  “I will give you half the money at the sale, I promise,” Yesenia continued. Stetson cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “We’ve gone over this before. You’re going to put all of it into a savings account to save for college. Speaking of, are you reading this summer like you’re supposed to?” She was enrolled in the advanced English class at the high school, with a stupidly long list of books she was assigned to read before school started this fall. A guy could enjoy a western or a thriller every once in a while, but it seemed like to him, the teacher was taking this whole advanced English class to an unnecessary level.

  “I just finished Pride and Prejudice,” she announced proudly. “Mr. Darcy reminds me of you, actually.”

  Stetson was still trying to process the idea of voluntarily reading a Jane Austen book when Yesenia’s words registered. “What? Why?” he asked, startled.

  Yesenia looked up from her pettings of Nudges and said, “Pride. You both have a lot of it.”

  Stetson just nodded, taken aback. What could he say to a 16-year-old’s comment like that? “Right. Well, I better go check on the herd. Make sure no one’s run off in the night. See ya around.”

  He tugged on the brim of his hat as Yesenia set about cleaning out Nudge’s corral.

  Mr. Darcy? Him? Wasn’t that book set in England or France or something? He’d never even been outside of the intermountain states; he sure as hell hadn’t travelled to another country.

  Although Yesenia’s English was excellent, he couldn’t help but wonder if something had gotten lost in translation somewhere along the way.

  Chapter 41

  Jennifer

  Three days. It had been three days of heaven in Stetson’s arms.

  Except, it was quickly turning to hell as she stared down at the ledger in front of her. The tour of the farm had revealed a couple of tractors that were needed to harvest Stetson’s crops, cows that were already contracted to be sold to the restaurants in Boise, rolls of bailing twine and rusty bolts, an ancient tractor from the 1950s, fields of corn, hay, and wheat, and one adorable steer who was the property of Yesenia.

  Well, and the tour revealed that as always, Carmelita was right. The farm was much larger than Jennifer had realized. Somehow, bland numbers on a page didn’t mean nearly as much as seeing the wide open spaces for herself. The farm had gone on for forever, it seemed, nestled up against the Goldfork Mountains.

  Stetson pointed to the mountains and said that they’d had their chunk of the mountainside checked for minerals or gems – Idaho was the Gem State, after all – but there hadn’t been enough there to make it worthwhile to set up a whole mining operation. His dad had even looked at selling the pine trees that dotted the mountainside to a logging company, but the trees were too sparse and the terrain was too steep and rocky to make building a road up it worthwhile.

  Worthwhile.

  It was a word Jennifer was starting to hate.

  It was the same word Stetson had used when she’d brought up the topic of splitting off a portion of the farm and selling it to an area farmer. They had been standing on the back porch when she’d suggested it, and Stetson had pulled her out into the sunshine as he talked her through it.

  “If I tried to sell that chunk over there,” he’d said, pointing into the sunshine, “we’d have to build a road through the rest of the property to give access to it, and then give a right-away to the new owner for that road. It’d cost me as much in time and materials and lost productivity since I can’t graze a road, that I’d lose money doing it. Same with that piece over there,” he’d said, swinging his arm to the right. Her gaze had followed his arm, happy to be staring into something that wasn’t direct sunlight. “Except with that one, it’s even worse because I would have to build a full-sized bridge over the canal that could support any kind of rig the new owner would want to drive down it. Do you have any idea what kind of price tag a bridge like that would have? It just isn’t worthwhile.

  “And my neighbor to the west,” he’d said, jerking his thumb, “is looking for a buyer for his own property. If I could afford to, I’d be snatching that piece up from him. I could double my corn crop every year with that farmland to work with. But I can’t afford to buy it, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to buy from me. The last thing he wants is more land. He’s older and looking to stop working so damn hard, and his boys don’t want the farm. He says he’s spent too many mornings in the seat of a tractor; he wants his ass in a cabana instead.” He’d shot Jennifer a grin. “I tried to put that image outta my head as quick as it arrived. I suggest you do the same.”

  A wrinkly old farmer in board shorts, hanging out with a coconut drink in his hand.

  Yeah, that was an image she’d be happy to never think about again.

  So what was worthwhile? Jennifer scrubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. She didn’t know, but she sure as hell better figure it out, and quick. Greg wasn’t going to put up with her continuing to work on this audit for much longer. His messages were starting to creep over into completely rude territory. Despite her big talk to Paul on Saturday morning, Jenn still hadn’t filed an official complaint against Greg. Not yet. She wanted to help Stetson save his farm or figure something out, and then she’d file the complaint against Greg. She didn’t want to chance being pulled off the case.

