She stalked into the house and grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter. Space. That’s what she needed. Putting some space between them had worked in the past, and it would help now. She closed the side door behind her and headed for her car. The last few weeks had been full of turmoil. Who wouldn’t be emotional? Once everything settled down, she would be fine. Until that happened, she needed to get away from him.
And hope he put on a shirt before she came home.
# # #
Jack fumed as he turned the mower back on and put it into gear. He’d convinced himself that morning he shouldn’t change his plans just because she’d come home. That might have been short sighted. Or downright delusional.
He would have liked to have you working with him.
Coming from her, that was almost insulting. Jack had been happy to be the son of a small-town furniture craftsman. He had worked hard, and his parents had been proud.
Then Maren had come along. A few weeks with her, and he’d wanted to be something more than what he was—a ridiculous romantic notion, but he’d been young and stupid. Nothing about Shepherdsville had ever been enough for her. He knew that now. But then? He’d hoped if he could make something out of himself, she’d want to stay. He shoved aside a memory of a teenaged Jack, planning a life that would make her happy.
Ugh.
He shouldn’t have come back to the farm. He hated to be reminded of the pitiful kid he’d been, and he had a dozen things to do that didn’t involve being Maren’s yard boy. Now that she had come home, she could take care of the farm herself.
But he had promised Hank. She might be willing to let the old man slave away in the heat, but Jack refused. He had agreed to take over, and he didn’t intend to let Hank down.
He turned the mower to follow the row of tall grass and spotted Maren as she stalked out the side door, her face set and her shoulders rigid. She looked a lot like the fresh-faced high school girl she used to be. An angry and determined school girl. With legs that went on forever.
He shook that thought out of his head and fixed his eyes in front of him. He had made a promise to Hank, but that didn’t give him an excuse to kick back and stare at her legs. Instead, he needed to do enough to satisfy his commitment, then get out of here. If she planned on fighting the county, he’d have enough trouble with her to last a life time. Why buy more?
He angled the mower back towards the driveway. He willed his gaze to stay focused on the grass, but his eyes wandered to the blonde in the little black car in spite of every stern instruction his brain sent them. She slid into the driver’s seat without closing the door and her face tightened as she fiddled with the car’s controls. A moment later, she seemed to wilt, and she dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel.
What is she doing?
He watched a moment longer. She didn’t move.
A gentleman would help.
His jaw tightened. Who said he had to be a gentleman?
He reached down and shut the mower off. No one. He didn’t owe her anything. He had spent two years taking care of her as a teenager, and that hadn’t gotten him anywhere.
He hopped off the mower and started for her car. You’re an idiot, Mason.
Yeah. But he was an idiot who’d be able to look in the mirror without cringing. His mom had always said he could never go wrong doing the right thing.
Easy for her to say.
Maren groaned and lifted her head from the wheel as Jack stepped up to the car.
“Everything okay?”
She flinched and turned wary blue eyes towards him. “No. I think my battery is dead.”
He could have fixed the problem and had her gone in ten minutes if he hadn’t left his jumper cables in his work truck. Instead, he’d have to spend an afternoon rooting through Morris Campbell’s barn for something that might not even be there.
Well, crap.
“Come on. I’ll give you a lift into town.”
Her face mirrored his dismay. “No. That’s okay. I’ll call Ed’s Garage and have them send someone.”
Did she have to argue with everything? He couldn’t think of anything he wanted less than to spend the next hour cooped up in the cab of his truck with her. But he had a problem to solve—her problem—and a quick trip into town would be the fastest way to do it. “We could be there and back three times before they could get to you. And that’s assuming they haven’t gone home for the day.”
She shook her head. “I’ll try to jump it off with the tractor.”
He counted to three, then forced a note of calm he didn’t feel into his voice. “You’re in the middle of nowhere with a car that won’t run. I’m offering to help. If it were anyone but me, you’d let me.”
Maren stared up at him. After a moment, her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. “Sorry. Would you help me jumpstart my car? I’m sure Grandpa has some cables around here somewhere.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Fair enough. Where?”
She turned her gaze to the tool shed, then to the roof of the barn, barely visible over the treetops. With a frustrated groan, she pushed herself out of the car. “You win. Let’s go.” She brushed against him as she stood upright, and his stomach clenched in response.
Great.
He started for the barn. Promise or no promise, he should have stayed home today. Why had he thought he could come back without getting pulled in to Maren’s gravity? Even before things went bad, he’d spent more time than he cared to remember helping her restore order to her life. This wasn’t even the first time he’d had to rescue her from car trouble. A reluctant grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“What’s so funny?” she asked from beside him.
“This doesn’t feel familiar to you?”
The corners of her mouth lifted in an answering smile. “Yeah. Except the last time, it was a little more serious.”
“I remember.” He stepped up to his truck and opened her door for her. “You were pretty upset.”
