by Mia Ross
His apartment had been furnished, so he didn’t have much. Not nearly enough for someone his age, he mused with a frown at his reflection. Most of his friends had been married at least once, and many of them had kids. He had his set of mechanic’s tools, a collection of well-worn clothes, one suit and a bike. Not usually one to ponder life and the future, he couldn’t help wondering where exactly he was headed.
His boss had agreed to take over Matt’s current projects and keep a spot for him until November, but couldn’t guarantee anything beyond that. The man had a business to run, and Matt appreciated being given time to sort things out in Harland. Of course, he had no clue how long that would take, or even how it would turn out. It was entirely possible he’d be at the farm until the end of the year and then move someplace else after that.
The idea of starting fresh usually appealed to him. This time, not so much. What was different? he wondered as he passed the sign welcoming him to Harland. He’d driven through town to the other side before he realized something was different.
Usually the sight of that sign gave him a clenching feeling in his chest. This time, it never materialized. Confused, he poked around in his head a little, but he couldn’t find it. Imagining Marianne waiting on him to unpack didn’t do it. Picturing acre after acre of standing wheat didn’t do it.
Then, all on its own, in floated an image of Caty, green eyes sparkling while she smiled up at him. He wasn’t sure how she related to what he’d been mulling over, but he was smiling when he pulled in at the farm.
“Whoa!” Kyle flew down the back steps and climbed onto one of the trailer’s rear wheels. “Is this a Harley?”
“Sure is.”
“Awesome,” Kyle approved as Marianne appeared on the porch. “It looks brand-new. Do you ever ride it?”
“I ride it a lot.” Matt lowered the tailgate and released the wheel tethers. “But I take real good care of it.”
“Could I go out with you sometime? With a helmet,” he added, excitement shining in his hazel eyes.
She didn’t say anything, but from where he was standing Matt sensed his sister tensing up. Grinning, he rumpled his nephew’s hair the way he used to do with John. “This kind of bike is for grown-ups. When you’re eighteen, we’ll talk.”
“That’s forever.”
“Only feels like it.” The poor kid looked so disappointed, Matt decided to toss him a bone. “In the meantime, we can work on it together so when you’re older you’ll know all about it.”
Matt was happy to see the boy’s face light up. “That would be cool. Thanks!”
“No problem.”
Kyle scampered off with Tucker, and Marianne came down from the porch with a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Matt. You made his day.”
“No problem,” Matt repeated as he walked the bike down the ramps. “He’s fantastic, Mare. You’re doing real well with him.”
She looked so amazed, he glanced around to see what had gotten her attention. When nothing obvious surfaced, he figured her reaction had something to do with him. “What?”
“I think you just complimented me.”
“Guess I did,” he replied, a little surprised himself. Stubborn as they were, they butted heads more often than not. “You deserve it, though. Kids are tough, and you’re doing a great job.”
Still looking bewildered, she smiled back. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll put my bike away and then come see whatever it is you want to show me.”
“How did you know?”
“When a lady meets you in the driveway, she’s got something to show off. Fact of life.”
Giving him one of her exasperated-mom looks, she shook her head. “You’re so jaded.”
“Maybe,” he said as he pushed the Harley past her, “but I’m right.”
After parking his bike, he made sure he had the key and tossed a paint-spattered tarp over the motorcycle. He wouldn’t get much time to ride it, but paying to store it in Charlotte would have been stupid when he had a perfectly good barn here to keep it in.
Just inside the kitchen door, he could hear his sisters’ excited voices upstairs. He found them in their father’s old room, which looked completely different.
The walls had a fresh coat of paint that was probably called Sandy Beach, or some such thing. All the trim was now a crisp white, which made a nice frame for the trees outside. New blue-and-maroon plaid curtains waved in the breeze, and the windows were spotless. Only the dresser and an armchair remained, leaving plenty of space for his king-size bed.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, not sure he liked the idea of taking over this space.
“John told us you two fight all the time, just like always,” Lisa informed him. “Marianne and I thought this would help keep the peace.”
“It could’ve waited.”
“Things are getting busy at school, and pretty soon I won’t have time to breathe,” Marianne replied. “It was now or never.”
Pushing aside his misgivings, Matt decided the change made sense. “It looks real nice. How’d you get it done so fast?”
“Caty helped,” Lisa explained.
Of course she did, he thought with a grin. “Let me guess. She picked the colors.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Marianne demanded.
“Her style.”
Giving him an odd look, Lisa chimed in. “And how do you know that?”
“That’s the way she’s doing her living room,” he explained, “so I figured she likes that kinda thing.”
“You’ve been there?” Marianne pressed. “When?”
He’d actually been there a few times, but to anyone who didn’t understand the circumstances surrounding their quick friendship, it might sound strange. Now that he thought about it, if one of his buddies was the guy in question, Matt would think it was strange, too.
