Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4)

by Valerie Comer

  Allison had to protest. “Dandelions aren’t weeds, though. We’ve been enjoying the young greens sautéed.”

  Rosemary chuckled. “Weeds are any plants growing where they’re not wanted. A daffodil would be a weed in the carrot patch, and onions are weeds in the rose garden.”

  “True.” She hadn’t thought of that before. Even good things could be negative in the wrong setting.

  Like little boys looking up to a good man when the good man would never be a permanent part of his life. That was a weed she needed to dig out. But how? Maybe she’d have to let the weed wither of its own accord. It wouldn’t last long once Brent had finished all he could do without windows. He’d be back later in the summer, though.

  Her heart clenched. She’d never wanted a man to share her life with. She’d never wanted to fall in love. That was for insecure women, not her. Good thing Brent had walked away before she’d done something stupid. Like fall in love.

  * * *

  Along with everyone else, Brent watched Allison carry a lit birthday cake around the table toward Finnley.

  “Look at that, squirt.” He leaned closer to the little man. “Want to blow out the candles?”

  Finnley cringed, shaking his head.

  “That’s what we do for birthdays. See? Four candles because you are four years old.” No one needed to know where Brent had been four years and nine months before.

  The kid looked terrified. Even Allison noticed. She paused a few feet away, watching Finnley. “It’s a birthday cake, buddy. To celebrate you’re four now.”

  “Cake!” yelled Maddie. “Want some.”

  A few people chuckled.

  Finnley glanced at Maddie then focused back on the flickering flames.

  “Want me to take away the candles?” Allison asked.

  Brent massaged the little guy’s shoulder as he nodded, leaning closer to Brent.

  “Okay.” Allison’s narrowed eyes certainly noticed his hand on her nephew, but she turned away and blew out the candles in one go.

  “What, no boyfriend?” teased Noel.

  Brent took a deep breath. Birthday candle lore said the number of candles left aflame after one attempt signaled how many boy-or-girlfriends the birthday person had. That wasn’t going to go over well.

  Allison’s jaw clenched and her lips pursed. She tugged out the candles and set them in Jo’s outstretched hand before glancing at Finnley again and all but running to the kitchen.

  Silence.

  “Oops,” murmured Noel.

  More than oops. If only Brent could follow her, but it was best if someone else did. Best if he stayed put and didn’t draw further attention to her. Besides, he needed to stay with a worried-looking boy.

  Claire followed Allison into the other room, followed by Rosemary.

  Brent could hear low voices, then the clinking of cutlery on a plate. A few minutes later Claire emerged with a tray of plated cake slices, each with a scoop of ice cream.

  Smiling, she set the first in front of the birthday boy. “Happy birthday, Finnley.”

  The boy glanced up at her then stared at the cake.

  Brent caressed his shoulder. “Hey, that looks great. Look at all that chocolate. Can you say thank you to Claire, squirt?”

  Finnley whispered, “Thank you.”

  If that was victory, he’d take it.

  Claire passed the second slice to Brent then continued around the end of the table before going back for a second tray. Still no Allison or Rosemary. Man, he wasn’t trying to hurt her by luring the boy away. A kid needed more than one adult in his life.

  Brent pulled his hand away from Finnley and focused on having a bite of the cake in front of him.

  What the boy needed was a daddy. Not his biological father, but some strong guy who could sweep Allison off her feet and love Finnley like his own. Surely that man existed. With all his heart, Brent wished it could be him, but there was no way.

  Low chatter resumed around the table as forks clinked against plates. Even Finnley dug in. The cake tasted amazing, sweet and rich. This definitely hadn’t come from a box.

  After a while Allison reappeared and slipped into her chair with a sliver of cake in front of her. Her face was pale, and her red-rimmed eyes focused on her plate.

  Brent’s heart clenched. She’d been crying. Was it his fault, or only because the boy had seemed afraid of the candles? Had that pushed her over the edge?

  Sierra leaned closer to Finnley from the other side. “Isn’t that yummy cake?”

  He flicked a glance at her and nodded, his fork poised for another bite.

  “Say, that little orange striped kitten seems to really like you.”

  Another little nod.

  “Does that kitten have a name?”

  “Danny Boy,” he whispered.

  Brent froze. Somewhere deep inside he’d clung to the unlikelihood of this child belonging to him. Oh, he’d known, but that was different than knowing.

  In the vague distance he was aware of Sierra exclaiming over how nice that was. “Where did you think up that name?”

  A wave of nausea rocked Brent.

  “Mama,” Finnley whispered. “Sometimes she called me that.”

  Danny Boy. Mallory’s sweet voice when she wanted something. Mockery when he put his foot down. Had it been a term of endearment after all?

  “Daniel is his middle name.” Allison’s voice echoed through a week-long tunnel. “Finnley Daniel Hart.”

  Brent pushed back from the table, his chair grating on the etched concrete floor. Buzzing surrounded his head, whirled through it, clouding his vision and his thoughts. “Excuse me, please.”

  Was every eye fixed on him? Probably. He couldn’t help it. He needed air. Escape. He’d known coming for birthday dinner was a mistake from the beginning. He’d been wrong. Much more than a mistake, it was a disaster.

