Michael had been so into his looks, sometimes she felt like he was the girl in the relationship.
“It’s a nice day for it,” Drew said. “Though it feels like rain.”
“I would never wish away the rain,” Beth said, thinking of the orchard, “but I’d be awfully happy if it held off till after we ate.”
“Agreed.” Drew returned to the grill while Beth set the little café table on the patio with the plates and silverware, suddenly aware that this meal felt more formal than their usual grab-something-from-the-fridge-and-stand-on-the-porch-to-eat-it meals. Typically, they talked business as they ate thrown-together sandwiches and chips straight from the bag, and often, they were surrounded by other people.
There she went, overthinking again. What difference did it make if they sat at a table to eat? This was just lunch with a friend.
A very, very good-looking friend.
When the oven timer went off, she pulled the pan of vegetables from inside, sprinkled them with Parmesan, dumped them into a serving bowl and grabbed a container of potato salad from the refrigerator. She came back outside and found Drew standing at the table, a plate of burgers in his hand.
“It smells good,” she said.
They sat down, and she became even more aware that they were now expected to carry on a conversation until the food in front of them was gone.
How was she going to do that?
The lunch started off quiet, and Beth searched her mind for topics he might not find eye-gougingly boring, surprised when he cleared his throat and started the conversation himself.
“You still thinking about an investor?” he asked between bites.
“Only if we have to. I’m trying to set up a meeting with this Davis Biddle guy so I can figure out what he really wants.” Beth had spent too many hours pondering why someone like Davis would pay for the upkeep of the orchard, and when she came up empty, she’d decided to set up an appointment and ask him outright. No sense speculating when he kept popping up in their plans.
Drew swallowed a bite of his first burger. “I’ll go with you.”
She paused midbite. “You will?”
“If it’s okay with you.”
“Of course, but it’s not necessary.” Beth knew she needed Drew on the farm, but the business side of things she could handle.
“I know it’s not,” he said. “But I’d like to size the guy up for myself, if it’s all the same to you.”
She laughed. “Don’t trust my judgment?”
“Don’t trust him.”
Beth watched as Drew started in on his second burger. “You don’t?”
He shrugged. “Something doesn’t sit right about it, is all. I kind of feel invested in this place myself, but I won’t give you my opinion unless you ask for it.”
For the first time in her life, it didn’t bother her one bit that a man insisted on protecting her. She found something about it rather charming, actually. Chivalrous.
“You’re a walking mystery,” she said before she could stop herself.
He met her eyes. “Funny, I’ve thought the same thing about you.”
She took a sip of her soda. “You have?”
“When I first got here, you seemed kind of out of place on the farm.”
She swallowed her bite. “That’s an understatement.”
“But now, I don’t know, something about it suits you.”
When had she turned into this person? Someone who admired chivalry in a man and whose big dream was to plant her own vegetables? Was this really who she wanted to become?
This thing they were doing, restoring this farm—could Drew be right? Could this be the “more” she’d been searching for?
He picked up her hand and stroked it with his thumb. “And you’ve got a mean right hook.”
She was keenly aware of his skin on hers.
Drew set her hand down, but kept his eyes on her. “Kind of seems like you found whatever it was you were looking for around here.”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. He already knew so much about her. By comparison, she knew so little about him.
“What is it you’re looking for?”
He looked away, silence hanging between them. In her mind, she willed him to answer her—to trust her enough to let her in on the thing that made him work so hard.
Instead, he pushed himself away from the table. “I’ll get these out of the way.”
She stayed still as he cleared the table and disappeared into the kitchen.
Was he kidding?
She’d told him everything—things Callie didn’t even know. Did he think it was easy for her to open up about any of that?
Before she gave it too much thought, she stood and walked into the kitchen, where she found him rinsing dishes at the sink.
“Do you know how frustrating you are?” The words came out angrier than she’d intended.
He turned off the water and looked at her, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond.
“You’ve been here over a month, and I know as much about you today as I did the day you got here.”
He dried his hands and leaned back against the counter, facing her but still quiet.
“I’ve never told anyone what happened with my dad or my job. Nobody knows about any of that stuff, Drew. Do you know how hard it was for me to tell you that?”
Never mind the relief she’d felt as soon as she had. She’d been holding it all in far too long—but he didn’t need to know the gratitude she felt for his willing ear.
“You can’t answer a single personal question. You change the subject or, worse, you get up and walk away. I’m trying here, Drew, but it seems like you don’t want me to know you at all.”
“Are you asking as my boss?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Didn’t know an employer needed all that personal information, is all.”
It stung. She tried to keep her face from crumpling, from letting her weakness show. Her eyes found the floor. “I get it.”
She’d misinterpreted everything. Let herself daydream one too many times.
Straightening, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. “I get it,” she repeated softly.