To avoid the third degree, he kept his answer vague. “I helped her move some things around, is all. Speaking of which, I should unload my stuff. I want to get the rest of our equipment squared away.”
“We’ll help,” Lisa offered, linking her arm through his as they went down the stairs. “This might sound weird, but I’m really glad you’re home. I’ve missed having you around.”
Sweet as it was, her comment made absolutely no sense to him. “I’ve been gone fifteen years.”
“I know,” she said, hugging his arm. “And I missed you all that time.”
Over her head, he traded a look with Marianne, who shrugged. While he’d been wandering from place to place, he’d never considered that someone would miss him. Life on the farm went on day after day, driven by the seasons.
At first, he had kept in touch so his family—especially Dad—wouldn’t feel neglected. Gradually his phone calls were spaced further apart, his visits even more so. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but the conversations were all pretty much the same, because things in Harland never changed.
Until now. Matt wished for the hundredth time that his father had confided in him. Matt could have sent money, taken over some of the work his family had been paying outrageous mechanics’ rates for. He could have done something, but he never got the chance.
The miles of alone time during his trip had given him a lot of time to think. With only himself for company, he’d realized he’d drifted too far away from his family. Not just in miles, but in attitude. Even though they needed him, he’d made it impossible for them to ask for his help. It was a selfish, hurtful thing to do, and he’d regret it the rest of his life.
Chapter Nine
Late one September evening, Caty slid her paint roller over the last bare patch of repaired plaster. It had taken her the better part of three days to fill in holes,
sand the patches and coat the walls in the primer Gus had said she needed. Then, thanks to a timely early autumn breeze, this morning it had been dry enough to paint.
Buttercreme, the can was labeled. Somewhere between Sunny Daze and Buttercup, it was a soft yellow with a mellowing hint of cream. While she’d ridiculed the poetic names listed on the paint samples, she had to admit the designer had nailed this one perfectly.
Carefully resting the paint-covered roller in its pan, she turned to the nearly dry wall to admire her work. Since she wasn’t exactly Michelangelo, there were some flaws in the plaster, but overall she was happy. Once she hung pictures over the worst spots, she’d never notice them. Unfortunately, thinking about covering flaws led her bored mind to what had become its favorite subject.
Her father’s letter.
She’d read it at least a dozen times, and the memory of it made her want to smile and frown at the same time. What should she do about it? In these days of internet searches, finding him probably wouldn’t be that hard. Jameson wasn’t a very common name, and she knew that he was from Raleigh and the name of the company he’d worked for.
Then again, did she want to find him? Judging by his appearance in the photo, today he’d be in his fifties, probably married with a family of his own. Had he thought about her after writing that letter so long ago, or had he moved on with his life? He’d loved her as a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. Would he be proud of the woman she’d become, welcoming her into his home for a reunion? Or would he be stiffly polite, embarrassed by her unexpected appearance in his nice, orderly life?
He might even resent being forced to admit to his family that as a young man he’d fathered a child with a woman he’d never married. Now that she’d absorbed the shock of her mother’s deception, Caty was trying very hard to understand and forgive. She wouldn’t mind talking the whole thing over with someone, but the only other person who knew the truth was Matt.
She hadn’t heard a thing from him since his trip to Charlotte. She could have invented a reason to call him, such as a question about the estate, but her pride kept her from doing that. She didn’t want to pester him when he was so busy, and she certainly didn’t want to give him the impression she was chasing after him the way so many women did. Especially when it was entirely possible that, while he was in Charlotte, he’d met up with some Bambi who interested him more than an unemployed attorney covered in paint and plaster dust.
“Get a grip, Caty,” she scolded herself as she pounded the top back on a half-full can. “It really doesn’t matter.”
But it did. She knew that because she’d checked her voice mail several times a day since he’d left, and she hadn’t heard his voice once. The whole thing made her sick because she wasn’t that kind of girl. She’d never waited by the phone, desperate for male attention. Well, there was that mechanical engineer in college, but she was nineteen at the time and he was a total fox, so he didn’t count.
Maybe Matt really was too busy, or he’d decided she was too much work. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy had ended up there, she moped as she started pulling blue painter’s tape from around one of the window frames. Whatever the reason, he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested.
It was time to let it go and move on.
* * *
Caty McKenzie was driving him nuts.
It was past midnight, and even though he was beat, Matt lay awake listening to the breeze rustling through the branches outside the open windows. The first couple of nights, he couldn’t sleep because it felt awkward to be in what he still considered his father’s room. Finally, he slept because he was too exhausted to care.
During his trip to Charlotte, he’d tried to put her out of his mind, but she’d kept popping up. He’d wanted to call her a dozen times since their last meeting, just to see how she was doing. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to find out your life could have been completely different if someone had just told you the truth.
But every time his finger hovered over her number, he hesitated. Part of him wanted to see her, hear her mock something the same way he would have done. See the twinkle in those dark green eyes while she teased him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her, to prove to himself that it was nothing special. That she was just like all the other women he’d dated.
