by Lisa Carter
Whether he could see her or not, he always knew when she entered the same space he occupied. With her, it was like he had some kind of internal radar.
And whenever she got within touching distance...
His heartbeat accelerated. His pulse thrummed. His stomach tightened.
Swallowing hard, he turned around. Yep. There she stood, framed by the barn door, the sun backlighting her hair.
He made a determined effort to breathe. Hard to do when she was as close as he’d gotten to her in a week.
A busy week. A week after that night on the stairs. And so far, no leads had panned out enabling him to move into a place of his own.
He’d gone out of his way to avoid her. Grabbing breakfast on his way out the door every morning. Finding an excuse to eat lunch outside the house.
But yesterday he came to the unsettling realization she wasn’t exactly seeking him out, either.
At the dinner table she kept her gaze pinned on everything and everyone but him. Other than taking care of Maisie and manning the Apple House, she never ventured into the orchard anymore, or at least not when he was there.
Somehow she’d worked out this elaborate scheme of making sure when she was with Maisie, he wasn’t. Or vice versa. But never together with Maisie at the same time.
He was pretty sure Nash had noticed. Nash was sharp. He didn’t miss much. But as far as Jake could tell, Maisie hadn’t noticed.
Getting to know his daughter was amazing. Spending time with Maisie was a dream he’d never dared dream after that terrible first day. His dreams were coming true. All, except one. But he had no right to dream dreams about Callie.
Keeping his head down, he trudged past Callie, rehanging the hoe on the wall rack next to the barn door. Unable to help himself, though, he cut his eyes to her and, yes, she was still standing there. Just standing there. Looking at him and not saying a word.
The not talking this week had bothered him more than he’d foreseen. He missed talking with her about her day, sharing funny anecdotes about Maisie. He missed Callie’s laugh. He missed her smile. The way her eyes lit when he walked into a room—
He was an idiot. Callie Jackson’s eyes didn’t light up for him. The reason he’d kept his distance no longer seemed so important, although the apparent ease with which she’d reciprocated only underscored what he’d feared from the beginning—he was easy to walk away from. Easy to forget.
“Jake?”
Straightening the already straight hammer on the worktable, he kept his back to Callie. “Is everything okay with Maisie?”
“Maisie’s fine. B-but I’m not.”
He stiffened at the breathy, hesitant quality of her voice, though it was good, so good, to hear her voice again. Talking to him. No longer ignoring his existence.
Jake angled to face her. “Did you need something, Callie?”
She’d stepped out of the doorway and into the shadows. He didn’t like not being able to see her face. He’d come to rely on her expressive features to reflect what she thought and felt.
Callie sighed. “I—I just missed you. Wanted to see how you were doing.”
She’d missed him? Something banged inside his rib cage, but she remained in the shadows. Hiding from him?
He took a step forward, no longer willing to hide from her. To deprive himself of her.
“I’ve missed talking to you, too, Callie.” He cleared his throat. “Missed you a lot.” He looked down and then up at her.
She stepped into the slanted light dappling the straw-covered barn floor. His breath hitched.
Callie was so beautiful. What was wrong with the men in Truelove that she hadn’t been claimed long before now? Not that he was in any position to... Jake concentrated on refilling his lungs with oxygen.
It was so good to be able to look at her again. No more quick, surreptitious glances. To drink his fill of her.
Uncertainty dotted her warm brown eyes. “Are you angry with me, Jake?”
He frowned. “Not at all.”
Like dust motes in the air, the so-what-is-it-then danced between them.
“I’m no good at relationships, Callie.” He ground his teeth. “I failed Tiffany.”
“You didn’t fail Tiff, Jake. It was Tiff who failed you.” Her eyes blazed. “And for the record, you’re not the only one with a failure in the love department.”
His mouth fell open. “You?” He scowled. “And who?”
A shaft of jealousy twisted him up inside, catching him by surprise.
She tapped her foot on the wooden floor. “Don’t sound so surprised that someone might actually find me—”
“I’m not surprised.” He clenched his jaw. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known...”
She blushed crimson in the universal way of redheads. Jake was coming to the realization he had a thing for redheads. One redhead in particular.
“I’m just surprised I haven’t heard about the guy before.” He toed the floor with his boot. “Not that you have to tell me anything.”
She fluttered her hand. “No point in rehashing how I got dumped.”
Jake propped his fists on his hips. “What kind of idiot would jilt you?”
She laughed. “My eighteen-year-old ego wishes you had said that to me all those years ago.”
“If I’d been around all those years ago, after I flattened him for ever hurting you, I’d have...” He combed his hand through his hair.
She folded her arms. “Now it’s you who’s doing the hurting.”
Cutting Jake to the quick.
“Try to understand, Callie. I don’t want to mess up things with Maisie.”
Her chin came up. “Then don’t.”
She wasn’t the only one who could do stubborn. If she wanted honesty, no matter how humiliating, he’d give her honesty.
“I ruin things, Callie. Everything I touch. Everyone I care about.” He gulped. “I care too much about you.”
