The Promise of Rayne

by Nicole Deese

  “For who?”

  “You. Me. Both of us.”

  “I’m not afraid of your family, Rayne.”

  Her eyes sharpened on his. “You should be.”

  Roughly, he swiped a hand down his face. His opinion wouldn’t change, but he could accommodate hers. “Then we’ll be careful.”

  “Because that worked out so well for Romeo and Juliet.”

  “I promise not to drink any secret potions if you don’t.” But the levity in Levi’s tone seemed to go unheard as she rolled a piece of driftwood under her boot before kicking it into the current.

  “You think I’m being a coward, but I’m not. I’m being realistic.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I think you’ve lived under the control of your family for so long you can’t comprehend what freedom feels like.”

  She averted her gaze to the water, her voice flat and inflexible. “And what do you think Ford will say when you tell him you’re sneaking around with a Shelby?”

  The pang that struck his chest was not from guilt but from every blatant mistruth she must have been spoon-fed since childhood. He’d been the kid tossed around like yesterday’s trash, group home to group home, and yet he felt a sympathy for Rayne he couldn’t quantify in words. “Ford’s not my warden.”

  “But he is your boss and—”

  “And he doesn’t dictate who I care about.”

  As Levi’s words punched through the air, Rayne’s expression morphed into bewilderment.

  “It didn’t take me three days to remember to call you, Rayne. It took me three days to figure out if I could do this—if I could be near you and not want to be with you.”

  “Levi—”

  “The answer is no. I can’t.” He closed the distance between them again. “I want to understand you—this woman who shoots in high heels and dreams about community service projects. I want a chance to see where this goes, to explore what this is between us before you shut it down out of fear.”

  She faced the water, her shoulder brushing against his bicep. “I don’t know how to be with you and be a Shelby.”

  “I’m not asking you to make that choice.”

  “Then what are you asking?” The fragility in her voice twisted his gut.

  “For you to try, even if it means breaking some rules.”

  They stood in silence, yet just like the murmur of the water’s current, the song of the finches overhead, and the whirl of wind through brittle pine needles, he guessed her mind was far from quiet.

  And then, like an unspoken promise, he felt the whisper of her fingers sweep across the back of his hand.

  “Okay,” she said. “We can try.”

  He lifted their joined hands and kissed her soft skin. “We’ll be careful.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Being careful, it turned out, looked a lot like an extended version of summer camp. Their schedule was organized into risk-free zones, hours that minimized discovery—Levi slipping into the lodge before dawn, Rayne trekking to the farm after her shift. All in all, sneaking around had proved easier than she’d initially thought, especially since Ford left the premises to work on the land every morning around seven and didn’t return until late afternoon, a schedule Levi claimed Ford hadn’t changed since he’d come to the farm. And even though Cal returned to the lodge on weekends, his attention had been split between Celeste and the campaign for weeks.

  For once, being the unnoticed Shelby had its perks.

  She lifted her fist to knock on Levi’s door and was met with a familiar set of hands gripping her waist. Levi spun her around, dug his fingers into the curve of her hips, and pressed her back firmly against the wall.

  His welcome was as intense as his kiss.

  He released her and cocked a wicked grin.

  “Um . . . hello to you too,” she rasped through a smile.

  “Just trying to make up for lost time.”

  Reeling from the fire still ablaze on her lips, she said, “Um, you were the one who canceled on me this morning, remember?”

  “Yes, I do.” He raked a hand through shower-damp hair. “One of my packers called in sick late last night, and all three of my drivers are out on deliveries—which means, I still have fifty-two boxes to fill by eleven.”

  “So that kiss was a bribe?”

  Levi wrapped an arm around her waist. “Or an early payment. Depends on how you see the glass.”

  “Half full, then.” She laughed. “Remind me to fill out a W-4 later.”

  He hooked his hand through hers and led her through his kitchen to the back door.

  “Wait.” She pulled back. “You want me to help pack boxes in the warehouse?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, my living room can barely fit the two of us, much less dozens of boxes. It’s fine, Rayne. Nobody’s here.”

  “But what if—”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to help if there were a risk to you.” Something hard flashed in his eyes as he said the words. “You should know me better than that by now.”

  He was right, she should know him better than that by now. They’d shared hours upon hours of predawn conversation, yet the nagging fear of being caught, of losing what they had begun, of risking something too great to name, chipped away at her conscience every time they were together. The feeling had lessened a bit over the last few weeks, dulled only by her ever-present adrenaline. But any sudden change of plan, any uncharted territory, presented them both with a new threat level.

  She followed him out the door, across the gravel divide between buildings, and into the warehouse. This wasn’t like the barn she’d been in the night they’d shot Apple Adam with the BB gun. No, this place was the sanctuary for Levi’s dream.

  The smell of freshly harvested vegetables, herbs, and fruit tinged the air, and a giant rectangular sign was draped from the rafters at the back of the open room: “Second Harvest Distribution Center.”

  He pointed to the opposite wall. “We open those doors during the U-pick harvest in early September, and also for the farmers’ market twice a month, and sometimes for the trucks, depending on the load.”

