Roxie whined.
“I guess she does,” Drew said. “Do you have a hose?”
Beth frowned. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I’ll find one.”
She nodded and walked away.
Drew knew exactly where to find the water spigot out back. He took Roxie and let her drink. Moments later, Beth appeared at the back of the barn carrying a plate of food. He watched as she walked toward him. She wore a pair of jeans with holes in the knees, but he had the distinct impression it was fashion, not work, that had put them there. Her waterproof work boots looked brand-new, and he couldn’t help but admire the way her dusty blue T-shirt hugged her curves. Her hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, strands falling out on the other side.
He didn’t doubt she was a hard worker, but somehow he imagined most of her work was done indoors. What was a girl like her doing buying an old farm in rural Illinois? Did she feel as out of place here as she looked?
When she reached him, she held the plate out in his direction. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I kind of grabbed a little bit of everything.”
He took the plate. On it were two burgers, a pile of potato chips, some sort of church potluck salad with broccoli in it, and three cookies.
“I thought you might rather eat out here anyway.”
She was observant; he’d give her that.
They stood at the back of the farmhouse underneath an enormous oak tree, where a circle of folding chairs had been set up. “You don’t figure me for the social type?”
There was something shy about the way she smiled. It contradicted what he’d seen of her so far. From what he could tell, she was confident, though maybe a little out of her depth. The farm didn’t suit her. Not yet. But she wasn’t the type to admit it.
“You’ve hardly said anything since you got here this morning. I guess it seems like you prefer to work alone.”
Drew bit into one of the cheeseburgers and looked at Roxie, who begged with her eyes. He chewed, swallowed, thought about her comment. “I guess I do. I like the work.”
“You seem to know what you’re doing. You said you’re from Colorado?”
“That’s right.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “You’re a long way from home.”
He’d never said it was home. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel like anywhere was home. He didn’t respond.
She stood there for a few long moments, as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she looked away. “You’re not, like, a serial killer or something, are you?”
Drew nearly choked on the bite in his mouth. “Not that I know of.”
He assumed she was kidding, but she looked him up and down one more time, as if making up her own mind. “Well, enjoy your lunch.”
“Thanks.”
He watched as she walked away. Was that the question she’d wanted to ask all along, or had he just done something to make her uncomfortable? He wasn’t great at conversation. She’d probably sensed his uneasiness and taken it as a sign he wanted her to go away.
He didn’t. Not really. And that was strange because, for the most part, he wanted everyone to go away.
Still, whatever message he’d sent her, he had a feeling it wasn’t “hang out here for a while.” He was an idiot.
Roxie plopped herself down in the grass at his feet and let out a groan.
Even the dog didn’t approve.
Maybe it was better this way. Beth would keep her distance, and he could focus on making some sense of the past. He still had too many reckless emotions firing inside his mind, and nothing good would come out of making friends with a pretty girl. After putting in a full day of hard work, his unwanted emotions should be pretty well whipped into shape, giving him the clarity he needed to piece together whatever was missing.
But as he threw away his plate and went back to work, he had no confidence that any answers would come.
Chapter Eleven
Why did she even bother? Beth trudged back to the barn, feeling like an idiot for trying to talk to Mr. Fix-It at all. He obviously had the conversational skills of a monkey, but she’d kept asking him questions, as if at some point he’d quit with the perfunctory answers and actually share something about himself.
Beth made her way to where the crowd had started to gather around the food. They hadn’t even rung a bell or anything; just the smell of the burgers lured people in from all different parts of the farm.
Callie met her by one of the food tables, eyes wide, waiting for some explanation. She’d been the one to talk Beth into taking Drew the plate in the first place.
So this was her fault, really.
Beth felt stupid. A serial killer? Really? Just because he was grumpy and reclusive didn’t mean he was a sociopath. And even though she’d been half kidding, her sarcasm seemed lost in his reaction.
“No-go?” Callie followed her into the kitchen.
“What do you mean?” Beth reached into a bag of potato chips and took out a handful.
“He didn’t want to talk? Tell you where he’s from? Ask you to marry him?” Callie plucked a chip out of Beth’s hand and popped it in her mouth.
“I just gave him lunch,” Beth said. “Isn’t that what you said I should do?”
Callie stared at her. “Yes, but I thought maybe you’d exchange a few words with the guy before you came back here.”
“I did.”
“So, what do we know about him?”
“I know he’s working harder than anyone here.” Beth glanced up and out the window to where Drew stood with his dog. He stared out toward the backyard, up into the orchard, seemingly unaware anyone else was on the farm at all.
What was he doing out there? What was he doing here, at Fairwind? And why was he helping them—two strangers—with an insurmountable task?
Callie stole another chip. “I resent that. Do you know how long it took me to bake all those pastries?”
“You know what I mean.” Beth leaned against the counter. “It’s like he’s out there trying to prove something.”