“I was sure Grandpa would kill me when he found out I’d blown the engine.” Maren flashed him a grin that weakened his knees, then launched herself up and into the truck. “You don’t know how many times he’d preached to me about checking my oil. I’d never seen so much smoke in my life.”
“Bet you haven’t forgotten to check it since then.”
“Nope,” she agreed. “After Grandpa worked a fifteen-hundred-dollar engine off me, I never forgot again. But the farm never looked better than it did that summer.”
Jack closed her door and rounded the front of the truck. Morris had been pretty upset. Maren had all but disappeared for a month while she did her chores on the farm. She’d known how much trouble she was in, which explained why she had been so hysterical when she called him for help. He figured that part out later.
But when she had called? Not so much. He had been in a blind panic to get to her. He opened his door and climbed in, tossing a glance in her direction as he pulled on his seatbelt. “All I remember is tearing across town to get to you. I thought you were hurt and bleeding on the side of the road.”
“I would have preferred that to facing Grandpa with an overheated engine.”
“You could have told me that on the phone,” he mused. He punched the button to start the truck and put it into gear. “I didn’t know what I was going to find. You have no idea how relieved I was to see you standing there in one piece.”
She scowled back at him. “Relieved? You started laughing.”
“Mmm-hmm, I did. At least one of us saw the humor in it. After I got you home, you barely spoke to me for a week.”
“I was too busy feeding the cows and mending the fences on the back forty to talk to anyone.”
He shrugged. “That’s what you said at the time, but I think you were miffed at me.”
“I might have been a little peeved,” she said. “I had no idea what to do. I was sure Grandpa was going to be furious, my car was on the side of the road pouring smoke from under th
e hood, and you were the one person I could think of that would know what to do. And when you came, you laughed.”
His smile dropped. “But I came, didn’t I?” Of course he had. He’d loved her to a distraction. He would have done anything for her. Not that that had made any difference in the end.
“Yes, you did.”
She fell silent. Good. A walk down memory lane with Maren Campbell had bad idea written all over it. Even that short exchange had been enough to catapult him back to the desperate teenager he had been. He didn’t want to relive those days.
He really should have stayed home this morning.
“Stop the car!”
Jack jumped, startled, and his foot reflexively slammed on the brakes. He gripped the steering wheel tight in his fists while the truck skidded to a halt, sending puffs of white dust billowing around them.
“What?”
“You!” She grabbed a small white card from a tray on the console and held it up.
He bit down on a frustrated groan.
He had known she would find out. Hadn’t he told himself yesterday to come clean about his involvement in the new industrial park? He had nothing to be ashamed of, and he’d known all along she didn’t want the farm she had abandoned. Still, those wounded blue eyes gouged his heart. “Maren—”
“I get it.” She turned her gaze out the front windshield. “That’s why you were at the farm. That’s what she meant by that land.” She spat the words in a way that made him flinch. What is she talking about? “I know we had our problems, but I never thought you were out to get me.”
He turned to face her. “I’m not. You’ve been gone for years. No one expected you to come back.”
She glared back at him. “You had to have my farm. And you decided to take it from me while my back was turned. You’re right. That doesn’t sound like you’re out to get me at all. What was I thinking?”
He drew in a sharp breath and let it back out. Patience. He could back her into a corner so she would never give up the farm, or he could tread carefully and, possibly, change her mind.
You do know better than that, right? He didn’t have a great track record in the “getting Maren to change her mind” department.
“You didn’t care about the farm or Shepherdsville. You made that clear a long time ago.”
The corners of her eyes turned red and wet and the knife in his chest dug in deeper. “But it’s my grandparents’ home. Why would you do this to me?”
Cold uncertainty trickled down his neck. He shoved it aside. Nothing had changed. As soon as whatever had sent her here blew over, she’d point that black car north again and leave without looking back. She didn’t want the farm. She just didn’t want anyone else to have it, either. “I didn’t. The Board came up with the idea to bring in revenue. My company won the bid.”
“But it’s my grandparents’ home,” she repeated. “I get that they want the county to grow, but why did you pick my farm?”
“The site was picked based on a number of factors. It had nothing to do with you.”
“The site.” She turned away and fixed her gaze out the side window. “My grandparents’ entire lives reduced to a patch of dirt under a factory.”
“Maren.” The urge to remind her how she couldn’t wait to leave her grandparents’ lives behind fought with an equally strong urge to drag her across the seat and into his arms to comfort her.
What is wrong with you, Mason? He ignored both impulses and forced his shoulders to relax. She had loved her grandparents, and she was reacting without thinking. He had to make her understand. Once she did, she would sell the farm, and his troubles would be over. “After your grandparents died, the house fell into a bad state,” he said after a moment. “The windows on the house took damage from hailstorms. The roof started leaking.”
She shook her head. “That’s why I hired Hank.”
“You asked Hank to keep an eye on the house,” Jack said. “And he did. When the boards under the eaves started rotting, Hank tried to call you to see what you wanted to do. He couldn’t reach you.”