  His footsteps pattered through the warehouse and echoed back the beat of her palpitating heart.

  Fragments of her grandfather’s stories shoved into the cramped space of her overactive mind. Tales of a time when her family had owned this very property.

  As the original Shelby homestead had expanded in acreage and increased in value, the land had remained under Shelby possession, passed down through multiple generations, sometimes through inheritance and at other times by share buying and community development. Her grandfather had purchased the estate and farmlands outright more than fifty years ago. During his last term as governor, he’d remodeled the lodge, planning to retire with her grandma Betty in Shelby Falls and live out the rest of his life by serving the people he loved most.

  Of course, when he died eighteen years ago, Shelby Farm hadn’t looked like this at all. There were only a few rows of apple trees back then, not a hundred-acre orchard. There was no Christmas-tree farm or pumpkin patch. No gift shop or holiday market tent. No big red barn bursting at the seams with farm equipment and harvest festival entertainment. And certainly no distribution warehouse.

  Light punched through the dimly lit space, and she scrutinized the assembly line of tables. The organized packing stations of fresh produce and vendor commodities she’d smelled upon entry were placed next to the pallets of labeled, ready-to-use boxes. All was evidence of Levi’s determination and grit. All contracts and partnerships he’d pursued.

  He strode to the center of the concrete floor, an iPad in hand and pride in his eyes. The same pride that shone in every square inch of this building. Of this land.

  A fresh realization sent tingles down her spine.

  Levi loved his farm the way she loved her lodge.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, scrutinizing her the way he did when he sensed her discomfort.

  “Nothing.”
She tried to shake away her melancholy, to hide the burning guilt she’d felt for weeks, yet the feeling lingered.

  “If you’re worried someone is going to walk in and find you with me, then—”

  “I’m not.” Truth was, getting caught was only one slice of her worry pie.

  He waited, but she couldn’t quite reconcile her thoughts enough to speak them aloud. According to Cal’s most recent lecture, her presence on this farm would be considered treason. She couldn’t afford to add blasphemy to her running list of familial sins. And affirming the farm’s efforts and its obvious success, while also encouraging Levi’s aspirations for a broader reach and profit margin, was just that: blasphemy.

  She brushed her fingers over the wooden produce sign next to a dozen dewy heads of lettuce and cabbage and repeated her internal motto. Just don’t think about it.

  “These signs are beautiful,” she said. “Do you use them at the open markets?”

  “Yes.” His voice flatlined. She knew he hated her attempts at diversion, yet she hoped to prevent a trip on the Ferris wheel of family drama.

  “Are they made here locally?”

  “Can’t get much more local.”

  He offered a half shrug at her questioning look. “Is that code for you made them? Have you been hiding a secret woodworking talent from me, Levi?”

  His eyes softened and his lips twitched into a begrudging smile. “Ford may have taught me a few things over the slower winter seasons.”

  No matter how many times she practiced her face of indifference whenever Levi spoke the man’s name, Shelby history prevented complete nonchalance. She couldn’t pretend Ford wasn’t the swindler who’d cheated her grandfather in the midst of his grief, or that the farm, her family’s rightful inheritance, hadn’t been jeopardized in the name of his greed. The mental line she’d drawn to separate Levi from his boss, to evade the darts of her guilty conscience, to justify her growing feelings for a man who saw her as more than a name, thinned.

  The cool morning air nipped at her bare arms while she made her way to the end of the table, passing Levi, to reach the pile of empty boxes.

  Levi had other plans.

  He planted his hands on her upper back and pressed his thumbs deep into the hollow under her shoulder blades. Her body sagged against the comforting touch, but still, she pinched her lips together in preparation for his impending questions. Questions that would force her to be truthful. Questions that would put them at odds. Questions that would risk the balance they’d found in keeping their truce and their relationship intact.

  “Whatever happened with Teddy the sci-fi writer? You said something about visiting him the other morning before I left.”

  Levi’s purposeful change of subject was met with relief. “You mean Teddy the mystery writer. And I visited him yesterday actually.”

  At Levi’s prompting, she lolled her neck forward, her voice coming out in muffled bursts. “I would have told you all about it this morning, but—”

  “I bailed on you. Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in,” he teased. “It won’t happen again. Scout’s honor.”

  The tight coil in her throat prevented her laugh as his artful fingers carved into the space between her neck and shoulders. Because she knew it would happen again—maybe not by choice, but by circumstance. As soon as Cal decided to stick around for longer than a weekend, things between the two of them would slow. They couldn’t keep this up forever.

  She twisted to face him, taking in his light hair and his sea-glass eyes and his stern jaw. “Were you really a Boy Scout?”

  “Sweetheart, I was much closer to earning my place in juvie than earning a Good Samaritan badge in the Boy Scouts. Trust me.” He pressed his thumb to the dimple of her chin. “But since you’ve already dodged the honesty bullet once this morning . . .” He hiked an eyebrow.

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about Teddy. He’s quite the character.” And a perfect scapegoat. Better to fill their time with nonconfrontational topics than to voice her internal warfare. “But we can definitely talk while we pack. You only have”—she glanced at the clock on her phone—“an hour and fourteen minutes before cutoff. So tell me what to do, Boss.”

