by Gaelen Foley
“I’m not telling her anything until I’ve got my sh—my stuff—sorted out,” he said, with the kids nearby. “You think I can lie to her? Please. She can always tell when I’m keeping something from her. It’s really annoying. I just don’t want her to worry.”
“Humph.” Ty shrugged, conceding this point, but when Harry’s phone went off again seconds later, the big man huffed. “At least pick up and tell her you can’t talk right now. Otherwise, she’s probably gonna think you’re in the hospital or something. That’s what mommas do.”
“Fine,” Harry grumbled. Except when he snatched it out of his pocket again, he saw not his mother’s photo appearing on his phone, but Bea’s radiant smile and laughing eyes.
The picture he’d plugged into her contact info was one of the selfies she had insisted on taking together at Apex the first night they’d kissed.
Right now, when he’d least expected it, the sight of her beautiful face struck him like a stab in the heart, momentarily stealing his breath.
“Foxy,” Ty remarked, craning his neck to sneak a glance at his phone. “Who’s the dream girl?”
“Ugh,” Harry muttered, clamping down on his equilibrium. This time when he hit ignore, Ty glanced at him like he was crazy.
“You must love baseball more than I realized, if you’re ignoring that.”
“Yep,” Harry said, watching the field again. “Don’t want to miss a play.”
Determined to put her out of his mind once again, he tried to take the first bite of his chili dog, but found his appetite had suddenly wilted away.
Why was she calling him when she had made such a point of leaving yesterday? Her call went to his voice mail, but she didn’t leave a message.
When he looked over, Ty was staring at him, understanding dawning in his dark eyes. “That the one that got you sacked?”
“That’s her,” Harry admitted in a low tone.
“Worth being stupid for, by the look of her.”
Harry snorted. “Don’t I know it.”
“So why didn’t you pick up?”
He scoffed.
“Well?” Ty demanded.
“You’re kidding, right?” Harry retorted.
Ty scowled at him. “This is not my joking face.”
“Look. I’m pretty crazy about her, I admit it. But…don’t worry. It’ll pass.”
“Pass?”
“Yeah. I don’t think it was meant to be,” Harry muttered in answer to Ty’s questioning look.
“Why’s that?”
“Because she makes me nuts. Look at what happened, man. Blowing a deal and then freaking out at my boss like that? That’s not me.”
He heard but ignored the crack of the bat as the next player sent a ball whizzing past second base.
“She comes into the picture and my brain flies out the window.” Harry shook his head, disgruntled. “I knew it from the first minute I saw her that she’d be trouble. But I didn’t expect that trying to help her would cost me a position I worked for a decade to achieve.”
“Eh, big deal.”
“Ty!” Harry scoffed at the man’s nonchalant attitude. “That job wasn’t just what I do, it’s who I am. I was poised to become the next head of a Fortune 500 multinational. Now I’m just some loser sitting at a ballgame. Now I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be. I got nothin’.”
“Wouldn’t call that nothin’.” Ty pointed at Harry’s phone, from which Bea’s photo had disappeared. “You still got her.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Harry mumbled with a scowl, but he didn’t feel like sharing the extent of the lost, hurt turmoil that he really felt inside about her exit. He just shrugged. “It’s not working out. And why would I want it to? She’s hot and all, but the chick wrecked my life within a week. Only an idiot would pursue it after that,” he added, but to his extreme annoyance, the old fighter laughed at him.
“Aw, everybody’s gotta be a fool for love at some point, Riley. You miss out on that, you haven’t lived.”
“Man, whose side are you on? My whole future is at stake here,” Harry insisted. “Last week, everything was fine. Then I get sent off on this crazy-ass mission to some little Podunk town, and within a few days of meeting that girl, I nearly get killed in a tornado, I lose my job, I’m down a car—I barely got out of there with my sanity intact. If I go after her again, who knows what it’s gonna cost me this time?”
Ty just looked at him, and unfortunately, Harry knew the answer to his own rhetorical question in a flash.
