Not Until Forever (Hope Springs Book 1)

by Valerie M. Bodden

  She tucked her head into Spencer’s back, her arms instinctively tightening around his waist.

  “Almost across,” Spencer called, and a second later, she felt the front of the ATV lift, as if they were climbing a bank.

  She waited a second to make sure she wasn’t going to get wet again, then lifted her head. The bank was steep, but Spencer handled the ATV with a sure hand.

  When they reached the top, he throttled down and brought the machine to a stop.

  “Soph, I’m so sorry. I haven’t been over here much this year, and I didn’t realize—” But he broke off as he swiveled on the seat to face her.

  His eyes widened, and his lips lifted a fraction as he fought to keep a straight face. And if she looked anything like he did, she didn’t blame him. Mud speckled his hair, a glob stuck under his left eye, and his shirt had gone from white to brown more effectively than if it’d been dyed.

  She felt her own lips lift into a smile. And then she was laughing.

  A moment later, she was laughing so hard she was crying.

  “What?” Spencer tried to deadpan but failed to hold back his own grin. “Did I get a little muddy?” He dabbed daintily at his face, and Sophie broke into another round of laughter. This time, he couldn’t fight it. His deep laugh joined hers, and the sheer joy of sharing this moment made Sophie laugh even harder.

  When their laughter finally subsided, Spencer became suddenly serious. “I am sorry I ruined your clothes, though.”

  Sophie glanced down. Both her jeans and her shirt were dotted with mud. But she didn’t care. “They can be washed.”

  “And your face.”

  “You ruined my face?”

  Spencer’s eyes landed on hers, locked in place. “Nothing could ruin your face. It’s perfect.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t mean to sigh at that, but how could she help it? Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say.

  “But—” His gaze shifted to her cheek. “You do have a little something here.” His fingers grazed her skin, brushed at her cheek.

  She resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean into his hand.

  She had sensed it growing all afternoon, this thing between them. But she had to be the strong one, the one who resisted the pull—for Spencer’s sake.

  “Should we—” Her voice came out too soft, and she tried again. “Should we keep going?”

  Spencer swallowed. Nodded. Withdrew his hand slowly.

  “So, where are we going?” She tried to channel some of the playfulness from before, but Spencer shook his head and throttled up the ATV.

  For the rest of the ride, Sophie concentrated on making as little contact with him as possible without falling off the machine.

  By the time he slowed the ATV, her shoulders were in knots from the effort.

  “Here we are.” Spencer waited for her to climb off, and she did, careful to grab his shoulder for only a second, just long enough to keep her balance.

  “And where exactly is here?” Sophie spun in a slow circle, taking in the cornfield on one side, the edge of what appeared to be a small woodland on the other.

  The sun had fallen low in the sky so that it just sparked on the treetops.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

  “It is.” Spencer’s eyes seemed to trace the edges of her face, and she turned away. If he looked at her like that one more time, she wouldn’t be responsible for anything her lips may choose to do.

  “But—” Spencer grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the trees. “This isn’t what we’re here for.”

  He pulled her into the stand of trees, and she let their earthy scent—the same scent she always associated with Spencer—wash over her. He led her on a weaving path through the trees, and she tightened her grip on his hand—only because her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the low light in here yet. The dark must be the reason her blood thrummed in her ears, too.

  Finally, Spencer drew to a stop. He turned toward her expectantly. She gazed around. All she saw was more trees.

  “It’s a forest.” She didn’t want to insult him, but if he wanted to show her trees, they could have saved themselves the walk.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  He moved behind her and reached to cover her eyes. “Take ten steps forward.” His breath tickled her ear.

  “What?” She remained planted.

  “Just trust me, Soph. Ten steps forward.”

  She wanted to remind him that she didn’t do well with surprises, but she shuffled dutifully forward.

  “Bigger steps.” Amusement colored Spencer’s voice. It sounded good on him.

  “I don’t want to crash and get hurt.”

  “I’d never let that happen.” His voice—it was so soft, so sincere, she wanted to spin right there in his arms. One of his hands moved to her waist, and the other shifted to cover both eyes.

  She widened her steps as he’d instructed.

  “Seriously, Spencer, what is this about?”

  But instead of answering, he nudged her a fraction forward. “Open your eyes.”

  Spencer didn’t know why he should be so nervous. He wasn’t the one who’d been walking with his eyes closed. Even if it felt like that’s exactly what he was doing, bringing Sophie here, to this spot that held so much of his family’s history. That he hoped might hold so much of its future.

  He pulled his hand slowly away from Sophie’s eyes, then shifted to stand next to her so he could watch her discover his favorite place on the whole farm.

  He knew the moment she noticed the knotted old cherry tree in the center by the way her eyes widened. She moved toward it without saying anything. He walked next to her, feeling an odd sense of pride in the old tree and its blossom-rich branches.

  “This is the tree the farm is named for. The hidden blossom tree. It’s part of the original orchard planted by my great-great grandfather when he first settled here. The rest of the trees in this section were wiped out by disease long ago. But this one has stood through disease, storms, drought, you name it.”