Then he’d think: What if she wasn’t? What if he kissed her and it was amazing, and he did something stupid like tell her how much he loved being with her? She was pretty, but he’d dated models, so that wasn’t it. She was funny, but so were other women. That left only one thing and, as much as he hated to admit it, Matt couldn’t ignore the obvious.
She was smart. More than intelligent, she had a genuine compassion for people, a way of drawing them out of themselves and making them feel that she understood. She’d done that for him so many times, he couldn’t keep track of them all. No one had ever worked that hard with him.
Caty was fun to be with, and she’d proven to be a solid friend when he desperately needed one. She didn’t hassle him, but she didn’t let him get by with the stonewalling that usually kept people at a respectable distance. Ignoring that, she’d shoved into his comfort zone and forced him to open up. At first, it was just a sliver, but the crack widened a little more every time he saw her.
Somewhere along the line, it had become an alarming gap in his defenses. Who’d have thought he needed to guard himself against a woman who probably weighed a hundred pounds with a pocketful of quarters? The trouble was, the more he tried not to think about her, the more she occupied his thoughts.
Aggravated beyond belief, he pulled a pillow over his face and pictured a blank white wall. When his mind wandered to Caty, he forced it back to staring at that wall.
Finally, he bored himself to sleep.
* * *
Caty was up to her elbows in semigloss white paint when her cell phone rang. She’d spent the past couple of days sanding, repairing and painting the detailed trim her grandfather had milled himself. In all that time not one person had called. Consequently, she had no idea where the phone was. From her cramped position in the downstairs hallway, she decided the phone was in her bedroom and she’d never get to it in time to answer the call. She worked another half hour until all the baseboards for the first floor were done.
She went into the kitchen to wash her hands. While she was rinsing, someone started knocking on her front door.
“Just a minute!” Grabbing a paper towel, she dried her hands on her way to the door.
On the other side was Matt, wearing one motorcycle helmet and holding another. “You know your porch light’s out?”
So much for giving up on him.
The moment she saw him, her heart leaped into her throat. Crazy as it seemed, he looked taller and even more handsome than she remembered. His motorcycle wasn’t bad, either.
To cover her reaction to him, she craned her neck around the doorway and checked the old coach light. “I didn’t notice. I’ll find my step stool and replace it later.”
“It’s pretty dark out here. I can do it now if you want.”
His easygoing tone couldn’t disguise the fact that he was worried about her. It was so sweet, she couldn’t help smiling. “You didn’t come all the way in here on a weeknight to tell me my porch was dark, did you?”
“Not exactly. I’m headed out to Ryker’s Ridge.” He offered her that charmingly crooked grin and the spare helmet. “Wanna come?”
Caty was surprised to find that she did. Even if it meant hanging on the back of his Harley for dear life. Or maybe because she’d be hanging on the back of his Harley for dear life.
She could try claiming they were just friends out for a ride, but it would be a lie. Matt wasn’t the type to be “just friends” with a woman for long. More important, it wouldn’t take much nudging for her to start fal
ling for his rough-around-the-edges bad-boy act. Considering his much broader experience, she had no doubt he’d picked up on that long before she had.
So, very reluctantly, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
He didn’t say anything, but continued to hold the helmet where she could reach it. It was burgundy, with gold speckles and an amber visor. She was dying to slip it on and go wherever he wanted to take her.
Instead, like a parrot, she repeated, “I can’t.”
He studied her as if she was a new species he’d discovered. She could just imagine it: Woman Immune to Sawyer Charm. Never Before Seen in the Wild.
Still staring at her, he lowered the helmet and rested it against his thigh. “Mind if I ask why?”
She could have told him she had too much to do, but he’d see right through that excuse. It was almost nine, and any sane person would have quit working by now. She could tell him she was afraid of motorcycles, but that would be a lie. They fascinated her, especially the sleek burgundy-and-black machine parked at the end of her walk, chrome glowing in the hazy moonlight. Looking very dangerous, it promised the adventure and excitement she didn’t allow herself to want.
Like its owner, she realized with a jolt.
Then again, David had been solid and stable, and he’d broken her heart. Caty felt as though she was spinning in circles, trying to balance past failure with the slim possibility of success with someone who was the polar opposite.
It wasn’t the kind of decision a girl should make on the spur of the moment, so she reverted to calm, logical rules. Since he knew how she’d lost her job, she was confident he wouldn’t press her to break the rules again. “You’re a client, and I make it a policy not to get personal with my clients.”
“You don’t charge me, so that policy doesn’t apply.”
“Nice try.”
Her heart really wasn’t in this argument, but she had to stick to her guns. She knew going with him tonight would lead to more, and she just couldn’t let that happen. Hoping to appear determined rather than desperate, she folded her arms and did her best to glare up at him.