But it was too late. Because Beatrice Palmer had already taken his heart, and Harry knew it.
He’d been trying to convince himself all day that he could live without it somehow.
Live without her.
She had split right on cue, after all. Just like his dad always said that women would.
A deep, knowing chuckle started bubbling up from the cynical old boxer.
“Aw, man, screw you,” Harry mumbled in halfhearted reproach.
“Never took you for a coward, Riley.”
“I’m not,” he said.
“Yeah, y’are.” Ty nodded, laughing at him.
Harry heaved a sigh, embarrassed and ashamed. “How am I supposed to face her now? Not only have I got no job, I humiliated myself in front of her—I got fired right in front of her. Worse than that, I built up her hopes about saving the farm with big promises I couldn’t keep. I failed her like some class-A loser, so I can’t even blame her for taking off the way she did. Because the worst part of all is that I’m the one who sent her in there with that caveman in the first place. It was all my bright idea to set up a meeting with my boss, and she had to go through that because I trusted Curt more than he deserved. That makes me responsible for what happened to her in there. I mean, she seemed okay afterwards, but no woman should have to go through that. I wouldn’t talk to me again if I were her.”
“Then why the hell is she still callin’ you?” Ty asked with a blunt stare.
“I don’t know, to cuss me out?” Harry said. “She probably just wants something. That’s women for you, right?”
But not even Harry believed that of Bea, and Ty certainly wasn’t buying it.
“Not all of ’em.”
Harry struggled for words, frustration welling up within him. “Well, she took off on me the minute the shit hit the fan, so what does that tell you?”
“Depends. What did she say?”
“She claimed she’s bad luck and that she was getting away from me for my own good. But that was probably just an excuse.”
Ty snorted. “Maybe you scared her away. Did you ever think of that? I imagine you must’ve been pretty angry afterward.”
“Yeah, of course. I was furious. But it’s not like I yelled at her or anything.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat with a twinge of guilt as he suddenly recalled Bea’s difficulty in keeping up with him last night in her high heels. “I don’t know. It’s all kind of a blur. I guess she could be sort of blaming herself for what happened to some degree.”
“You gonna let her do that?”
Harry just looked at him.
Ty took a slurp of his Gatorade. “You know, I find myself reminded just now of something the champ once said—”
“Oh my God, if you give me a Muhammad Ali metaphor right now, I’m gonna throw myself off the bleachers.”
“Not a metaphor, a quote. You know the man had his quotes.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Harry heaved a sigh and braced himself to hear it.
“Ali said: ‘The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.’” Ty gave him a hard look. “So wake the hell up, Harry. Go after this girl if she means somethin’ to you.”
Harry gazed at him intently, longing to believe it could still be possible. “I can’t possibly go back to her empty-handed. Not after that.”
“Well, figure something out, then. You’re the answer man,” Ty said with annoyance, cutting him no slack, like any good coach.
Harry pondered. “Maybe I’ll call her up once I’ve landed on my feet and have my career back on track.”
“Humph. You wait too long, you might lose her for good.”
“How am I supposed to face her now? I look like an idiot, and I didn’t deliver the goods.”
“Man, maybe she just digs you for the dude you are without the whole knight-in-shining-armor routine. Jamal!” Ty suddenly barked, turning toward the children. “Sit your skinny butt down and eat your food before you drop it all over yourself!”
“Yes, sir.” The perpetual-motion kid wilted down into his seat obediently and took another nacho, but couldn’t stop swinging his feet.
Ty frowned and lowered his voice. “Kid’s got no discipline ever since his dad split.”
Harry winced to hear it.
“Tempted to hunt the dude down and whup his ass,” Ty growled, then he left Harry to ponder their exchange and took another large bite of his sandwich.
Harry glanced over at Jamal, feeling a kinship with the kid; he smiled reassuringly at him after the big Typhoon had barked at him.
Jamal grinned back and bounced again in his chair.