  Up close, the fragrance of the tree’s blossoms enveloped them.

  “It’s amazing.” Sophie ran her fingers along a blossom-covered branch. On impulse, Spencer plucked a flower and tucked it behind her ear.

  She lifted her hand to cover his.

  He froze. Met her eyes. “You know, this spot is sort of part of a family tradition.”

  “Mmm?” The silk of her hair slid against his hand every time she moved a fraction.

  “My great-grandparents got married in front of this tree, my grandpa proposed to my grandma here, and my parents had their first kiss under these branches.”

  “Wow,” Sophie whispered, or maybe it was just a breath. He couldn’t tell. Her eyes were too entrancing for him to think about anything else.

  “Yeah, and—”

  But he couldn’t say anything else because Sophie’s lips were suddenly pressed to his. Spencer’s hand slid further into her hair as his lips responded. Her arms circled his neck, and she pulled him in closer.

  Her lips were so familiar, and yet there was something new in her kiss, something he’d never felt before, something more open, more real, than anything between them had ever been before.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning bell with a voice suspiciously like Tyler’s sounded. Spencer tried to push it aside, but it was annoyingly persistent.

  Gently, he moved his hands to Sophie’s shoulders and pulled his head back.

  At the look on her face—the combined contentment and confusion—he almost leaned in again.

  But Tyler was right. He couldn’t go through this again.

  “I’m sorry,” Sophie half-gasped. “I shouldn’t—”

  But he shook his head. “I’m glad you did.” He couldn’t deny that. “But we should get back.” He pulled out his phone.

  Sure enough, three new texts from Tyler:

  We’re back.

  Dinner’s about read
y. Where are you?

  Starting without you. You better not be doing anything stupid right now.

  Spencer clicked off the phone. He wasn’t doing anything stupid. Unless you counted kissing your ex-girlfriend as stupid. Your ex-girlfriend who was going back to Chicago. Your ex-girlfriend who was going back to Chicago, who you were still madly in love with.

  Okay, maybe he was doing something a little stupid.

  Chapter 22

  Sophie focused on keeping at least two feet of empty space between herself and Spencer as they walked through the trees toward the ATV. It meant she kept stumbling over roots and getting slapped in the face by branches she didn’t notice until the last minute, but it was safer than getting too close to Spencer. Otherwise, she might give in to the temptation to kiss him again.

  She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret that kiss, even if it hadn’t been fair to him.

  She worked to take her thoughts off the soft brush of his lips against hers. They were so warm and—

  She had to stop. “So do you think you’ll stay on the farm your whole life? Or do you ever think about going back to school and finishing your degree?” She tried to ask it casually, to pretend there was nothing behind the question.

  Spencer didn’t slow his pace. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Especially after last year, when we almost lost everything. But Soph—” He stopped without warning, and she had to pull herself up short to keep from breaking her two-feet-of-space rule. “Sometimes it feels like this is what I was born to do. You know?”

  Sophie nodded, even as her heart slid down through her feet and into the ground. He’d never consider the plan that had taken hold of her this afternoon. She’d thought maybe they could be together, maybe he’d be willing to move to Chicago with her, get his degree, get a job there.

  But he was clearly more attached to this land than he was to her.

  They walked the rest of the way to the ATV in silence. It wasn’t until she was settling in behind him on the machine that he spoke again. “What about you? Do you think you’ll be in Chicago forever? Or will you ever come home to Hope Springs?”

  The question caught her so off guard that she opened her mouth to answer, then snapped it shut. She’d been so sure all her life that she’d never be willing to live here again. But—

  “Right.” In front of her, Spencer’s back stiffened. The ATV roared to life, and Sophie had to make a mad grab for Spencer’s shirt to keep from falling off backward as they took off.

  She couldn’t keep two feet between them on the cramped seat, but as they crossed the fields, she concentrated on making only as much contact as necessary to keep herself on the ATV. Which meant she got even wetter when they crossed the creek the second time.

  By the time they parked in the shed, her teeth were chattering, and her legs were stiff. She swung gingerly off the machine, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  All she wanted was a nice warm bath and a chance to snuggle under her blankets to wallow in thoughts of the man she couldn’t have.

  But she’d promised that man she’d have dinner with his family.

  Spencer swung off the ATV, frowning at her. “You’re drenched and cold. Let’s get you inside.”

  He was soaked, too, but somehow he managed to pull off the mud-caked look. Just one more sign that he belonged here.

  She should argue. Tell him she’d be fine. But she couldn’t make her teeth stop chattering long enough.

  As he led her inside, the warmth of the house embraced her. It wasn’t only the temperature. It was the whole feel of the place. She’d noticed it the first time she was here and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. The house may not be fancy, and its decor might be lacking a certain sophistication. But this was a home. The word stuck in her head even as a violent shiver racked her frame.

  “Here.” Spencer slid past her and disappeared into a room down the hallway.

  He emerged a few seconds later, holding out a sweatshirt. “You can change into this. The bathroom’s down the hall, first door on the left.”

  Sophie eyed the sweatshirt. She should say no to wearing his clothes. It was too familiar. But the idea of being warm and dry was too tempting.

