chapter thirty-two
It’s over,” Zoe said to her brother, the words falling out of her as lifeless as the heap of smoking rubble.
Sunlight shimmered on the horizon, a golden glow fading into the pink morning sky. But the hopeful dawn of a new day was lost in the sight of the ruins. The deputy had just left, promising an investigation. But what did it matter at this point? Her barn was gone. All the merchandise she’d already paid for was gone. All her hard work, gone down in a fiery inferno.
Brady curled an arm around her. “I’m sorry, sis.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
Her lungs still burned even after receiving oxygen. She’d been taken to the clinic for an x-ray and observation. She was running now on only a couple hours of sleep, the adrenaline long gone.
“You going to be all right?” He checked his watch. “I have to meet a client at the house.”
“I’ll be fine.” She projected a convincing tone. “I’ll head over to Hope’s to pick up Gracie in a minute.”
“Let me know if I can lend a hand with anything. Insurance or whatever.” He gave her a consoling hug and pulled from the parking lot a moment later.
Zoe sagged against her truck’s hood, hardly able to take her eyes from what, only yesterday, had been the orchard’s last hope.
Why, God? I’m trying to do a good thing here. Keep Granny’s orchard running the way she would’ve wanted. And since I’ve come home it’s been nothing but one trial after another.
The sound of an approaching engine drew her attention, and she turned to see Cruz’s black truck. Gravel crunched under his tires as he pulled into the lot.
Zoe’s eyes clung to him. She’d been in shock over her loss last night. But now, in the light of day, gratitude swept over her. She would’ve stayed in that building until she’d collapsed. And where would that have left Gracie? The fear of what could’ve been tightened her chest.
All right. All right, there’s something to be grateful for.
He got out of the truck, his eyes fixed on her. He looked too good to have been caught in a blazing fire last night. Though his eyes were a bit bloodshot, she saw as he got closer. He’d stayed with her through it all. Had driven her home.
Somewhere nearby a bird sang from high in a tree, and a warm breeze tugged at her hair.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m all right.” Her voice was hoarse. She could still taste the smoke in her mouth, and wondered if it would ever go away. She looked at the ruins. “I can’t believe it’s gone.”
“I know this is a big setback. But insurance will cover it, Zoe. We’ll get through this.”
“Will we? ’Cause it’s looking kind of hopeless right now.”
“We’ll figure something out. The orchard’s been through bad years before.”
But her grandma had money she didn’t have. All she had at this point was debt and hope. Scratch that last part.
He glanced toward the remainder of the barn. “Any word on what caused it?”
“Deputy Mosley said they’d look into it.”
“There was no lightning last night. Who was the last one in the building?”
“I was. I came by to pay the plumber; he finished up yesterday. I shut off all the lights. Locked the doors. I didn’t leave anything plugged in, I’m sure of it.”
“The plumber, huh? Darren—the guy from Ellijay?”
“Yeah.” She thought of that big check she’d written him. Money down the drain. She couldn’t even bring herself to smile at the pun.
“I caught him smoking in the barn when you were sick,” he said. “I asked him to smoke outside. You don’t think . . . ?”
“I didn’t smell anything when I was here to pay him, but I guess it’s possible.”
“Or maybe it was something with the electrical wiring.”
“Noah’s a competent contractor,” she said. “I can’t imagine he’d botch something that badly.”
“Nobody’s perfect. It could even be faulty materials.”
“I reckon so. What does it matter, though? Peach Fest is two weeks away, and my market is gone. Next season will be too late. I owe a lot of money, Cruz, and even if the harvest nets enough to pay it back, I don’t have any means of getting through till next season.”
His eyes clung to hers and held. Something flickered there that made her forget about her financial troubles. Something that reached into the deepest part of her. Made her heart squeeze tight.
He still cared about her. It was apparent in the intensity of his gaze, dancing over her features like a desperate touch.
“I keep thinking about last night,” he said.
“Me too.”
The way he’d pulled her from the building. The way he’d held her tight, protecting her from the fire. She’d needed him last night, and he’d been there for her. Might not be standing here without him.
“Thank you,” she said.
He stepped closer, captured her face, his eyes still burning into hers. “Nothing else mattered to me last night, Zoe. Nothing but you and Gracie. The whole world could’ve gone up in flames as long as my girls were safe.”
She swallowed against the lump in her throat, grabbing his wrists and holding tight.
This. This was what she needed.
Early this morning Cruz had lain in bed, body exhausted, mind spinning. Yet he couldn’t sleep. All he could do was lie there thinking, Gracias. ¡Gracias, Dios!
What if he hadn’t taken that turn in the road? Taken the long way home? Would Zoe even be standing in front of him right now?
A crushing weight fell over him. “If I’d lost you . . .” He shook his head, unable to go on.
“You didn’t.”
She was so beautiful with the day’s new light streaming through her hair, making it glow. Her cheeks were pink, no longer scary pale the way they had been under the clinic’s florescent lights last night.
He’d wasted enough time being angry. What were four years in light of the rest of their lives? He couldn’t change what had happened. Neither of them could.