  He managed to get out the door and shut it without creating a scene. He gulped vast amounts of air as he hurtled up the path toward Allison’s house where his truck was parked.

  Be sure your sin will find you out.

  Wasn’t that in the Bible somewhere? But he’d repented in tears before the Lord. He’d been gut-wrenchingly sorry for the lifestyle he’d led for those ugly years. And God had forgiven him. He’d felt that soothing peace of being right with God. Forgiven. Redeemed. A fresh slate.

  How could this be happening now? Would he rather be in ignorance of the results of his sex life? Yes. No. Finnley was a person, a sweet little boy who’d been abused and neglected. He wasn’t a result. He was a human being.

  And Brent was responsible for the fact that he existed.

  His hands trembled so hard it took three tries before he could line the key up with the ignition slot. The truck rumbled to life. He shoved it into gear and jounced down the driveway between the trees. He only needed to get past the house and out on the road. Where would he go? Would he ever return? No clue.

  He handled the curve at the bottom of the hill and slammed on the brakes. In the middle of the track stood a tall thin woman huddled in a long black cardigan.

  Chapter 21

  Had he even seen her? Was he going to run right over her?

  Allison jumped to the side of the driveway. For a second she was sure he’d careen on by and disappear down Thompson Road with a diminishing roar. Instead he slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop beside her. Dust billowed from under the tires.

  His eyes looked at her wildly. His hands clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white and, even in those few minutes since he’d escaped from the house, he’d obviously run his hands through his hair enough times to stick it out all over.

  She reached through the open window and touched his arm. “Brent? Are you okay?”

  He flinched in the same way Finnley used to.

  What on earth had happened in there? One minute he’d been laughing and talking with Noel, his fingers toying with Finnley’s hair, and the next, he’d gotten a crazed lo
ok on his face and run.

  He took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to help. “I’m leaving.”

  Like that wasn’t obvious.

  “What happened?” It couldn’t all be about her anger at him showing Finnley the house without her. He’d seemed completely relaxed after that. It’d made her even madder.

  Brent shook his head so hard she had to wonder what he was trying to dislodge. “Nothing I want to talk about,” he choked out.

  Her temper flared. “If it’s about the house—”

  “No. It’s not you.”

  “Right.”

  He focused on her, but the wild look hadn’t completely left his face. “It’s true.” He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “There are more important things.”

  Allison reeled back. After all the talks they’d shared, the touches, the hugs? Now all of a sudden she wasn’t important? She forced her hands to her sides. Forced her chin up to meet his gaze. “You bet there are more important things. If that’s how you’re going to be about it, you might as well leave.”

  Wait, was she firing her contractor? She couldn’t do that. She jerked her head up the driveway. “Stay out of my way while you finish my house.” She leaned a little closer to the truck. “And leave my nephew alone. No good can come of him looking up to you.”

  “We’re agreed on that.”

  Show no shock. But it was impossible. This was the guy who’d slid into a relationship with Finnley without even half trying, from what she could tell. Now he agreed to ignore her nephew, just like that?

  She jerked her chin. “Well, good, then.” Allison stared at Brent.

  He stared back. The craze faded from his eyes. Something washed across his face she couldn’t catch — regret? — then his jaw tightened and his gaze hardened.

  “Look, I—” Whatever he’d been about to say broke off when he shook his head. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? If you’re taking back leaving Finnley alone, I’ll fire you.” Oh man. How could she even do that? She leaned closer to the truck window. “Don’t mess with my nephew.” Or with me. But she couldn’t say that.

  Brent’s head flicked from side to side. “Not that. You’re right. I should’ve stayed clear of him. Getting him used to me, l-liking me… not a good idea.”

  The words made sense, but the reason he stated them did not. Why were these thoughts even going through his head? He’d never declared lo — affection for Allison. Why was Finnley such a big deal to him?

  He closed his eyes as though in prayer. A moment later he looked at her again from those deep brown eyes. Haunted eyes.

  Why?

  “The guys and I will be done what we can do on both buildings in a couple of weeks. Then we’ll be about six weeks before I’m back with the first batch of windows. From there, we’ll be full blast until both are completed.”

  Allison nodded. Okay, back to contractor-client. She could do this.

  “I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. And, uh, Finnley’s way. But when we’re working on the school, it will be up to you to distract him. It’s right there in plain sight of your home.”

  Something crossed his face again. Something was terribly wrong in Brent’s world. Had he dropped a hint she’d missed?

  She kept her voice as professional as possible. “I’ll keep him busy.”

  Brent swallowed hard. “Okay. That’s all we can do.”

  Wait a minute. “Why?” The word burst from her lips. “Why is this such a big deal? With Finnley, I mean.”

  She knew why it was for her. She’d been half in love with Brent Callahan. Maybe more than half. But he was making this all about Finnley, not about her. And that didn’t make a lick of sense.

  “Brent?” Oh, no. Maybe she’d softened her voice too much. Maybe he’d read something into that. Was there something to read?

  He shook his head. “No.”

  For a brief, piercing instant she saw through his eyes and into his soul. She stepped closer, barely aware she did so, and rested her hand on his arm, locked into that gaze.