He watched her, a little too closely, shaking her resolve.
“I should go.”
But as she turned toward the door, he grabbed the sleeve of her sweatshirt, pulling her toward him. Her breath caught in her throat, and his hands found the sides of her face. Drew’s eyes searched hers, and she could see it then—he was looking for something, but he didn’t know what it was. A desperation there gave him away—he was lost.
“Drew, I—”
He inched closer, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, silencing her. “I’m not very good with words.”
In that moment, the world went quiet, and it was just the two of them, standing in the kitchen, their bodies only inches apart. He pulled her in, closing the gap between them, and kissed her—the kind of knee-buckling kiss she’d replay a thousand times.
He stopped abruptly and pulled back, looking into her eyes again. “I don’t really want to be polite.”
She swallowed, her lower lip trembling. “Then don’t be.”
With her hands pressed on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat, racing to match her own. He moved away from the counter, leading her backward until the wall behind her stopped them.
Her breaths came more quickly now. He leaned into her, hands pressed against the wall behind her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting his lips on hers.
He kissed her again, anxious and hungry, leaving her breathless and bewildered. Then he pulled back, giving her time to recover, to inhale the scent of him, to wish he’d go back to kissing her.
“Why are you really here, Drew?” The words came without her permission.
He rested his forehead on hers, lips close enough to be kissed.
“What is it you’re looking for?” Maybe she could he
lp him. Maybe she could carry some of his burden—if only he let her in.
He straightened, still studying her face, but said nothing. He couldn’t tell her. Whatever it was, it either didn’t have a name or he hadn’t found a way to put it into words. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Pressing him had only forced him to retreat back into himself.
And now it was too late.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Finally.
Please don’t let him be a serial killer. Or married. Please don’t let him be married.
But before he could get a single word out, the sound of tires on gravel pulled their attention outside.
“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“I don’t know anyone here, remember?”
She went to the window and saw Molly’s VW Bug speeding toward them—really, much too fast. “It’s Molly.” Beth looked around, tidying up the kitchen, as if there was evidence of what had just happened between her and Drew all over the room.
“What are you doing?” He watched her, looking perfectly calm.
She could feel the blood race up her neck and across her cheeks.
Before she could answer, Molly barged into the house, and Beth said a silent prayer of thanks it wasn’t three minutes earlier.
“Beth! You are not going to believe this.”
Bishop trailed close behind her. He stuck a hand out toward Drew, who shook it.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Barlow,” Bishop said.
“You too, Officer.”
“Will you guys stop with the niceties?” Molly said. “This is important.” Molly waved a stack of manila folders in the air, then slammed them down on the table. “Guess what the newspapers forgot to report?” She opened the top folder.
“Molly, what are you talking about?” Beth’s face had to be flushed—she still felt the heat of what had happened between her and Drew, whose eyes she now completely avoided.
“Jess Pendergast.”
Beth dared a glance at Drew. His face had gone blank. Was he regretting that kiss? Or, like her, wanting to get rid of Molly and Bishop so they could do it again?
Molly stared at her, awaiting her response.
Anything to get rid of them. And fast. “Okay, Molly, what did you find?” Beth stared at the case file. “What am I looking at?”
Molly pointed to a sentence on the page. “Juvenile male witness. No memory of attacker. Taken to hospital; treated with stitches and released.” She tapped on the table forcefully, as if she’d just proven herself right about something tremendous—like life on another planet or something. “There was a witness no one ever knew about because he was too young—another kid.”
Beth frowned. “Do you think it was someone local?” They hadn’t heard anything about a witness, and while her parents had shielded them from much of the tragedy, surely someone would’ve mentioned if a little boy had seen Jess taken.
“Doubtful,” Bishop said. “It’s unlikely it wouldn’t have come out by now. You know how people in this town like to talk.”
Beth pressed her lips together. “So, is the boy’s name in here?”
“No, and his records are sealed, but Bishop thinks we can get it.”
“How?” Beth asked.
“My dad was friends with one of the detectives who worked the case. He retired to Florida, but I think I can track him down.”
“Is this even legal?” Drew’s tone had an uncharacteristic edge to it.
“If Bishop handles it, it will be.” Molly paused. Squinted at Beth. “Wait a minute. What are you guys doing out here? I thought you were working, but this doesn’t look like work.”
Beth glanced at Drew, then at the floor.
“Is this a date?” Molly folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head, waiting for a satisfying reply.
Beth couldn’t find a single coherent sentence running through her mind.
“Oh, my gosh,” Molly said. “You two?” She turned to Bishop. “I told you she liked him.” Back to Beth. “I told him. He said you were too focused to think about romance and to stop trying to play matchmaker, but I told him.” Over to Drew. “She does have very good taste.”
