Sugar Creek

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Sugar Creek Page 33

by Toni Blake


  “You’re probably late getting back on duty,” she said.

  “Yeah. Your fault again, Farris.” But he didn’t sound as upset as he usually did about such things. Then he said, out of the blue, “If you wanted to stay in town, Rachel…if you wanted to take over the orchard…I wouldn’t even care about not getting it back into my family.”

  She looked Mike in the eye. This came up over and over again, the idea that she should give up her career and run the orchard. But in this moment, that wasn’t the part she was concentrating on. The part that got her was…was he asking her to stay? Not for the sake of the orchard, but…for him? And if he was, was it that easy? To give up one life for another?

  Can I go forward when my heart is here?

  William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

  Seventeen

  Rachel took a deep breath, turning the questions over in her mind. And…

  No. No, she didn’t think so. It was the stuff of movies, novels. But in real life, it was one of the hugest changes a person could make.

  And yeah, maybe the city didn’t hold the same thrill for her it once had; maybe that was a season of her life that had come and gone. And maybe, over time, it had become the power of her job, the success, that she valued more than the work itself, ever since the creative part had been taken away from her. But none of that added up to just abandoning a highly lucrative career and moving back to the place she’d been so eager to leave once upon a time. If she didn’t have that job, well…again, things might be different. But she did have it. She’d worked to get it back and had succeeded.

  And as for her and Mike, well…neither of them had ever even uttered the word love. Which was just as well—because it was something she knew nothing about. And what about Mike’s sexcapades all over Destiny and Crestview? From the start, she’d understood that he was just as big on not getting serious as she was. She cared for him, too much now, and she believed he cared for her as well—but she simply couldn’t get caught up in a moment here and believe it was more than it was. The fact was—Mike could move on from her in a heartbeat. The practical woman inside Rachel could easily see herself a few months from now, broke and lonely and stuck at the orchard picking apples for the rest of her days if she made some silly, hasty decision here. That was not what she wanted her life to be.

  Finally, she said, “I’m gonna miss you, miss us, but you know I have to go.”

  When he began to protest, she touched a finger to his lips, quieting him.

  “And it’s for more than just my family. It’s for me. I have a life somewhere else. It’s a good life, Mike, I promise.”

  “I’m sure it is,” he said, but he sounded sullen now, distant.

  She drew in a breath, a little hurt by his attitude. So she tried to win him back over, make him celebrate with her a bit. “I forgot to tell you, I get to keep my job. I found out a couple of days ago. I couldn’t be more excited.”

  He met her gaze, but still seemed disgruntled. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

  She just sighed and tried to go on. “You don’t sound very happy. But I’m sure you can see it only makes sense. It would be crazy to leave something I’ve worked so hard for.”

  “And you don’t sound very excited. I mean, this job is supposed to mean everything to you, and you’re just now remembering to mention it?”

  He might have a point there, but she refused to think about that right now. “Are you mad? You seem mad.”

  “What would I be mad about?” he snapped.

  She tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know. Especially since I just told you, again, that you can pretty much have the orchard whenever Edna decides to sell it to you. And she will. And I’ll be fine with that now. I’ll be happy for you to have it.”

  He let out a breath—and sounded a little more relaxed when he said, “Sorry if I’m acting like an asshole.”

  She smiled. “I’m used to it.”

  And he returned the grin, even if it looked halfhearted. “Listen—I have to work tomorrow night, and I work Monday from noon to eight, but…if you don’t have plans with Edna or your friends for your last night in town…”

  “I don’t,” she assured him. “I think Edna wants to make me a nice home-cooked dinner, but after that, I’m free.”

  “Then why don’t you come over to my place, meet me when I get off work.”

  “Sounds good,” she said—then glanced over at him. “Did you have anything special in mind?”

  “Yep,” he said. “Taking you to bed. Making you pant and scream. Doing it all night long. Leaving you so limp from orgasm after orgasm that you can barely move.”