  An audit had never meant so much before, and yet, Jennifer had never failed so miserably.

  Working Overtime started ringing out as her phone began vibrating across the scarred wooden desk. Dammmmiiitttttt…She did not want to talk to Greg right now. Or ever, for that matter, but especially not right now. Not when she didn’t have much in the way of progress to report. She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out if she could get away with not answering for once, but finally, worry won out and she snatched the phone up, hurrying to the front door as she tried to swipe to answer. The phone call went to voicemail just a split second before she could, though, and Jennifer grimaced, nibbling on her bottom lip as she looked down at the screen.

  Shoul
d she call him back? Or listen to his voicemail first and then call him—

  The phone started ringing again.

  I don’t want to work.

  I want to bang on these drums all day.

  Well, I guess that answers that question.

  She swiped again as she stepped out onto the front porch. “This is Jennifer Kendall.”

  I sound more pleasant than I feel. That’s a good start.

  “Why didn’t you answer when I called just a second ago?” Greg demanded.

  “I couldn’t get to the phone fast enough. It was in my bag,” Jennifer lied without a twinge of guilt. She was pretty sure she should feel guilty about not feeling guilty, but that wasn’t about to happen. Not with Greg.

  “I’ve had just about enough of your excuses. I’m tired of reminding you that I don’t want to hear them,” Greg blasted her.

  “It was just a reason, not an excuse,” she said, keeping her voice even. She was not going to let him get under her skin. She refused to.

  “I don’t want to hear it. Are you done with the audit yet?” he demanded.

  “I’m still working on the books. It’s a complicated business, with cows and row crops and hay—”

  “You’ve dragged your feet long enough on this one,” he snapped, cutting her off. “I want an answer today, and it better be foreclosure.”

  “What?!” she half yelled. She knew that was what he wanted, but he rarely demanded it. “But that may not—”

  “That is the answer that I want, that is the answer the board wants, and that is going to be the answer you give. You’re only out there on this little vacation because the loan contract stipulates that an audit must be conducted. The contract doesn’t say what the results of that audit must be. We, as the bank, get to determine what the result of that audit will be, and this one will be foreclosure. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You know that is—”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to think. I am the boss, you are the employee, and therefore, I get to tell you what to think. Get me my results, and quick.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can’t what? You can’t work here anymore? That is what is going to happen if you continue to be insubordinate.”

  “That isn’t—”

  “I really don’t care what you think it is or isn’t. Let me tell you exactly what it is. This is about the board backing a huge development deal to gentrify that little asshole of a town. If you haven’t noticed, that farm is right at the base of the Goldfork Mountains, and with a little bit of the bank’s money, it could be a very nice ski resort. If you don’t want to play ball, then I don’t need your services any longer. Now get me that report!”

  The line went dead.

  It all clicked together in that moment. His even-more-overbearing-than-usual manner. His willingness to openly demand what the results of the audit would be.

  Worthwhile…

  The word of the day, except this time, it was the bank that won the contest. They’d been able to figure out how to make the mountainside worthwhile, when she and Stetson hadn’t.

  Hold on, Stetson could sell to real estate developers instead! The bank couldn’t be in possession of the only people willing and able to pay for a whole ski resort to be put in, right? They’d just have to find some backers themselves.

  She groaned, burying her face in her hands. That was ridiculous, and even she knew it. These were the kinds of deals that took months or even years to put together, not a couple of days. Stetson needed cash right now, not two years from now. Plus, would he even be willing to voluntarily turn his family’s farm into a ski resort?

  Jennifer was pretty sure the answer to that was a resounding hell no, although honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was going to have a choice here pretty quick.

  “Is everything okay?” Carmelita asked, opening the screen door with Jennifer’s favorite flowered mug in her hand. “I made you some coffee. I thought you might need it.”

  Jennifer took it gratefully with a wan smile. What happens when you lose the only home you’ve lived in for the last 50 years? What happens when I have to tell the man I’m falling in love with that his life is about to be destroyed?

  “Yeah, I’m good,” she said hoarsely. “I better get back to work, though.”

  She left Carmelita on the front porch, staring into the distance contemplatively as Jennifer headed back to the office.

  Maybe this time, she’d have better luck. It sure as hell couldn’t get any worse.

  Chapter 42

  Stetson

  Stetson looked up from the puzzle they were putting together to stare at the waterfall of hair opposite him at the card table. He loved watching her think. It was like watching a whole play take place, but he was the only audience member.

  Probably the only time in his life he’d be able to afford such up-close-and-personal seats to a theatre production.