  His right hand covered hers. Warm. Caressing. Possessive?

  A breeze rippled across the farm as the sun dipped behind a cloud, chilling every part of her except the hand cushioned against him. Those eyes. Magnets. She sidled closer.

  His breath warmed her face. “Allison.”

  She’d never wanted this. She tried to remind herself of what men were like. Unfaithful. Selfish. Overbearing. But not Brent. He was a rare breed. A man of honor. Someone she could trust, if only she could figure out what he was thinking. But that could happen later. She pressed against the door of the truck, she was so close.

  His fingers swept the hair from the side of her face, and her hand cooled where his touch had left her. She leaned into his hand as it cradled her jaw. Then he slid his hand to the nape of her neck and tugged her closer yet. “Allison.” This time her name sounded like a groan.

  Their lips met with a gentle touch. Allison quaked. Leaning against the truck door barely kept her upright. She tangled her fingers in his shock of black hair as his left arm snaked around her, holding her. She angled her head to meet his lips more fully, to revel in their taste, to feel the hunger evoked in that simple touch. Her eyes fluttered shut so she could block all distractions and focus on the sensations cascading through her body.

  She’d never imagined welcoming a kiss — from Brent or anyone else — but now she didn’t want it to end. Ever. Whatever had made Brent run like Jane Eyre chased by Domino had galloped on by. There was only this moment. This perfect moment.

  Other than the thick truck door separating them. She shifted again, as though that would remove the barrier, still clinging to him. “Brent,” she murmured against his lips.

  His grip tightened and for an instant his kiss grew more insistent. Then he released her. All of her.

  The truck door held her up as she opened her eyes to gaze into his. But he wasn’t looking at her. Both hands scrubbed his face as he bent over the steering wheel.

  “Brent? Are you okay?”

  * * *

  Was he okay? Not even a little bit. It’d been years since he’d kissed a woman. He’d gleefully allowed passion to overwhelm him time and time again, not caring about the consequences.

  One of his consequences sat in that straw bale house not far away. Close enough all the occupants had probably glued themselves to the wide windows and watched every moment since he’d nearly run Allison down.

  Now he felt like he was the one who’d been hit by a truck. Oh, his body wasn’t bruised. Not this time. But his lips surely were. And his heart. His soul.

  Allison reached through the open window and captured his fingers. “Brent, talk to me.”

  Was there any way to keep his past swept under the rug and pretend it hadn’t happened? He’d been doing that for over four years. But the past was still there, even when hidden. Ignored.

  And a mature honorable man couldn’t enter a relationship while living a charade. He couldn’t. He forced his gaze to meet hers, and his resolve nearly vanished like a wisp of a spring breeze.

  The wariness, the hardness that had always guarded her had fallen away. In her brown eyes he saw only trust. An awakening. He was going to send her back into that dungeon she’d lived in, where men were untrustworthy jerks.

  Whether he left or stayed, whether he told her everything or not, the result was the same. He couldn’t be the man she needed.

  “Allison, I-I’m not the man you think I am.”

  She tilted her head to the side, her gaze still warm. But her jaw began to tense.

  He couldn’t resist touching it, trying to wipe away the tension, but she stepped back.

  “What do you mean?” Her voice was soft, but the wariness had returned.

  How could he do this to her? He thought of Finnley. He had to. He couldn’t live with himself if he dragged Allison through this. And then she wouldn’t be able to live with him, either.

  T
here was no middle ground. He’d tried to find it, but there was nothing but a sand trap. A sinkhole. “Allison, I—” Was he really going to say this? But he had to. “I love you.” He choked on the words. The only time in his life he’d understood what they meant and hadn’t used them glibly. “But it can’t work. You need someone stronger. Someone better.”

  Her arms crossed in front of her in the classic Allison move that portrayed she held herself up. Didn’t need anyone. How well he knew her. How much more he longed to know her.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He couldn’t really say anything more without giving it all away. The end result would be the same regardless. He knew it with complete certainty. The only difference would be that then she’d know, and now she didn’t. This way was better.

  “I wish things were different.” Different enough he could exit the truck and kiss her properly. Where they could plan a future together. “But they’re not. Allison, I don’t want to hurt you more. I-I love you too much.” Loved Finnley too much.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The edge had returned to her voice. The softness left her eyes.

  Ice crept into Brent’s veins from his fingertips, from his toes, toward his core. “It means you’re better off without me. Much better off.”

  Her chin rose. “What if I disagree?”

  “You have to trust me.” What a laugh. If she could trust him at all, these words — this parting — wouldn’t be necessary. There was nothing to trust.

  Her jaw flexed. She looked so alone, so vulnerable.

  “I never meant to fall in love.” He nearly managed to keep his voice steady. “But I have. I’m sorry, Allison. You deserve so much better.” He shifted the truck into Drive.

  She inhaled sharply. “Brent, no.”

  “I’ll see if Patrick can come and finish the job.” Brilliant idea, Callahan. Seriously. “Take care of that little man.” He moved his foot to the accelerator, and the truck rolled forward. “Goodbye, Allison.”