  Rachel simply sucked in her breath. “All righty then. It’s a date.”

  After he got off duty on Sunday night, Mike went home, changed clothes, and headed back out in his truck. It was nearly midnight and he needed to be back on duty tomorrow at noon, but he felt…pent up inside. Trying to sleep would be futile.

  The road led him to the Dew Drop Inn. Given that most people had work tomorrow morning, it didn’t surprise him that only a few cars and pickups dotted the parking lot. So it caught him off guard when he walked in to see Logan sitting at the bar chatting with Anita Garey.

  “Dude, you look mad,” Logan said as Mike climbed up on a stool beside him and motioned to Anita for a beer. “What’s wrong? Purple Mustang again?”

  “No, thank God,” he muttered. “What are you doing here at this hour anyway?”

  “I went with Sue Ann to look at the cottage on the lake, and we came here afterward to go over the contract—so I just stuck around.”

  “You’re definitely taking it?” Ever since moving out of his parents’ house, just up the road from Mike’s place, Logan had lived in an apartment in town.

  Logan tipped his bottle to his mouth and gave a nod. “It’s a nice little house, and I wouldn’t mind having a yard.”

  “Mmm,” Mike said—but knew it came out more like a growl. One thing he’d never developed a skill for—hiding his moods. He was only lucky Logan continued to tolerate him.

  Anita brought his beer and the two guys sat quietly for a moment, until Logan gave him a speculative look and slowly said, “Ah, I got it now.”

  “Got what now?”

  “What your problem is. Rachel leaves in a couple days, doesn’t she? Sue Ann mentioned it. That’s what’s got you back in your usual shitty mood.”

  Mike considered denying it, but decided not to bother. So he just said, “Whatever,” and took a long drink of his beer.

  “You should ask her to stay,” Logan said. Just like that. They hadn’t discussed Rachel all that much, so Mike had no idea how his buddy understood his feelings on this, but he guessed Logan just knew him that well.

  “She’s not into it,” Mike said simply.

  “You talked about it?”

  “More or less.”

  “Sorry, dude,” Logan said.

  Something about that made his stomach pinch—he hated when people felt sorry for him. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he groused. “Life goes on.” Then he dug out his wallet, slapped a five on the bar, and stood up.

  Logan raised his gaze to Mike’s. “You just got here.”

  “And now I’m leaving.”

  Logan arched a brow. “Something I said?”

  “Just ready to go home now is all.”

  He wasn’t particularly, but he’d also just figured out that he wasn’t in the mood to be with people right now, either.

  Back in his truck, he headed toward home—because apparently there was no place he wanted to be right now, nothing that would make him feel better. Ben Harper sang “Show Me a Little Shame” over his iPod as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on inside him. Logan was right—it was about Rachel. But how had he gone from thinking she was nothing but a pretty, smart-ass Farris to feeling miserable at the thought of no longer having her in his life? How had he—who never got hung up on a woman—gotten so damn hung up on a woma
n?

  And then it hit him, plain as day. In Rachel Farris, he’d finally met his match. In fact, the reason they’d butted heads in the beginning was because, unlike most people around here, she didn’t put up with his grouchiness and meanness. The fact was, as a cop, he could usually get away with it; most people, he guessed, were afraid they’d get hauled to jail or something if they argued with him. But from the start, she’d clearly had no intention of letting him scare her or push her around.

  And he liked that. Turned out he liked it far more than he could have imagined.

  And maybe he was a little mad at her. For not seeing…what?

  How good they were together?

  Or maybe he was mad at himself for not having the guts to just say what he felt, straight out. That this was bigger than something that lasted only a few weeks. That he’d never experienced these kinds of emotions for another girl. That he’d already lost enough people in his life, and even though he hadn’t known her long, well…this was going to feel like one more person he’d made the mistake of caring for only to watch them walk away. And hell—maybe he had no one to blame but himself, since he’d broken his own rule: He’d let himself care for her.