Her brows furrowed. “He...” She stared down at her fingers. “Okay, so it needed some repairs.”
“No, it needed to be taken care of.” She flinched, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He stiffened. He couldn’t afford to let her get to him. He turned in his seat, put the truck back into gear, and nudged it forward. She knew what she had done. Why was she acting like a victim? “Why did you come home?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
He fixed his eyes on the road. Something had happened. She hadn’t had a change of heart or a sudden sentimental need to reconnect with her roots. “Fine. But whatever brought you here didn’t change your mind about Shepherdsville. Or that farm.”
“It’s still my grandparents’ home. It should be my decision.”
He couldn’t stop a harsh sigh. “Then what did you plan to do with it? Are you home to stay?”
She didn’t respond. He cast a quick glance at her, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“All the surrounding landowners agreed to sell,” he continued. “You were the only holdout in a multi-million-dollar project, and you had made your feelings known years ago. Take the pay-out, get back to your life, and let us do some good with the property. Why hang on to something you don’t even want?”
Her lips tightened into a determined line he had seen many times in their youth.
He stifled another groan.
“I don’t understand you, Jack. If you’re going to tear it down, why did you bother with the repairs?”
He glanced sideways at her. Good question. He had asked himself the same thing every time he hammered in another nail. He had an obligation to Hank, of course, but should he have tried to explain the futility of the upkeep to the old man? Maybe. But he hadn’t. Hank had made him promise to take care of things, and he had. Jack had wondered if part of him was trying to preserve the last connection he had with Maren. When that thought struck him, he’d almost stopped going.
Almost. And then he’d found himself up there again.
“Mostly for Hank,” he said. “I told him I would take care of it.”
“Seems like a lot of wasted effort,” she muttered.
“You wouldn’t be able to stay there now if I hadn’t.”
She didn’t reply. Not surprising. Like she’d ever admit he did her a favor. After a moment, he forced himself to try again. “Think about it, okay? You could sell the property and never have to bother with Shepherdsville again.”
She glanced over at him. “Why do you think that’s what I want?”
He tried without much success to keep the old resentment out of his voice. “It’s what you always wanted.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the seat. “Please don’t.”
The pang in his chest tugged at him again. Her pale face made her look small and frail. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you.”
She opened one eye and shot him a rueful smirk. “All things considered, I’m surprised we’ve managed to avoid one this long.”
He let out a short bark of laughter. Where did that come from? “The day isn’t over yet.”
She turned to look out the passenger window. “A lot has changed. The farm has always meant a lot to me. Now, it means even more.”
He couldn’t let the old fight get in the way of a business deal. His jaw tightened. Easier said than done. She had outgrown him. She had wanted to leave him and the town behind. But she had a stronger attachment to an old house than she ever had to him.
Let it go.
“Just think about it, okay?” he repeated.
She nodded, but she shouldn’t have bothered. He could tell by her expression that she had rejected the idea before the words were out of his mouth.
Jack lapsed into silence. Maren could be stubborn when she wanted to be, and if he forced her, she would only fight harder. He needed a d
ifferent plan. But what? If only he could figure out why she had decided to dig in. What could have been so bad that she would change her mind and come home?
She hadn’t changed her mind. He’d make sure she remembered why she left. The success of the new project depended on her leaving.
And so did he.
# # #
Maren surveyed the crowded parking lot and dread curled in her stomach. She had avoided the town for the last ten years. At thirteen, she’d been an awkward young girl from the city that never figured out how to relate to kids who had known each other their entire lives. She’d been happy to leave that insecurity behind.
Now, it loomed in front of her. The local market served as Marquette County’s social center, and most of the county gathered there on Saturdays. Perfect. Not only did she have to come to town with Jack, the man who’d be tearing down her grandparents’ home, she’d have an audience of people who’d never liked her in the first place.
She raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and marched across the parking lot, all too aware of Jack beside her. She didn’t dare speak. Her voice would give her away. As if I could hold a casual conversation with him now. Laura May had told her it had to be her land. Now, she understood why. He wanted to get back at her. She couldn’t believe it. Jack—the first boy she had ever loved—would be the man to take away the only home she had.
She grimaced and grabbed a shopping cart from a rack right inside the door. He could do that because he hadn’t cared about her in a long time. Fine. She didn’t care, either. She’d throw a wrench in his precious project whether she planned on staying at the farm or not.
Maren restrained herself from looking over her shoulder, shoved the cart down an aisle and grabbed a few random items from the shelves. Why hadn’t she made a list? She couldn’t concentrate with Jack standing next to her. With every item she picked off the shelf, his critical gaze grew more amused.
Focus. She pushed the cart to the next aisle. Window cleaner. Sure, why not? Paper towels. Check. Light bulbs? She frowned. Had she tried to turn on the lamp in the living room?
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