  “I could get used to that.” He winked before giving her a rundown on the assembly-line-style system. His interactive spreadsheet kept the process easy and efficient.

  She secured a well-fitted cardboard lid to a box stuffed full of vegetables and fresh herbs set to be delivered to a little Greek restaurant two valleys over. She’d eaten there with Gia several times over the last year.

  Rayne packed seven boxes in the time it took her to tell Levi all about her visit with Teddy. How she’d checked in on him, brought him a few of Delia’s special dishes, and left him with a standing job offer at her aunt Nina’s restaurant.

  When her monologue finished, the echoey room fell silent.

  She swiveled her neck to the right and found him at the table marked “Personal Care.” Handmade soaps, lotions, scrubs, and balms all around him.

  “You got the man a job because Celeste fired him?”

  “It was the right thing to do.” She shrugged, but still she could feel his probing gaze. “He’s older, and a little different, a writer type, ya know? He’s worked at the lodge for so many years and was used to the quiet, the odd hours, the ability to let his mind free flow with story ideas as he managed his nightly tasks.”

  “You sound like you could write his résumé.” Levi’s tone was neither approving nor disapproving, so why did she feel the need to defend herself?

  “I took his shift, Levi. I know how it feels to be booted out of something you’ve put years of your life into. Teddy was my grandfather’s friend. He didn’t deserve to be fired.”

  Levi hoisted the box to his chest. Tight lipped, he watched her for a few seconds more and then left to add the package to his truck. Hadn’t she thought this topic a safe bet? So much for nonconfrontational.

  When he entered the warehouse again, he stalked toward her. “I don’t understand you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t get this . . .” He waved a hand down the length of her. “This bleeding heart you have for everyone around you when you won’t fight for what you want. You won’t fight for yourself.”

  “I did too fight.” She just hadn’t won.

  “No, you allowed Cal to hand your dream to a woman who sounds like his spitting image.”

  Rayne shoved a completed box at him, the second-to-last one on her assembly table. “Don’t assume you know what happened in that meeting. You weren’t there.”

  “No, I wasn’t there,” he said. “But I did read your proposal. And I know how many hours, days, months, you spent working on it. And for what?”

  Levi had spotted the infamous blue folder tucked inside her laptop bag a few mornings ago. Refusing to take no for an answer, he’d read it straight through while waving away her attempts to minimize and distract. And when he’d finished, when he’d closed that folder, he’d strode to where she stood fidgeting at the desk and bracketed her face in his hands, kissing her so soundly she felt as if her heart might burst through her chest.

  “You don’t understand how things work in my family.”

  “No, I don’t care how things work in your family, Rayne. Big difference. Because they’re wrong.” He shook his head. “You deserved that promotion. And your dream deserved to be given a chance.”

  “You sound like Gia.” Only Gia knew the limits. Cousin Milton’s fate had scared them both.

  “If that’s true, then I like her a whole lot more than I thought I did.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how she feels about you.”

  “Yes, I would.” He pointed to her breastbone. “Because out of your entire family, Gia’s the only person who seems to care more about you than the Shelby image.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks as he continued that hard, unwavering stare.

  When he spo
ke again, the edge in his voice had softened, but his eyes had not. “You really don’t understand what an asset you are, do you? Rayne, your proposal is brilliant and creative and incredibly selfless. What you could do for this town, for this community . . .” Levi clamped his teeth together. “I wish I could afford to hire someone at Second Harvest with even half the heart and vision you have.”

  Rayne forced her gaze away. “Celeste won’t stay in Shelby Falls forever. She’s promoting her career, not the lodge. It’s not over.” Yet. “And given the circumstances, I chose the best option I could.”

  “Really? You think staying in that penitentiary is your best option?”

  Their gazes collided again, and this time, she wouldn’t be the first to look away. “Aren’t you being just a tad hypocritical? Look around you, Levi! Would you ever walk away from the farm—for any reason?” Just watching the strain of his jaw made her own ache involuntarily. “Well?”

  “I don’t know.” He stormed out of the warehouse carrying an armload of boxes. She followed him out to the back of his open delivery truck, the corded muscle in his forearms flexing.

  “You don’t know?” How could he not know? She knew. Everything about Levi, everything he said and did, declared the farm and all it contained his territory. His sweat. His heart. His purpose. They were the same in that regard, cut from the same devout cloth of loyalty. Just divided by a fence line.

  She’d seen it for weeks now, yet she’d only just allowed herself to realize the depth of his dedication today.

  “I don’t know, Rayne.” But there, in his words, she heard it again. The slightest inflection. A waver of doubt. A tell. The same one he’d pointed out in her so many times before.

  “Why aren’t you being honest with me?” It was an uncomfortable observation coming from the perpetually gullible, yet she knew she wasn’t wrong. He’d trained her too well in detecting deception. His reading of people had been a major topic of discussion over the past weeks. He’d pointed out her tells time and time again, no matter what the lie. And now she’d done the same to him.

  Levi set the next load down and braced his hips. He exhaled for several seconds, and when he lifted his head, the ferocity of his expression crippled her ability to speak.