  Or maybe he was mad that when he tried to start telling her some of that stuff, she gave him nothing, no encouragement. He didn’t know how to say any of it, and every time he even inched near it, she shut him down. He knew when he looked into her eyes, when he was inside her, that she felt something for him, but she obviously didn’t feel the same way he did. She’d even admitted she cared for him that first night he’d taken her home with him—but she’d never said anything like that again.

  Okay, so that was why he was mad. All of that.

  And…because she was leaving.

  And because there was a part of him that had felt better lately—almost actually…happy. She’d sort of…awakened pieces of him that…well, pieces he guessed had been dead for a very long time. She made him let go of all the bad stuff long enough to enjoy life for a change.

  But maybe when Rachel left, he’d feel worse again. Empty inside again. Maybe that picture of Anna would come back out. Maybe he’d turn back into the same hard-ass jerk most people thought he was.

  The truth was, when he’d suggested getting together on her last night in town, he’d wanted to do way more than take her to bed. He’d wanted to talk, he’d wanted to maybe take her out somewhere nice in Crestview—he’d just wanted to be with her, both in bed and out. But after their conversation in the orchard, it had just made more sense to invite her over for sex. Because when all was said and done, that was still when they got along the best, wasn’t it? Anything else they could discuss now might just piss him off and ruin the night. Like her leaving. Somehow even getting her blessing to buy the orchard had pissed him off a little. He didn’t want her to want him to have it—he wanted her to want it for herself. He wanted her to want to be here, close to him. He wanted her to see how good it could be. He just wanted her to stay, damn it.

  Was that selfish? Maybe. As she kept telling him, she had a life in Chicago. But it had been a long time since she’d convinced him it really made her happy. In the beginning, maybe. Yet this place had changed her, softened her, in a good way, and whenever she talked about Chicago now, it sounded forced, like old words that had lost their meaning. And he’d seen her be happy here—with Edna, with her friends, with him.

  Just ask her. Ask her to stay, straight out. Could he? Could he? Should he?

  Hell, hadn’t he already? And been shot down?

  Maybe he was a stubborn SOB, but he didn’t think he could put himself out there with her any more than he already had. He’d already given her so much more of himself than he’d ever thought he’d give to any woman. He’d told her about Anna, for God’s sake. He’d told her about the rest of his family. He’d even taken her to meet them.

  To give her any more, when she didn’t seem to want it, would just be…fucking humiliating. Emasculating.

  As he pulled into his driveway, he realized his throat was tight, swollen. His eyes hurt a little. He crushed them shut, trying to hold back his emotions. Throwing the truck into park, he banged his hand on the steering wheel.

  There was a part of him that wondered if he should even see her again. If it wouldn’t just end up hurting more than it helped. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her one last time, but…hell, he just didn’t know the answers with her anymore. Maybe he never had. And maybe that was the problem.

  As he unlocked his front door and stepped into the house, he somehow felt way more alone than he ever had before he’d met Rachel Farris.

  On Monday, Rachel had lunch with the girls at Dolly’s. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, and they were able to sit outside. Tessa said she’d heard a cold snap was coming tomorrow and this would probably be the end of nice weather for the year—and Amy had burst into tears.

  Everyone had just looked at her, and Jenny had dug in her purse for a tissue, until Amy said, “It’s not the weather. It’s that Rachel’s leaving.”

  And somehow Rachel had felt like a slug for making her cry.

  In the end, hugs were exchanged and everyone cried a little—well, everyone except Rachel, since she never cried. Other than that one time with Mike. But she had to bite her lip and sniff a little as she walked to her car afterward.

  After that, she went home to pack her suitcases, the sadness sticking with her more than she liked. She realized she’d become accustomed to Edna’s clawfoot bathtub and the old porcelain sink. And over time, she’d come to think of the old quilt on the guest bed as quaint and cozy rather than just outdated. She’d found that, for two strong-willed women, she and Edna had shared the little house quite amicably.