Callie waggled her eyebrows. “Who does that sound like?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she walked out, leaving Beth with a handful of chips and an unspoken snarky comeback.
She spent the rest of the day avoiding Drew Barlow. Never mind that it made no sense he was there in the first place. Or that he didn’t have good manners.
The guy never stopped—not once. Even when he took his dog out back for water, he still seemed to work, or at least calculate his work. He moved from job to job without being told, and as much as she hated to admit it, it became painfully obvious that she and Molly needed someone like him on the farm.
He fixed things she didn’t even know were broken.
As the day waned, people began to leave, all dirty and tired but asking if they could come back the next weekend. The Whitaker sisters had free labor in droves and no idea how to put them to work.
Molly promised everyone another productive day next Saturday, but Beth knew better. Clearing the land of fallen branches and garbage was easy. But what came next? They needed someone to tell them.
Beth stood at the door of the main barn, watching cars kick up dust from the gravel driveway as they pulled away. Behind the house, Molly and Bishop had started a bonfire, having invited everyone to go home and change and come back for s’mores.
Sometimes Molly was such a kid. Sometimes that made Beth jealous.
“You need to hire that guy.” Ben’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“What guy?” She knew what guy.
“The guy you’ve been pretending not to notice all day.” He stood beside her, a foot taller and almost twice as wide. Her big brother—strong and athletic—had taken their father’s place in so many ways. He had wisdom, and Beth admired that. She couldn’t simply disregard his advice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben’s disbelieving expression told her to s
top lying. “I talked to him. He manages a ranch in Colorado. Manages people, takes care of animals, fixes whatever needs fixing. He’s your guy.”
“Well, what makes you think he’d take a job on a farm in Illinois?”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”
Beth sighed. “What else do you know about him?”
“Not much. He’s not a talker, which is better for you.”
Better for her? Hardly.
“I can tell by watching him that he knows what he’s doing.”
Beth followed Ben’s gaze out to the parking lot, where Molly ran toward Drew and Roxie, undoubtedly begging them to come back for the bonfire. No way a guy like that had any interest in socializing with the Willow Grove locals.
Or with her.
Not that it mattered. What did she care if some grumpy cowboy wanted to talk to her or not?
She turned to Ben. “I agree, and I think we need someone to help us, but why can’t that be you?”
Ben was safe. He was a well-known quantity—and didn’t have the potential to break her heart.
He took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I’m intrigued by the whole idea. I’m going to invest, but I’m two hours away, Beth. I can’t get back here every day, and that’s what this place needs if you have any hope of reopening in the next year.”
She bumped into his shoulder with her own. “You’re going to invest?”
He held up a hand. “On one condition.”
“Uh-oh.” She turned to him. “What?”
He nodded at Drew. “You hire that guy.”
Beth watched as Drew turned and walked away from Molly, his dog close on his heels.
“We don’t even know him, Ben. He’s going to get in his old truck and drive away and we’ll never see him again.” She hoped so, anyway.
Kind of.
“Then I guess you’d better stop him.”
“Are you serious?”
“You need someone around here to spearhead this little project.”
She knew there was nothing little about it. But this guy? Really? Couldn’t they just find someone in town? Someone less attractive?
Beth took a deep breath but couldn’t get her feet to move. “I’ll think about it.”
But they both knew he was right. They needed Drew Barlow if they had any hope of restoring Fairwind Farm and opening by fall. And the thought of needing any man—let alone a distant cowboy with bad social skills—didn’t sit well with her at all.
Chapter Twelve
Beth’s body was tired, but her mind worked overtime. The Community Work Day had come together quickly, and she hadn’t sat down once. Her feet and back ached, and even though she’d washed her hands three times, there was still dirt underneath her fingernails.
The day had been a success. It was clear that, somehow, she and Molly had sparked a ripple of excitement in the hearts of the people of Willow Grove. However, it was also clear they were in way over their heads. And that continued to nag her.
Ben’s ultimatum hung thick in the crisp night air above the bonfire, where several people huddled under blankets, toasting marshmallows and enjoying the songs strummed on Bishop’s guitar.
Beth settled into the quiet away from the crowd as Molly attempted to wave her over. When Beth didn’t respond, her sister strolled her way.
“You’re missing all the fun,” she said.
“I know,” Beth admitted.
“Come hang out. Pretend you don’t have anything to worry about.” Molly grabbed her hand and tried to tug her up.
“Maybe in a few minutes,” she said.
But an hour passed, and Beth still sat in her chair, away from the fray. They would probably say she was antisocial. She’d heard that one before, but small talk didn’t suit her. She’d never been one for pointless conversation. Maybe that’s why her attempted chat with Drew had gone awry.
Or maybe he was even worse with small talk than she was.
Beth glanced at Molly, her shoulder pressed up against Bishop’s, oblivious to the way he looked at her as she led the group in some of her favorite songs. Everyone seemed to be having so much fun.