Then Harry leaned back as well, and finished his beer, mulling over the situation with Bea. He’d been in shock when she had hailed that cab and sped away from him last evening, leaving him in the dust like he was a leper.
Just as he had fully expected any woman to do in such a situation.
He knew he had shut down last night after the debacle. But there was that thing she had said to him in the car when they had been leaving his mother’s place…
She had said she’d care about him even if he was broke, and Harry couldn’t deny that he had believed her at the time.
Uneasily, his thoughts drifted back to her telling him over dinner at Apex about how her friend who’d been hurt in the car accident had called her a curse.
Last night, with his defenses clamped down like a damn castle’s portcullis, he’d assumed that Bea’s reference to that was just some lame excuse she was giving him so she could leave.
But what if she really believed it?
He hadn’t had much of an answer at the time. He’d just stood there, not knowing what to say, too wrapped up in his own rage and humiliation to be able to deal with anything, but in hindsight, he realized he hadn’t lifted a finger to try to prevent her from leaving.
Which meant that Bea was probably out at her farm right now thinking that Harry believed that she was a curse, too.
He swore mentally and sat there for a long moment, staring into space, unaware of the ballpark, the game.
Images of her in his arms and in his bed crept back into his memory, making his body hurt at the thought of never seeing her again. God. Had he made a huge mistake, trying to write off what they’d found together in a hasty effort to protect his heart?
What if she really didn’t care about his money or his damn career profile? What if she really was into him for himself, not just for what he could do for her? This was Beatrice Palmer, after all. She grew vegetables, for God’s sakes, hiked mountains in the mud, hung out with her friends in an unpretentious brewpub. It wasn’t like she was some material girl.
She’d been there, done that, with the fast-paced city lifestyle and the BMW-driving former boyfriend, and she’d walked away from it all.
She’d found a new sort of existence…and Harry was beginning to think that maybe he wanted that, too.
But only if he could have it with her.
His pulse began pounding, and he still wasn’t sure if he could put his trust in this. If it was to be rejection from her, he still wanted to protect himself, because he really didn’t need the blow to his heart right now on top of losing his job.
What he’d found with her, though, deserved that he at least make sure one way or the other. He needed to know where he really stood with her. And even if it didn’t work out, Bea did not deserve to be left blaming herself for his job explosion when Harry knew the responsibility for it rested solely on his shoulders.
Or rather, in his fist. But damn, he had to admit, that had been one satisfying punch.
CHAPTER 18
He loves me, he loves me not. Bea pulled another ripe plum off the branch with a pang of despondency, and placed it in the bucket. She stood perched on a ladder alone in the orchard as the sun was sinking behind the mountains in a magnificent pink sky. But the beauty of the sunset only made her lonesome now, reminding her of the one she’d watched that night with Harry in the hayloft. Actually, to her dismay, everything seemed to remind her of him.
Even the plums. They had a lot in common, she mused. Dark and smooth and mysterious on the outside, with their deep, sophisticated hue and startling sour zing. Juicy sweet and delicious on the inside—with a heart called a stone.
Another painful day had dragged by. It was now Saturday evening, and she still hadn’t heard from him. She had not tried phoning him again after he’d ignored her call yesterday afternoon. No, she’d gotten the message, loud and clear.
Harrison Riley was done with her.
Not that she could blame him, after she had kind of tornadoed his life. Hurricane Beatrice.
Unfortunately, even if Vanessa was right and Bea had somehow done him a favor by wrecking his job at Diamond Enterprises—which she sincerely doubted—she hated knowing she had hurt him by leaving. The heartbreak would’ve been easier for her to take if he at least would’ve understood the reason, but if he wouldn’t answer his phone and let her try to explain, then what could she do?
She was just left wondering if he hated her now or where they stood or what. His lack of a response, though, made it fairly obvious how he felt.