His eyes sharpened on her, and he reached for her hands. “I don’t want to lose you, Zoe.”
“You haven’t.”
Breath he didn’t know he’d been holding escaped in a long, slow exhale. He leaned closer, brushing her lips with his. His heart leaped to life, instantly refreshed. His lips tingled, and his body hummed. She awakened him from the inside out. Always had.
Her hands slid up his chest, around his shoulders. Her touch was like coming home. He pulled her closer, her slight weight sinking into his chest. His hands fit just right in the curve of her waist. Her scent wrapped around him, weaving a spell, the sweetness of her shampoo with undertones of smoke. She tasted of morning and coffee and hope.
He released her only so he could hold her closer. So he could tuck her head under his chin. Breathe her in. Remind himself that second chances were one of life’s sweetest offerings.
She slid her arms around his waist, clutching at the back of his shirt. “You . . . you just kissed me.”
He pressed his lips to her temple, letting them linger. “In my defense, you kissed me back.”
She breathed a laugh, snuggling closer. “It was . . . nice.”
“Nice?”
He felt her lips curl against his neck. “Maybe better than nice. I don’t want it to go to your head.”
“Keeping my ego in check, huh?”
“Somebody has to. On the other hand, you could probably do better than a down-on-her-luck girl with nothing to her name but a failing orchard and a burnt-down barn.”
“That’s all temporary. We’ll get through it.”
He pulled away, needing to look her in the eye. Needing her to know the seriousness of this moment. Those green eyes, twin pools of heaven, stared back, asking questions he needed to answer.
“I haven’t been very nice lately,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Her hands clen
ched at his waist. “You were entitled. I messed up pretty bad.”
“We both could’ve handled things better back then. But I’m done being mad at you, Zoe. I just want to move forward.”
He brushed his thumb across her cheek. So incredibly soft. Addictive. His lips tingled with want. But he should probably take things slow. They had a lot to talk about.
He brushed her forehead with a kiss. “We’ll talk more later. But let’s wait until we’re operating on more than an hour’s sleep.”
Her eyes smiled before her lips did. “Sounds like a plan.”
chapter thirty-three
Uncle Bwady!” Gracie came running as soon as Zoe let Brady in the door. The girl threw her arms around his legs as if it hadn’t been only two days since she’d seen him.
Brady swung Gracie into his arms and tweaked her nose. “Hey, squirt.”
“I’m not a squirt! I’m Bella!”
He laughed, no doubt at the outrage on her face. “Is that so?”
She squirmed to get down. “Come play Candy Land!”
“Gracie, you know it’s bedtime,” Zoe said. “Give Uncle Brady a kiss good night and go get in bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Her lower lip pooched. “I’m thirsty.”
How could she deny that face? “All right. Go get a drink first— milk or water, not juice,” Zoe called after her.
Brady had already made himself at home on the sofa and flipped the TV to the Braves’ game. His dark hair was short, as if it had just been trimmed, but a fine stubble covered his jaw.
“What brings you by?” Zoe sank into the armchair. “Wait, where’s Sammy? I thought you were supposed to have him this weekend.”
He made a face. “Audrey was supposed to bring him, but she didn’t show. I finally got hold of her a few minutes ago. Something came up.”
“She can’t keep doing that.”
“I wish she’d at least call or text and let me know what’s going on. I’m going to go get him in the morning.”
“Bring him by after church if you want. You know how Gracie loves to make him smile.”
“Thought you might be busy.” He gave her a direct look. “With a certain someone.”
“You’ve talked to Cruz.”
“You two going to give it another go?”
“We are.”
She’d thought about him all day. Her love life was looking up, but her financial picture had never been so dire. It was perplexing, having something wonderful and something awful happening simultaneously. She wasn’t going to think about the orchard right now. Otherwise she’d be up all night fretting.
“How do you feel about all that?” Zoe asked. “Last time Cruz and I got together there were punches thrown—all of them yours.”
Brady scowled. “That was different. You were young, and I didn’t know he was serious about you.”
“I was nineteen, and you didn’t exactly give us a chance to explain.”
“Guilty as charged. But in my defense, it didn’t exactly look innocent.”
She thought back to that moonlit night, memories of their stolen moments warming her from the inside out. “I’ll give you that.”
“Cruz and I are square. He was such a sad sack after you left I couldn’t help but take pity on him.”
Zoe realized it had grown quiet in the kitchen. “Gracie . . . ,” she called. “Up to bed now.”
Her daughter scampered in and gave Brady one last hug before heading up the stairs.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Zoe said.
Brady watched her go, a reflective look on his face. “You know, maybe God brought you back to Copper Creek for a bigger purpose than just the orchard, Zoe.” His eyes pierced hers. “You ever think about that?”
She’d thought about it all day. Could she and Cruz and Zoe become a family? It was a little early to be thinking like that. And maybe just a little too scary.
“I sure hope so,” she said. “Because the orchard’s future is looking pretty darn bleak.”
“Any word from the deputy?”