  Now she’d dressed for her date with Mike in dark jeans and black boots, and a stylish red wraparound blouse. Underneath, she sported a sexy black demi bra and a pair of matching lace panties. And somehow she felt more like her old self—no more T-shirts and gym shoes.

  “Come and get it,” Edna called from the dining room, and Rachel walked in to see the table covered with food: breaded pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, homemade corn bread, and the last of Edna’s apple pies she’d get to eat for awhile.

  “This looks great,” she said.

  Edna sounded a little put out, a little depressed, as she replied, “Well, it’s your last meal here. Wanted it to be a good one. God only knows what kind of crap you eat when I’m not around to feed ya.”

  Rachel tried to smile, but it was difficult. Leaving Edna, it turned out, was going to be harder than she’d thought.

  After they’d both filled their plates and Rachel was cutting into her pork chop, she felt like there was an obvious topic to cover, so if her grandmother wasn’t going to bring it up, she would. “Well, this is it, Edna. Are you gonna tell me about Giovanni coming back or not?”

  It was June, a year after she’d first come to Destiny, that Edna peeked out the window one day to see Giovanni’s turquoise Cadillac come rolling across the bridge as cool and leisurely as if he’d left just a few hours ago. Her heart nearly stopped beating. And she realized that somewhere along the way, she’d begun to believe he might really never come back. But suddenly he was here.

  Except for those few moments of passion with Eddie, she’d stayed true to Giovanni, no matter how agonizing it was. She’d reminded herself over and over of Giovanni’s promises to her, and that she was always his number one. She’d kept her distance from Eddie as much as possible, because being around him without being close to him only tortured them both. But then again, not being around him was just another kind of torture.

  Edna took a deep breath, then ran out the door to greet her fiancé. Oh Lord, he was still just as handsome. And his smile just as winning, intoxicating on sight.

  “Edna, my fiore,” he greeted her as she ran into his embrace. It felt good yet strange to be back in his arms. Because of all the distance that had stretched between them now for so long
—the kind you could measure, but also the kind you couldn’t.

  Finally, she pulled back and said, “Your mother?”

  His smile faded—he looked sad but acceptant. “She is gone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded somberly, but then his expression brightened. “However, as I had hoped, I convinced the rest of my family to come to America. They will arrive by summer’s end.”

  They talked a few moments more until Giovanni said, “Now, your brothers—are they well? Everything has run smoothly here?”

  “Yes, and yes,” she assured him. “They’re in the back field with Eddie right now, tendin’ the cattle.”

  “And you, my dear—how are you? You have missed me, yes?”

  For some reason, Edna’s throat nearly closed up at the questions. Both were…complicated. “I missed you somethin’ awful. And, well…you know I was sick in the winter.”

  He nodded. “You told me in your letters.”

  “The doctor was afraid I would die,” she said.

  And it helped a little when Giovanni’s handsome face went grim. “Die?” He blinked rapidly, closing his hands over her shoulders. “I…did not realize.”

  The memories still shook her, as well. “It was…terrible. And scary. I wished you were here.”

  Giovanni pulled in his breath. “I am sorry for that, my fiore.” Then he smiled. “But you are well now and it is in the past. We can look to our future.”

  Something in Edna deflated. His concern seemed genuine, but his willingness to brush it aside after just a few seconds made her feel…small. Like the darkest time of her life meant nothing to him. He didn’t care how she’d suffered. He didn’t care how much she’d ached for him to comfort her.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  It was all so confusing now.

  She’d had every intention of marrying Giovanni when he came back, every intention of forgetting her feelings for Eddie. But somehow, Giovanni’s long absence had made things between them feel…empty. And she began to realize that…maybe she couldn’t forgive him. For not being here when she needed him. Even if it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been here. And Eddie had.

 

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