“Won’t you give us a chance, Jake?” Her eyes beckoned him. “Give me a chance.”
Her wistful tone was like relentless drops of water eroding every defense mechanism he erected.
“Caring about someone is always risky.” Her mouth pulled downward. “But if you’re afraid I’ll be like Tiff—”
“You’re nothing like Tiffany.”
She winced, though he wasn’t sure why.
He swiped his hand over his face. “I’ve not had much success in finding a place of my own, but—”
“Not your fault.” She cocked her head. “You’ve been sabotaged.”
“Sabotaged?”
Callie sighed. “You can thank the Truelove matchmakers. They always think they know better than—”
“Maybe they do.”
She rocked on the heels of her flats. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe they’re right.” He gritted his teeth. “Maybe they do know best.”
She made an expansive gesture. “Things have moved very fast. Too fast. But don’t leave. We can work this out. If nothing else, we can go back to being friends.”
He grimaced. “I don’t want to be your friend, Callie.”
She stiffened. “Oh.” And turned to go.
In one stride, he caught her arm. “I mean I don’t want to only be your friend. I want...”
She looked at his hand on her arm and then into his eyes. “What do you want, Jake?”
The longing he’d felt but hadn’t understood that first day when she’d come out onto the porch resurfaced again. This time with it came something stronger than fear.
“I want to see where this goes with you, Callie.”
She placed her hand on his chest. “I’d like that, too, Jake.”
The warmth of her hand burned through his flannel shirt. His heart jolted. “And...”
/> She waited.
“I want to take you to the Apple Festival this weekend.”
There. He finally voiced what had been on his mind since he’d spotted the festival poster in town.
She tilted her head. “Are you asking me for a date?”
His heart pounded so hard he feared he might go into cardiac arrest. “If I were to ask you on a date, Callie Jackson, what would you say?” His voice went husky.
“If you were to ask me for a date, Jake McAbee?” Leaning into him, she rose on her tiptoes. “I might have to say yes.” Her lips brushed his cheek.
He curled a stray auburn tendril of her hair around his finger. He rubbed the silky lock between his thumb and forefinger before tucking the strand behind the delicate curve of her ear.
Was he doing the right thing? Relationships usually didn’t work out for him. Dating Callie was a risk. A huge risk with the potential for total failure. And yet...
“Maisie could be our chaperone.” He took her hand. “And I wouldn’t mind hearing more about the jerk who broke your heart. Although, his loss, my gain.”
“Nothing to tell.” She rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Matt didn’t break my heart.”
He curled his lip. “I’ve never liked the name Matt.”
With a sideways glance, she gave Jake a teasing smile. “So you think we need a chaperone at the Apple Festival?”
To keep from getting ahead of himself again? To prevent him from blurting out his growing feelings for Callie?
“Yes,” he whispered, his heart in his voice. “I do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jake had worried what Nash would think of Callie going to the festival with him. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. In the barn the next morning as they worked on the tractor, Nash appeared pleased.
“Not a newsflash to me, McAbee. I’ve seen how your eyes follow my Callie around a room.”
Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Jake flushed.
“I also see how she looks at you.”
His head snapped up. “You think so, sir?”
Tightening the connection, Nash’s weathered face brightened. “I’m not too old to remember giving Callie’s mom a look like that myself.”
“And you’re okay with me taking Callie to the festival?”
Turning the wrench, Nash gave the bolt a final twist and straightened. “Sure, especially since you know what a father would do if someone was to hurt his little girl.”
“If some moron ever hurt my girl, I’d... I’d...” Jake glowered. “It wouldn’t be good. But Maisie’s not dating anyone, not until she’s at least twenty-five.”
Nash used an old rag to wipe the grease from his hands. “Good thing for you, my Callie’s over twenty-five, eh?”
“Yes, sir.” Jake’s mouth curved. “Good thing for me.”
A very good thing for him. Other than Maisie, Callie was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could hardly wait for the festival on Saturday. But he and failure were old friends.
God, please don’t let me mess up this chance with Callie.
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear—a perfect autumn mountain day. The air was indeed apple crisp.
He parked his truck in the designated festival parking area. “Wait for me.” He came around to open the door for Callie.
Callie’s brown eyes sparked. “Such a gentleman.”
Taking his arm, she eased out onto the gravel. The touch of her fingers against his skin electrified his pulse.
She must have felt it, too, because her eyebrows lifted. “Static electricity?”
Jake ran his hand down her arm, lacing her fingers in his. “Or not.”
Her mouth curved. “Or not.”
“Me. Me,” Maisie clamored from the car seat.
Letting go of his hand, Callie unfastened the buckles on Maisie’s car seat. “Our chaperone is calling.”
Callie had braided her hair into a plait that fell to the bottom of her shoulder blades. The elegant pulled-back style wasn’t her usual casual look, but allowed him a better view of her face.
She looked so sophisticated he felt a little shy, unused to this side of her. Reminding him there was a lot about Callie he didn’t know. Yet, he sensed she’d dressed up for him and their “date.”