And then there was Beth, sitting several yards away in the same chair where Drew had eaten his lunch. Alone. Maybe the two of them had more in common than she cared to admit.
She’d watched him get in his truck and drive away, that big old dog’s head sticking out of the passenger window, and a knot had formed at the center of her stomach. Ben had specified Drew was the guy to hire, and she hadn’t even asked where he was staying. Was she sabotaging their efforts before they even started?
Maybe Ben would agree to hiring someone from town. There had to be someone who would put her brother’s mind at ease. Surely Drew wasn’t the only guy who knew how to work the land, repair old buildings and take care of animals.
But as she scanned the crowd, surveying the many able-bodied young men who stood around the bonfire, Beth knew none of them had the same qualities they’d all seen in the handsome stranger.
Few men did. Hard work seemed a thing of the past.
On the other hand, she knew all of these guys. She’d either gone to school with them or knew their families from church, or she’d babysat them (not that she’d readily admit that). They might not be workhorses, but they were familiar. Beth did better with familiarity than she did with change, which was, she supposed, why she had been running the office at Whitaker Mowers instead of hunting for a job in Chicago.
Maybe losing that job was all the change she could handle right now. Besides, what did they really know about Drew Barlow? The few details he had told them could, for all they knew, be fiction.
It didn’t really matter anyway; Drew was long gone. Finding him again might be as easy as an online search or as difficult as locating buried treasure—who knew?
Thoughts of what to do next tumbled around in her mind, and while she wanted to relax and have fun like Molly, she seemed unable to turn her brain off.
Something wet brushed against her hand, and she quickly pulled it back.
“Roxie. Sit.”
Beth looked up and saw Drew’s silhouette cut through the darkness, dimly backlit by the fire.
“Sorry, she has no manners,” he said.
What did they say about dogs resembling their owners? Her embarrassment came back in an unwanted wave.
He stood across from her for a long moment, awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing there.
What was he doing there?
“Mind if I sit?”
Her body stiffened, but she managed to nod. Why did this guy make her so nervous? For years, she’d run an office full of employees. She’d stood in front of them every week and told them how to do their jobs better. She was good at running an office. She usually managed people well. But around this guy she was fourteen again, unsure of how to carry on a normal conversation.
She tried to tell herself he was just a guy. That it didn’t matter that he looked like he’d stepped off a Times Square billboard advertising trips to Colorado. She even tried to tell herself his image on such a billboard wouldn’t have had her booking the first flight to Denver.
She tried all of these things, but as soon as she dared a single glance in his direction, the bubbling nerves were back.
It wasn’t on her to start a conversation with Drew. After all, she’d already tried that. And he was the one who’d shown up on her farm. The oddity of that didn’t escape her.
After several long, tense moments, she realized he had no intention of talking. While she didn’t much feel like talking either, the silence was a less desirable alternative to tortured conversation.
“I’m surprised you came back,” she said at last.
“Me too,” Drew said.
Roxie circled their chairs and finally sat down, her tail draped over Beth’s feet. It was the smallest, silliest thing, but it caught her off guard. The dog seemed comfortable with her. Beth wasn’t
a dog person, yet something about that tail on her tired feet made her feel like she had a friend.
They sat in silence for several more minutes, Beth searching for something to say and Drew probably relishing the quiet.
“My brother wants me to offer you a job.” It wasn’t what she’d intended to say, but she blurted things out when she got nervous.
He barely reacted. “Really?”
She nodded. “Guess you made quite an impression. And Ben’s not easy to impress.”
He looked away, one side of his face in shadow, the other barely lit by the dancing orange of the bonfire in the distance. “I have a job,” he said, his voice quiet.
“That’s what I told him.”
Beth’s mixed emotions wrestled with each other. Part of her was happy he’d be on his way and her nerves could settle down already, and part of her was oddly disappointed. She told herself it was because without him, Ben might refuse to invest, but she knew better.
Her disappointment had nothing to do with Fairwind Farm.
She told herself to focus. The last thing she needed was a crush on a guy who couldn’t even hold up his end of a conversation. Especially when she had to work so hard to hold up her end.
Michael had been great at talking. He wasn’t like other guys that way. He enjoyed conversation, debate. He was smart, and he liked to show off. Too bad he pretty much only talked about himself.
“What’s the job?” Drew leaned forward and stared at the fire, giving her another chance to study his profile. He carried something with him, something heavy. She hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d either let his guard down or grown too weary to cover it up anymore.
He glanced at her, and she realized he’d asked her a question, but she didn’t exactly know the answer. She hadn’t thought of an official title, and she certainly didn’t know farm lingo. What did they call the person who did everything they didn’t know how to do?
Godsend?
“We need someone who understands how to restore old buildings and work the land,” she said. “Molly has good intentions, and I understand business, but you can probably guess we’re both a little . . .” She couldn’t think of the right word to describe what they were. She didn’t want to admit how ill-equipped they were for this job.
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