  “Have you seen the chimney stack yet?” Jennifer murmured, her eyes scanning the pieces on the card table between them, biting her lower lip as she searched.

  Biting her lower lip…it had to be the most distracting move Jennifer could make. Every time she did it, a bolt of pure lust shot through him. He wondered if she had any idea how enticingly gorgeous she was.

  Scratch that. She didn’t. Not after how Paul had treated her.

  Stetson figured he’d just have to be the one to show her the truth.

  “You know, the puzzle pieces are on the card table,” Jennifer said with a teasing lilt to her voice, even as she continued to scan the pieces in front of her. “It helps if you look down when you’re trying to find the next piece to put in place.”

  Stetson felt his cheeks flush a bit, which he immediately decided to blame on the dark beer Carmelita had brought out for him.

  He cleared his throat. “I…uhhh…haven’t spotted it yet,” he said truthfully, forcing himself to look down at the puzzle spread out in front of them instead of staring at Jennifer. She was way more fascinating than a generic puzzle of a farmhouse with a horse grazing in the pasture any day of the week.

  He had just started to search in earnest for the missing chimney piece when Jennifer held it up triumphantly. “There you are, you little bugger,” she crowed, pushing the piece into place.

  “So you never told me why you thought you killed your mother,” she said quietly, her eyes still trained on the puzzle as she continued to search through the pieces.

  “Wha…oh. Right.” He hadn’t forgotten; rather, he’d hoped she’d forgotten.

  He’d blurted that out in a fit of desperation, trying to distract her from being upset about Paul. He hadn’t thought through the ramifications of actually telling her before it’d come spilling out.

  He began pulling all of the white daisy patch pieces out of the jumble, thinking as his hands went to work. He always thought best while doing something, and he wondered for a moment if counselors had ever considered having their patients put puzzles together while talking to them, so they could think clearly enough to make progress.

  “I like to think of myself as having been a pretty good kid,” he said quietly, as his stack of white daisy pieces grew. “I wasn’t an angel, but I wasn’t intentionally destructive, either. I wasn’t Declan, though. By all accounts, Declan was the easiest out of all of us. Maybe that’s why he and Mom were so close.” Stetson shrugged. “Or maybe Declan was just the most like my mom. Both peacemakers. Both hardworking and loyal. The way they held their heads…Declan was my mom’s mini-me, while I was my dad’s mini-me. Wyatt was just…Wyatt.”

  Jennifer looked up and watched him closely as he talked, and he shifted a bit in his seat, uncomfortable to have those brilliant green eyes focused on him. He rather wished she’d look away, but of course he’d never tell her that.

  He began connecting the daisies, flipping pieces around and trying them one by one.

  “I was just starting to hit those teenage years – you know, where hormones rule your brain
– I was just twelve but there was a girl two years younger…” He let out a low whistle. “Emma Dyer was her name. She left town as soon as she graduated from high school, so you won’t ever meet her, but damn. She was my first crush. You never forget your first.”

  He looked up to see her smiling slightly at him, listening intently as if he was telling her the most fascinating story in the world.

  He plunged on.

  “I wanted her to come over here so I could show off the farm – I don’t know what I thought she’d want to see, since most 10-year-old girls aren’t hot to trot about row cropping, but I was young and head over heels in love. It was the ponytails – just perfect for pulling.” He winked at Jennifer and she laughed. “Anyway, I asked my mom if Emma could come over, and she reminded me that I hadn’t done my chores yet that day. I didn’t get to have fun with my friends until my chores were done.

  “Well, I was pretty upset. I probably had an hour’s worth of chores to do, and if I’d hurried through them, I could’ve had plenty of time to spend with Emma but I wasn’t thinking logically, of course. I was just mad that my mom was telling me no. I told her that I hated her. Told her she was mean. I went stomping outside and promptly took about three times as long to do my chores as it should’ve taken, ‘cause I was busy having a pity party for myself through the whole thing. When you’re having a pity party, you don’t exactly zip through your chores at top speed.”

  He felt his cheeks warm again as his eyes stung a little. Which was ridiculous. He was a grown man. He cleared his throat, and then cleared it again.

  Finally, he continued. “I never saw her again. She was on her way to Pocatello to do a surprise visit with Declan when she struck a deer just outside of Twin Falls. It took me a real long time to realize that she hadn’t decided to take that trip just to get away from me and spend more time with her favorite son. I mean, who is so desperate to get away from her youngest son that she dies in the process, right?” He smiled without humor, staring at the completed daisy patch in front of him.