  In the bathroom, she pulled off her sodden, mud-stained shirt and slipped the soft sweatshirt over her head. She pushed up the sleeves that reached well past her hands and pulled down the hem that hit her at mid-thigh.

  The big UW loomed at her from the mirror, backward in its reflection, but Sophie recognized the shirt. It was the same one she’d worn countless times before. She’d claimed it from Spencer almost the moment they started dating, when she got cold at a football game, and he took it off to give it to her. She hadn’t given it back until she’d packed up her apartment after graduation. Then she’d stuck it in a box with all his other stuff, except the plush giraffe she couldn’t bear to part with, and mailed it to him here. She pictured him getting the box, opening it, finding the sweatshirt, and shame washed over her.

  It was a miracle he’d even talked to her when they’d run into each other at the hospital, let alone stood by her through Nana’s funeral and taken her to the orchard today. And returned her kiss.

  The kiss that never should have happened, she reminded herself as she stepped out of the bathroom.

  Spencer was setting a mug of coffee at the table when she walked into the kitchen. He stared at her in the sweatshirt as she settled onto the chair, a half-smile lifting his lips. “Remember when you spilled ketchup on that shirt?”

  Sophie chortled. “How could I forget. I was afraid you’d break up with me. You were so mad.”

  Spencer held up a hand. “I wasn’t mad, I was—” He shook his head. “Okay. I was mad. But only because I couldn’t afford to buy another one, and I was afraid you’d leave me for some other guy who had a clean sweatshirt you could wear.”

  A laugh burst out of her just as she was about to take a sip of coffee. “I told you it would come out.”

  Spencer snorted. “That’s only because we washed it like nine times. That’s how it got so faded.”

  Sophie ran a hand down the faded letters. Truth was, she liked it this way. It made it feel familiar, like it had always been a part of her. A part of them.

  She glanced up to find Spencer watching her. He cleared his throat. “I’d better go get changed so we can get to my parents’ before there’s no food left.”

  As he disappeared, Sophie wrapped her fingers around the mug, letting its warmth seep into her stiff knuckles. Her eyes fell on a stack of papers on the table, and she slid it closer. Maybe reading would keep her mind off Spencer.

  But as she scanned the pages, her thoughts shifted to concern. If these pages told the farm’s full financial story, it was in trouble.

  Serious trouble.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Sophie pushed the papers aside. She had no business going through Spencer’s financial statements.

  “Ready?” Spencer stopped in the kitchen doorway. He’d changed into a pair of dark jeans, and a blue button down that magnified the color of his eyes.

  She pushed to her feet, stealing one last glimpse of the papers on the table to keep from staring at him.

  Looked like the farm’s finances weren’t the only thing in trouble.

  Her heart might be, too.

  Chapter 23

  Spencer pressed his hand lightly to the small of Sophie’s back, steering her out the front door of his house. Outside, the night’s chill washed over him. Maybe that would clear his head of all the ridiculous thoughts swirling there. Force some common sense in.

  All the way back on the ATV, the whole time he was making Sophie’s coffee, all the while he’d been changing, he’d been turning over Sophie’s question about staying on the farm forever.

  He’d thought he sensed something under the question. Was she asking because she wanted to know if he’d leave the farm to be with her?

  And if that’s what she was asking, would he
consider it?

  It’s not like living on the farm forever had been part of his original plan. He’d always intended to finish his degree and get a real job someday. But then he’d been here, and it’d been—not easy, but familiar. And he loved the land, loved its rhythms, loved working with his hands.

  But he loved Sophie, too.

  There was no point in trying to deny that anymore. At least not to himself.

  So would he be willing to give this place up for her?

  “Spencer?” Sophie’s voice cut into his thoughts, and he realized she’d said something to him.

  “I’m sorry. What was that?”

  “I was just asking if your family will be upset we’re late.”

  Spencer chuckled. If Mom knew he’d spent the afternoon with Sophie—which she probably did, thanks to Tyler—she’d be calling Pastor Zelner right about now to schedule the wedding. “They won’t mind.”

  Except for Tyler. He’d sent another text while Spencer was making the coffee.

  Seriously, Spencer, not worth getting your heart broken again.

  But maybe he didn’t have to get his heart broken. Maybe things could work out.

  He could move to Chicago, or better yet, she could come back to Hope Springs.

  And be a farmer’s wife? The voice of reason cut through as his eyes fell on his parents’ house, a fraction of the size of the home Sophie had grown up in. They walked down the short jog in the driveway that led to the tired-looking garage.

  And anyway, hadn’t her silence when he’d asked if she’d consider coming back said everything he needed to know?

  She may have kissed him, but when it came down to it, she’d never pick him before her career or her accustomed lifestyle. It was why she’d said no to his proposal in the first place.

  “Everything okay?” Sophie grazed his hand tentatively as they reached the front steps. “You’re quiet.”

  He forced a smile she’d see through in a second. “Just thinking.”

  He opened the door, and a wall of sound from inside hit them. His smile became genuine as Dad’s booming laugh carried to the door.