Once again, she did her best to shove him out of her mind and focus on her work. All the while, she was intensely aware of her phone nearby, waiting—no, if she were honest, begging inside for it to chime. But the screen stayed dark, so she ignored the irritating device, determined to soldier through the work at hand.
Plums, she mused, fixing her attention on the fruit. Unlike men, you could always count on plums. They were so much hardier than peaches, not as moody as apples. Bea had cheered upon discovering that her plum trees at the back of the orchard seemed to have just shrugged off the storm. Heck, these babies were frost-resistant enough to thrive in Canada.
The thing with plums, though, was that you simply had to wait till they were ready.
And that was the hard part.
Plums didn’t ask for much, but they took patience. You had to squeeze each one a little and make sure it was soft and willing to come along before twisting it gently off the stem. That was why it was always best to do it by hand.
For a whole three minutes, then, Bea was able to focus on harvesting her fruit while a gentle wind blew through the tall grasses and the leaves all around her. A cow lowed in the distance, while the chirping birds flitted through the peaceful orchard alleys. There were blue jays and bright yellow finches, scarlet cardinals and red-breasted robins, plus a whole tribe of busy little brown ones—sparrows, wrens.
Normally, she’d be annoyed at them for eating her wares. The evidence of their thievery was plain on the tree. But tonight she was glad of their company, because other than them, she was alone with the trees. Not even Colby and Dodd had roused themselves to get off the porch to join her, the lazy duo.
As for the people, Lance and company had gone off to enjoy themselves as rowdy high school kids ought to be doing on a Saturday evening, while Pap and Gram had gone to play bingo at the Grange.
All the local farmers in the area belonged, and no doubt they were eager for a chance to commiserate after the tornado. Bea had heard that some had been hurt worse than she had. A power line, for example, had fallen in Mr. Shuster’s meadow and electrocuted five of his prize sheep.
Everyone was still waiting to see what their insurance companies would cover. But with so many claims, the process was moving along at a crawl, and Bea had decided that, for her, it
didn’t matter so much anymore.
Somehow everything that had happened with Harry had hollowed the heart out of her dream.
She’d talked to Pap and Gram about Vanessa’s suggestion for the ten large lots where horse lovers could build custom homes, and they had been impressed enough by the idea to agree to it. Though chagrined by the fact, they’d all agreed as a family that this sort of project was in Tammy Reese’s wheelhouse, with all of her luxury log cabin sales, most of which were custom-built.
Tammy already had all the connections at the zoning office, and with honest surveyors, reputable builders, and, of course, all the marketing strategies to Get It Sold Fast! just like it said on her billboard.
To Bea, it still felt like failure on some level to have to sell off a third of the farm, though that was a lot better than eighty percent of it. But having already accepted reality in all its sucky glory, she wasn’t going to fight it anymore. She was embracing the downsizing of her dream, even if it included having to work with Tammy.
So be it. The woman had been pretty cool about the debacle in Culpeper’s office, siding with her instead of the billionaire.
Plus, after all that had unfolded, Bea had to admit she could sort of see where Tammy was coming from, being so annoyed with her for driving off previously interested buyers. I guess I kind of embarrassed her in front of her clients. She hadn’t meant to at the time, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.
In all fairness, if the shoe had been on the other foot and some client had pulled out of a signed contract with her, Bea would’ve cheesed off about it, too.
She supposed it was just Tammy’s skepticism about her ability to run the farm that had gotten under her skin, mainly because it reminded her of her parents’ doubt in her. Ah well. It seemed like their doubts had been well founded after all.
The one thing she most regretted was that the whole process of selling the lots was going to take who knew how much time, which meant that her grandparents’ road-trip dream would yet again have to be delayed.
She shook her head and sighed. She sure had a talent for screwing up people’s lives.
Having picked the branch clean for as far as she could reach, she saw it was time to move the ladder. She climbed down, set her half-full bucket in the grass, and took a long swig of water. Determined not to waste the lingering daylight, she moved the ladder around to the next section of the plum tree after a short break.