“Not yet. And frankly I’ve been too busy trying to make a plan that doesn’t leave me thousands of dollars in debt with no hope of recovering to fret about what caused the fire.”
Had it only been last night her barn had burnt to the ground? The smoky taste in her mouth said yes, but the hours seemed to have passed at warp speed.
Brady leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “Listen, Zoe, I’ve been thinking. I want you to take my new building and use it as your market.”
Her body went rigid. “What? No. Absolutely not.”
“Just temporarily. Look, it’s already up and ready to go. All you’d have to do is—”
“Brady, I will not take your building! You’ve been working toward this for a long time. Just because I squandered away my portion of the inheritance doesn’t mean you have to lose yours too.”
“You didn’t squander your inheritance. And I’m not losing anything. Calm down and hear me out. It makes sense. The location’s perfect—right down the road, on the other side of the orchard. It’s all ready to go—”
“For you to move into.”
“Hush. It’s only temporary, just to get you through Peach Fest. Soon as you get the insurance money you can rebuild the barn. I’ll move into my new building, and all will be well.”
Zoe could only stare at him.
This was his dream. He’d saved for that building for years before inheriting Granny’s money. And now when he was finally on the doorstep of realizing it—he was loaning it to her.
She hadn’t exactly been the ideal sister. She’d all but abandoned him when she’d run off with Kyle. Her eyes burned, and she quickly looked down to where her fingers played at the seam of her jeans.
“I want to do this,” he said.
Her chest tightened to the point of pain. She looked up at him, tears and all. “I don’t deserve it.”
One side of his lip curled up. “You’re my little sis. I’m supposed to take care of you. And I kind of blew it back about five years ago. If it weren’t for me things probably would’ve worked out between you and Cruz.”
“That was not your fault.”
“I didn’t help matters.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. Let me do this. We can get you up and going by Peach Fest. I may not own it, but I want Granny’s orchard to make it as much as you do. She loved this land.”
A tingling spreading through her chest at the thought of his sacrifice. “Are you sure, Brady? It’s an awful lot.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure. I won’t take no for an answer. And you know I can be as stubborn as you.”
She gave a few hard blinks. Life sure could turn on a dime. This—family being family—was the kind of thing that made it all worthwhile.
“All right, brother. Let’s do it.”
chapter thirty-four
Cruz emptied his bag into the bin and made his way back to the tree where Zoe was two rungs up on a ladder. He took a moment to appreciate the fit of her jeans as he adjusted the thick strap of the bag that wrapped around his neck.
It was a good morning for peach picking. The air was still cool, and the sun hadn’t quite burned off the morning fog. The smell of dew and earth hung heavily in the air. His men moved through the orchard, filling their bags, gently dumping them in the plastic bins lining the flatbed truck. Some whistled, others wore earbuds, and still others murmured in low voices.
He reached for a low-hanging peach and twisted. It snapped free from the twig, and he placed it carefully in the bag. Keeping handling damage low was always priority one during harvest.
The ground color on the ripe freestone peaches was yellow, but they had a nice red blush and had sized well. They were slightly tender, and he knew for a fact they were sweet to the taste. From the field the fruit would go to the packing house where they’d be hydro-cooled to slow down ripening and maximize shelf life. Some of the harvest would then go to market, some to Zoe�
�s store, either whole or baked into a pie or strudel.
On the other side of the tree, twigs snapped as Zoe freed the higher hanging peaches.
“You sure you don’t have better things to do?” he asked. Her grand opening was just one week from today.
She’d been busy the past week reordering merchandise and getting Brady’s building set up for temporary sales. They hadn’t seen as much of each other as he would’ve liked.
“I’m sure. Not much I can do until merchandise starts arriving. Miss Ruby’s baking up a storm. The house smells like temptation on a stick.”
“I’d be happy to offer my services as chief sampler.”
“Funny, you’re not the first to offer. I’m afraid I’ve sampled more than my fair share. Good thing I’m burning off a lot of calories these days.”
His gaze cut over to her legs, the only part of her he could see through the tree. “Your figure looks fine to me.”
She stepped down from the ladder, hitching a brow. “Just ‘fine’?”
He winked. “Well, maybe better than fine, but I wouldn’t want it to go to your head.”
She pursed her lips. “Humph.”
He smiled as she tossed her chin and headed to the flatbed.
“Did I tell you I decided to brand Granny’s baked goods?” she asked when she returned a few moments later.
“No, you didn’t. That’s a great idea.”
Her auburn hair was pulled back, exposing the tender flesh of her neck. A tempting sight. And since they were hidden from the rest of the crew by the low hanging branches . . .
He pulled off his bag and trapped her, one foot a step up the ladder.
She turned carefully, eye level with him. “I’m calling them Granny Nel’s Baked Goods.”
He eased closer. She smelled sweet, like the peaches they were picking, and he was suddenly desperate for a taste. “Oh yeah?”
“A couple of the local stores are going to carry them. Goudeman’s, Mercer’s . . . Daisy’s drawing up a logo for me.”
Blue Ridge Sunrise Page 18