He managed a soft laugh, but Beth could feel the heat as embarrassment radiated through her body. She picked up the folders and pushed them back into Molly’s arms, shoving both her and Bishop toward the door.
“I get it,” Molly said. “You guys want to be alone. Geesh! All you had to do was say so.”
“Since when do you listen to anything I say, Molly?”
Before leaving, Bishop turned to Drew. “Sorry, man.”
Drew raised a hand as if to tell him it was okay, but Beth slammed the door shut before Bishop had a chance to see. She faced the door, willing them off the porch, into the car and miles away from the farm. “I’m so sorry,” she said, still not looking at Drew.
“What are you sorry for?”
She turned around. “You like to keep your personal business personal. I didn’t think you’d want anyone to think . . .” The words got all jumbled up before she could even finish the thought.
“I don’t care what people think, Beth.” He walked toward her, meeting her in the entryway.
When she met his eyes, she knew he meant it.
“I like you,” he said. “I’m not embarrassed by that.”
She looked away but couldn’t hide her smile. He pulled her to him and held her for a long moment, then kissed her again. “I’ve got some work to do outside.”
Her heart sank. Disappointed to leave him and, more importantly, disappointed that he didn’t want to tell her whatever he’d planned to say before Molly had barged in.
She wouldn’t push him. “See you tomorrow?”
“You know where to find me.”
As she drove home, mind spinning, lips tingling from his kisses, Beth replayed the entire day in her head. Her cheeks flushed with something she could only describe as passion—she was anxious to see him again.
She’d done her best to strengthen her resolve around Drew Barlow, but her resolve had failed her in every possible way.
That night, she fell asleep well after midnight, praying she could relive their first kiss over and over in her dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
What had he done?
Drew closed the door behind Beth, wishing he could pull her back inside and tell her everything. Every moment he stayed quiet only put more distance between them. He knew it, so why hadn’t he just explained everything?
He had much more to lose than he’d thought he did.
Birdie had seen it—why hadn’t he?
“When are you going to tell her how you feel?” She’d dotted her paintbrush on the canvas in front of her.
“About what?”
She’d tossed the brush into the jar of paint water and glared at him over the top of those reading glasses she wore. “Don’t play dumb with me.”
“She’s my boss.”
“And?”
“I don’t have feelings for her. I respect her, but that’s all.”
“You’re either lying to yourself or lying to me or both.” Birdie had shaken her head, tsk-tsking him as she did. “I just hope you wake up before it’s too late. That girl won’t be around forever.”
Maybe he’d been chewing on the whole idea a little more than he should’ve been. As it was, Beth was just about the only good thing he had in his life. He watched her sometimes, amused by her stubbornness. The woman would try the same thing ten times and never ask for help. Usually, he’d wait for her to leave and then fix whatever it was she’d been trying to do without a word.
One of these days, maybe she’d get used to needing someone else, but so far that hadn’t happened. It was one of the things he liked about her.
>
One of many things.
Seeing her all fired up today—it set something off inside him. He’d gotten under her skin, and he loved that he had.
He more than liked her.
He spent the rest of the day working monotonous chores and trying to forget, but his mind wouldn’t let him.
Finally, after a full evening of not forgetting, he dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Now that Molly knew there had been a witness to Jess’s kidnapping, it was only a matter of time until they found out it was Drew. Beth deserved to hear it from him, not from some retired detective who’d worked the case two decades ago. That knowledge, coupled with the memory of the way her body felt in his arms, kept him staring at the ceiling throughout the night.
He’d missed her as soon as she’d walked out the door, and he hated himself for it. Hated that, after everything, he was still a coward.
Morning came too early and he awoke, certain he’d been dreaming again. He lay still for a few long moments as his mind tried to recall the faintest detail—anything that might give him insight into what had happened in the barn that day. But, like a misty fog hugging the morning, it dissipated as soon as he realized he was awake.
His cell phone buzzed on the table beside him. The clock read seven, and the caller ID read Beth.
The memory of her kisses raced to his mind.
“Hey.” He tried to sound more awake than he felt.
“Did I wake you?” Her tone apologized.
“No, I’m awake. Just not up.”
A quiet pause made him imagine the look on her face. He ached for the moment he could kiss her again.
“I’m sorry to call so early. I had a message from Davis Biddle on my phone this morning.”
“Oh?”
“Well, from his assistant. He has a male assistant. Is that weird?”
Drew laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“He asked if I could meet Mr. Biddle today at eight. I thought I’d call and see if you were serious about coming along.”
He’d suggested it for two reasons. One, like he’d said, he didn’t trust Biddle. And he supposed a part of him wanted to protect Beth, just in case. But two—and this was the part that grated on him—the name was familiar. Maybe seeing the man in person would rattle something loose.
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