“My daddy, my daddy.” Maisie reached for him as Callie lifted her from the car seat.
If a date included bringing his two-year-old child. And involved throngs of festivalgoers.
“You better take her, Jake.” Callie handed Maisie off to him. “She won’t be satisfied unless you’re within touching distance.”
Shifting Maisie on his arm, he clicked the key fob, locking the truck. Holding his daughter was a pleasure that would never fade.
Callie smiled at them. “Last year we used the stroller, but this year—”
“No roller.” Maisie’s blond curls shook. “Big gull.”
Callie stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Good thing we have your daddy, then.”
He tickled Maisie’s tummy. “You’ve got your daddy, all right.”
Writhing, she giggled. He loved her so much. More than he could have ever imagined.
Lest Callie see the sudden moisture that sprang into his eyes, he planted a raspberry kiss on Maisie’s soft little neck, inciting further giggles.
Callie always dressed his daughter in the cutest outfits. Today Maisie wore a tiny blue jean jacket over gray leggings. A large gray cat was embroidered on her long-sleeved pink T-shirt.
“Better get going.” He hoisted Maisie high onto his shoulders. “Don’t want to miss any of the fun.” The street fair was already in full swing.
Wrapping her legs around his neck, he positioned his hands on her small pink cowgirl boots. Maisie placed her hands atop his head as they sailed toward the blocked-off town square. As they wended their way through the crowd, Callie inserted her arm through the crook of his elbow. His pulse jump-started at her nearness.
Town merchants had set up shop on the sidewalks. On the square itself, local artisans manned outdoor booths displaying their colorful handicrafts. The air smelled of barbecue and funnel cakes.
“You’ll have to show me the ropes,” he whispered in Callie’s ear. “I’m the newcomer here.” His mouth brushed a silky strand of hair.
A surge of red crept from the collar of her turquoise blouse, but she squeezed his arm.
“Morning, Jake,” called a guy Nash had introduced him to at the hardware store. “And aren’t you something? Here with some of Truelove’s prettiest young ladies...”
Flashing a grin at Callie, Jake broadened his chest. “You’ve got that right.”
And then the gaggle of Truelove matchmakers descended on them.
Miss IdaLee smiled. “Jake.”
“Callie...” Miss ErmaJean crowed.
“Good to see y’all here.” A significant look from Miss GeorgeAnne. “Together.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could practically feel the blush radiating off Callie. Neither of them liked being the center of attention. “Sorry to rush off, but if you ladies would excuse us...”
He moved away toward the stage erected at the end of the square.
“Thanks,” Callie whispered.
As if riding a bronco, Maisie bucked on his shoulders. “Pop-Pop.” She pointed.
Callie let go of him to hug her father.
Nash winked at him. “I’d offer to look after Maisie so you two could go have some fun, but all that girl wants is her daddy.” He patted Maisie’s pink boot, hanging over Jake’s shoulder. “Which is exactly as it should be.”
Callie nudged Jake as the mayor mounted the steps to the platform. “We’re in time for the opening ceremony when Orchard of the Year is awarded.”
“Apple Valley should win, of course.”
/>
Her cheeks lifted. “Your loyalty is appreciated, but with Dad’s illness we didn’t enter this year.” She took his arm again, and his heart went into overdrive. “Maybe next year.”
When an orchard on the other side of the county was announced the winner, Nash broke into cheers.
“One of Dad’s oldest friends.” Callie glanced at Jake. “A friendly rivalry. One year he wins. Then it’s our turn. Both are happy so long as it’s one of them.”
He threaded his fingers into Callie’s. “Definitely yours next year.”
She gave him a quick look before a slow, sweet smile spread across her face. He realized he should’ve clarified he meant the orchard win would be hers next year. But looking into her upturned face, maybe he’d said exactly what he meant.
The woman from church with a fiddle and two men carrying a guitar and a banjo took their places on the stage. And the festival kicked into high gear with strains of bluegrass mountain music.
Maisie’s booted heels spurred his chest. “Horsey, horsey.”
“She wants to ride the carousel.” Callie gestured toward the carnival rides. “She loves the painted ponies.”
Promising to reconnect for lunch, they left Nash and headed toward the whirling musical cacophony of the merry-go-round.
Maisie strained forward. “Me. Me.”
“Slow down, horse girl.” He raised Maisie over his head and set her on the ground.
Maisie lunged.
Callie only just caught her hand. “Wait for our turn, Maisie. The ride has to stop before we get on.”
Jake prayed the wonderful ride he was on with his daughter and Callie would never stop. If he could live one perfect day forever, it would be this day with its blue sky and puffy white clouds. Today—for the first time in his life—his heart felt truly complete.
He’d finally found a place to belong. After a long, hard journey, he’d somehow found home.
Jake swallowed the rush of emotion. The carousel ground to a halt. Parents and children exited the ride, and it was their turn to board.
He lifted Maisie onto the platform. “Shouldn’t we sit in the carriage?”
Maisie stretched toward a gaily painted, cream-colored palomino. “Big gull. Big gull.”